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nevernonline · 11 months ago

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✧.* he's not into you; hvc

synopsis: curious what the problem is in your dating life where you just can’t seem to get guys to commit fully to you beyond a second date, your work associate offers his help.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring: vernon x fem! reader.

genre: co-workers2friends2lovers (? lmao)

warning/s: mentions of substances (alcohol, weed, cig, vape etc.) swearing, very bad jokes!, sexy time (y/n has female genitalia!) pls no minors!!

word count: 6.3k

content: . non-idol idolings, some other svt members. y/n and vernon work at a bar.

note: our next stop in my fav little movie inspired writings is he's just not that into you!! a true classic in my eyes. and who better to be our male lead than bernon himself, a perfect silly goofy man. i acc tried to edit and be good?? for once.. lmao. love u xo. HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Waltzing around your co-workers behind the bar like a choreographed dance, handing out drinks to some of your familiar customers, soaking cherries in alcohol, and stuffing your tips inside of your folder for the night it was a perfect distraction from the thoughts running through your mind about that awful date you had gone on the night before.

You were convincing yourself all the guys you’ve been out with just weren’t for you, maybe to make yourself feel better, maybe just to put blame on someone else for the reasons you can’t seem to surpass a second date.

“Y/N, could I get two vodka martinis. One dirty and one with a twist, twice shaken please.”

“No problem, Som.”

Somi was one of your co-workers and someone you’ve become close friends with working with her over the course of a year when the bar first opened. standing by your side on the busiest night of the week, the other was Vernon, he was slightly newer and unfamiliar standing next to you behind the bar, girls flirting with him left, right and center hoping to crack open his quiet yet charming exterior.

Taking orders upon orders your body was craving a moment to yourself, being an introvert and working in a high volume environment with the type of company that spends hundreds of dollars a night just to sit at a table and feel important takes a toll on you.

“Vernon, would you be cool if I stepped outside for a second?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’m good.”

“Alright, thanks I’ll be back in five.”

“Sounds good.”

Nothing more than his simple answers, for the most all you know about him is he’s your age, in college not sure what major he could possibly be studying, and he lives decently close to the bar, coming in on his days off with groups of his friends to have a drink of his own made at your own hands.

Stepping outside the employee entrance into the back of the building, feeling the cool air light up your body, you decided to light up something of your own, a small perfectly rolled cigarette wrapped up in its signature strawberry flavored paper and vanilla tobacco inside.

Three minutes into your first break of the night, the door slid open revealing the quiet boy standing in its frame.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I actually need your help. A big group of finance dudes came in.”

“It’s alright, I’ll save it for later.”

Dipping the pastel candy like cigarette into the ashtray, basically kissing it and saying you’ll see it soon, you stepped back in with Vernon to your front strolling through the back room full of fresh liquor bottles.

“This is a weird question. But what were you smoking? It smells good. Actually, normally cigarettes make me nauseous as hell.”

“Oh. It’s a vanilla tobacco, but my rolling papers are strawberry so it’s kind of sweeter that way.”

“No wonder. I always thought you smelt like vanilla musk, but I knew it was something different. I just assumed it was perfume. I like it.”

“Thanks, Vern.”

“Yeah. Want to take the table? Or wait for them to come up to us?”

“I’ll go.”

“Alright.”

Cutting around the marble countertop, trying to avoid the patrons sitting at the end of the bar. You spot the group of men wearing their fancy suit jackets, and various colors of button down tops. One of them in particular was your date from a few weeks ago. The one who left you a post it note on your nightstand to wake up to basically telling you he wouldn’t call but thanks for the fuck.

Swilling your pride, you stayed walking towards them, now with the pretty smile usually wiped across your face lost and turned into a closed lip grin.

“Hey, what can I get for you guys?”

“I’ll take you with a side of bourbon on the rocks please.”

“Clever. I’m not on the menu. Anything for you.”

Your fingers pointed towards the rest of the helm just patiently waiting for more unusual comments and weird flirting tactics.

Your date though, kept his head buried in his menu, avoiding making eye contact with you out of his own embarrassment making you decide to fuck with him a little in front of his annoying crowd of friends.

“And anything for you, Chris? Jack Daniels and Coke with a splash of cherry I presume? Or are you going to write your order down on a post it note?”

His crowd erupted in laughter, clearly aware of his tactics when he leaves girls and decides to not call them back.

He muttered back it was fine as you walked off back to Vernon watching on with a smirk on his face.

“You know him I assume?”

“Unfortunately I do.”

“Can I ask how?”

You contemplated telling him a lie, just something simple like he was an old friend or an ex-boyfriend, but in order to keep him from opening up to you, you chose the real reason.

“Actually we went out a few weeks ago. In the morning I woke up to a note taped to my pillow saying how he wasn’t interested in seeing me anymore but thanking me for being a good fuck and being so accommodating and sexy.”

“No fucking way.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Want me to spit in his drink?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you to lose your job. It’s alright, not the first time for me unfortunately and actually maybe one of the nicer ones.”

“Not the first time a dude you’ve fucked wrote you a note saying he’s not into you?”

“There’s been worse believe it or not.”

“You’ve piqued my interest.”

“I’m sure.”

“How do you meet dudes like that?”

“I’m a lucky girl, now do me a favor and take these drinks to them, because if I do I’ll probably say some shit I’ll regret.”

“Alright. What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“Asshole over there.”

“Chris”

“Cool. Thanks.”

“Vernon why?”

“No reason, keep working.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“My whole vibe is stupid, be back in a second.”

Watching the boy out of the corner of your eye, you watched as he placed everyone’s drinks for them, reaching Christopher last, pretending to trip over his chair, spilling the alcoholic concoction over his pants.

“Dude what the fuck?”

“Oh shit, my bad. Let me get you a new one.”

“Why the fuck are you so clumsy, how am I going to get a girl here when I look like I pissed myself?”

“The girls that come in here don’t want some bitch who drinks cherry whiskey and Coke, they like real men. But I’ll be back in a second.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“You heard me, man. One second alright I’ll be back with your bitch drink.”

Chris’s friends seem to be enjoying watching his night being turned into a shit storm, assuming they maybe don’t enjoy his company much either.

“Why did you do that?”

“He seems like a tool, he’ll be fine.”

“Well thank you. It was funny, I had to hold my laughter in so he doesn’t think I made you do that for me.”

“Safe bet.”

Your night continued on until midnight when all the happy and drunk patrons exited the restaurant and you got to cleaning up the bar space, leaving you, Vernon, and Somi alone in the dimly lit room.

“Vernon? Want to stay and have a drink as a thank you for helping me out. Somi would but she has to get back to her ball and chain.”

“Are we allowed to do that?”

“Well my dad owns the place, I don’t think he cares much.”

“You’re dad? Wait what the fuck, I never put that together.”

“Yeah. Him and his friends.”

“Holy shit.”

Laughing along with Somi at his amazement, you bid her goodbye before sliding into a bar top table, holding the glass of vodka in your well manicured fingers.

Much to your surprise your more than shy coworker decided to stay with you sliding in next to you holding his own glass of beer.

“So wait. I’m confused. Your dad and his friends opened the bar. Why do you want to work here?”

“Easy. I always liked the idea of being a bartender and my parents would kill me for being a kid who didn’t have a job or work ethic and just using their money.”

“Got it. Aren’t you in school?”

“ I haven’t decided what to go for yet so I’m taking some time. Not sure yet. You?”

“Journalism.”

“For real? That’s cool as hell.”

“Yeah.”

Your phone lit up on the table blasting the ringtone really loudly in between you and Vernon, flashing the name Matthew on the screen.

“Hey. Yeah, this is her. Oh really? Can you hold on just ONE second. Thanks.”

Vernon waved you along letting you go on with the conversation with the guy who's been taking you on dates for the past week, curious why he’d be calling you late.

“Wait since I’m out of the loop, who was that?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so his name is Matt. We met at the coffee shop a few weeks ago. He was cute. He paid for my drink and we just sort of hit it off.”

“Have you guys slept together?”

“Yeah. The first day we met.”

“Y/N no. You’ve got to make these guys wait. Like they’re getting exactly what they want from you before you even know if they’re fucking idiots or not.”

“Really? Does that actually work though? I mean you heard him say he likes his ex there’s nothing I can change about that?”

“Did you ask when his last relationship was before you guys started dating?”

“Yeah he said he’d been single for two months.”

“Two months? And he’s already back with her? Or was he always seeing her when you guys were together? What kind of dates did you go on? Dinner? Or?”

“Coffee sometimes, then he’d just come hangout at my place most of the time.”

“So you never went to his?”

“No.”

“So he was cheating on his girlfriend with you?”

“What? No, he said he was single.”

Vernon ran his hands through his hair and let out a sigh before looking back at you.

“You guys met for coffee, you’d have him over to your place during the day, you’d have sex and he’d leave? You never saw his apartment? He just confessed that he’s been seeing his so-called ex over the phone the whole time you guys were quote on quote dating. He definitely lives with her and was fucking you for fun. You weren’t dating.”

“Speaking from experience, Vernon?”

“No. I’ve only ever dated one person seriously.”

“So why are you giving me advice about my dating life?”

“Because I had a successful five year relationship and you’ve had none? And you seem to need it.”

“Wow. I would normally be pissed, but you’re right. I can’t seem to tell what I’m doing wrong actually. Maybe I'm destined to be single.”

“Not true. You’re pretty, nice, and you’ve got a cool ass life. You’ll be fine, you just need some editing maybe.”

“So what? You want to be my relationship guru? Or?”

“Yes.”

You outstretched your hand to his and he shook it for you, confirming your now partnership where he would help you with your dating life.

“Wait, before we go further. Try this.”

Lifting the straw to your lips for you, Vernon offered you a sip of the drink he made.

“Wait, that's good, what is that?”

“That assholes drink.”

“I hate that I actually fucking like it.”

“Me too.”

You and Vernon spend the rest of your night together shooting the shit and getting to know each other more, once two am rolls around you both decide to head out and walk home.

“This is me.”

Much to your surprise Vernon swipes his key card to enter the same building as you.

“Wait, you live here? How come I’ve never seen you in the building?”

“I just moved in like three weeks ago. I spend most of my time in my apartment with my cat if I'm not at school or work.”

“What floor?”

“Seven.”

Pressing the number seven on the elevator button before you tapped number thirteen, you and Vernon rode silently up to your separate homes.

Before stepping off onto his floor, he pressed the hold door button.

“Come over tomorrow around six? I know you have the night off so we can hangout or whatever.”

“Okay. What should I wear?”

“You’ll figure it out. You always look nice. Casual is fine.”

Rolling your eyes to his back as he strode off to his front door, you yelled a goodnight out of the door before they clocked shit and ran you up to your own place.

Waking up the next morning you stepped out of your bed and pulled out all the ingredients to make a perfect cup of coffee, something that was like a religious ritual for you to clear your head before starting your day.

After the brew was finished dripping though your pour over carafe you decided to take in some sun on your balcony and prepare your mind for the rest of the day until you were set to get ready to hangout with Vernon.

The unexpected invitation to go on a quote in quote fake date with the boy had your head confused. What should you wear? What should you do with the little information given to you about what’s going on?

After spending a few hours outside with your coffee and disconnecting from your phone, you decided to head back inside and go through your closet in search of the perfect casual outfit.

Placing options on your bed, you hopped into the shower and spent time under the hot steam scrubbing your body from head to toe. After you were satisfied with your cleanliness, you stepped out and sat at your vanity, drying your hair and curling the front two pieces of your perfectly done up-do, painted your nails a perfect cherry red color, and put on your typical makeup look.

Sliding your slippers back on you stood now in front of the three tops hanging in front of you feeling them for the perfect vibe. Eventually selecting a simple white button down top to match your gray pleated short skirt, slipping up a pair of simple tights and black heeled knee high boots.

Finally the time came for you to run down seven floors and step off to find Vernon, knocking on the door to the left of the elevator a woman who you’ve seen around the building once or twice answered.

“I’m sorry, I think maybe I have the wrong apartment. Excuse me-“

“You’re y/n?”

“Yes. Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Vernon’s friend Chae. I like your outfit, it's super cute.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Stepping into the similar shaped apartment to yours, you notice the colorful paintings all over the walls, the beautiful soft blue couch, and the cozy smell of fresh linen hitting your nose, as you walked in further you saw a group of various people sitting around in his living room, some pouring themselves drinks, some standing around eating snacks and talking.

“Would you like water or a beer or anything?”

“Oh no, I’m alright for now thank you.”

“No problem, I’ll just go see what he’s up to. Excuse me.”

“Sure.”

After waiting five minutes in the threshold of Vernon’s front entry, he peeled around the corner, dressed in an oddly similar outfit to yours, minus the heels and mini skirt.

His crisp white shirt and matching gray coat and pants, a black leather bag, carrying a pair of nice black sneakers in his hand.

“Hey, sorry I accidentally spilled cola on my other shirt, I had to change.”

“That’s alright. I like your outfit though, you look cool.”

“Thank you, I like yours too. I told you about casual dress though.”

“This is casual?”

“If you say so. Want a cocktail or something?”

“Uh, sure? Wait though I thought we were going out or something, I didn’t know you had company. I can leave?”

“No. Well, we’re going out a little later to a party, I wanted to invite you, come on.”

You stepped into his kitchen where he had various types of alcohol scattered on the counter, next to slices of pizza and a couple bags of chips.

You looked around the room at the new faces, some of them you recognized from Vernon bring them to the bar with him.

“Want the asshole special again? I actually made myself one.”

“Weirdly I do, yeah.”

Vernon laughed as he mixed you the same concoction he spilled the night before, handing it over to you gracefully.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. This is a weird question, but did you roll any of your cigarettes or have any of those cute papers you use? I told my friend about them and he wanted to find some to roll a joint with.”

Digging through your bag you pulled out the small case full of tobacco and papers from inside, holding out the pack to him to give to his friend, someone who you’re sure you’ll meet at one point or another.

“Wow. Thank you.”

“It’s cool, I have a bunch anyway. So, what does this have to do with you being my relationship guru anyway?”

“Nothing actually. Just wanted to hangout with you more.”

“Oh, right.”

Something about Vernon being so kind to you and sticking up for you last night and today was making you see him in a different light almost like you were starting to have a crush on him. But he could never be into you that way, especially seeing how he interacted with his friend Chae.

Walking around his apartment and saying hello to his friends, you chose a seat adjacent to the couch, one that was unoccupied and slightly out of the way.

Some of his friends knew who you were without you even having to mention it. Talking and getting to know them. You excused yourself to the bathroom, but stumbled upon a room adorned with movie posters and music equipment.

“The bathroom is right here.”

Vernon pointed to the unlatched door down the hall, the same position as yours.

“I know. I live here too. I was just being nosy.”

“Oh. That's cool, you can check it out if you want.”

Stepping into his office space, you smiled looking around at his various media and collectables, staring at the framed record on the wall signed by an artist you like yourself.

“This is yours?”

“Yeah. I got it as a birthday present when I was like eighteen. I love it.”

“Sick.”

“Sick? You’re so weird. Do people say that shit still?”

“Fuck off. People definitely still say that.”

“Not cool people.”

“You literally told me I was cool yesterday?”

“I spoke too soon.”

As you and Vernon were standing in his room laughing, Chae appeared behind you both without your knowledge and gripped Vernon’s side, scaring the both of you with his reaction and finding her laughing her ass off.

“You should have seen your guys’ faces. It was too easy.”

“You’re such an asshole, I almost hit you.”

“I’d like to see you try, big boy.”

You just smiled, feeling a little awkward watching Vernon flirting with his friend.

“We want to head out, are you guys ready?”

“I’m good, I think Y/N had to use the restroom though?”

“Yeah. It’s okay, I think I might just head back to my place. I have a headache, but you guys have fun.”

“No way, come on, take some tylenol and let's go.”

“Chae. Let her leave if she doesn't feel good.”

“She obviously wants to leave because she found your weird collection of fucking disney vhs tapes, not because of her headache.”

“Not true.”

“It’s fine. I’ll come, just let me use the restroom fast. I’ll meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Leaving you to do your business, Chae handed you two small white pills from her bag, and a swig of her beer to wash them down with before heading behind Vernon as they got ready to leave for the next location.

After a few minutes of walking you and Vernon’s friends pulled up outside a bar you’ve never been to but heard a lot of your friends enjoyed, amply titled Love Bites.

Vernon held onto your shoulders and walked you into the front door of the bar, pushing you towards a table where he told you to sit down and wait, as he walked away and left you with his friend to order everyone a round of drinks.

The seat next to you that you’d hoped Vernon would fill was taken by a dark haired boy you hadn’t recognized from earlier back at the apartment.

“Y/n? Hi, I’m Joshua.

“Oh. Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Vernon’s friend just so you don’t think I’m some random dude.”

“Right. I figured.”

“Actually I was the one who asked for the papers, thank you by the way.”

“Yeah, no problem. Do you smoke? Like weed or?”

“Yeah, just weed. I used to smoke cigarettes and vape for a while or whatever, but I stopped for a while. I just realized it was a boring habit.”

“How’d you know I had strawberry papers, did Vernon tell everyone?”

“No, no. He just said you were cool. Very friendly, but you didn’t talk about yourself enough and that you have nice smelling cigarettes that you smell like sometimes. Nothing too much really.”

“Oh. No dirty details about my weird dating life he pressed me about?”

“Nothing about that, but he knows about my awful habits too. He always tells me I need serious help.”

“Yes. Me too, I called him a relationship guru.”

“He thinks he is, but he’s had a crush on the same girl for a while. I'm not sure who she is, he never told me anything more about it. I’m not sure he’s the guy I’d trust to set me up that's for sure.”

“Oh really? Is it, you know?”

You pointed with your eyes across the table to Chae who was seated next to Vernon’s side.

“I don’t think so. She’s definitely been in love with him forever, they were friends when they were kids and rekindled a few years ago when she moved back to town. She's really obvious about it, but he never said anything.”

“Ah, I don’t know he seems to flirt with her alot.”

“He’s just like that with everyone, overly friendly, kind of dorky.”

“I see that.”

You spent the entire night talking and getting to know Joshua, surprisingly finding out a lot of things that made you more and more intrigued about him.

When the night finally came to a close, you left with his number and a plan to go out with just the two of you a few days later. Maybe Vernon being your friend was going to pay off more than you knew and his relationship guru advice brought you right into the hands of his very good friend.

In the next few weeks you continued working and getting to know the pervious shy boy you thought Vernon was and going on actual good dates with his friend Joshua, who much to your surprise wasn’t the type to fuck you and forget you on a first date.

Months passed by as your casual dating with Joshua went on and on, thinking that while it was good something with him was missing. But, you kept giving him a chance anyway. Unaware what that something was.

On a night where you were getting ready to go out for a date you found Vernon outside of your apartment door, knocking on it wildly waiting for you to come and answer.

“Is everything alright?”

“Y/n.”

“Want to come in?”

“No. Yes? Is that alright?”

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird as hell.”

Vernon just nodded his head and sat down on your couch.

“Are you getting ready to head out? You look really nice. I feel like I’m interrupting something.”

“No. I just got home from a date actually. Why?”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It would help if you stopped saying sorry and told me what was wrong.”

“Chae.”

“Oh?”

“She was over at my apartment. We were just playing video games and having some beer or whatever, but she tried to kiss me. And I let her at first, but I didn’t want to kiss her. I never have. I know she’s pretty and whatever, but like..”

“Wait. So why did you come up here?”

“Because I didn’t know what else to do? She’s still downstairs, she said she won't leave until we talk about what happened and she’s crying. I tried to tell her I wasn’t interested in her romantically and I liked being her friend, but she won’t take no for an answer. I just didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry I interrupted your nice night like this.”

You walked over into the kitchen and poured Vernon a glass of water to hopefully settle him from rambling so much.

“Can I ask you why you aren’t interested in her? I always assumed you guys had something going on.”

“No. Never. She’s not my taste, I mean she’s really cool. But we’re really similar and I don’t want to date someone who reminds me too much of myself otherwise I’d get bored, but never break it off maybe because I’m too nice or maybe because I feel too comfortable. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah.”

“Plus, I told her I liked someone else anyway and she got even more upset. She started accusing me of being a liar and leading her on.”

“I’ll be honest and when I first met her I thought you liked her too, but the more I got to know you I realized you pretty much act that way around everyone you’re comfortable with.”

“Right.”

“Want me to help you get her out of your apartment?”

“You would?”

“Yeah. I still owe you for spilling that drink a long time ago.”

“My god, no you don’t”

“Shh, in my heart I do. Are you staying here or coming?”

“I’ll come.”

Heading down the elevator still in your nice date outfit, you grabbed his keys and unlocked his front door to find Chae still sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come home.

Looking her up and down you found her dressed in shorts two sizes too small with Vernon’s T-Shirt draped over her body. Clinging to his pillow and looking you up and down.

“What the fuck is she doing here, Vernon? She’s not a part of this at all.”

“Actually, I’m here to ask you to politely get the fuck out of his apartment and stop making him feel bad for not liking you.”

“You’re such a bitch, he does like me. The person he doesn’t like is you, so maybe you should get the fuck out of here. He just feels sorry for you.”

“Chae, that’s not true and don’t talk to her like that.”

“You’re actually defending her? She hasn’t been nice to me once since she met me. She just acts like an entitled brat around me all the time, making me feel stupid. She’s not a part of this conversation at all, don’t you understand how insane this is?”

“She is a part of it actually, because she’s the girl I have a crush on and if I wasn’t so focused on making everyone else around me happy at the price of myself I would’ve been able to tell her that already instead of doing it like this.”

“Verno-”

“Her? You fucking like her? Seriously? She told me she never would date someone like you and that you’re dorky and a loser.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s never happened. You’re the one who parades around making me feel like an idiot and that I'm not good enough to be friends with Vernon. You know who’s being an entitled brat? You. You’re kicking this poor guy out of HIS apartment for not liking you back like a child, you’re sitting on his couch in HIS clothes, waiting for him to come back to you to try to pressure him into being with you when he told you he likes someone else. If you’re such a good ass friend to him like you constantly claim to be, then maybe be that good friend and get the hell up, give him his shirt back and get the fuck out or you can talk to him like the adult that you are and try to understand how he feels and continue being his friend. If you don’t like either option I don’t know what else to tell you. So, what will it be?”

“If I talk to him, you need to get the fuck out of here, I don’t want you around.”

“Fine with me, but stop being such an insufferable bitch and maybe have some compassion. Goodnight.”

Not wanting to wait around for the elevator, you slammed Vernon’s door shut leaving them to have their conversation and walked up the seven flights of stairs back into your cozy home untainted by her bad energy.

Hours later after you were showered and ready to destress from the absolute chaos your night has been, you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat on your to smoke a nicely rolled joint as a treat to yourself, leaving your phone inside your room and out of your eyesight.

Suddenly mid-inhale another knock came to your door, half of you wanted to pretend you were asleep, but another part of you assumed whoever it was must have an issue with you smoking inside your home.

Looking through the peephole of your front door, you saw for the second time in the night Vernon standing outside, now in his plaid pj pants and a hoodie pacing around waiting for you to answer.

Taking in a deep breath you opened the door and took one look at his messy hair, realizing he must have been trying to sleep, but couldn’t.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

“Be my guest. Sorry I’m smoking weed inside, it smells weird.”

“Can I have a hit actually?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Handing over the pink flower, Vernon took an incredibly long hit of the weed, exhaling it creating a cloud over the two of you.

“Wine?”

“Uh, not yet. Can I confess something to you?”

“Is it about the girl you like?”

“Sorry you had to find out like that. I was planning on telling you, but then you started seeing Josh and whatever else it just got away from me, it wasn’t the right time I know. I just let it slip.”

“It’s okay, Vernon”

“It’s not, especially when you’re not single. I feel like I ruined any relationship we had with saying it, even our platonic one.”

“When you talked about ruining my nice night before? Didn’t you wonder why I was coming home from a date at 7:00pm? It was because I actually just broke it off with Joshua. He was really nice about it of course, but I just felt like we were friends and nothing more.”

“Oh. So you’re not?”

“Dating him? No.”

“So I didn’t ruin it?”

“My night? Not at all, it wasn't that great anyway.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Vernon took the opportunity to steal your glass of wine and downed it right then and there whispering a small sorry to you for doing so.

“Okay, so. I knew I liked you the moment we started working together. I wasn’t sure how to tell you ever, I wasn’t even sure how to talk to you because you made me feel so awkward, not because you were mean or anything, just because I knew I’d sound like a fucking dumb ass. But, that night we first walked home together and had a drink. I found out so much about you, I liked you even more so I asked you to come and hangout with us at my place, I figured I could get some courage to finally ask you out, which ultimately I failed at again and it just spiraled out of control. It’s just gotten more and more bad for me, like bad in the sense I just can’t stop falling for you and you didn’t know. Until I essentially fucked it up further telling you I like you infront of Chae, which was a mistake too. I keep fucking it up.”

“You're doing pretty good if you ask me, but you should’ve just told me a long time ago then none of this crazy shit would have happened.”

“That's charming, no?”

“Only because it's you.”

“Look, I don’t need an answer from you now or ever, just know I wont be fucking weird about it anymore. I’ll let you go to bed. I’ll see you in a few days at work and everything will be good.”

Vernon got up and tried to walk towards your front door for an exit, but you caught up to him in time, grabbing him by his shoulders and spinning him around just in time to plant a perfectly placed kiss on his pink lips.

“I like that you’re fucking weird and for your information I admire your dumb vhs tape collection.”

Vernon took his opportunity to kiss you again, even longer this time than the first one, pushing his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as his hands snaked their way around your body.

“You taste like vanilla too.”

“Nice?”

“Perfect.”

“Would us having sex count as us fucking on the first date?”

“This would be considered fucking before the first date.”

“Ah, I see. Is that a no-no?”

“I’ll let it slide.”

Vernon lifted you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his long torso, and carried you onto your couch, setting you down to be perfectly face to face with his enclosed penis, now beginning to grow inside of his pants. Dipping your fingers into the waistband of his pants you grazed the tips of your fingers over the head of his dick, making him shiver from the cold touch of your hands.

Unwrapsping him like a present, his penis flew from his waistband and you quickly wrapped your lips around the soft pink skin, slightly creating a suction cup with your lips as his hands found their way to the back of your head and he fucked your face gently.

As his speed picked up, the head of his dick was pounding its way to the back of your throat making him weak in the knees and unsure how much longer he could go on like this without relieving himself inside of your mouth.

In order to savor this moment further, he against his better judgment pulled you off of him and got on his knees in front of you, running a finger down your neck, placing soft kisses on your lips and all the way down to your sternum, his fingers following along.

Pushing over your panties to the side he ran those same fingers up and down your wet center, making you moan and push onto him, begging for him to put them inside of you without many words.

When he was finally done teasing you, he placed his first two fingers at the entrance and ran his thumb over your clit making you squirm and let out a small moan, trying to grind your way further onto him.

With the same speed as before he started pumping his fingers into your wet center, crawling his way into your body and making you overwhelmed with pleasure.

Suddenly he was four fingers deep stretching you out as a preparation for you to be comfortable fucking his much larger dick when suddenly you squirted all over his bare chest, slinking back onto the couch in a fit of heavy breathing.

Vernon didn’t let you off the hook though, he grabbed onto you hips, carrying you onto the floor under him. Finally fucking you through your previous orgasm, riding into the sensitive waters of your clit, softly sucking on your nipples as he slowly thrusted himself onto you, almost like it was the only way to cure the aching in your center.

As the sweat and your bodily fluids mix their way together, the heavy breathing slowed to near silence, watching him in ecstasy fucking into you, noticing the beauty of the way his eyelashes ran across his cheeks and the small light gold flecks in his eyes. He’s never been more beautiful to you than he was tonight.

Suddenly in your daze his lips came onto yours before he slightly lifted them off of you to whisper while they still grazed over the top.

“Can I come inside?”

“Please.”

And with your verbal confirmation Vernon filled up your body with his semen and rode into his very own orgasm as well.

Kissing you once again he got up and ran into your bathroom to grab a clean towel for you both to clean up with and laid back down next to you on the floor.

Suddenly the two of you erupted into laughter, just thinking about how stupid you both were to see chemistry between you was about as hot as the sex you both indulged in.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave.”

“I can’t believe I thought you weren’t into me.”

“Who said I wasn’t lying?”

“The way you were moaning and fucking into me told me all I needed to know.”

“Ok, hot shot.”

“So about that first date?”

“It’s on.”

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thatweeboverthereisthirsty · 9 months ago

Note

Jade & Lilia reacting to their fem s/o that vapes/smokes 👀

Part 4 of S/O Who Vapes/Smokes

(Azul, Jade, Jamil, Lilia)

A/N: ironically I started this before I tried vaping and now I'm trying to quit 😅 (20 days sober lol)

The sheer surprise Azul experiences by seeing a cigarette set casually in your fingers is unexplainable by his standards

Smoke billowed from your parted lips and he let out a small squeak of shock

You turned towards your boyfriend and felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment

“A-Azul! When did you get here?”

“Just in time to see you engaging in a disgusting habit.”

Shame flooded your system and you scowled

In anger you took another long draw and you felt his gaze burn into you

He scowls and marches over to you

You pull back and look at him with defiance but startle when his gaze softens a bit

“Y/N” he started cautiously, “You know I love you and support you no matter what you do, right?”

You nod hesitantly and he continues “But I also want what is best for you and I might come from the sea but I do know a thing or two about stuff that hurts humans.”

It was hard to look him in the eye as he said that and you busied yourself snuffing out the cigarette

“I love you, Angel but this isn’t good for you and you know it.”

“I know but I can’t help it. Azul it helps, it really does.”

He sighs and sits down next to you, his nose wrinkling at the smell of your after smoke.

“There are people who can help�� I can look into some resources for you?” he asks careful not to upset you

For a moment you sit in tense silence before finally turning towards him with sad eyes

“Can I try to quit on my own first?”

He smiles and nods at you before kissing you briefly even though you know the smell and taste bothers him

“Of course Angel. I’m with you every step of the way.”

You’ve only been vaping for about a month but you could tell you were already addicted to it

The flavor, the feeling, the smell, the buzz, all of it was more addicting than anything you’ve ever experienced

The problem you had now was that your boyfriend just caught you taking a hit and you were suddenly regretting all of it

Jade was quiet for a moment, standing in your dorm room doorway stiffly

As if he snapped out of a trance he stepped into your room and closed the door behind him as he set his bag down

“So, how was your day?”

You cringed inwardly and looked down at your vape which you still held like it was a lifeline that could save you from this conversation

“Jade…”

“My day was good, Floyd tried to beat up a student and Azul wants me back early tonight to test out a new recipe before he opens the lounge”

His eyes met yours and you saw cold indifference in them

It hurt your heart to see him like this after you spent so long trying to get to the softer side of him which he rarely let anyone see, not even Floyd had been given that privilege since they were kids

“Jade!”

He raised an eyebrow and sighed dramatically as he sat on your bed

“Listen little Coral, I don’t care what you do or don’t do with your life but I do know that there are other ways to handle your problems.”

You bit your lip, feeling like a scolded child

“You will get through this and next time you feel the urge to bring that nasty device to your precious lips, come to me and I will distract them with a much more therapeutic activity.”

You blushed wildly and gawked up at him

“Now about that test you have tomorrow” he said with a smirk

You scowled at the thought of the impending doom that loomed over you then grinned as an idea struck you

“You know Jade, I’m kinda feeling like vaping right now. Maybe I could take you up on that offer?”

Needless to say, you didn’t get much studying done

It’s late when Jamil finds you smoking off the balcony at Scarabia

Kalim had invited you to stay the night after another one of his parties and you agreed knowing it would make the childish dorm leader happy

You didn’t expect that anyone else would be up this late so when you heard a shocked gasp you startled

Jamil had been on his way to the kitchen to make some tea for Kalim who was having trouble sleeping but strayed from his original task to take the cigarette from your hand

“What are you doing?!”

You rolled your eyes as if you were annoyed even though you just didn’t want to see the disappointment in his gaze

He waits patiently for a response but when it’s clear he isn’t going to get one he sighs

He takes your hand gently and pulls you towards him into a hug

“I know that you can’t help it if you are addicted but if you aren’t yet please stop. I love your voice and I love you, I can’t imagine not having either one day because of this.”

You look up at him with shameful tears in your eyes and he frowns as he wipes them gently

“I’m sorry Jamil.”

“I know, and I’m sorry you feel like you have to do this.”

The two of you talk for hours into the night about how he can help you and eventually you fall asleep in his arms

Lilia has seen and tried just about everything there is to try so when he sees you with a mysterious device in your mouth he is confused

You pull the vape device from your lips and he watches as white vapor follows it

As he gets closer he notes that it smells like the fruity scent you usually have

He had assumed it was some kind of perfume but he supposes it probably comes from your peculiar vapor device

That's when it hits him- the smell of nicotine hidden under sickly flavoring

Any normal human wouldn’t be able to scent something so subtle but to him it’s as if you had bathed in the stuff

“Love?” he appears next to you suddenly

Months ago that would have scared you but now you found it endearing

“Lilia!” you exclaim, slipping your vape into your pocket in what you hoped was a natural and unnoticeable way

He raised an eyebrow and summoned the vape to his hand and held it in front of you

“What is this odd device?” he asks in his rare serious tone

Sighing you explain to him that it is a modern way of smoking and that it is healthier than cigarettes so it is ok to do

He frowns through your explanation

“First, nothing that contains addictive non-prescription substances could ever be healthy in any way, second I can smell the chemicals that are no doubt doing damage to your lungs as we speak.”

Maybe he was being a little dramatic but he knew how sensitive humans were to these things and he would do anything to keep his human healthy and safe

You look at the ground while he speaks and he sighs in frustration

He doesn’t want you to feel scolded or ashamed, he just gets nervous about your health

“We will figure it out ok love? For now can you try not to do it as often?”

You nod and he kisses you soundly, Lilia will do anything for his human and he vows to find an alternative to your vaping device that allows you to feel secure in yourself and him to feel secure in your health

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #jamil x reader #azul x reader #jade x reader #lilia x reader

260 notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 6 months ago

Text

STRAWBERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi & spectacled boy)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 7.8k

summary: when your ex-boyfriend's fury burns you whole, you just might need to let hobi in to pour water over you and save you.

playlist: strawberries

pinterest board: j. / taglist: join

warnings: jungkook is nasty and mean and rly needs a trigger warning, oc is lost in her negative emotions and goes through a lot, sadness, crying, shame, longing for death, minor physical violence, oc and hobi take puffs of a shared vape <3, mental and emotional suffering, fighting, belittling, mentions of sex

note: this was an absolute pain to write as i'm not used to writing this genre of jungkook and i hope it's the last time i did skfskfsk, nah i'm just over exaggerating. i'm so happy i got this done in time. two updates in one week! wow. how did i do that? i hope you like this part. prepare yourselves for this jungkook and i'm sorry in advance..... that's all im gonna say. pls, validate me! asks, comments, anything. pretty please! i love you, my babies. big mwah.

You can still sense the ghost of his touch on your shoulder blades as you’re laying halfway on your tummy upon the crumpled bedding of your mattress. Your phone lights up and shuts off like the flickering of stars and all you can do is watch the wane and the rebirth, numbly, with the knowledge that death will never come, not when you’re still a living, breathing person because Jungkook is not the type of individual who gives up. Not easily, that is.

Hobi left but an hour ago while you slept. Kissed you goodbye. Murmured onto your forehead that he would see you again and you merely nodded amidst the magnetic pulling of your dreamland. Couldn’t peel your eyes open due to the heaviness of your tiredness, which didn’t steal, in all peculiar truthfulness, all of your attention, however. You carried on your shoulders a question way heftier. A question of how your body is still able to submit to slumber, when your blood curdles beneath your skin, when it’s so icy that you’re shivering on top of the duvet.

And the question didn’t leave when you woke up to your empty bedroom. It thumped, vigorously, against the nape of your neck. The very place Hoseok clutched when he poured his affection and admiration all over your body.

You wish he hadn’t left. You believe he would’ve possessed your burden, pretending it was his all along. Believe he wouldn’t need to know the alpha and the omega of it. Would pout his lips the way you’ve learned he often does, take the pain from you as if it were a backpack filled with stones. And it does feel like that, your mistake. Your torso is swathed with a double rope, whose end is tied with a stone that you’re cradling in your hands.

A few hours ago, you cradled Hobi’s face in your hands while he kneeled for you, and now you’re anticipating the death that will never come as your stomach hurts.

But the memory of his touch is soothing. While your imaginary wings are flaccid and lackluster on the bed, his invisible hands are the force that pumps blood, feebly, into its membrane. Still warm, though a little less firm. It’s as if he were here in the flesh.

Your body is asking for him, emotionally, however your mind is forbidding you from conveying your need for him to him. Logic is whispering to you that he’s spent the entire day with you, canceled his work meeting because of you. You couldn’t possibly ask for more of his time, for more of him when he had already given you more than enough.

And besides, you can’t let your attachment reach this unhealthy depth. It triggers you, reminds you of the very thing that spliced your heart open almost a month ago. You don’t want to wander there, nor do you want to be pulled there if you were to ever let go of the reins. You can’t afford Jungkook’s life to entwine around your world again. Not when Hobi diligently dug a grave for it, threw its flesh down and covered it back with the soil, his straining muscles the very force that made you forget about… everything.

You can’t do that to yourself. And most importantly, you can’t do that to Hobi.

It’s the latter that propels you to fight. That gives you strength to raise the top half of your body onto your hands. You don’t give a fuck about yourself—you know full well that your life is cursed. Nothing good has ever come out of the events that creeped in until Hobi came along. And you don’t wish to break him out of a selfish intent. You don’t wish to break him because of him. He’s a pure angel, a saint with an honorable heart, a God that has his eye on you. You wouldn’t take it well, if the bane of the ambrosia of your life were ever to touch his lips.

He’s here, and that’s stable. He’s here, and that’s the reason why you need to protect him. From yourself, from the poison, from the rotten apple of your ex-boyfriend current persistence in entering your space all over again.

You don’t want to eat that spoiled fruit anymore, and so you simply won’t.

This decision has shifted the atmosphere because your phone is no longer going off. You sigh a breath of relief, running your fingers through your hair, and you get up, a Virgin Mary that has become a warrior for her God, and you begin to dress yourself.

You need some fresh air.

Clothing yourself in a matching outfit—a light wash baggy jeans, a cropped white tank and a denim jacket with your Nike’s, you grab your phone and keys and drift out into the night.

Your hair has dried while you slumbered and it ripples in the gentle wind of autumn. The street is lit in a darkly yellow tone, also dried from the morning’s downpour and you stop in the middle of the road, where Hobi drove past while you teased him. You breathe in the freshness of the air in effort to inhale your God, in effort to bring him into your system and your chin quivers with weakened emotions, with a weakened wish that he was here with you, holding your hand, giving you the last bit of strength you need. You know his warmth would smooth out your blood, boil it to a temperature that would cook up your joy and bring it to your heart on a silver platter. Bring it to your mind and calm the hurricane within, feed it so it doesn’t wail anymore.

And with another sigh, you will yourself to stop. Will yourself to stop needing. You will stumble and you will fall if you keep going down that road that has never shone brighter, that looks nothing like the one you’re standing in the middle of. And as inviting as it is, you close your eyes to get rid of the blessing reaching out for you—only to discover that it’s waiting for you there, too. A circle of light, of fire amidst a cloud of pure, pitch-black darkness.

You want to scream, and much to your neighbors’ dismay—you do.

It’s a singular, loud stream of your frustration, swaddled with the pulsating energy of your affection. And then your shoulders tremble. And it’s your tears that are louder than that murmuring watercourse in their very silence.

You head to the convenience store down the street with your teardrops dotting the ground as if it were the rain. You don’t want your neighbors to detect it was you, who caused the disturbance, and tell your parents. You have enough fire in your orchard, you don’t need another filling of oil.

You ask the very drowsy guy behind the counter for a strawberry ice vape. His round eyes, behind thick rimmed glasses that make them look even bigger, are barely kept open as he reaches for it with a flabby hand. Your eye catches the glint of a myriad of plan B’s right next to the shelf scattered with packs of lung burners and your heart constricts, a rivulet of emotion cascading down your cheek, caused by the fond recollection of Hobi’s intimate desire and you break—terribly, terribly break. Fruit trees crack in you, collapse to the ground with a horrendous thud and the berry bushes… they wither until they’re mere wisps of blackness. A picture of devastation.

The boy blinks twice when he turns around, regarding you, and he asks for your ID, only to startle when you glare at him. He tells you the price and you pay with your phone, thanking him and saying your curt goodbye.

One he doesn’t reciprocate.

You probably gave him the fright due to the tears marring your pallid cheeks. You hope he isn’t there the next time you’re in the mood to douse your lungs with chemicals.

Your hands are shaking as you’re tearing up the unnecessarily sturdy packaging. And your tears resume in their outpour when your manicured nails make your life harder than it already is. The tape folded over the top of the rectangular box is too thick and you hurt your nail beds when you claw at it. You have to use your teeth and the fucking thing finally gives in.

You furiously throw it out in the bin.

Feel an incoming calmness when you take a deep puff. And you do it over and over again until your cursed world spins, the plump swirls of smoke mingling with the night, never fully connecting. Not like you and Hobi.

And your world tilts on its axis once your phone lights up in your hand and there’s no picture to be found on the screen.

Your heart hammers, threatening to fling out of your throat.

Hobi is calling you.

And the thing is, you don’t really believe it.

Your vision swims as another onrush of dense tears blurs the letters of his name. You stare down at your phone, dumbly, sobbing and not caring at all that the spectacled boy can hear you.

You don’t know who does it—who swipes your finger across the screen and allows you to hear Hobi say the pet name that stole your soul. Who anoints your tears with strawberry-scented mollification while you fail to comprehend that the person you willed yourself not to need in order to not hurt him the way you were hurt somehow heard your cries and answered them like the God he is.

Because it couldn’t have been you. Not when you’ve become a lifeless sculpture in the middle of a yellowly-lit street. A modern, urban art—awakening ugliness in anyone’s first impression.

Not a sculpture of the angel you saw at the museum, the one Hobi took your picture with, though.

You're a sculpture of a road kill. A wounded, small animal, laying on its side with its guts out. And Hobi places them, with gentleness you’ve never felt before, back inside, stitches your belly closed and picks you up, carrying you in his arms. All because he repeats the pet name—with a slither of panic this time.

He acknowledged that something is wrong, validated it.

And somehow, it snaps you out of your vapor of numb sadness and shame permeates your body, cold sweat coats it—something beyond it, too. Something that makes you shiver so hard that your teeth begin to chatter, preventing you from speaking, your tongue twisted, lifeless.

A reality check.

You sent a filthy video of yourself getting rocked from behind to your ex-boyfriend, in which you screamed that your most intimate parts belong to another man.

You’re not Virgin Mary. You’re Mary Magdalene.

You don’t hear your pitiful crying fits, but Hobi does—and it is through his inhale of a trembling breath and his words that you perceive that you’re baring your ugliness to him.

“Pup, what’s wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?”

You squeeze your vape in your small fist, sensing those words doing something in you—something that untwists your tongue and lets you breathe like him, though in painful, quick staccatos. Your frail legs hurt, not able to withstand your tremor, and they give out. You fall onto your bum, the impact and the gravel shooting a spark of pain up your spine and you whimper, your tears soaking your neckline.

“Hobi,” you call out, the last vowel breaking, teeth chattering, cacophonously. “I made a mistake. A terrible mi-mistake.”

He coos, sorrowfully, his loud breath still trembling—a strong rope nonetheless that you want to hold onto. That cord wouldn’t lead you to your death, wouldn’t scrape your hands with its harsh texture, wouldn’t be wrapped around a stone on the other end.

“Breathe for me, baby,” he says and guides you to do it. You inhale the night air with him, feeling like there isn’t enough of it to appease your lungs, and you exhale.

Somehow it halts the river of your cries and you do it again. Hobi lets you, patiently waiting on the other side, encouraging you and praising you. This time, it doesn’t sprinkle you with the sultriness of sin. No, you sense it cleansing you, giving you the kind of newness you stumbled across in his car this very morning. Your palm, the one that clutches your vape, opens and it rolls onto the ground. You grab it and when you wrap your fingers around it, you perceive that you do the motion around that newness. And your heart, your submission—they’re not letting up. Not again. Not when it’s him.

“That’s it,” Hobi praises, a hint of calmness in his tone. “Can you try and tell me what happened?”

You nod your head, even though he can’t see you, the newness gracing you with strength that spreads feeling into your legs and you stretch them out. Blood pumps in them and you can sense the direction it’s traveling to. You tighten your grip, open your mouth to talk.

“I sent the video to the wrong person,” you utter, and along with your grip, your lungs tighten as well. No sobs escape you, no tears. Only gravely stillness, nothingness while your shame stands behind you, menacingly, a demon set out on destroying you, the curse upon your life a bracelet around its wrist, a knife in his hand, to which it’s attached.

Hobi doesn’t say anything for a moment and you can sense his shock, its cold tendrils the ice that courses down your legs. An agony forms in your heart, stretches out an arm of regret and strikes against your ribcage, pangs of guilt and self-disgust seizing your body.

“I’m so sorry, Hobi, I thought I sent it to you,” you continue, your voice splitting, though no external expression of it is evident on your countenance. It’s as if you were telling him the most ordinary of a thing. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, taking a puff of your vape. It is only now that you can taste its strawberry savoriness and it suffuses your lungs with a mockingly sweet, feigned fume.

Hobi hears you exhale and you hear him swallow, dryly. An exchange, most redolent of the one you’ve done many times earlier.

“What are you smoking?” he asks, and it catches you off guard. You didn’t expect him to yell at you, nor did you expect him to scold you. Truth be told, your fragile state of mind didn’t let you expect anything of him, any sort of outcome. Yet this question still surprises you. It flattens lukewarmness upon your skin and you feel like nuzzling your face into it, needing more of it.

You take a deep breath. “I bought a strawberry vape. Scared the guy in the store with what I looked like.”

Hobi laughs through his nose, barely. That’s the real sweetness you know. The original one, from God himself. “I’m sure he thought you were beautiful. Should I beat him up?”

The same sound leaves you and lightness descends upon you. You welcome it in, without a fight, and the sigh you let out is of a serene kind, at last. “Not at all and besides, I almost did it myself. He asked for my ID.”

Hobi coos, the endearment prolonging—wafting through your ear down your throat until it clings to your heart. You snivel, your inkling to nuzzle into the apparition of him lining your body growing bigger until you submit to it. You graze your cheek upon your arm, propping both of them onto your lifted knees. Feel his caress, but faintly. It should be enough, but it isn't. Could never be.

You open your mouth again to tell him to come get you, despite the fight rising in you, but Hobi speaks first.

“I don’t blame him that he did. You’re just my little pup. But my adult, little pup. I’ll talk to him.” You hear a shuffling in the background and your breath hitches in your throat, your heart joining it, ascending. “Where are you? I’m getting in my car.”

Your mind, where the war is coming from, wins. That quickly. Reminds you that if you face him and tell him what you’ve done, you’ll ruin everything. Ruin the connection, ruin the affection he carries for you.

You’re hasty as you scramble your words, but as your heart descends back into your ribcage, it throws you a lifeline. It all happens in an instant and distaste pools on your tongue from the rapidness of it all. You never liked it, and you never will.

The lifeline of your new life, created by Hobi, changes your words, but leaves the intention untouched.

“Can I tell you who I sent it to?” you ask, taking a puff to relax the electricity of your nerves. The strawberry flavor only heightens it, though. Out it must go, then. So you can forget about it the moment you see his face.

The shuffling halts. “You can tell me in person,” Hobi says, lightly, but you shake your head. You know he means well. Know that he wants to reassure you with touch, but it’s a risk you can’t afford. Not when the wrong kind of neediness is at stake.

“I don’t want to talk about it when I see you,” you push, pursing your lips, finding them in a serious need of a chapstick. You begin to nibble on the flecks of skin that stick out. “I want to focus on you. I want to forget.”

No ounce of a lie in your words, though your intention still remains hidden. Rightfully so—him leaving you because of the storm of your mental state and issues is another risk you don’t want to have staining your hands with blood.

You hear him sit down. Hear him play with his keys—and the clanging sound is oddly comforting. “All right. Tell me, then.”

“I sent it to someone from my past,” you start with great difficulty, pause afterwards because a light pours in from behind. The squeak of breaks, the impatient buzzing of a running car. Your mouth dries, your torso turns around. A silhouette exits the vehicle and as the person emerges from the darkness and steps into the bright lights that it’s emitting, the name that slips past your lips is more of an acknowledgement of his presence than a disclosure of information. “Jungkook.”

Jungkook stops right behind you like the demon of your shame did, with his hands in his pocket. You don’t feel warmth radiating off of him. You feel coldness, a wintry coldness so akin to the one that troubled your body before Hobi called. He zeroes his gaze down on you, piercing your irises with a fury that causes the fine hair on the nape of your neck to rise, painfully. The muscles of his forearms are clenched, oscillating as he drums his fingers on his thighs in the cocoons of his pockets. Your breath trembles, terror prickling you profoundly until it cuts your skin open and you whimper—you whimper with a sob.

“Who’s Jungkook?” Hobi asks, softly, and you close your eyes to incarcerate your tears, curling your lips under your teeth, terribly fearful that Jungkook can hear him.

Cursed, your life is.

He shows no sign that he does—merely burns with that fury, patiently waiting for you to end the call. Your heart stills, ache replacing it, and you think it’s been wounded so much that it can barely work anymore.

More than ever, you feel like that Mary Magdalene, face to face with the devil that tempts her to return to her vomit like a dog.

Hobi calls your name, panics, and it’s another lifeline—this time thrown over your torso by his own hands. You have to fight, you have to stand up to this hell and walk the fuck away from it.

“Baby, I gotta go. Please, hurry. Please,” you pule, stressing the last pretty word to divulge to him how grave the situation is that you’re in. Hobi lets out a breath, lowly and shortly, and it’s such a relief that he understood your vague message, that you can hear him scurrying to his feet and that comforting sound of his keys clanging.

“I’ll be there in a few, pup. Tell me where you are. Are you safe? Do you have your keys?” Hobi spews, massaging your heart with his care and there’s no ceaselessness to your tears.

“Down the road, like less than a minute away from my apartment. And I don’t know. And yeah, they’re in my pocket.”

A bang of his door closing. Jungkook begins to tap his foot. You scowl at him, despite your fear. He doesn’t stop. You withdraw your gaze.

Hobi’s breath quickens. “Pull them out and use them when you need to, okay? Have them ready in your hand.” You nod, doing exactly as he says, without a thought spared. “Walk to your apartment building, I’ll meet you there. You got your keys in your hand?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, pup, I’ll be there soon. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

You do, but you can’t.

“I’ll go to my apartment now, Hobi. Thank you.”

You don’t allow yourself to hear what he says next. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you hang up with a heavy heart. Your sudden, miserable aloneness enfolds around you, rigidly. But not as rigidly as Jungkook’s cold hand around your arm.

The heaviness in your heart grows as its drum speeds up.

“Get up,” Jungkook grunts, hauling you up onto your feet, awkwardly, causing you to drop your vape onto the gravel with the strength and hastiness he uses to do it with.

You stumble before you catch your balance and Jungkook doesn’t let go of his deathly grip on you until you do. Then, before your blurring sight, he bends at the waist and picks up your lung burner, skimming his eyes over it. Hands it to you with a scoff, his touch icy cold as he grabs your wrist and places it onto your palm. You sob, with ugliness that scars you, with such intensity that Jungkook’s narrowed eyes round and you pull your gaze away. You don’t want to see it. Tug your arm away from him, rubbing your wrist to get rid of the ghost of his fingers there, disgust flooding your bloodstream underneath.

And even though he seemingly softened at your tears, it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. It didn’t touch his fury, not at all.

“Baby, huh?” he seethes with gritted teeth, letting go of you so harshly that you almost stumble again. “Your pussy is his, huh?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, rivulets of tears rolling down your cheeks, pain compressing your entire body. It’s at this moment that you will death to take you somewhere far, far away from him, because you’re too frozen on the spot to run away.

“You’re covered in hickeys and you’re smoking that shit again. Was it really that good? Did he fuck you so good that you had to send it to me in spite? Did he fuck you better than I ever did?”

Your sobs gain that same agony that prevents your lungs from inhaling. And when you open your eyes, all you can look at is your shadow and his, yours blackened so much that it digs a hole in the gravel, his furling with flames.

And along with death, you will a little strength into your anguish.

And most unbelievably, it slinks in, and your following words come as much of a surprise to you as to him.

“Stop.”

His shadow stills, his tremor following suit.

“You have no business talking to me this way,” you continue, your throat constringing, and you take a big puff of your vape—to spite him rightfully this time. It loosens the tightness and you open your mouth, not finished with your outpour.

But Jungkook stops you.

“I have no business? You crushed my fucking heart.”

Your head whips and the sight of him causes your pain to rise in levels. Palms outstretched towards you, his posture slouches and the breaths he lets out are wretched, the sound of a tumultuous sea at night. One would think he’s the one being inflicted great emotional violence on, not the other way around.

Jungkook raises a finger to his heart, licking his lips before he flattens them, as if the utterance of something so private, so fervent took all of his strength. He pants and you know it’s due to the fact that he can’t catch up to the thoughts rushing in his brain. And you wish you didn’t. You wish you didn’t know him so intimately.

“This fucking heart has never stopped being yours,” he confesses and cringes at his choice of words, triggered. Your stream of anguish is silent as you take them in. “And you crushed it. Ruined it.”

There was a time, one that used to be nearly endless during those weeks in August you spent at the beach, healing from the breakup, when you longed to hear that confession. Prayed for it. Sough it when you grazed your fingertips along the sand. And now that it’s here—now that you’re tasting something so great, greater than your entire being, something so burnt as he voiced out your tendency to cause ruination—you wish you never heard it. Wish you never had the ears that carried that message to you.

And there’s nothing you can do. Not as darkness swallows you, confiscating any bit of strength you had left. Your eyes sting from their downpour, face features droop. Your pain is an enormous stone and you can’t carry it. You can only chase away the heft. And you do—you take a puff of your vape.

One that he rips from your mouth and throws it out in the bin, preventing you from doing so. You don’t yelp, you don’t claw at his arm—you merely watch him rid you of your only salvation for the night, watch him exert his power over you all over again, bursting your indignation into flames.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you ask, your voice deathly, uncannily placid, carrying no tendril of the offense and anger you feel. Adrenaline courses through you, asking to be let out.

And you just might.

Jungkook turns around and spits on the ground. “Don’t smoke that shit.”

It’s not hurt, what the expression of his arrogance produced. It unlocked the door, which kept your adrenaline and your darkened emotions at bay, invited them out.

And so you lash out, using that freedom.

You slap him.

And he takes it. Without moving an inch. Still as a grand statue. You yearn to demolish it to smithereens, so you can never see him again, and you strike at his chest with your keys in between your fingers, pushing him. Affected from the force, it causes him to unwillingly take a step back and it feels fucking glorious until you catch stars flash in his eyes.

“You’re hitting me because I threw out your fucking vape?” he asks, his voice coated with a dark bitterness that deepens it. His brows furrow, grimness casting a shadow over his face, hiding the glitter of the stars. “I’m laying my heart out to you. I’m here in the middle of the night because of you and this is what you care about? This fucking thing that harms you is more dear to you?”

You push him again, fuming. Jungkook grits his teeth, takes your wrists and holds them in the air. You fight against it, but he won’t budge. Tightens his grip. And you’re a bird, locked in a cage—but you still have your voice.

“I’m hitting you because I hate you,” you mutter, burning him with the vapor of your anger through your narrowed eyes. “I’m hitting you because I hate the way you think you’re still entitled to have a say in my life. And it doesn’t even matter whether I have a man or not. You let me go and the moment you did that, your control over my life? It went fucking bye bye.”

You let him forbid you from smoking in the past. Needed it at the time, needed a father’s hand—and you liked it because you never had it. Never had a male care about you, about your health, about your actions. Your father never spared you a glance, never gave a fuck about you. He always had your mother handle you, blaming her for the way she raised you.

But during those weeks you healed, being alone by the sea helped you unattach yourself from that, from needing Jungkook to tell you what’s right and what’s not. The moon doesn’t tell the sea which shells to wash up onto the shore—it does it by itself, handpicks them, makes the decision. And the more time you watched it deliver it to you and you collected them with gladness, the more you understood it.

You’re never letting him have that power over you again. You’re your own person, carrying an armful of your right and wrong decisions—your own possessions. And so you will smoke if you want to. You will bring a man home on the first date. You will fall in love. And you will speak up.

You twist your wrists, unrelentingly, until he lets go. You will win, not your mind, not your heart. The raw, brutal, unabashed you.

You take a step back away from him, feel your blood rushing to the places of your body parts that he held, quick to recover them. “You don’t get to dictate my life anymore. You have no place in it. You didn’t have it then when I was by myself, and you most certainly don’t have it now.”

Jungkook takes in your words with a parted mouth, a red mark forming over his cheek, the light shunned from his eyes. The glorious feeling returns, blooming thin, translucent tissues of happiness in you.

“Hoseok is his name, isn’t it?” he chunters, placing his hands back into the cocoons of his pockets, tilting his head to the side.

Hearing him say his name is a taste of spoiled milk and bile springs up your throat, your guts longing to empty themselves out. You stifle it, you have to, clutching your stomach, feeling so horribly faint. Your hatred for him blossoms like that poison ivy you dealt with earlier in the morning.

“Keep his name out of your mouth,” you spit, scowling at him, clutching your stomach harder—just like Hobi did when you brought him home. A sliver of nostalgia forces you to look behind you, in case you catch a glance of his car, but the street remains empty and sullen.

“You can hate me as much as you want,” Jungkook mutters, his words swiveling your head back to face him, and your guts ripple. “Yell at me. Hit me. But don’t send me videos of you getting fucked. That’s not fucking right.”

You bare your teeth, seething. “I made a mistake.”

Jungkook nods. “Yes,” he hushes. “Yes, you did.”

You shake your head. “No, you don’t understand.” Confusion pinches his brows, creating a wrinkle in the middle and he lets you continue. You lick your lips, your face dry from the way your tears have seeped inside. “I thought I sent it to Hobi. I was too tired, I didn’t see. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Jungkook scoffs, running his tongue over his bottom lip swiftly, mimicking you. “Don’t fucking lie to me, little girl.”

You mewl, painfully, at the pet name. It’s as if he sank a dagger in the middle of your sternum. Weariness descends upon you and you rub your eyes, wishing you had your strawberry vape, your salvation, in your fist. And you find no traces of any grit, any determination to convince him that you’re being truthful to him.

You turn around halfway. “Go home.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but the squeaking sound of brakes causes him to close it right away. You know it’s Hobi and the knowledge is more satisfying than the dose of chemicals Jungkook threw out. Relief washes over you, bringing along lightness and something that is kindred to joy. You don’t care that Hobi is about to see your ex-boyfriend. You don’t care about anything at all—you’re just so grateful that he’s here. And you’re willing to let go of your walls, of your war that you tend to be so submissive to. You’re willing to let yourself go and let Hobi take you, handle you, take care of you.

You need it. As much as it pains you, you need him after this encounter with Jungkook.

And when Hobi calls your name and you pivot on your feet to watch him walk, hurriedly, to you, your legs do give out after all. Because he’s caked in blood, a trickle of it flecked and dried on his brow, illuminated by Jungkook’s headlights. You land, awkwardly, on your bum and your wrist, wincing in pain, but it’s not his hands that lift you.

It’s a pair of hands that you know to be cold and, despising the sting of it, you shriek, pushing him away. The motion leads you to stagger into Hobi’s arm that he opens for you, his chaste, feathery touch grounding you, giving you the sense of home, even when the look he gives Jungkook is anything but warm and friendly.

“Hobi, what happened? Are you okay?”

You take his shiny, sweaty face into your hand. Your eyes could fall out of their sockets due to how beautiful he is, even bloodied, alarmed and bestial. You need to know what happened. Need to clean him up. Take him home.

But Hobi doesn’t answer you. Doesn’t look your way, only acknowledges you with his scalding touch. Stares down your ex-boyfriend with such contempt that you’re surprised the man is still standing.

You’re so pulled in, so focused on him and his unwavering expression of detestation, which flatters you and soothes you, that you don’t notice that Jungkook is leaving. Hobi snaps his fingers at him and beckons him to come back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hobi barks, his fingers lowering and hooking around the middle belt loop of your jeans.

Jungkook returns to that space of light, the black tank top he’s wearing making it seem like he’s hollow on the inside. Perhaps he is, he did hand over his heart. Wasn’t affected by your fragile state of mind, by your tears. Wounded you to the point that you will take days to recover. Only a person of complete nothingness would be able to do that.

“I saw you at the museum,” Hobi continues, brows wrinkled. “Who the fuck are you?”

You should speak. You should take this elsewhere, but you can’t. Not when you feel so small, like a little girl hiding behind the leg of her father who’s dealing with the boogeyman. And you’re reminded that this has happened before.

Only the roles were reversed.

In the wine-tinged room this morning while you were confronting Jungkook and his companion found him. She asked the same question, though the hostility she showed you could never be compared to Hobi’s unkindness. He emanates respect while she’s a condensation of insecurity.

“I see you’re the Daddy from the video,” Jungkook laughs, humorlessly, dipping his chin before he lifts it in a very evident effort to reach not only Hobi’s height but his supremacy as well. He will always wish to overpower—it’s in his nature. “Trust me, you’re not the only one she called Daddy. Long before you came along, it was all I heard from her—”

You blink and Jungkook’s face is in Hobi’s hand.

You gasp. You’re a witness to Hobi protecting your dignity as he squeezes his cheeks until Jungkook moans, pathetically, in pain. And all you can think about is how long he had that coming. For throwing out your vape, for his arrogance and now for the way that he spoke about you.

You don’t feel a slither of pity for him.

No—your joy, fully, forms.

“If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, I won’t hesitate to unable to you talk,” Hobi says with concerning seriousness and you shiver, grazing your fingertips along your collarbones after you fold your arms over your chest, touched, flattered, loved. A line of tears threaten to pour out of your eyes, but you hold them back. You don’t want to cry anymore—you’re sick of it. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything. Hobi waggles him before he lets him go and you swear you caught a tinge of whiteness scattering along his knuckles. Your mouth dries.

“Now you’re dismissed,” Hobi finishes, turning around and grabbing your hand, tugging you back home.

Your legs follow him, but your vision doesn’t. It remains fixed on Jungkook, on his heaving chest, on his reddened cheeks, embossed with Hobi’s fingerprints and the lines of your hand. His eyes are smothered with stars, a skyful of them, ones that expand until there’s no darkness left.

And you’re witness to regret taking shape in them.

And something about that tells you that this isn’t the last time you see him.

Hobi had been in a car accident on his way to rescue you. He tells you of it as you’re cleaning him up with a lukewarm, wet cloth and your arm gets stuck in the air, unable to move, as you comprehend the life-threatening danger he underwent because of you. Another driver bumped him from the back while he was slowing down at the yellow light, wanted to race on the almost empty highway. Was under the influence, Hobi found out when he stepped out of his vehicle to grapple with him. Deemed it wasn’t worth it, especially when time was pressing down on him, and with a little manipulation and an installment of fear, the silly guy agreed to pay for everything and Hobi got his number.

You wonder at how he managed to get back inside his car and drive when he hit his head on the steering wheel. You worry that he has a concussion. Suggest to take him to a hospital, but Hobi only shakes his head, reassures you he’s fine and once you completely clean the blood off of his brow, you can see a thin but bulbous scratch right beneath the fine hair, surrounded by violets and pinks. A different bruise from the ones bestrewn over his body from your mouth.

Your heart aches. This is all your fault, the repercussion of your neediness, the finished work of your ruination.

You grow solemn, your features drooping again, but Hobi isn’t blind to it. Cups your chin, lifts it, fondles it with his thumb. Pouts ever so slightly. Why is it a relief that you feel bursting in your chest amidst your lingering pain is something you can’t really understand.

But he’s God. No wonder he’s able to mount such strangeness in you and make it work.

“Did he hurt you?” Hobi whispers, cradling your other hand on your lap. He’s sat in your armchair, with you on his thighs, in the very corner of your dark living room, lit up coolly and solely by your antique lampshade. It’s where you read your poetry, where you recite it to nobody else but you, where you recharge your battery when your world exhausts you. The fact that Hobi chose to sit here instead of your couch speaks volumes, has a great meaning that you’re too weary to decipher and romanticize, but you like it. A lot. To the point that you’re comfortable enough to answer his question, despite the fact you looked forward to Jungkook’s absence in your alone time with Hobi.

“The way he spoke about me was the same way he talked to me,” you say, your voice coated with milky sadness. Your eyes instinctively drop to his hand holding yours, to his fist wrapped around your fingers. “He didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t send it to him on purpose.”

Brusqueness clouds his eyes, but he remains gentle with you. “You don’t have to care about what he thinks, whether he believes you or not. You don’t have to prove anything to him. Your one word is enough,” Hobi says, drifting his hand down your arm until it winds up at his other one intertwined with yours and you sob, tearlessly. It’s precisely what you needed to hear without knowing it, the final touch to the closing chapter that had so abruptly opened. You carry it into your minuscule heart, sinking it there, letting it permeate its entirety, and you nod your head. “Did he hurt you physically?”

You lay yourself down on his chest, on his bloodstained blue shirt, on his heart that you missed and Hobi locks you in, taking his hands and wrapping them around your form. You could fall asleep like this, forget and become the happiest girl in the world.

“Not that much.”

His heart quickens and you regret your words.

“What do you mean not that much?”

You’re quick to fix your mistake, not thinking it through.

“He was rough with me. My legs gave out on me before he came. He found me on the ground and he lifted me up. Then held my wrists when I hit him—”

“You hit him?”

You stammer, jumbling your words, deciding on just one. “Yeah.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, squeezing your arm, and this is the death you longed for.

Never in your life had you ever experienced praise from a man in a non-sexual context and not gotten lustfully affected by it. The purity, the newness is so healing, so consequential that you can’t help but to stroke his clothed ribs in side to side motion, in appreciation and even a faint smile of fondness curls your lips, one that Hobi can very well see from above. He caresses the trace of it while it is still there, causing your smile to blossom, and you sense the orchard in you gaining life.

“You went through so much emotional suffering today and yet you’re still able to smile. All because I praised you. You react so beautifully to it,” Hobi comments and you blush, his thumb skipping over to it, giving it the same attention, collecting it like keepsakes. You’d wonder at it, too, if you haven’t already acknowledged yourself, intimately, with his sovereign power of erasing past events.

And you tell him, peeling your torso off of his chest.

“It’s your doing. You make me forget about everything when I’m with you. It’s like it never happened at all. I don’t know how you do it.”

Hobi smiles, the corners of his glimmering eyes crinkling. “If it’s my doing, then it’s yours, too. You should know how you do it.”

You soften into liquid and it’s your heart that quietly weeps now. “You remember the poem.”

He nods, gliding his hand up and down your side. “How could I not? It’s all I can hear in my mind. I kept hearing it on my way home and then on my way back to you.”

That alone takes the unfateful events of the night off of you like a layer of clothing, dressing you in strength. You need a giant puff of your vape, just to recuperate from being drowned in the sea of your past longing for this. And you reach into the pocket of your jeans, only to be reminded of what happened to it.

It feels like a distant memory. So much had occurred that it slipped from your mind. You frown.

“What’s wrong?”

You purse your lips. “I thought I still had my vape.”

“You don’t?”

You shake your head. “He threw it out.”

Hobi seems as offended by the information as you were when you watched it happen. And as much as you bonded over your sexual desires, the same connection clicks over this.

“He’s such a dick. Let’s get you a new one.”

He pats your bum and then you’re on your feet, tugged back outside, with a smile quivering your lips. And this time you follow him with your vision, too. Your eyes sail over his strong imaginary wings, on which the pink dominates the black, and you feel your own being upheaved, slowly gaining the vigor that they lost.

And Hobi scares the spectacled boy in the convenience store. Not with his stained shirt, but with the way he provokes embarrassment in him by asking him if he wants to see his ID as well, staying true to the words he said to you over the phone. The boy didn’t even so much as peek at you, too afraid to do so.

It made you laugh.

Hobi double checked with you if it were the strawberry flavor that you wanted, and you changed your mind. Picked the blackberry one because you never had it before. Could use another dose of newness.

He opens the packaging with you, struggling at first, but then he immediately uses his teeth. You smile so hard that your cheeks hurt.

Smile even as he places it between your lips, but you can’t take a puff, can’t drop the presence of your happiness, even when he encourages you. That is until he inhales it first—you’re so struck by the beauty of it, of him that the muscles in your face let up. The smoke twirls around the feathers of his wings, adding just the right amount of white into its art, and you yearn to fall asleep on them.

“Can you stay over tonight?”

“Only if you take a puff.”

He carves it between your lips and this time, as you’re so mesmerized by him, you wrap your lips around it and suck; suck in that heady, hefty, colorful flavor that pools warmly in your throat, blowing the smoke around his neck while he kisses your forehead. Takes you back inside. Dresses you in your pajamas. Lets you smoke in bed with his wings swaddling you and your little childhood bows-adorned bunny plushie. Lets you put the vape in his mouth as he strokes your hair.

The night birds begin to sing and into their song your phone dings. You know who it is long before you prove yourself right.

But it’s not a text message that disturbed their music.

Jungkook sent you a picture.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

BACK to masterlist | READ part one | READ part two

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camelspit · 3 months ago

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Dex Dizznee by @purplesoup-lad-le

Marella Redek by @xanadaus

Propaganda:

Dex Dizznee:

"he’s so smart and crafty and caring and UGH i just love him. my boy deserves SO much more love than he gets" (anonymous)

"DEX!! He’s the sweetest boy ever and he absolutely would ruin your life <3 He’s just a cutie that loves his friends and family (even when they don’t love him back smh) and just a silly little dude hehe. And also have you seen him?? He’s gorgeous <333" @imobsessed123

Marella Redek:

"She’s a gossip, she vapes in the school cafeteria and she’s a fruit. She dyed her hair with metal in class to match her not-girlfriend. She has mommy issues. She’s the child of a broken home. She prob skips class to gossip in the bathroom. She’s short. She’s the one who records the fights in the bathroom- if she’s not the one fighting. She’s not like other girls. She is like other girls. She know everything there is to know about you and your immediate family. Did I mention she’s a fruit" (anonymous)

"I would give her a vape" (anonymous)

"my girl is SO underrated she's one of the COOLEST PYROKINETICS EVER and she saved Sophie from social suicide on her first day so THERE'S A POINT. WE STAN GIRLS' GIRLS. and then sophie keeps neglecting her and maruca and linh but THEY ARE STILL SO LOYAL AND I JUST LOVE HER SM" @apollosmusee

#kotlc #best keeper character 2024

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eastgaysian · 7 months ago

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(after spending several minutes standing silently in the corner of your house vaping) it's like kendall and tom are both invested in waystar like that one dril tweet, i spent my whole life trying to take over the sexual violence factory and now everyone's like oh the sexual violence factory is bad its ineffective fuck off. on a fundamental level they can't really conceive of a different way to operate, certainly not without jeopardizing the power and security they're so invested in. (tom is certainly less familiar with/acclimated to the Roy Mindset, but while their perspectives/behaviors are 'extreme' they are not actually incompatible with a kind of everyman pov, and tom is unwilling/unable to challenge the roys' logic.) they can't shake the idea that, essentially, bottoming is gay and unmanly and humiliating, but someone's gotta do it! you can't fuck, you can't get anything done, you can't win with equals and hand stuff doesn't count! and the bottom can't be them, of course, it's always gay and unmanly and humiliating for 'getting fucked' to happen to you, much less to want it. but at the same time they struggle grappling with the coercive implications for various reasons.

so kendall is more directly uncomfortable, but primarily tries to cope by pretending that the coercive implications don't exist if he doesn't look at them and doesn't invoke them himself. at the same time he continually falls back on aggressive patterns of behavior when he's insecure - i'd argue most prominently in his relationship with rava. all while being, uh, bad at fucking in all the ways that count by the show's logic. while tom technically succeeds where kendall fails, but in a way that is unsatisfying, even miserable for him, and reveals how arbitrary this measure of success is. like, principally, tom can more or less stomach the morality, and then can't figure out a way to comfortably navigate the gender-sexuality tangle and stay emotionally secure. point a, the fucked up evil genderplay that is the fabric of tom and shiv's marriage, but point b, like. while tom and kendall are definitely both guilty of saying bizarre homoerotically charged things without blinking an eye, it's important to distinguish that tom seems to only be interested in/can only justify this if there is a coercive implication.

i think i alienated myself from a chunk of the tomposters while succession was airing, but i feel like people didn't consider this or didn't want to? but i think it's a big part of how tom, like, conceptualizes and lives with deviance from (cis)heterosexuality. if it's coercive no one is actually 'gay,' it's about the power dynamic and not the real people involved (haha). enduring the homosocial behavior reinforces the fact that everyone involved is straight, and that this behavior is to some degree expected of straight men in this environment. if it isn't coercive, if anyone involved wants it as anything more than a show of hierarchy, then it's about you as people and you're a freak and you lose. but this 'safe' transactional realm is devoid of the emotional connection that tom very much desires.

anyway, all this to say, transition could save(?) both of them. really bad sad soggy gay sex with each other would make them worse

#You guys remember succession?#find-replacing every he/him with she/her when i'm talking about kentom and then changing it back and then rechanging it back #chalkboard #i hear you bent for him and he fucked you #babbling

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bull-shit-suji · 8 months ago

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kuro modern au stuff that i word vomited into my notes app

kind of a Vincent summoned sebastian to save ciel so ciel doesnt actually owe sebas anything

amnesia? idk

single dad moment! except theres this other dad whos kinda find.. (cough agni)

i think vincent was like do NOT let ciel know ur a demon so sebastian keeps it a secret but he doesnt have a good handle on like. Humans. so he kinda does a bad job and ciel definitely knows that he's weird but doesnt say anything. will go out of his way to gaslight you when sebastian does weird shit because he thinks its funny

"hey uhh is your dad levitating?"

"no?"

"he's flying above the school rn"

"that's a bird"

u think suddenly being a butler is hard? have fun being a dad bitch

alois is there but thats complicated. claude and hannah are DIVORCED but on decent terms (i think claude is like. toxic alpha male podcast type guy) and claude sees alois on alternating weekends!

are they demons? i dont know

i think ciel and alois can be friends. platonically. alois would probably say yes if ciel wanted to be romantic but i Promise you he does not. they are just pals :)

im saying ciel has a crush on elizabeth because i can (she's not his cousin here). emo boy x sunny church girl. said sunny church girl has to ask the mcdonalds employees for the blue raspberry slushie they forgot to put in ciel's order because emo boy is too scared.

IM 13 EVERYTHING SUCKSSSSS

grelle is actually living her best life transitioned with anne so they are ciel's aunts on his late mom's side. i think grelle likes ciel. mom figure moreso than anne is.

ciel owns four bongs and definitely a vape or two. come on now

he's also probably got celiac and is lactose intolerant he is just a feeble boy i think

he listens to twenty one pilots. sorry! sorry.

ciel is goth alois is punk those r kinda just the rules

ciel is insanely smart top of the class this shit is easy for him.

yells at sebastian daily. figured out what happened with his real parents around the age of uhhhh 12 or 13? has been an absolute terror ever since

"it was really nice of your dad to bring cookies for the field trip!"

"i hope he fucking chokes on one"

"oh!"

sebastian and claude are pta rivals.

"is this lemon bread store bought? my, how... efficient!"

"you made these from scratch? i can tell."

"i've never seen an interesting looking salsa! very exciting."

ciel purposefully invites alois over constantly bcus it pisses sebas off. alois is Terrified of that man.

"go grab the chips from the kitchen"

"but... what if mr michaelis is in there?"

"mr m- you mean my dad? tell him he can shove a faucet up his ass"

"id rather die on the spot"

sebastian will yell at ciel and is maybe a little emotionally unavailable but he's trying!!! it's hard :(

does that Dad thing where he comes into ciels room and is like hey bud......... what r u up to..

ciel and seiglinde r also palls. the smartest people in school

lizzie is a JOCK. she plays softball.

alois is a theater kid come on now

ciel is best at writing and literature analysis, specifically fiction. enjoys history, language, and Some sciences as well.

nerd

au where myspace is still a thing ciel has a myspace account

he definitely writes shitty poetry

wants to major in business

alois is a glee and pitch perfect truther

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mysadblacksoul · 7 months ago

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Backslide - 3/13 of the Clancy album

Grab a coffee and let's start this madness

Tyler is wearing the same clothes that he wore in Overcompensate MV to I would assume that this MV takes place right after

Let's break down the signs first

We see the return of Ned Bayou as well as FPA, now standing for Food Petrol Etc.

You can buy 9 buns for $21, love the symbolism

There is a Jim sign omg. Baby is having his own bubblegum business

Of course the Bishops sign with 9 lines marked on it

I could've sworn that the black sign says "Dema Vapes", but looking closely I believe it's "Velma Vapes" lol

What is more, the cones (?) are yellow and I'm pretty sure that the fact that there are 5 of them is not an accident

They sold him bread that went bad lol. Nah for sure it's not the case since he gives the same bread to a child

But I believe that the scene and the lyrics are closely tied with Stressed Out

Now the next scene is interesting

I think that the bad weather is a simple metaphor for feelings of anxiety or fear

We can see that Tyler was contemplating then he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts

This is when the scene changes to normal, right? Exactly on the line It's over my head

Then we move to the scene with the kid

And I really believe that this little lad is personification of Ned

Like he has the same boba eyes lol

No but for real, this is parallel to Chlorine - kid is giving Tyler a cup just like Tyler gave to Ned. Yet he accepts it and drinks whatever is inside and Ned just shudders

Another interesting thing, that could make my point more valid is that the kid literally asks Is that a stain? You should change / Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? like he knows Tyler very well and is in a way looking out for him

It's like he's keeping Ned by him - okat I'll stop

It might be a stretch, but the N kinda looks like a mirrored band symbol, do you also see it?

If 0.75c is equivalent to the cost of one bun than Tyler is being ripped off since he paid $21 for the pack instead of $6.75 lmao

Something is really wrong with those buns lmao

Then the mood changes again, but this time is even worse. Like his mental health is declining even more and even faster

The bread is wet, the day is ruined, thanks Mr. Joseph

You killed it Josh, love your creative mind

*funny music stops*

Now let's talk about the way how the MV is looping itself

I would say that it is a demonstration of the twisted circle that is life

Maybe it's a very basic analysis but I think of all the complicated lore-oriented MVs this one is uncomplicated

What is shown here is how our psyche can play tricks on us and how we can complicate a rather simple situation ourselves

If Tyler hadn't had dark thoughts then nothing would have happened to the bread, so he would have just gone and given it to Josh

This shows how our psyche itself can abolish the situation in which we find ourselves

Looping, on the other hand, shows that as long as we don't do anything about it ourselves, we will be stuck in this fishbowl (see what I did there?)

Maybe it's one big AD to check your mental health and a sign to try to get better

Lyrics!

Rat race, place to place, adding weight / Tendencies on repeat, innit? - rat race for sure happened in Dema, and repeat is literaly the loop, innit meand that Clancy is canonicaly British

Benefit from a shoe with no lace - shoe with no lace would make you fall back on the behaviour that you are running from

Take the seat with the crease in it - seat of someone who already tried to change their life, or even who had the same dreams and hopes for better future like Clancy

This could be parallel to When I leave, don’t save my seat/ I’ll be back when it’s all complete from Chlorine

I don't care, you control me / Leading me anywhere - well, all I should say is Dema don't control me and we all know the rest of the story

I don't wanna backslide to where I've started from - he doesn't wanna go back to his back habits as well as doesn't wanna go back to his life before he tried to escape

There's no chance I will shake this again - if he falls back one more time that will be the end of him. His psyche won't take it anymore and his plans will be buried

'Cause I feel the pull, water's over my head - this is parallel to Fall Away And I, I can feel the pull begin. But it also gives me the parallel to Holding On To You MV, the scene with the rope

Strength enough for one more time - like I said, this would be the last attempt to change everything

Reach my hand above the tide - it could indicate that his physical strength is also wearing out

I'll take anything you have / If you could throw me a line - again with the line. But it also can mean that he can endure anything now, he just needs a little helping hand

I should've loved you better - this line can be directed both to himself but also to the person who extends his hand to help. He might not have appreciated both parts before and now regrets it

Do you think that now's the time / You should let go? - This line is like both a request and an apology. As if he wants to say “I'm sorry I treated you badly before but please don't leave me when I need help”

Bad place, on a hundred-dollar bass - this line is also giving me Stressed Out. You can imagine the cheap bass being transported on the bicycle right?

Kinda wishin' that I never did "Saturday" - I think that he doesn't mean the MV irl lol, but the regret of taking part in Bishops' manipulation altogether

Is that a stain? You should change - a play with mentioning Saturday and the lirycs She said that I should change my clothes

Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? - like I said before I believe that this is Ned looking out for Clancy, wishing him well

Thanks for asking, in a way, but / Accidentally uncovered a new one yesterday - safe to say that he is not doing better lol

What happened to what I brushed under the rug? - what happened to how well he used to be able to hide his problems and true feelings

I used to be the champion of a world you can't see / Now I'm drowning in logistics - if viewed as a fact that he created this world it now looks like he wants to regain all control over it. Logistics is to take care of the management of planning. And once again we see the mention of drowning

The bridge is acting as an externalization of his myhs and fears that even if he is outside the Dema, the Bishops will still have control over him

The entire song is about both regaining conrol over the world of Dema but also regaining control over himself, his psyche.

The main theme is about not going back to old habits.

The most important thing here is progress and pushing forward.

Because one wrong move can make all the work in vain and we will sink to the very bottom.

Safe to say that I liked it haha

#band #emo bands #emo #emo quartet #twenty øne piløts #twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #josh dun #skeleton clique #tøp clique #twenty one pilots theories #twenty one pilots clancy #clique as frick #clancy #clikkies #backslide

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blckbarbiedoll · 6 months ago

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Million Dollar Baby

Chapter 5-Love-One

September 28, 2017-Los Angeles, California

You quietly walked into the dimly lit bedroom, trying not to wake your mother. The hot soup in your hands threatened to spill as you set it on the bedside table.

"Ayesha?"

"Hi." You whispered. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No. I was about to get up anyway." She slowly sat up.

"Hey, relax. Don't move around too much."

"I have cancer, Ayesha. I'm not made of glass."

"Just be careful." You sat in the armchair next to the bed. "You hungry?"

"No."

"You need to eat."

"I'll eat when I'm hungry." She rubbed her temples gently.

"Do you need medicine?"

"No. I'm fine. Don't you have a match next week to get ready for?"

"Uh, no. I dropped out."

"You what?"

"I have more important things to worry about."

"Did you drop out because of me?"

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing."

"Are you outta your fucking mind?"

"Mom-"

"You can't pause your career because of me."

"I've already had a great career."

"And you'll continue to."

"About that..." You sighed and looked down at your feet.

"What?"

"I'm retiring this year."

She looked at you in disbelief before scoffing.

"You idiot."

"Can you not?"

"Why would you give up on your dream when you're on top of the world?"

"My dream? I never wanted this."

"Yes you did."

"No, you did. You wanted me to be like you. I never did."

"You're being dramatic."

"I gave up my whole life to do what you wanted me to!"

"Well, I didn't see you trying to do anything else!"

"That's because you never let me go to college! My only skill in life is hitting a ball with a racket!"

"And you're goddamn good at it!"

She covered her mouth as she began to cough dryly. You handed her a glass of water and patted her back.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"I don't think you've ever said I was good at tennis before."

"That's because you're not good. You're extraordinary. And it would be a mistake to retire right now."

"I'm tired, mom. I just wanna live my life." You held her hand and smiled. "I don't wanna be a tennis player anymore. I just wanna be me."

She looked at you with pity as tears formed in her eyes.

"Baby, I am so sorry if I was too hard on you. All I wanted to do was give you the joy that I had when I played. But I just ended up squashing it."

"Hey." You sat on the side of the bed. "It wasn't all bad. When Tashi and I first started, I had never been happier. Or when Art and I would play when I went to go visit him at school. And now that I've started coaching Patrick, I feel like I've finally found what I wanna do."

"Ayesha."

"What?"

"Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Make up with Tashi and Art. Life is too short to be mad at the people you love."

"We hate each other. That's not love."

"You just said those were the happiest times of your life. Do you really hate each other, or do you think you do because you haven't tried to talk it out?"

"Why are you so wise?"

"Years and years of life, baby."

🎾TWO YEARS LATER🎾

"Game and second set, Donaldson. Six-two. Match is tied. One set all." That set Patrick off immediately. He yelled and repeatedly hit his racket on the ground, breaking it into pieces. "Code violation, racket abuse. Point penalty, Zweig."

You scoffed and got up to walk out of the stands. You pleaded with your bodyguard not to follow you. You found an empty spot by a tree and took your pen out and brought it to your lips.

"Are you vaping right now?" Tashi asked as she walked up to you.

"Are you stalking me?"

"Maybe."

"If you came here to gloat about how Art's gonna win, you can save it."

"For your information, I came to talk to you."

"What could you possibly have to talk to me about?" You took another hit and blew the smoke away from Tashi.

"I need a favor."

"Why would I do you a favor?"

"Because, it isn't for me. It's for Art."

"What do you want?"

"Tell Patrick to throw the game."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Patrick doesn't need this win. Art does. He's this close to throwing his whole career away."

"Art's already a fucking star. If anyone needs this, it's Patrick."

"If he was playing against anyone else, I wouldn't be asking this. But if he loses to Patrick, you know what that'll do to him."

"You care about people's feelings now?"

She stepped closer and grabbed your hand.

"Ayesha, please. If Art doesn't win this, I don't know what it'll do to him."

"That's your problem. Not mine, not Patrick's. Yours."

A small gust of wind blew your straightened hair in front of your face. She reached up to slide it behind your ear.

"Ayesha, I..." She stopped herself. You could tell she wanted to say something. Part of you hoped she would curse you out so you could hate her more. The other part wanted her to kiss you again and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. "Think about it." She said before walking away.

"Why didn't you come to my mom's funeral?" You called out.

She stopped in her tracks and turned around.

"Honestly, I thought you didn't wanna see me."

"Mom would've wanted you there."

"Did you?"

"Kinda." You walked over to her. "Tashi, come on. We're grown. When are we gonna stop pretending that we hate each other?"

"Who's pretending?"

"Are you still jealous? It's been twelve years."

"You took my fucking life, Ayesha. You took my career, my brand deal, you took Patrick."

"First you were pissed because I was with Art, and now it's because I'm with Patrick?"

"He was mine first."

"He doesn't belong to you. And neither does Art for that matter."

"He's my husband."

"He's also a person. You know what I think?"

"What, Ayesha? What do you think?"

"I think you're mad at me because you're confused. You don't know what to do with yourself if you can't control everybody. Patrick and I aren't attached to your hip anymore, and you can feel Art slowly slipping away."

"Shut up."

"I think you're convincing yourself that you hate me because you're still in love with me. That's why you kissed me the other day."

"I am not in love with you. You were nothing to me. Just a glorified fuck buddy."

"One day, Tashi, you're gonna look at your perfect little life, and think about your perfect little family, and you're gonna feel this emptiness like something's missing. And then, you're gonna think about me. You're gonna realize that I was right. And all those years you spent trying to hide a part of yourself are gonna come back to haunt you."

"Stop."

"But I'll be fine. Because I know what I am. Do you?"

"Final set. Zweig to serve. Love-one." You heard in the distance.

"I guess you forgot I can read you like a book, huh?" You walked past her and went back to the stands.

#challengers #ayesha brown #million dollar baby #fanfic #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #art donaldson x reader

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yokakaiju · 10 months ago

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i got bored and made a tierlist based off who smokes the most weed

justifications under cut

so like i made this cause its funny first and foremost, but i did put like somewhat actual thought into this. not much, but synapses were firing in my brain putting this together

also im not tagging everyone, ill just like pick 2 or whatevs

okay so first up is chidaruma. dude prolly invented weed ngl. you know he's smoked everyway imaginable: blunt, pipe, bong, can, apple, vape, synthesized, edible, hotbox, blower; you name it, he's done it. he's kinda over it, but he's still up there just cause like... idk he is and won't take criticism

haru is a beautiful weed smoking gf thats literally it

13's entire schedule is probably wake up, smoke, jerk off, sleep, eat, smoke, jerk off, eat, smoke, repeat. he also would probably kin jesse pinkman

ton is a bitch and smokes all the cross-eye commanders weed. like they'll save up for MONTHS to get like 5oz (one for each of them :3) and he'll be like, "woah! a bag of weed!" and smoke it ALLLLLL in like an hour. he's like a truffle pig for weed, they can try to hide it but his ass always finds it and smokes it all. he would prolly also call it za or skunk or some shit like that

ebisu isn't quite in the high 24/7 catagory, but she could be. dawg loves weed, like she is also 100% a fucking master at rolling blunts she rivals chidaruma at it. rolling blunts is like a sport for her tbh

aikawa's gotta cope dawg. like if he aint at school or currently being possed by demons his ass is smokin that shit bruh he needs a minute to chill. also he's got crazy money (kai's money but shhh) so he might as well spend it on his pookie <3 (risu)

noi may be controversial being up so high, but hear me out. weed smoking gf? i think yes B) mogs at you

asuka also has to cope, but its cause shes a blackpilled femcel (her own words i stg)

chota would smoke, but he hates the smell and doesn't want it to ruin his clothes and shit. he prolly wears like silk gowns and dances around to madonna while trippin off like 10g. he's livin the life tbh

OKAY HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT johnston. fucking johnston is only i repeat ONLY UP HERE‼️ because kasukabe gives him those little non thc thc pills people give to dogs with anxiety and agression issues to keep him calm

poor dokuga cant share with his besties so he's been condemed to eating edibles alone... also smoking/inhaling smoke makes him drool a bit so like a bit deadly for everyone around him to even try. i like, debated on putting him in never, but tetsujo prolly cooks smth up for him so he doesn't feel left out <3

natsuki is only at the top of sometimes because she probably would more if she had money. also she sucks in a blunt rotation cause her ass ALWAYS WITHOUT FAIL tries to hold it in and always coughs like a mfer and taps out after like one hit

vaux just makes sense. he looks like an average 30-40smth nu metal oldhead, theres no way he DOESNT smoke at least a little. id put him in 100% but he's also a fairly responsible doctor so liek idk

kasukabe doesnt as much anymore, mostly only when he's with haru, but he still does sometimes for funsies cause he's just chiil like that :3

tetsujo doesn't thattt much cause it fucks with his already dog shit depth perception super bad, but sometimes if ton or the others dont find it he shares it with dokuga and they like yuri pose and eat edibles together or smth idk

ik kaiman is gonna be controversial being so low, but listen. 1) his ass is too focused on socerers and shit to care 2) he's dirt poor. he simply cannot afford it 3) how tf is he gonna smoke with no lips? that blunt would just get chewed to shit. like genuinely he would maybe get one singular edible if nikaido or vaux were feeling nice, but other than that its like, idk almost never for him

i would but shin in never, but ik noi is like "boss!!!! come take hits off this bong with me!! its gonna be so sick omg you HAVE to come smoke with me RN!!!!" and he'd be like "sighhhhhh... anything for my weed smoking gf ig..."

ushishimada is only so low cause i feel like he's too mothery to smoke a lot? like, he's too responsible, but not responsible enough to outright say no. also they're poor asf and ton always smokes it all

fukuyama would get his ass kicked by tanba if he found out, but ik dawgs gotta take a load off sometimes tbh

now again, controversial take but i have reasons. risu is so fucking poor. like, genuinely he is too worried about his tuition, bills, and groceries to give af about it (also cause aikawa is a bitch and makes him pay for everything cause "i forgot my wallet oopsie :3c"). now aikawa does supply him tho and he hooks him up with the primo shit ong. so at least when he does smoke he smokes that good shit (also they yuri pose as well while they smoke)

again, saji is too mommy to smoke that much weed (also another case of being too poor). bro doesn't want his clothes and needlework to smell like shit, which i respect

ai 100% would if his ass wasnt so busy with his damn self expiramentation bs. like, he wants to smoke so bad tbh, but he's like "sigh i gotta work on my plans to rebuild my body from the ground up.. maybe tomorrow" stares longingly out the window imagining how cool smoking weed is

again, kai's over here fuckin "i have to go to work" like he genuinely just doesn't care or have time. he's never even thought about it tbh, like you're tellin me this mfer has had a single thought outside of total domination in his entire existance??? HELL NAH HIS ASS DOES NOT THINK HE HAS ZERO THOUGHTS IN HIS HEAD I STG

now this may also be controversial. why isn't by beautiful coquette cottagecore angelcore babe out there rolling and smoking the fattest blunts known to man? turkey just like doesnt feel it. its not for her tbh. she tried smoking, she tried edibles. she just wasnt a fan tbh. like, she'll cook up some of the tastiest edibles you've ever had if you ask, but she just aint a fan

kirion also just doesn't feel it tbh. again, its not for her and thats alright

wow surprise surprise another controversial take. like, before you get mad just think abt it for a sec. like, she's so fucking business first and always has been that i think she would just see it as a major hinderance on her job performance, as well as the performance of her employees later down the line. now im not saying she's a narc or hardass about it, im saying she just doesn't feel it. the high she gets from people enjoying her food and making money is enough for her tbh. also she does do edibles sometimes, but mostly like when it rains in hole to make it a little less miserable and painful

en is about the same. like, he def has. he's just like, idk. he doesnt wanna. its not for him anymore. he doesn't care if anyone in the family does it, but they better not sacrifice the quality of their work for it. like if he catches you high on the job its prolly like some sort of repremanding, but off the clock he dont gaf

genuinely copy paste nikaidos shit for tanba. he's too worried about his business to even consider smoking weed

now... kawajiri is a fucking narc and a half. his ass would be like "erm ☝️🤓 well actually" and then give a big long speech about how weed is bad blah blah blah whatever no one cares dawg stop fuckin yappin. but like, he's just pissed cause no one will smoke with him or share their weed with him cause he's such a hardass

fujita is kinda weed smoking gf coded, but like ik his ass would be like "EN! EN! I SAW EBISU SMOKING A BLUNT THE SIZE OF HER OWN FOREARM AND TRYING TO SHARE IT WITH KIKURAGE!!! YOU NEED TO STOP HER RN!!!!" but hes only like this cause when he was in a blunt roation with shin, noi, and ebisu they all told him holding it in made you higher, but he ended up puking and they all laughed at him and made fun of him for it because hes a fucking idiot. so now he's an evil little narc who squeals to en when he even catches a whiff of a skunk like scent

curse is a bitch and ik his ass is like "RAAAHHHH‼️ I GOTTA GO KILL THE CROSS-EYES BOSS RAHHH‼️ I NEED TO SEEK REVENEGE FOR MY MURDER RAHHHHHH‼️" like dawg chill tf out be so real rn. he's too focused on revenge and shit to smoke and like, i think if he did smoke and kai also smoked they'd have beautiful hot sexy yaoi, thats just me tho

oh my god shou is such a bitch about it. like sure kawajiri gives lectures about the "scary true reality of weed" and fujita is a narc, but this guy. oh my god this mfer. THIS IS THE REAL REASON EVERYONE FORGOT ABOUT HIM ITS CAUSE THEY KNOW HIS ASS IS GONNA WHINE AND BITCH AND MAKE YOU GO TO LIKE AA OR NA OR WHATEVER FOR IT!!!! HE'LL START CALLIN YOI AND ADDICT AND SAYIN ITS A GATEWAY AND SHIT AND HOW THE DEVILS WILL IMMEDIATLY DRAG YOI TO HELL AND TORTURE YOU FOREVER IF YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT OH MY BALLS

kikurage is literally just a dog dawg. her ass dont even know what weed is

store crow mauler is like... idk man. idk how it would smoke weed or if it even knows or cares what weed is. whatever, its kinds like a pet so whatevs

#dorohedoro #drhdr #ドロヘドロ #kaiman #nikaido #risu drhdr #aikawa drhdr #shitpost #vin speaks

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