#and honestly every year of college was a complete disaster on a personal note i dont feel like getting into but each year was surrounded by

[cloudbends]

I feel a bit wary saying this because it doesn't feel quite real yet, but! had my last week of college classes last week. I still have to get through my last exam period but it's very odd to think this degree is almost over and done with. many thoughts about it in general.

[cxsmicmyeon]

HAPPY NEW YEAR , OSH [M]

oh sehun x fem! reader

IN WHICH you're forced to go to your best friend's giant new year's eve party, only to hit it off with someone who equally doesn't want to be there.

genre: college au! fluff and smut (toward the end) word count: 5.0k warnings: stupid jokes, swearing, sexual content, dirty talk, cunnilingus

author's note: MOODBOARD MADE BY ME. I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES, I ONLY OWN MY EDITING. also this is cross-posted from ao3 (i wrote it back in january for the new year lol). feedback and notes are greatly appreciated <3

Ugh.

That was the only word that came to mind as you navigated your way through the banquet hall. You grumbled to yourself as you adjusted your dress for the fifteenth time that night, resulting in your clutch dropping onto the floor. You resisted the urge to shout an expletive as you bent to pick the small bag up, which only resulted in your dress moving to that stupid spot that you didn't want it to go. A soft 'God' slipped from your lips as you adjusted your dress once again, this time gripping your clutch tightly in your right hand. Once you were contented, you resumed your trek to the venue you tried hopelessly to avoid.

Tonight was your best friend's annual New Year's Eve extravaganza. Normally you'd be a bit more willing to attend, as these parties were usually limited to 20-30 people in either her parent's house or your shared apartment, but apparently she found the need to rent out an entire fucking rooftop penthouse room filled to the brim with alcohol, hors d'oeuvres and packed with every single student that went to your college. 

To put it rather bluntly, you hated the party scene that came with college. The thought of being at some fraternity with obnoxiously loud music shaking the entire house, an entire mass of sweaty drunk people doing God knows what and random couples eating each other's faces off was unappealing to be a part of. Maybe it sounds rather prudish, but you highly preferred nights in with a bottle of wine on your coffee table and Netflix queued up on the next episode of your favorite show or your laptop open to continue writing your novel over an en masse of horny and drunk people shoving you around the living room of someone's house.

Your best friend, on the other hand, lived for partying. Every Saturday night not spent studying, she'd beg you to come to the party her boyfriend or classmate was having. And after your declination and 'Don't have too much fun!" she'd return the next morning with a giant hangover with (on some occasions) hickeys on her neck that looked like vampire bites. By now, you were used to her drunk texts at 3 am and having to hold up her hair every time she puked her guts out. And these were reasons that simply fueled your hatred for large parties.

New Year's Eve was your only exception for large parties (mostly). Back in high school, her parents allowed her to invite you and a few classmates over for what they called a 'New Year's Sleepover.' You liked those well enough simply because they were rather small, you knew everyone there and you even got to steal a drink of champagne from the wine closet. As you entered college, the past two parties became a tad more crowded but were still bearable in your eyes. But this year, the New Year's Eve of your junior year, took the cake. Exams were a lot more rigorous this year and to celebrate everyone getting through it, your idiot of a best friend used practically all of her savings to rent out the largest rooftop venue in your area for what she called 'the New Year's party that'll fuck any other party in the ass.' She sent invites to the entire student body (which, naturally, 95% of them RSVP'ed to). While you tried your best to stop her, she persisted. And when you begged her to let you stay at home, she persisted yet again. So here you were, bracing yourself for a night of... honestly you had no clue.

You stopped in front of the entrance of the large room, your breath hitching in your throat. The music was from a genre you weren't familiar with, the bar was blocked by a large crowd and your best friend was nowhere to be seen. Slightly turning around from the disaster waiting to happen, you took in a deep breath before turning back and entering. 

The stench of champagne and sweat immediately made you recoil and question your decision for even coming. You internally scoffed as you shifted through the crowd to find your best friend. You softly muttered 'excuse me' to every person you passed (or accidentally shoved) as you begged whoever was in the sky that your best friend was near. You struck gold when you saw her sprawled out on a loveseat surrounded by her boyfriend and others you didn't know by name. You pushed through a few more people before stopping in front of the group. Your best friend turned around immediately and let out a loud squeal.

"Heyyy!" she slurred as she threw her arm around you. You rolled your eyes as a smile etched itself onto your face, knowing she was already drunk as hell.

"Hiiii..." you responded, replicating her energy. She let out a loud howl of laughter as she led you to a small table next to the sofa. She picked up a plastic flute filled with champagne and practically shoved it in your hand. You laughed as she grabbed a red plastic cup from her boyfriend's hand.

"A toast, to the New Year!" she bellowed as she clinked your glass and her cup together.

"Happy New Year!" You responded. She snickered as she led you to sit down on the sofa. 

"Hey (Y/N), Happy New Year!" 

"You too, Baekhyun." You clinked your glass with your best friend's boyfriend's glass and took a sip of the fizzy drink. You let out a breath you were unaware you were holding in as the familiar taste of champagne washed over your tastebuds. Even if you were dreading tonight, you couldn't deny the free food and drinks being made available.

Quickly you were introduced and re-introduced to a bunch of Baekhyun's friends. They were nice enough, sure, but you found their energy to be a bit much (especially paired with the excess of alcohol that they all consumed). Luckily, you gave the group the excuse that you needed another drink and left them to their own accords. 

After taking a second flute of champagne from the bar, you found yourself wandering onto the balcony. Luckily for you, it was completely deserted. With a small smile, you shut the sliding door and wandered toward the metal railing, slowly sipping your champagne. Setting the plastic flute and your clutch down on a nearby table, you readjusted your dress (yes, again) and slipped your heels off, sighing in relief that your feet were finally free from those restrictive shoes. You felt a chill down your spine as your feet touched the bare ground, stepping a couple of times in place to help adjust to the temperature. You took the champagne glass from off of the table and lifted it to your lips, taking another sip as you looked out into the night sky. 

You took a deep breath as you finally felt yourself relax. The music from inside the venue was muffled a great deal and the cold temperature the winter night brought was a comforting contrast to the heat from inside the building coupled with the crowd of sweaty college students. The sky was thankfully clear from any clouds, so you were able to enjoy the comforting presence that the waning gibbous moon coupled with the scattered stars brought. Taking another sip of your champagne, you took a few steps until you felt the cold metal of the railing. You leaned slightly forward as you continued looking and admiring the sky, feeling surprisingly at peace considering your location. 

Soon enough you realized that someone else has also decided to leave the party, as you heard the music grow louder then muffled again. You turned to see a tall man around your age typing quickly on his phone with a red plastic cup in his other hand. A tall, attractive man at that.

He wore a simple oversized gray hoodie coupled with a pair of blue jeans. His jet black hair appeared tousled underneath his dark beanie, and suddenly you felt a tad overdressed. You couldn't help but ogle at how his brows furrowed in concentration as he continued looking down at his phone, how eerily well-defined his jawline was- wait, scratch that- how his entire face was well-defined. You couldn't help but mutter 'damn...' to yourself as you looked away for a second to gather your thoughts. When you looked over at him again, he was staring in your direction. Immediately you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks as he walked a little closer to you.

"Hi, sorry. I hope I'm not interrupting your vibe or anything." he said softly. 

"Oh, don't worry about it, you're good. 'S long as you're not loud or annoying." you joked in response. He let out a short laugh as he downed the rest of his drink, placing the empty cup next to your clutch. You took a small sip of your champagne and turned back to look at the sky. Absentmindedly, you placed the glass down onto the balcony, not realizing that the bars were too narrow to support the bottom of the glass. You looked down in utter shock as the glass made its descent down the building. You covered your mouth with your hands when the glass shattered before your eyes on the ground below. Turning around you saw the man pursing his lips together in an attempt to hold back a laugh. When he looked back at you, you couldn't help but let out a loud giggle. He doubled down with laughter at the event, which only made you laugh harder. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, how tragic." you chuckled. The man covered his mouth to try and conceal his louder waves of laughter; the sound intensifying your own laughter. Eventually, you let out a loud sigh in an attempt to calm yourself down. The man coughed into his elbow and cleared his throat, effectively calming himself down.

"You want another one of those?" he asked, pointing to the mess of glass shards and wasted champagne well below them.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks though," you responded with a smile. He nodded, looking around the area for a second. "Huh, it's clear you don't wanna be here either."

He let out a playful scoff as he stretched his arms. "How'd you know?"

"'Cause you're out here with some random ass girl you don't even know when you could be among that sweaty-ass crowd of other people you don't even know." you deadpanned. He chuckled at your joke, which made you smile a bit as a result.

"I'm Sehun, by the way." he said, holding his hand out in front of you.

"(Y/N), nice to meet you." You replied, shaking his hand. You felt your heart skip a beat at the contact; his hands were slightly calloused but surprisingly soft at the same time. You unconsciously squeezed his hand before pulling away, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as you blushed slightly.

"So... how'd you get invited to this? I think like every student was invited." Sehun inquired.

"Oh, my best friend actually was the one who invited everyone. Obviously I had to show up 'cause she is my best friend. Even if I loathe the idea of hundreds of loud, drunk college kids gathered in one giant venue with music I don't even like to listen to. But it's cool, though. 'Least there's a balcony out here for some peace and quiet," you explained. "How about you?"

"I came with my brother. One of his friends I believe is dating your best friend? So, obviously, he insisted I come with." he responded.

You let out a short laugh at his response. "Baekhyun is her boyfriend."

"Right... Yeah, they're pretty close."

"Oh sick, I may know him. What's his name?"

"Jongin."

"Oh, Jongin! Yeah, I know him. He's pretty nice." Sehun nodded, looking down at his feet.

"Yeah, a lot of people know him. Obviously. He's so popular. He's so handsome. Loads of girls and guys wanna get into his pants 'cause he's such a good dancer. Everyone loves Jongin. Meanwhile, when people find out we're related, they always ask 'Oh you're so quiet! You're so different from Jongin!' Well sorry I don't party 24/7 and actually study a lot so I can get my degree!" Sehun ranted. You were stunned at his sudden anger. A soft expression made its way onto your face as you wanted nothing but to quell his fury.

"I'm so sorry, I know that's a lot to unload on a complete stranger. I'll go back in now." Sehun began to make his way back inside before you grabbed his arm, stopping his movement. He turned around with a shocked expression present on his face.

"Shh. Don't worry about it at all. I get your frustration, honestly. I know what it's like to get those comments. It fucking sucks, I know. But can I say something? I've known Jongin for a few months and you for like a half-hour and wanna know something? I feel a lot more comfortable around you than him. Again, he's a good guy and all, but a little much at times. I vibe better with more reserved people honestly." you reassured, giving his arm a small squeeze before letting go. His face lit up at your comment. A grin etched itself on his face as he walked back to his previous spot.

"So. Who is Sehun 'I-Don't-Know-Your-Last-Name-So-Fuck-This-Bit-Isn't-Gonna-Work?' You do go to ISU, right?" you asked, grinning.

"It's Oh. And yes, I do go to ISU." Sehun responded.

"Okay, hi Sehun Oh. I'm (Y/N) (L/N). And holy shit we go to the same school! How come we've never run into each other?" 

"Hi, (Y/N) (L/N). Also, I'm a chem major, is your major different?"

"Oh, no wonder! My major's secondary English education. Science is on the opposite side of campus, right?"

"Yeah. We should totally hang out sometime. Well, when we're not escaping a large ass party." You let out a giggle at his quip, which caused him to blush and rub the back of his neck.

"I'd like that a lot," You gave him a warm smile, resulting in a warm blush spreading across your face. Sehun smiled sheepishly in return, looking down at his feet again.

"So... uh... wait, shit. I'm not good with small talk, sorry." he rambled, folding his hands together while twiddling his thumbs.

"Don't worry, neither am I. Uh... I dunno... Wait, I got it. What do you do besides studying since you don't like to party 24/7 like the icon you are?" You and Sehun began giggling softly as he put his hands on his hips.

"Well, I actually dance. Jongin and I have been taking lessons since we were kids. And, uh... my friend Chanyeol and I composed a couple of songs together for his music class a while back. And I made up choreography for one of them." 

You felt your jaw drop at Sehun's answer. "You dance and make music? That's so fucking sick! You literally became 10 times cooler than you already are. Uh, not that you weren't cool to begin with... but, uh, making music and dancing is hard! Honestly, kudos to you." 

"Thanks," he said, grinning sheepishly. "How 'bout you?"

"Well... I read a lot, I write a lot, I'm finishing up my second novel, uh... that's it, I guess. Well, besides studying."

"Hold on. You've written a whole novel? You're calling me 'the cool one' when you wrote a novel? And you have another one in progress? You're amazing," You swore you were going to faint. "Now you have to show me." 

"Do I have to?" you pouted.

"Pleeeeaseeeee? Please, please, please?" Sehun whined.

"Hm... I have a proposition for you. Show me your choreography and your song and maybe I'll let you read a few chapters of my first novel."

"Deal." 

"Well damn, okay. Show me the song first."

Sehun nodded and took his phone out of his pocket. He spent a few seconds typing and scrolling before setting it down on the table.

"Uh, it's called 'We Young,'" Sehun stated quickly before tapping the middle of his phone screen. He backed up from the table and straightened himself out. You focused your attention on him as the song began playing from his phone. You let out a soft 'ooh,' immediately being intrigued and fascinated by the melody of the piano and the drum beats chosen. As you heard Sehun sing from the phone, he closed his eyes and felt himself get lost in his dance.

Your jaw dropped at the sight. Watching the way his fluid movements intricately matched the rhythm of his song was like watching a flurry of snow getting caught in a gust of wind. His passion for the craft was full-on displayed right in front of you. Every single movement he made perfectly encapsulated the message of his song. The way he bobbed his head for a few seconds before jumping straight into the chorus while mouthing the lyrics kept your attention. You simply couldn't look away.

'God, the way he moves his hips. I so wouldn't mind him moving those hips against my-'

You shook your head at your thoughts. Sure, Sehun was nice. And really hot. And also really easy to talk to. But would he be comfortable with doing anything with you? You did not want to push anything onto him, even if it meant you had to repress any thoughts you had about him maybe fucking you against the railing like the world was going to end. Or feeling those large hands cup your breast and rub your clit simultaneously. Maybe.

Before you knew it, Sehun stopped his dance and paused the song. "So... what did you think?" Sehun's voice snapped you out of your trance, feeling yourself blush due to your inappropriate thoughts. You shook your head lightly and turned to face him.

"What did I think? What did I think? Holy shit, that was... that was amazing! You are so fucking talented, it's unreal!" you exclaimed while clapping your hands softly. He grinned at your response, happy that you liked the song and dance.

"Okay, (Y/N)'s novel time! Yay!" he cheered. You playfully rolled your eyes as you opened up your clutch to take your phone out. You unlocked it and pulled up Google Docs, opening up your manuscript to show him.

"So this is the final manuscript of my first novel, titled 'Neckties and Rosé'. It's a cheesy, romantic, sexy, angsty mess of an office romance. Or, to put it lightly, angstier and sexier Jim and Pam from 'The Office.'" you explained. Sehun nodded and giddily took the phone out of your hands.

He began to dramatically read the prologue of the book. As he read, you were alternating between laughing hysterically at the various voices he gave the different characters and whining due to his teasing of the actions of the characters. You also noticed that he was enjoying himself thoroughly, much to your delight. You felt as if you were around one of your closest friends rather than a complete stranger at the moment, sharing similar humor and personality traits. 

"'While Cordelia angrily slammed her car door, she swore she saw Rocky throw her a cocky smirk through the rearview mirror, which only added fuel to the dumpster fire that was her hazed state of mind.' And that concludes the prologue of 'Neckties and Rosé.'" Sehun announced, locking your phone and handing it back to you.

"So... whaddya think?" you asked shyly, looking down at your feet.

"(Y/N)... that was so fucking great! It sounded like you've been writing for like a thousand years rather than it being your first novel. Damn, you're amazing. Please send me it when you can, I wanna read the rest!" he praised, grinning at you. You couldn't help but return his smile, a jovial feeling igniting inside. 

After a beat, you turned your phone on to look at the time: 11:59 PM.

"Oh shit, it's almost midnight!" you exclaimed, showing Sehun the time. 

"Oh, wow. I honestly thought it was still 10-ish." 

Soon enough, you began to hear the crowd inside count down from thirty, signaling the close arrival of the New Year. You bashfully looked at Sehun as you began twiddling your fingers together.

"Can I say something?" you questioned, earning a nod from the dark-haired male. "I... I've never had a New Year's kiss."

"Um, me neither, actually."

"D-d'you want to... I mean, if you're comfortable of course."

"Uh, yeah, sure. I kind of wanted to ask earlier, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to kiss me."

"Trust me, I would be honored to kiss you." You walked closer to Sehun until your bodies were centimeters apart. 

"Three!"

You blushed as Sehun wrapped his toned arms around your waist. A jolt of electricity pulsed through your body at the contact, causing you to put your hands on the back of his neck.

"Two!"

He gave you a small smile as you stood on your tippy-toes, mentally preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

"One!"

You closed your eyes as you slowly leaned in for the kiss.

"Happy New Year!"

The moment your lips touched his, you swore you could feel fireworks going off inside of you. The scent of his musky cologne filled your nose as you kissed back with equal fervor. Sehun let out a groan as you entangled your fingers through his dark locks. His hand snaked down your back and cupped a handful of your ass, causing you to moan in his mouth. He took the opportunity to bite your lip lightly and put his tongue in your mouth. You cupped his cheek and pressed yourself even closer to him, practically getting drunk on the scent of his cologne and the subtle taste of beer on his lips.

"Yooo! Get some, (Y/N) and Sehun!"

You regrettably pulled away from Sehun as you turned to the door separating the balcony and the inside of the venue. You saw a drunk Baekhyun being held up by your equally tipsy best friend and one of his taller friends, also with the boys you recognized from earlier in the night. You felt yourself turn red as you buried your face in your hands. 

"Girlie, no worries! Get some tonight! Lord knows ya need it!" your best friend slurred before letting out a loud hiccup. 

"Same goes for you, Sehun!" another one of Baekhyun's friends jeered, earning a soft 'Ugh' from the taller male next to you. The boys began laughing and teasing Sehun as you collected your shoes and clutch, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone.

"You wanna get out of here?" You heard Sehun whisper in your ear, sending a chill down your spine. 

"God, yes." 

The boys and your best friend erupted into whoops and cheers as Sehun took your hand into his and led you back inside of the banquet hall. He held you close as you pushed past the larger crowd of drunk college students. Luckily you successfully left the venue unscathed and made your way to the elevator, out of breath and silently giggling.

"Wait, fuck. I don't have my car with me." you muttered as you followed Sehun inside of the elevator.

"I have mine, don't worry." Sehun responded before capturing your lips again. You uttered a soft moan as you pressed him against the back wall of the elevator. He broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

"God, I could take you right here baby. You're so fucking hot." he mused, nipping at your neck. You whimpered in pleasure as he sucked your sweet spot and palmed your ass until the doors of the elevator opened. He took your hand into his and led you out of the shaft, out of the building and to his car.

It took every fiber of your being to resist shoving Sehun into the backseat of his car and fucking him right there. He insisted on taking you to his apartment for, in his words, 'a lot more privacy.' The ride over to his place was silent yet filled to the brim with sexual tension. As he drove, you held back a moan as he placed his big hand on your thigh and almost ordered to stop the car as his fingers slowly yet surely moved toward your clothed core.

As soon as you entered the apartment, his lips were immediately on yours again. He slipped his tongue into your mouth as he hoisted your legs up so you could wrap them around his waist. Impressed by his strength and flexibility, you cupped his cheeks in the palms of your hands and deepened the kiss.

He brought you into his bedroom and slammed the door before laying you down onto his bed. He looked at you with hooded eyes as he pulled his hoodie off and discarded it to the side. You reached your hands under his t-shirt, feeling the smooth outline of his abs before pulling it over his head. You ogled at how his chest shone under the moonlight, indistinctly licking your lips as you put your hair back. He wrapped his arms around you, leaving butterfly kisses along your neck and jawline as he unzipped your dress.

You shifted away from Sehun to slide your dress down your legs and toss it across the room. His eyes flew down to your braless chest, a small smirk toying with his features. 

“No bra? You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?” A smart remark got stuck on your tongue as he latched his lips onto your left breast. He swirled his tongue around your nipple as he brought his hand to your other breast, massaging it gently. You threw your head back in absolute bliss. How were you getting this wet from him simply touching you?

Sehun laid you down on the bed, giving you a lingering kiss before pulling your panties down your legs. 

“Wet for me already, hm?” Sehun hummed as he grazed a finger down your folds. He let out a contented hum as he lowered himself down between your legs, spreading your thighs apart while licking your arousal off his finger. 

“Oh God, Sehun!” you moaned out as he slid his tongue between your folds. He eagerly began licking your dripping cunt, groaning softly as he tasted you for the first time. You fisted a handful of his jet black hair as he alternated between sucking on your clit and lapping your juices like a man starved.

"You taste so fucking good," he cooed, the vibration of his voice between your legs sending a jolt of electricity down to your center. You felt your orgasm creep closer and closer the more he ate you out.

"S-Sehun, I'm gonna..." you cried out. Right as you were on the cusp of coming all over Sehun's beautiful face, he stopped his ministrations and looked back up at you, his mouth dripping with your arousal. You whined as he wiped your juices off of his chin, slipping his digits into his mouth. Your jaw dropped at the sight; here this gorgeous man was, licking your arousal off his long fingers. It drove you bonkers. 

"Shh, you're not gonna cum unless it's all over my cock. I want your pretty cunt wrapped around me as you cum, got that baby?" You nodded with a whine as Sehun walked over to his bedside drawer. He opened it and took out a condom, ridding himself of his pants and boxer briefs as he walked back to you.

"Mmmh, hurry up, I need you inside of me," you croaked, watching Sehun stroke his half-hard cock, eliciting another moan. He tossed you the golden package, which you happily ripped open.

"So needy," he scoffed. You stuck your tongue out at him while you rolled the condom onto his cock, palming him swiftly. He hissed as he aligned himself to your entrance, wrapping his arms around you. "Ready?"

"Just fuck me already."

With a click of his tongue, Sehun quickly pushed himself inside of you. You gasped as he filled you, blissfully stretching your walls in the most perfect way. Never have you had a partner who made you feel this good, made you feel so full. Your eyes shut in pure pleasure as he began to move. His thrusts started off slow but gradually picked up the pace; each movement filled with utmost care. He cradled you as if you were made of porcelain, wanting nothing more than to make you feel as good as possible.

"Christ, (Y/N), you're so fucking tight. So pretty wrapped around my cock." 

"Fuck," You felt yourself being brought back to the brink of your orgasm as he continued his languid thrusts inside you. "Sehun, I'm close."

He hummed as his thrusts became sloppier, feeling his own orgasm coming close as well. You opened your eyes to see Sehun's face contorted in pleasure as he moved inside of you. The sight made you come undone, your body clenching around his cock as you felt juts of white-hot pleasure seep from your center to his cock. His movements became sloppier and sloppier before he filled the condom with his own release, grunting loudly at the sensation.

You breathed heavily as you came down from your high. Sehun pulled out of you and stood to dispose of the condom as you relished in what just happened. You turned to see him bringing a box of tissues over to you, almost swooning at the sight.

"Thank you," you hummed as he cleaned you up. He nodded, placing a chaste kiss onto your sweaty forehead before disposing of the tissues. He took your panties and one of his t-shirts from off the floor and handed both articles of clothing to you. You thanked him silently as you pulled the material over your head, relishing in how the shirt smelled just like him. 

He climbed into bed after putting on a fresh set of boxers, beckoning you to come closer to him. You sighed in contentment as he cuddled close to you, feeling your eyes close as soon as he wrapped the duvet around the both of you.

[chaotictommy]

Okay sooooooo I don’t know if this is good, lol, I have no clue about any of my own writing. But anyway, I finished my small Jimmy and Tommy oneshot, which, now reading through could be taken as them just being friends or if you want to dive down that rabbit hole, could be taken as more...

I don’t know... I have doubts about my own writing, so if it’s bad, I apologize XD

but here it is.....

fanfic warning: major character death... :(

A Little Piece of Home

The first time he finds Tommy wearing one of his sweaters, a blue grey one that was Jimmy’s dad’s, his friend is sitting back and eating a sandwich while crumbs hit the wool, Jimmy nearly gets annoyed at his friend, settling for a mix of confusion and hesitation, because his best friend has no care of other people’s possessions, is anything but gentle, and doesn’t think before he takes something that doesn’t belong to him, maybe it’s because they’re close, but Jimmy doesn’t notice him taking things from others like that. Maybe it’s because they are like brothers. It used to annoy the hell out of him. Now it leaves Jimmy smiling, a bittersweet smile tinged with a little melancholy, at the memory.

“You’ll ruin it,” “Says who?” It’s a teasing smirk, the one Tommy knows gets him every time, annoys him to no end, that one that makes him smile despite himself, the one that disconcerts him, because he doesn’t know if Tommy is serious or teasing, and Jimmy wants to dwell in certainties, it’s problematic without them, but his best friend lives on uncertainty and adrenaline alone, and pulls Jimmy into it too.

He fixes his glasses, squinting over them at Tommy before replacing them and giving a shrug “Just... just take it off before you ruin it... it’s cashmere...” he sees the look on his friend’s face and shrugs “No idea, some type of wool I think, anyway, it’s expensive and you’ll stretch it out,” he gets a remark, half sarcastic and half teasing him for liking sweaters that much, for not trusting him enough, he knows Tommy’s joking and he can’t help but smile and reply, even though he’s trying not to “Oh, I’m sorry but tell me again how I wasn’t the one guy who tried to flirt with a gal and got a milkshake in the face when her football player boyfriend walked back over? It stained your shirt Tommy, Let’s just face it man, you should come with a warning sign, a label of some sort, you’re a disaster zone, and I am definitely not letting you steal my clothes...” but it happens again because Tommy never gives up and it’d be a strange day if he ever stopped fighting about — basically everything.

The second time he just gives up. Obviously Tommy isn’t going to listen, or had forgot, Jimmy really hopes it is the latter, but he knows this is a battle he’s not going to win, and not sure he wants to fight, so he compromises, feeling somehow as if it’s a custody battle in a divorce, since they’re sharing time with the sweater, Jimmy getting it half the time with Tommy taking the rest. It should annoy him, and on the outside he pretends it does, but inside, it really doesn’t bother him at all, honestly, he’s happy that Tommy’s happy.

The third time he finds Tommy hoarding one of his sweaters, a tan one with light colors in the classic pattern, and he just laughs with annoyance, running a fry through mayonnaise as they sit down at their current meeting place (and honestly this is going to be a recurring thing for them, meeting at the Diner, the milkshakes are to die for, the meatloaf could be better, the burgers are great, and the service is lacking at times, but the booths have high walls, which is a added win for Jimmy, so Tommy can be a bit too loud, like he always is, because let’s face it, Tommy has no idea what an ‘inside voice’ is, Jimmy’s had to face that fact more times than he’d like to admit). Jimmy fixes his eyes on his friend and looks at him questioningly “I’ve been trying to find that sweater for months.” He frowns and shakes his head, sighing long and trying to make Tommy get that he is — not okay with this “Don’t you have your own? Don’t you have any clothes of your own?” His friend turns with a look, as if he’s been caught, usually looking like that even if he’s done nothing wrong at all, barely thinking before he answers “Yes, no, maybe, I like yours better,” Jimmy raises an eyebrow in confusion “What’s that even supposed to mean? You’re being too cryptic, I’m not up for riddles,” he laughs and cringes when his friend grabs for the ketchup, nearly spilling over the table and the sweater, his sweater, the sweater he’s been looking for for about a month now, just popping up right in front of him when he’s not thinking about it, now being worn by his best friend, one disaster away from being ruined. He’s seriously worried for the safety of that sweater. “You’re messy,” he says, hand instinctively tugging Tommy’s wrist away from over the mustard, pretending to be disgruntled “Honestly Tommy, you’re a complete mess of a person,” “But you still love me?” They both laugh till it hurts, and Tommy pays the bill. He tells Jimmy it’s because they’re brothers, because it feels like home wearing something that makes him think of family. Jimmy doesn’t get it. Later, he will.

He remembers giving him one of his favorite sweaters, wrapped up in leftover green wrapping paper (green was Tommy’s favorite color), a Grey sweater with a greenish blue argyle pattern, folded into it. It became a sweater Tommy couldn’t stop wearing and a present that Jimmy was proud to give, he values their friendship and everything that entails. Yeah, Tommy’s loud and kinda — crazy, crazy in the good sense of the word, and Jimmy’s quieter, locked in on his thoughts, calmer, like the sides of Ying and Yang, and it’s those complementing opposites that Jimmy wouldn’t change. They’re friends and sharing things is just what happens right? It earns Jimmy the comment that he ‘looks like a nerd now’ as Tommy pulls the sweater on, but they both know that it’s a great present that Tommy values.

Jimmy gets a couple of books, loving how thoughtful that gift was as well. He still has them, now his kids are reading from those same copies. It’s nice to remember that. Now that...

The time wore on and one after the other, he lost touch with Dutch, with Bobby, and with Johnny, but he somehow managed to keep Tommy, to stay friends even though miles separated them, college, family. He was there from the start and to the very end. Tommy was his best man at his wedding, when he was so nervous that Tommy had to talk him back from complete panic, his ever present fears of being inadequate, not enough. Tommy had been there, and Jimmy had been there throughout Tommy’s struggle, he’d been the second to know when fighting wasn’t an option anymore... they’d tried to make peace with it, but nobody ever tells you how hard it would be...

When Tommy died, everything felt disjointed, disconnected, everything stopped then and there as the paramedics rushed by, knowing it was over even though his brain was screaming it wasn’t true. THAT IT COULDN’T BE TRUE. But it was. But nothing seemed to make any sense anymore. Nothing fit.

The breaths he took then seemed foreign as if Tommy had taken everything, even the breath in his lungs, with him, the breaths were strangled and meek, mixed with pain, he had been ready for it, yes, but nobody was ever prepared, not even when they said they were. Jimmy knew that now.

Now, going through Tommy’s things, in his empty home, his hand brushed against something in the bottom of the box. It was soft, even though years had passed, worn at the edges and the elbows, from Tommy always leaning on them, into his friend’s personal space, talking way too close in excited tones, appreciative, teasing. Jimmy knew what it was before he saw it, and the fresh wave of tears hit him, mixed emotions in them now, the lingering sadness and joy, relief somehow there as well. He hadn’t cried that much in front of Johnny, neither had he cried much in front of Bobby, they had felt like strangers somehow... now he felt himself breaking down. The tears were long overdue.

So he sat there, with a sweater and a lot of memories.

Other people would see a worn sweater that has seen better days, just like the brunette man now holding it, but to Jimmy, this sweater is much more than a bunch of knotted yarn, a castoff to some thrift store because of the wear and tear

It’s the sweater his best friend wore when he needed to keep warm during the colder months, or when they went camping, the one he’d hardly take off because Jimmy had gifted it to him, and he said that it meant everything, the one that wrapped Jimmy in tight hugs he’d pretend to struggle out from, pretending to dislike them, but secretly loving them. It was something that would always remind him of Tommy.

It was a little piece of home. Something now missing from his life, having gone suddenly with his friend.

He’d always have Tommy with him even though he wasn’t there anymore

They’ll always be best friends. Nothing will ever change it.

It’s only a sweater, but to him, it’s a part of home, as much so as the the family he’s made, the house he lives in now, and Tommy, who left a heart shaped hole when he — left.

It’s something that reminds him of every moment with his best friend. That’s all he has now, those moments. He knows someday he’ll forget the playful smirk, the annoying laugh that was both and infectious.

But for now he has those moments and something, however insignificant it is to others, to remind him of the better times.

And that’s everything.

Author’s note: Okay, so the sweater that Jimmy gifted to Tommy is the one you can see him wearing in the first scene of TKK2

It’s grey and has a greenish blue argyle pattern.

the books Tommy gave Jimmy were:

The Outsiders (I always connect the Cobras to the book lol)

Fahrenheit 451

1984

and

A collection of Sci-fi stories by Ray Bradbury

Because I think Jimmy would love Sci-fi

I truly hoped you liked the story and if it was terrible lol, again my apologies

[dalamjisung]

give me a baby ❁ choi youngjae

word count: 6667

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: OBGYN!youngjae x reporter!reader

description: in which your best friend is pregnant and kick-starts your romance with her doctor.

“Come on, Minyoung-ie,” You mumble, petting her head as she cries hysterically. “Come on, stop crying, please. Auntie is sorry, but there’s nothing she can do.”

Bouncing your body to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, you do your best to calm little Minyoung down, already feeling the creeping sensation of failure in your gut. This is not true, though, and you know; it’s not your fault that the construction next door decided to pick up just as she was falling asleep. But somehow, you couldn’t help but feel as if you weren’t good at this thing– this taking care of children thing. You felt as if Minyoung, your own godchild, hated you. You weren’t her mother, why would she feel comfortable with you?

“Because I love you, too,” You whisper against her head, eyes prickling with tears. “I promise mom will come home soon, Minnie, just please be patient with me.”

You met Jihoon in your last year of high school, when he moved to your school after he got into some trouble with his old school. The rumor arrived with him, and on his second day, everyone knew about the new transfer that sent a guy to the hospital. But no one knew why. So you asked. You weren’t really an outsider, but you definitely weren’t popular; you had one or two friends and when you were with them, you didn’t care about anyone else. You were as weird as you wanted to be, as crazy as you felt, as carefree as you wished– they loved you anyways. It wasn’t really a surprised for them when you showed up at lunch with the new kid, laughing and joking with him. 

The friendship evolved quickly and although many assumed you two to be dating, Jihoon and you were never like that. College rolled around and what was already strong became stronger and you two were indestructible; as roommates in a nearby apartment you rented, Jihoon had been present for every single important occasion in your life, and you in his. Heartbreak, birthdays, loves. Everything. Eventually, when Jihoon found Haewon, you did feel a little left out; they’d go on dates, or spend the day with other couples, but you were happy nonetheless. He finally found someone deserving of his kind heart. 

After college, it feels as if years were as short as months and soon you are standing behind the lovely couple in the isle, wearing a beautiful dress and holding two wedding bands. You cry and they cry and you are pretty sure everyone cries, and then fast forward another year and beautiful Minyoung blesses your life. No one makes a huge deal out of asking you to be the godmother… it was expected to be so. As time passed, you because incredibly close to Haewon, and you found in her a best friend, a sister, and a confidant; you tell her all of your fears and desires, and in return, two years after her baby girl is born, she tells you she’s pregnant again.

“I want to confirm it, so I have an appointment with the OBGYN at the hospital,” She hurriedly tells you as you arrive to take care of Minyoung. “You got this. Bye.”

If only she could see you now, on the verge of tears, once again rejected by the one person you were sworn to forever protect. The couch looks incredibly inviting as your body starts hurting with the weight of the two-year-old, getting heavier and heavier until you finally notice she’s fallen asleep from tiring herself out. Just as you deposit her back on her crib, you hear the front door. 

“I’m home!” Haewon shouts and you freeze, afraid that the baby will wake up. Quickly leaving the room, you walk to the living room, shushing your friend as you go to her.

“For the love of god, don’t wake Minyoung up,” You beg, grabbing her hand. “I just got her to sleep.”

Haewon sighs. “She’s been a lot of work again, huh?”

“It’s not her,” You recite, having said this many, many times before. “I think it’s me. We know I’m a disaster with kids.”

“Don’t say that, she loves you,” Haewon smiles, loving that you try so hard for her child. “She’s just a baby. She doesn’t know better than ‘mom’ and ‘dad.’”

“Yeah, I guess,” You smile tightly. “So?”

“What?”

“How was the appointment?” Sitting on the kitchen stool, you anxiously wait for her response, but you only hear a sigh. “Haewon?”

“It was… a disaster,” She whispers and you hear the loud thud of her head hitting the fridge. “The doctor said that I’m pregnant.”

“That is amazing!” You exclaim. “Why is that a disaster?”

“That’s not a disaster,” She sniffles. “I am. There is something wrong– I don’t remember exactly what, right now– but there’s something wrong and he said that carrying this pregnancy out will be… hard.”

“Haewon–“

“I don’t know what to do,” Her sniffles turn into sobs and you are by her side instantly. “What do I tell Jihoon? He’s going to lose it, and he’ll come right back!”

“But is that so bad?” You ask. “Jihoon’s been working abroad for almost a month now…”

“The contract is for five months,” She mumbles. “And if we are having this baby– and by everything that is sacred, Y/N, I’m having this child, even if I die, I’m having this baby–“

“Yah!” You want to tell her. You really want to tell her, but you know now is not the right time. You know that there may never be the right time, and you made your peace with it; with the only secret you’ll probably forever keep from Jihoon and Haewon. They don’t need to know, you think. It’s been years. 

“So because we’re having this baby, we need the money,” She finished, not even paying attention to you. You’ve never seen Haewon this committed before, and you are scared; just as she said, she’d make sure that this baby lives, even if that means she might not. “So Jihoon will not know about this, Y/N. He can’t. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

You hesitate. 

“Y/N, please,” Haewon sobs. 

“He will know as soon as he sees my face,” You explain, and she knows you’re right. “On our next call he will know, Haewon. Jihoon is basically my brother– he knows when I’m lying!”

“Just don’t mention the baby!” Her hands grab your shoulder and you feel sick. “If he asks about me, say I’m tired. It’s not a lie– I’m fucking exhausted. If he asks about Minyoung, tell him she gave you a hard time again. Just skirt around it. Please.”

Sighing, you nod, hugging her closer to you. 

“On one condition,” And you feel her body tense up. “You come first. Your health comes first, Haewon. That’s my condition. At the first sign of self-neglect I swear to god I’m calling Jihoon back and–“

“Deal!” She exclaims. “Deal. No need to threaten me, you bitch.”

“Love you too,” You laugh. “When is the next consultation?”

“Tomorrow,” She sighs. “They want to run some tests and do another ultrasound, but you don’t have to come, it’s in the morning, so Minyoung will be at school.”

“I’m going with you,” You nod. “I’m going to all appointments, babe. Get ready to have me interrogating your doctor.”

“Oh, be my guest,” She winks. “He’s really handsome… who knows? Maybe you two click and bam! Instant love!”

“I am not sure how you live your life thinking that’s a real possibility,” You deadpan. “But sure. If it makes you happy, go ahead, think like that.”

“Okay Miss Forever Alone,” She jokes. “It’s not because your past relationships didn’t work that you won’t find love, Y/N. I want to see you happy!”

“I am happy!” You defend yourself. “I have you, Jihoon, Minyoung, and my job. I’m perfectly content.”

“There’s a difference,” Haewon chuckles, fondly looking at you. “In between ‘happy’ and ‘content.’ One day you’ll figure it out. I’m sure of it.”

                                                              ————————————

Said and done; you pick Haewon and Minyoung up, early enough to drop the little girl at the pre-school and even have a quick chat with her teacher, since she was one of your friends from college. After a quick coffee, you and Haewon say your goodbyes and drive to the hospital. You know she’s nervous because she is completely silent, but you are ready. In your purse is the notebook you carry everywhere, getting that habit from your Journalism professor back in the days, and in it, in between multiple political scandals notes, is a list of questions to ask the handsome doctor you heard so much about. 

“Hello again Ms. Lee,” One of the front desk nurses smile and Haewon beams in happiness, still giddy about being called ‘Ms. Lee.’ “Do you have another appointment today?”

“I do,” Your friend smiles and grabs your hand. “And I brought a friend to replace my husband.”

“Hi,” You say laughing. “I’m Y/N, the stand-in husband.”

The nurse laughs and stares at you for a few seconds before her eyes widen in recognition. “Oh! Aren’t you the KBS reporter?”

You nod, smiling politely. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”

“Ah, I admire you a lot,” The nurse says, cheeks blushing a bit. “You talk about things that are truly important… I think that’s amazing.”

You blush, still not used to the compliments. Honestly, people recognized you in the streets quite a lot, and they all seemed to say the same thing; you talk about things that are truly important. If they only knew the struggle and the fight that it is every time they try to give you a new assignment… it was always a fight in between what the public want and what the public need. You won every time, and it felt amazing to see that people recognized your efforts.

“Thank you so much,” You smile looking at your shoes, embarrassed but happy. “I’ll work hard to keep making you all proud.”

“Wah, you are so cool,” The nurse gushes over you and you and Haewon laugh. “After you are done, would you mind taking a picture with me?”

“Not at all,” You promise. “I’ll come back right after and we can get some coffee too, if you want.”

“That’s your second cup in the span of an hour,” Haewon nags, poking your side. “You promised you’d hold back on the coffee.”

“This is me holding back,” You say, looking at her innocently. “I’d be holding a cup right now if it weren’t for that promise…”

“Oh my god,” She mumbles to herself and pulls you by the hand to the end of a hallway. “Excuse me, we’re here to see Dr. Choi.”

“Your name, please?” The nurse smiles and types the information in her computer, all the while you looked around you. The waiting room was white, like the rest of the hospital, but in the end of the line of doors, you managed to see a bit of yellow, the kind that relaxes and excites at the same time; your favorite kind. 

“I’ll be right back,” You mutter to your friend and move down the hall from her, trying to see what was that room that grabbed your attention so strongly. You are not surprised to see a bunch of cribs lined up, babies wiggling and sleeping and smiling, and you smile too, allowing a melancholic feeling wash over you. 

“Are you looking for yours?”

To your right is a doctor– or, well, you assume he is a doctor, because of his white coat and stethoscope. Your body tenses up, and your smile is gone, as you process these bitter words said in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard. 

“Ah, no, not really,” You say lowly. “Just… just exploring.”

“I see,” He smiles and for a second you wonder what made him so happy to smile like that– so bright that it feels like the sun is shining on your face. “I’m Youngjae. Choi Youngjae.”

“Nice to meet you, Youngjae,” You shake his hand, trying to offer at least a small smile back, but the nausea that takes over your body makes everything difficult. “I’m Y/N.”

Walking with him back to where you came from, he asks you if you are here for tests and you just point at Haewon, saying that because her husband couldn’t be here, you became the stand-in. 

“Oh, so you’re here with Ms. Lee,” Youngjae says and you notice how his smile falters a little. “I see…”

“Are you her doctor?” You ask, and things start to click in your mind; the handsome doctor just had to be Mr. Sunshine over here. He nods and you nod, too, and both of you can feel the tense atmosphere.

“Well,” You sigh, walking ahead of him. “I’m sorry in advance.”

“What for?” He laughs, looking confused.

You look back at him and you chuckle, seeing his head slightly tilted to the side, thinking that he looks like a puppy, looking ate you with those big eyes and bright smile. You just shake your head and take a step back as Haewon starts talking to him. 

Not love at first sight, you think as you follow them into his office. But he’s definitely handsome.

The next hour is filled with questions; will she need complete rest? What can we do to increase this pregnancy’s success rate? Will he be available at all times, any time? 

“Okay,” You nod, looking at your notes. “I guess that’s all…”

“Oh thank god,” Both Haewon and Youngjae sigh at the same time, reclining back in their own chairs. 

“This was the most intense consultation I’ve ever done for someone who’s only three months pregnant,” He jokes, looking at you with a glint in his eyes and a tired smile. “But what was I supposed to expect from our top reporter here, right?”

“Oh, you know her?” Haewon asks, and you know that voice– that sweet, unassuming voice of someone who is about to strike. 

“Who doesn’t?” Youngjae chuckles. “I watch her on TV all the time…”

“Ah,” Haewon looks at you. “That’s adorable, isn’t it, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You raise your brows at her, eyes calculating her next step. “Real cute.”

“Do you have any more questions?” He asks, looking at the papers in front of him in a failed attempt to hide his blushed cheeks.

“No, but Y/N might,” Haewon jokes and grabs your phone from your hand. “So why don’t you give her your number and she can call you if anything… comes up.”

Both you and the doctor stare at your friend, dumbfounded. 

“I can just call the hospit–“

“Technically, she’s not your client,” Haewon continues and you gasp, surprised with her discrepancy. “So it should be fine, right?”

Choi Youngjae snorts and before you can say anything, he is taking the phone and typing his information. 

“Your friend is right,” Youngjae says matter-of-factly. “You’re not my client, so it’s fine.”

“Goddammit, you two really are a couple of–“

“See you later, Dr. Choi!” Haewon waves and, once again, drags you away. You only smile because you can hear his laughter coming from his office. 

                                                             ————————————

For almost two months, you abuse of your power and text Youngjae all of your questions; cesarean or natural birth? What are the odds of both? Would lamaze classes help or would it stress the fetus? How risky is this pregnancy? And being the good doctor you learned him to be, he answers all of your questions expertly, with calm and composure. On the days you don’t have as many questions, Youngjae comes up with questions of his own, mundane and funny; things like what are you doing? or loved the news last night! Who knew, huh? Slowly, you start to feel Dr. Choi Youngjae sneak into your life, and you do absolutely nothing to stop it.

It was during one of your morning brainstorm of questions and research and memes that, answering to one of your inquiries, Youngjae invited you to his office.

Why don’t we set up an appointment today? I feel like I can better answer your questions in person.

That sounds good. My lunchtime is at 12, would that work for you?

Yes. We can meet at the hospital’s cafeteria; you can eat and question me at the same time lol

Oh, it’s okay! We can meet at your office.

I’m a doctor, Y/N… I’m not letting you skip lunch -_-

You laugh at the emoji because you can almost see him deadpan expression.

Okay then. 12 at the cafeteria.

See you then!

You arrive a little early just so you can find the cafeteria, and you catch yourself wondering, comparing these white walls with the other white walls you stared at before. You look at the lights and you have a blurry flash of them passing over you, voices screaming words that you know but don’t understand. Your lungs compress and you take a deep breath, having mastered the art of suppressing anxiety attacks. You’re okay, you think to yourself. It’s been years, Y/N. You’re okay.

“Hey, Ms. Reporter,” You hear behind you, and you know you’re fully okay once you turn around to face Youngjae. He really brightens the room…

“Hey Mr. Doctor,” You smile and he smiles back. You’ll probably never admit to Haewon that she was right, but goddammit she was right. He’s incredibly handsome and you know what it is once you see him and you feel your heart race a little.

“Lunch?” He says pointing at the cafeteria and you just nod, following him.

The food is not as bad as you assume it will be, and Youngjae looks pleased, so there’s that, too. You have to catch yourself once you start comparing this food with the food of the hospital you stayed at, not wanting to ruin the day when it barely began. 

“So,” Youngjae smiles shyly. “Questions?”

“What?” You mumble, still trying to snap out of it. “Oh. Oh yeah, questions…”

“I have one for you.”

“Shoot,” You say as you open your bag, hands moving the things inside in search for your notebook. 

“How do you know so much about this?” He asks unassumingly. “Do you have kids?”

His voice weavers once he notices you stopped moving. 

“W-what I mean is that you seem to have some–“

“Experience?” You whisper, head slowly raising to look him in the eyes. Youngjae nods, frowning as he notices your hands coming out of the bag empty, shaking as you place them on the table. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–“

“But you did,” Your voice is dry and soulless. “Anyways, I don’t. Have kids, that is.”

“Y/N…” He reaches out for your hand and you let him, craving any kinds of warmth. 

“I knew you’d figure out at some point,” You chuckle humorlessly.

“Does Ms. Lee know?” Youngjae mumbles still frowning and you just want to move on from this conversation. You want him to stop looking at you like that and go back illuminating the hospital with his smile. 

“No,” You shake your head, suddenly alarmed. “And you can’t tell her! She’ll blame herself and–“

“I won’t,” He promises, getting up from his chair and moving to the one next to you. “I won’t, I promise.”

“Thank you,” You sigh. “Thanks, Youngjae.”

He nods and you notice his hesitation, the weight of the tension heavy on him. His hands are tight around yours and you think you can live like this– you can live if he holds you this tight, or else, you might just crumble down. 

“You can ask,” You say, looking at him with sorrowful eyes. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“What happened?” He finally asks after a moment of silence. 

“I was young,” You shrug, looking down at both your hands. I can live. “And in love. And well… you know what happens when people are in love and it was unexpected, to say the least, but what can I do? I was in college, in love, and then pregnant… He also wasn’t ecstatic, but we promised each other we’d make it work. For him. Or her; we never found out the gender.”

You aren’t shaking anymore. Nor crying. You’ve trained yourself to not feel when thinking about it; Jihoon and Haewon could never find out. 

“And then one day I just… bled,” You say, closing your eyes with a heavy sigh. “One doctor told me it was because of my ‘high level of stress;’ another told me it was because of my job… one even went as far as to say I might never be able to–“

“No,” Youngjae shakes his head, pulling you closer. You could feel his breathing hitting your forehead as he enveloped you in a hug, petting you on the back. “There are many treatments for that. Who was that doctor? I’ll make sure they never practice again.”

“It’s okay,” You smile tightly. “We lost it. The baby. Fetus. Could’ve been a baby, but it was still a fetus. After that my ex and I just drifted apart and that was kind of it.”

“And you never told anyone?” You shake your head at the question. “Y/N… it’s been years and you kept that for yourself?”

“Jihoon and Haewon were still at their honeymoon phase,” You chuckle, pulling back to see Youngjae’s distraught face. “And I remember how they were on a special date, something Jihoon had been planning for a long time. I didn’t want to ruin it for them… but then the right time never came and I just gave up.”

“I’m sorry,” Youngjae mumbles, letting go of your hands and looking at his own, as if it had been his fault.

“Yah,” You chuckle, poking him with your elbow. “Sorry for what? You weren’t even a doctor then…”

He smiles a bit and you already feel yourself getting warmer, cheeks blushing slightly. “How do you know that?” He teases, and you let out a heavy breath, relieved that everything is okay with you two. “You don’t know how old I am.”

“Well, you know how old I am, and assuming your hitting on me I’m gonna go ahead and say you not much older…” You look at him, looking for any sign of a confirmation in his face, and he notices; Youngjae notices your eyes dancing around his face and he smiles brightly. 

“No need to assume,” He says a bit shy. “I am. Hitting on you. And not much older, too.”

“Oh thank god,” You joke. “I was afraid you’d be a perverted old man!”

Both of you hear someone laughing nearby and you only notice the four doctors looking at you and Youngjae once he flips them off, making you gasp. 

“I’m sorry about my friends,” He groans, getting up. “They are stupid.”

“And you are a perverted old man!” One of them shouts back, and you wonder if any of them heard your story. And you surprise yourself once you don’t really care; it is your story, and you’ll tell it to whomever, and whenever you want. 

“Shut up, Bam!” Youngjae laughs and you laugh with him, simply because his laughter made you giddy. “Did you come with your car?”

You nod. “Yeah, it’s parked out front.”

“Text me once you make it back to work?” He asks, following you outside until you are in front of your car.

“Yes, sir,” You say, saluting him.

“You did it wrong,” He jokes and salutes back the proper way. “See you later, cadet!”

“See you, captain!” You laugh and unlock your car.

Before you can get inside, though, Youngjae calls you back.

“Oh, wait up!” He exclaims, pulling you back by the elbow. His mouth is on your for just a split of a second and you freeze. “Forgot that. Have a good day!”

“Yah, Choi Youngjae!” You gasp once he jogs back to the hospital, his laughter making you smile like a fool. “Come back here and kiss me properly!”

“Next time!” He shouts from the hospital doors. Sending you a wink, he goes inside, and you can do nothing but drive away, feeling the lightest you’ve ever felt. 

                                                             ————————————

Haewon is now seven months, meaning two months passed since you last saw Youngjae. That’s how you are counting time, now, since between your job and your friend’s pregnancy, you’ve been busy and exhausted. Everyday is harder than the next; you’ve been sleeping with Haewon in her room and you’ve been awaken by her pained grunting multiple times. She’s been resting for months now, and she’s told Jihoon about the pregnancy, not wanting him to miss anything even if he can only be present by computer. She just failed to mention everything else; the risks, the pain, the danger. And as you promised, you didn’t mention it either. 

In between work and lunchtime you drop Minyoung at her grandmother’s for the night, and you go back home to check on your friend, even if she scolds you every time. Go check on Youngjae! Forget me for a few hours, will you? You know she’s well intentioned, but you don’t understand how she can ask that of you. 

“Shut up,” You blush, and his promise echoes in your mind. Next time. “We’ve been talking everyday, he can wait a little longer.”

“It’s been two fucking months, Y/N,” Haewon cries out as another contraction hits. If that’s how she chooses dot deal with the pain– by screaming at you,– then you are fine with it. “Go see him! Have sex! Live your life!”

You roll your eyes, switching the channel on the TV once again. You look at your watch and you still have half an hour until you have to go back to work. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Y/N!” She shouts. 

“I already said I would–“

You turn around in the couch to where Haewon is leaning, back against the wall and face tightened in pain. From her sweatpants, you see blood. And that’s when you move. Hands flying to your pocket, where your phone lays and your are typing the number as quickly as you can while simultaneously trying to carry your desperate friend to the couch.

“Hello?”

“Youngjae!” You cry out, probably startling him on the other side of the line. “Youngjae, she’s bleeding. Oh my god, she’s bleeding and I don’t know what to do, I’m just– Youngjae, please, please, I–“

“Call an ambulance,” He orders, voice firm and sure. “Y/N, you need to call an ambulance.”

“Okay,” You breath out, stretching your whole body to grab the house phone. “Okay, I’m calling.”

“Alright, I’ll see you at the hospital, okay?” He says and you hear shuffling on the other side of the phone. “I’ll be waiting for yo–“

“Don’t hang up!” You shout over Haewon’s cries. “Please Youngjae, don’t leave me alone, I can’t do this!”

On the other phone someone is asking questions and you answer them automatically, giving the the address and begging them to get there quickly. 

“Y/N, you’re doing great,” Youngjae says, and you can hear his keys dangling. “But I have to drive to the hospital so I will have to go. You can do this. I know you can.”

“Okay,” You sob. “Okay.”

“Alright,” He says and his voice is strong. “I’ll go. Love you.”

The line is off before you can say anything about it. 

Love you. 

Haewon screams as you run from next to her to open the door, hearing the sirens before they even knock on the door. 

Love you. 

You climb on the ambulance next to her, ignoring her pleas to not call Jihoon and telling him to come home on the next flight.

Love you. 

You see him by the door, wearing his scrubs and surrounded with nurses, and he’s the first one to reach Haewon, asking her question after question, and just like that he is gone, pushing the bed into the surgery ward. 

“Ma’am, you’re shaking,” One of the EMT says, guiding you to a nurse stationed in the front desk. She sits you down in a couch and asks for a doctor, trying to talk to you. 

“I think she’s in shock,” The nurse narrates once a doctor comes. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” The doctor calls. “My name is Dr. Tuan; can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N,” You mumble, looking at him, eyes wide and unfocused. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

You see him nod, but you don’t care. You are suddenly hit with a pang in your head, the pain making you double over.

“Everything is wrong,” You mumble to yourself. “This is not supposed to happen, this is not supposed to happen, this–“

You continue muttering, pulling on your head a way to try and focus on your present situation– the space, the people, the time,– but you can’t help but be pulled back to when it was you; laying on that bed, bleeding, desperate and helpless. You cried, begging for someone help, but there was nothing they could do. There was nothing you could do.

“You need to save her,” You tell Dr. Tuan, even though he’s not the one you want to tell that. “You need to save Haewon and the baby.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Dr. Choi that,” Dr. Tuan nods and you nod too, assuming he’s one of Youngjae’s friends. “But right now, I need you to focus. You look like you’re about to set yourself off in a panic attack, so I need you to breath.”

You do as he says, and once you regain the little composure you had when coming in, Dr. Tuan frowns.

“Ma’am,” He says softly. “Are you alright?”

“Give me a baby,” You say matter-of-factly, voice strong for the first time in hours. “Tell Youngjae to give me a baby and I’ll be just fine.”

Dr. Tuan nods, and no one says anything about your strange choice of words. Everyone just waits.

                                                             ————————————

“Y/N,” You hear a familiar voice call. “Y/N, wake up!”

You blink, getting up from the chairs in the waiting room. “Jihoon.”

He looks at you, eyes wild and red, probably like yours. 

“I’m sorry,” Your lips tremble and you are sobbing again. “I’m so sorry, Jihoon-ah.”

“It’s not your fault,” He mumbles. “The doctors told me everything. She made you promise, didn’t she?”

You nod and he hugs you, holding you tightly to his body. “Thank you for taking care of her, Y/N.”

“But we’re still here,” You cry. “I failed again.”

“What? No,” Jihoon pulls back and looks at you quizzically. “You never failed, Y/N.”

“But I did!” You shout, and you are sure you look crazy right now, hair wild and eyes bloodshot. “I failed. I failed and now she’s going through the worst pain she’ll ever feel in her life!”

“I’m sure that’s not–“

“I would know,” You whisper, looking at him defeated. “I would know, Jihoon.”

And although the timing is bad, you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

“Y/N,” Jihoon calls, voice serious and scared. “What are you talking about?”

“This is not–“

You try to go back on your word, make an excuse, but nothing comes out. You two stand in silence, Jihoon looking at you as if calculating your next move; but then the doors open and Youngjae walks out, looking tired and worn out after hours of surgery. 

“Mr. Lee?” He says, looking at Jihoon, and just like that, everything is forgotten. Haewon is top priority.

“Yes,” Jihoon breathes out, grabbing your hand in nervousness, even though you stand behind him without looking up. You’re not brave enough to look Youngjae in the eyes. “How’s my wife? My kid?”

“Haewon is fine,” Youngjae says, a heavy sigh coming out of his mouth. “She lost a lot of blood but she is safe and stable. Your baby is at the NICU, but he’s also stable.”

“Why is he at the NICU?” Jihoon asks, stumbling on his words a little bit. 

“Because your baby was born prematurely, his lungs weren’t fully developed yet,” Youngjae explains slowly, making sure that Jihoon is understanding every and each words that comes out of his mouth, and just the sound of his voice makes your breathing slow down. “This is just a little help until he’s all developed and able to go home.”

“But he’s okay?” Jihoon lets go of you to run his hands through his hair, a nervous habit of his. “My son is alright?”

“Your son is perfectly fine,” You can practically hear the smile on his voice. “Just came into the world a little early, but overall okay. Congratulations, Mr. Lee.”

Jihoon cries out in happiness, turning around to hug you, and as you hug him back, you finally look at him, and he’s looking right at you. Youngjae has a smile as he sees you break down for what feels like the tenth time just this evening, and as soon as Jihoon pulls back, you run to him, ignoring his gasp of surprise as you hug him tightly.

“Thank you,” You mumble into his neck, and he laughs, hugging you back even though your best friend is probably staring with his mouth wide open in shock. “Thank you, Youngjae.”

“Hey,” He soothes you, hand running down your hair. “She’s alright. The baby’s alright. Everything is fine now; you did great, Y/N, you were so brave.”

You let go of him, and pull back a little bit, face still close to his. 

“Remember your promise?” You whisper, breath fanning his lips and he chuckles, the vibration going up your body. He nods, eyes fixated on yours, and face getting closer and closer. 

Love you.

“Love you, too,” You say and ignore Jihoon’s screams in background as you kiss Youngjae, mouth pushing against his, demanding and wanting and needing. You are very aware that you are kissing your friend’s doctor in front of the surgery ward with your best friend screaming in the back, but you don’t care. You can’t care, actually; not when Youngjae brings you closer as if you are all he needs. Better yet, all he wants. 

                                                             ————————————

It is almost a year later that you find yourself sitting down with Jihoon and Haewon, tense and nervous. Minyoung and Jinyoung are both at their grandparents and even though your friends are restless without their kids, they appreciate the timeout from the kids. You sit there quiet and fidgeting, not really sure how to start the talk you’ve been wanting to have for years, at least not until Youngjae comes back from the kitchen with four glasses of wine. 

“So,” Jihoon start, clearly uncomfortable. “What did you call us here for?”

Youngjae grabs your hand, and his thumb plays with the engagement ring on your left hand, and you think this is all the strength you need to finally tell your friends.

“When Haewon was giving birth to Jinyoung,” You start, putting your untouched wine glass on the center table. “You asked me what I meant when I said I would know what she’s going through. You asked me what I was talking about and… do you remember back in college, when Jaemin had to take me to the hospital because I had an accident?”

“Yeah,” Haewon nods, trying to remember everything about that day. “He called us to say you had an accident and had to spend the night at the hospital…”

“Yeah,” You say, voice heavy and gurgled with unshed tears. “That day I had a miscarriage. I had been pregnant for about a month, and I knew… only for a few days, but I knew and I was trying to gather enough courage to tell you guys, but then I just– it didn’t follow through.”

“W-what?” Jihoon mumbles and you look at your friend. You swear you never felt as guilty as you felt at that moment, watching your best friend, your family, cry because of you. “And you never told us?!”

“You were happy,” You shrug, crying with him. “I know it’s a lame excuse, but you were happy and there was nothing you could’ve done. I’m sorry, Jihoon. I’m sorry, Haewon. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“We could’ve helped you!” Jihoon gets up abruptly, but you are not scared. Not when he marches to you; not when he reaches for you, not when he cries, sobbing on your neck. Jihoon loves you endlessly and you love him right back. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” You mumble, wiggling in his a little too tight embrace. “So there is nothing to apologize for.”

“Y/N,” Haewon is crying too, but she waits until her husband lets you go to move towards you. “It must have been so hard, when you saw me like that…”

You shake your head, trying to tell her that it’s alright. “What matters is that you and Jinyoung are alright.”

“Yeah,” She lets out a laugh, letting you sit down next to your fiancee again. “Thank to a certain doctor, isn’t that right, Dr. Choi?”

Youngjae just laughs, and pulls you closer, kissing your forehead. “You did it, love.”

“I did it,” You say it back to him, and then you look at your friends, nervous again. “And I learned my lesson, so there is something else I want to tell you guys. You too, Youngjae.”

“What?” Youngjae asks, smiling innocently. 

You scoot over, getting closer to him, and looking him deep in the eyes.

“Yah, what is it?” He says, frowning even though his smile is unchanging. “I’m getting nervous…”

“I’m pregnant,” You say, smiling as you watch his face contort in surprise, smile getting wider if that’s even possible. 

“How far along?” He breaths out, hands grabbing his hair out of excitement. 

“Three months,” You smile and he’s on his feet, shouting in happiness. “You’re going to be a dad.”

“Oh my god, I love you so much,” He mumbles and kisses you deeply. “I love you I love you I love you!”

“Congratulations!” Jihoon hugs you. “I’ll be here for everything from now on.”

“Oh you bet you will,” You say nonchalantly. “As the godfather of this child, it’s nothing more than your duty to be here for all of it.”

And once again, Jihoon is crying. 

“If Jihoon is the godfather,” Youngjae asks once it’s just you two again, in the comfort of your shared apartment. “Can Jackson be the godmother?”

“Sure?” You say, a little uncertain of how that would work. 

Silence reigns for a while as you snuggle closer to Youngjae.

“Are you scared?” He whispers in your hair, hand lazily drawing shapes on your arm.

“Terrified,” You say honestly. “I don’t want to fuck this up, Youn–“

“Hey,” He pulls you closer, sitting you down on his lap. “It’s not your fault. It was a situation not a condition. You are healthy and amazing and our child will come to this world to loving parents and family. We got this, love. I’m right here with you, and I promised you, didn’t I?”

You frown. “Promised me what?”

“I promised I’d give you a baby,” He says and you instantly smile. 

“He told you,” You mumble and Youngjae nods.

“Mark called me mid surgery to tell me that,” Youngjae chuckles and pecks your lips. “He thought that motivate me.”

“And did it?” You ask. “Motivate you?”

“I never felt more motivated in my life,” He mumbles over your lips. “Just the thought of having a baby with you–“

“That’s not what I meant!” You gasp, laughing at his shamelessness.

“But that’s what I meant.”

And you if you weren’t already pregnant, after that night you’d be for sure. 

———————————

Hello lovelies! Here is the latest update with OBGYN Choi Youngjae! I have to say, this one might be my favorite one in the whole series! I love youngjae so much and he’s so sweet as a doctor... what do you all think? Let me know in the comments! Every like, reblog, and comment makes me happy to write :P love you all and stay safe <3

[zebrabaker]

Choosing Destiny; Part 1

TA-DA! I promised this to @sayuricorner like, two weeks ago, but it’s finally done! THis is a Twisted Wonderland/Ever After High crossover, and pretty salty. PLEASE COMMENT

Rook had been relaxing in a grove when he heard a rustling in the woods. His eyes snapped to the side when a branch snapped just beyond the tree line. Slowly, he stood, preparing to fight if necessary. Then, stumbling, no, limping, out of the woods, came a girl. Her skin was deathly pale, and her t-shirt and sleep pants were shredded in some places. Her left ankle was swollen and bruised, and she whimpered every time she put her weight on it. The girl’s eyes lit with hope and desperation when she saw him, and she froze, lifting her hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

“Please, I don’t know where I am, or what I’m doing here, or how I got here. I just need a doctor, I hurt my ankle at one point, running from a pack of wolves. I hid in a tree for a few hours, but I’m really lost and scared and I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was rising and her eyes starting to water.

“You can come here, Mademoiselle. I won’t hurt you. Come, there should be a doctor at the school.” He slowly walked towards her, keeping his hands up to show he was no threat. Still, the girl remained wary, her shoulders tense. He took her hand in his, and slipped an arm around her shoulder. She sagged into him, and he could feel how weak she was. Slowly, they made their way towards the main building. Almost halfway there, the girl let out a gentle yelp and collapsed, clinging tight to his arm in an attempt to stay upright. Thinking fast, he squatted and swept his free arm under her legs before standing. After taking a moment to adjust his hold on her, he continued up the path, moving slowly to not jostle the poor girl. How had she gotten lost in the woods? There wasn’t anything but trees for miles around.

They had just entered the main building when the girl spoke.

“My name is Raven. I really can’t thank you enough for helping me.” Her voice was lovely to hear, slightly raspy and sweet like a candy apple.

“There is no need to thank me, it’s what anyone would do. My name is Rook Hunt. We’re almost to the nurse’s office. How did you get lost in the woods? There’s nothing around for miles.” There were no students in the hallways, as it was technically time for classes. He had a free period, so he wouldn’t get in any trouble. Gently tapping his boots against the door to the nurse’s office, he waited for the school nurse, Nurse Isla, to open the door.

“Mister Rook? Who is this young lady?” The frail looking woman asked. She stepped back, making room for Rook to carry Raven over to a cot and set her down.

“My name is Raven, ma’am. I got lost in the woods. Where am I?” Isla and Rook shared a look. Everyone in Twisted Wonderland knew what NCR was.

“Well, you’re at Night Raven College, of course.” Raven’s brow furrowed.

“I have no idea where that is. Are we still in the White kingdom, or anywhere near Ever After High?” Something like realization dawned on Nurse Isla’s face.

“Mister Hunt, you need to go fetch the Headmaster.”

“What? Why? Is something wrong?” There was a note of panic in Raven’s voice.

“Nothing dangerous dear, now let’s see what we can do for that ankle of yours.” Rook waited no longer, and left for the head office.

X0X0X

Today had started well, considering that it was just three days since the disaster that was Legacy Day. Maddie was sick with some Wonderland virus, and had been in the school infirmary for a day and a half, leaving Raven alone. Most of the other Rebels had been supportive, but she wasn’t close with any of them. She had taken to hiding in the woods between classes, just to avoid the hateful words and glares of the Royals. Everything had gone wrong when she had tried practicing her magic. She centered herself, and slowly took deep breaths. She had just been trying a simple teleportation spell to take her back to her room when a twig snapped and she lost control. The next thing she knows, the woods look different, and she hears the baying of hungry wolves.

“Ah!” She snapped out of her remembrance when the nurse pressed on her ankle.

“Sorry, dear, but I need to check if anything is broken.” The nurse continued to poke and prod the throbbing area. After five minutes, the nurse spoke again. “Not broken, but seriously sprained. I’ll need you to drink a potion, and it should heal in a few minutes. For now, just stay here.” The nurse bustled away, rifling through a cabinet for a few moments. The door swung open, revealing a man in what looked like a plague mask. This must be the headmaster, she realized.

“Hello, young lady. I am Headmaster Crowley; might I know your name?”

“I’m Raven Queen, sir.” She greeted.

XOXOX

Crowley watched as the girl seemed to shrink as she introduced herself. Odd, she was a rather pretty girl, but she seemed scared to death of him.

“Queen? That’s a rather unusual last name.” Nurse Isla commented as she came back over, carrying a potion vial.

“It’s from my mother’s side.” Raven murmured, looking ashamed. “Next Evil Queen and all that…” Crowley sucked in a deep breath. Between her references to Ever After High and what she just said, this girl was a descendant of the Beautiful Queen, one of the seven founders.

“Drink up, Miss Queen.” Nurse Isla said, handing Raven a small vial. Raven wrinkled her nose and drank the potion like a shot, gagging on the foul taste. He winced in sympathy. Nurse Isla’s potions were terrible tasting, but they worked wonders.

“Miss Queen, if you would come with me, we can get you sorted out.” Raven nodded and swung her legs over the edge of the cot, testing her weight on her ankle as she slowly stood. With her arm wrapped around herself, the girl slowly padded after him down the hall. Classes were still in session, which was probably for the best, since Raven looked ready to jump out of her skin at the slightest hint of danger.

“Um, Sir, where am I? The nurse said something about a college?”

“This is Night Raven College; an elite boy’s school founded several hundred years ago by seven powerful people. I believe you are descended from one such person, the one we call the Beautiful Queen. However, I need to test this belief, before we decide what to do with you.”

“Really? But, why would you call her that? She was second fairest, that’s just…how the story always goes.” Raven asked, seeming to hesitate.

“Though Snow White was deemed fairer than the Queen, Snow’s beauty and kindness were a façade, hiding just as much vanity and cruelty as the so-called ‘Evil Queen’. Honestly, such a mean thing to call someone.” He sniffed. Miss Queen was looking at him like he was quite mad. They arrived at his office, and he pushed the door open, revealing the floating mirror. He heard Miss Queen suck in a deep breath.

“Is that…the first magic mirror? It went missing almost five hundred years ago!” She slowly walked forward, reaching out one hand towards the glowing mirror. Right before she set her hand against the gilded frame, the mirror lit up, making her recoil in shock.

“Who goes there?” It boomed, an eerily under-lit face appearing in the perfectly smooth glass. “You!” The face boomed. “You are of the blood of Queens! You are not to be here! Has the fool Grim truly let one slip from his grasp after so long?”

“If Headmaster Grimm knew where I was, he would have taken me back to Ever After High by now. He’s very strict on the whole ‘destiny-or-poof’ thing…” Raven seemed disgruntled. “So, what exactly is this place? Everyone keeps calling it a college, but what kind of college has the First Mirror?” Hmm. Miss Queen seemed to be rather bright.

“Well, simply put, Night Raven College is a prestigious boy’s high school for those with the potential to become a truly powerful magic user. We were founded almost five hundred years ago by seven powerful beings, each of whom has a house for their favored students. Your ancestor founded Pomefiore on her heavy efforts.” Crowley paused as an idea came to mind. “Say, Miss Queen, I have a most brilliant idea! Why do we not enroll you as a student?”

“What?” The girl spluttered. “I thought you said this was a boy’s school?”

“Only by tradition. There’s no official school rule or policy that says no girls can attend. Now, to begin, simply place your hand flat against the mirror. From there, the magic of the mirror will sort you into the proper house. I highly doubt you’ll be placed anywhere but Pomefiore, but formalities must be observed!”

X0X0X

Raven, feeling rather steamrolled, did as she was told, pressing her palm flat against the cool glass. She shuddered at the slight tingle that raced up her arm and down her spine from the overwhelming magic in the mirror. The image of a poison dipped apple appeared in the mirror, with the poison taking the shape of a skull.

“Just as I expected then! Now all you need is a uniform!”

“I can handle that aspect, my mother, despite being in the mirror prison, taught me whatever interested me magic wise. I wanted to be a fashion designer when I was a little girl…” Her voice trailed off, melancholy, as magic washed over her. “I can base it off the uniform I saw Rook in earlier.” Raven’s hair tumbled down her back, dark and smooth, missing the usual purple streaks, and reaching the small of her back. She wore a peasant collared, knee length black dress with sleeves reaching just beyond her elbows. Underneath were fishnet knee highs, and fingerless gloves of the same material. Around her waist was a lavender knot belt that matched the headband that materialized on her head, and the new shoes that appeared on her feet.

“Most impressive, Miss Queen!” Headmaster Crowley cheered. And it really was. In a swirl of lavender and lilac magic, her clothing had been completely transfigured from decidedly disheveled and torn pajamas to a fully functional, seemingly stable outfit.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I haven’t done it in a while, since I was maybe thirteen, I suppose. I just…lost interest.” She shrugged, seeming to shrink under his praise. There was a knock at the door, and Grim clapped his hands.

X0X0X

“Ah, there’s your new dorm-mate. Come in, Mister Felmier!” He called towards the door. It swung open to reveal a rather short boy with purple hair, who was almost as pale as she was.

“You called for me, headmaster?” The boy asked, seeming to be scared of his own shadow.

“Indeed! I’d like you to meet Miss Raven Queen! She’s just been sorted into Pomefiore, I was hoping you could show her to the dorms, as I have some business to deal with concerning her enrollment. Miss Queen, I leave you in capable hands!” And with that, the headmaster was gone.

[madroxed]

“YOU KNOW THAT YOUR BOOK IS UPSIDE DOWN, RIGHT?” [fic meme. SIMON/RAPHAEL, COLLEGE AU, ENEMIES TO LOVERS. for @hoechlder​. @ao3.]

+

“Okay,” Raphael Santiago’s saying, leaning back smoothly in his chair in a way that would absolutely have Simon unbalancing onto the floor, and offering his trademark smug smile at the poor girl across the table, “but madness as a trope has been at the base of the ghost story at least since Shakespeare…”

Simon tunes him out. It’s probably a really good point and he should be making notes, but he just….can’t. Raphael starts talking and Simon automatically switches off; it’s been that way since approximately nought point two seconds into their freshman year when Raphael had eyed Simon’s ironic Care Bears t-shirt with disgust and asked him if he wasn’t confusing college with elementary school.

Simon hates him.

+

“You don’t hate him,” Jace says later, when Simon’s finishing up rant number 1458 on why Raphael Santiago has been put on this earth specifically to torture him. Clary shoots Jace a sceptical look so Simon doesn’t have to. “He’s part of your college experience. Everyone needs a good nemesis.”

“Um,” Clary says, “who’s yours?”

“Your father,” Jace says, like it’s obvious. “I didn’t say it had to be another student. Izzy’s is the conservative dress code, and Alec’s is every obnoxious heterosexual couple he knows.”

“That’s us,” Clary tells Simon with a smile.

Jace salutes. “It’s worse because he has to spend all his time with us, but better because he can tell us to our face how gross we are.” He wipes away a fake tear. “He’ll look back on those memories fondly.”

“Okay, I get it. You guys get off on tormenting Alec,” Simon says, “but just so we’re clear, Raphael Santiago really is the worst.”

“We know, honey,” Clary says, patting his leg.

Simon feels very patronized.

+

Magnus decides that a Wednesday night is a totally reasonable time to throw a party, which is patently untrue but they all go anyway.

They lose Alec almost immediately, taking up his place at Magnus’ side as his boyfriend holds court, and Izzy disappears shortly after, followed by the eyes of roughly a million admirers Simon can’t fault for a second.

“You good?” Clary asks, and Simon waves a hand.

“Go. Find a corner to make out in. I’ll be fine.”

“Great, thanks,” Jace says, tugging Clary away before she can change her mind.

“You’re blocking the door,” a horribly familiar voice says, and Simon squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment before stepping aside.

“What are you doing here?” Simon asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t care, he really doesn’t, except that he absolutely does and it’s going to drive him crazy for the rest of the night.

Raphael shoots him a look that says he knows exactly how Simon feels. “Unfortunately, I live here.”

“Uh,” Simon says, and wonders if he knew that. He’s ninety-percent sure he didn’t, in which case he and Alec are going to have a serious chat. “Since when?”

“Since the start of the year.” Raphael rolls his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Magnus is technically my guardian. Was my guardian. Obviously that stopped being important when I turned eighteen, but the damage was done.”

“And by damage,” Simon says, “you mean emotions?”

He thinks Raphael may actually growl. It’s fascinating. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be studying? You looked a little lost in Monday’s seminar…”

“Wow,” Simon says, and wonders where the alcohol is, “A, not all of us feel the need to take over discussions. And B, fuck you.”

Raphael smirks, and Simon wants to scream. No one in the world is able to get under his skin this much, and that’s saying something considering he and Jace accidentally became friends in sophomore year.

“I’m walking away now,” Simon says, and ignores Raphael’s mocking laugh behind him.

+

Simon’s drunk. Very, very drunk. Possibly the most drunk he’s ever been.

“Nope,” Clary says, pointing her glass at him. Half of it sloshes over the rim. “Remember prom? We were wasted.”

“God,” Simon says, scrunching up his nose. “That was bad.”

“So bad,” Clary agrees. “Where’s the vodka?”

Simon passes her a bottle that, actually, may be tequila? Honestly at this point he’s not sure it matters.

“Did you know Raphael lives here?” he asks out of nowhere, and Clary gasps.

“No! Here here?”

“Yep!”

Clary blinks and drinks her tequila. “Wow. So weird. You should go say hi!”

Simon snorts. “I already did. Sort of.”

“Well go say it again,” Clary says, pushing ineffectively at his arm. “With sexy eyes or something.”

Simon’s brain shorts out. “…What? Why?”

Clary laughs. “Because you like him, doofus. You like like him. You want to kiss him and marry him and be shouty about…comic books and that show only you two watch forever.”

“You liar,” Simon says, because all of that is blatantly untrue. Clary has no idea what she’s talking about. Absolutely none. Simon hates Raphael. Hates his stupid smug smile and his expensive jackets and his perfect hair and the way he always makes Simon feel hot and awkward and like he’s the only person in the room.

“Oh shit,” he says, and Clary nods, patting him on the shoulder.

“S’ok,” she says.

“It really, really isn’t,” Simon says and snatches the bottle of tequila back.

+

It’s very possible he’s dying. Everything’s both very loud and very bright even though his eyes are definitely still closed, and it tastes like something’s died on his tongue.

“Fuck,” he croaks and rolls over only to crash promptly to the floor. “Fuck.”

When he finally manages to open his eyes, Raphael’s staring down at him, wearing a heavy brocade robe and holding a truly giant mug. “You okay down there?”

“Your couch sucks,” Simon says, and Raphael shrugs.

“Magnus chose it, blame him.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Simon asks, attempting to sit up and failing spectacularly.

“They, like normal house guests, went home when the party finished.”

“Ah,” Simon says. “And, uh, I���didn’t?”

Raphael frowns. “You don’t remember?”

“Nope,” Simon says with a wince. “Too much…I’m gonna guess tequila based on the throbbing behind my eyes.”

“…Right,” Raphael says, and if Simon didn’t know better he’d say he was upset. He’s probably just mad that Simon’s still there, taking up his couch on a Thursday morning and stopping him reading the entire works of Tolstoy or whatever it is Raphael does for fun.

“I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can, you know, stand up without breaking something.”

Raphael sighs. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

+

The kitchen’s a disaster zone, bottles and empty cups everywhere, and Simon doesn’t want to know what he just stepped in. Still, the smell of fresh coffee manages to take away some of the edge and Simon goes through cupboards until he finds a mug almost as large of Raphael’s.

“So,” he says, when Raphael follows him as far as the doorframe, “did you, uh, need help cleaning up, or…?”

“You really don’t remember anything about last night?” Raphael says, ignoring the question, and Simon frowns.

“I mean, I remember getting here and you telling me you live here, and I remember Jace starting up a game of beer pong, but after that…nope, not really.”

“Do you remember the party Magnus threw for Isabelle’s birthday our freshman year?” Raphael asks, which is completely out of left field, wow.

“Sure,” Simon says carefully. “Not the specifics, but I remember it was a fun night.”

“So,” Raphael says, and Simon’s not so hungover he doesn’t recognize the danger in his tone, “you don’t remember finding me on the balcony and telling me that you, and I quote, found me ‘super hot, especially when I do that smug asshole thing.’?”

Simon blinks.

“And,” Raphael continues, “you don’t remember the fourth of July when you brought me melted ice-cream and told me you liked my voice? Or the time you kissed me in the garden at one of Isabelle’s stupid sorority parties?” He takes a step forward and Simon swallows nervously. “Or last night when you found me in my room and told me you wanted to marry me and have shouty arguments forever?”

“Um,” Simon says.

“I see,” Raphael says. “It was just the tequila, then.”

He turns to leave and Simon finally remember to actually do something.

“Wait,” he says, and Raphael pauses. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Raphael looks at him like he’s an idiot. Which…fair. “Because you didn’t.”

Which—

Fuck.

The thing is, well, okay, yeah. Simon’s had a crush on Raphael since he insulted his Care Bears t-shirt and proceeded to start an argument over the benefits of new media in literary studies. He knows this. Sure, he tries to keep it buried as far down in his own denial as he can, but it doesn’t help when he spends most of every shared seminar they have staring at the sharp jut of Raphael’s collarbone beneath his stupidly expensive button-downs.

It’s a thing.

He just…hadn’t known that maybe it was a shared thing.

“I woke up on the couch,” he says, which isn’t at all what he’d meant to come out of his mouth but at least it’s a full sentence.

“Obviously,” Raphael says. “You were wasted.”

“So I didn’t kiss you?”

The corner of Raphael’s mouth tilts up, just a little. “Oh, you did.”

“So you didn’t kiss me back?” Simon says, piecing events together slowly but surely.

“I never do,” Raphael says, and Simon frowns, feeling confused and a little hurt. “I always tell you to kiss me when you’re sober. You never do.”

Simon, it turns out, is the biggest idiot on the planet. Clearly college is wasted on him.

“Right,” he says, digging the last remnants of his bravery out from his pounding skull. “Right.”

It’s probably not super romantic that he steps in the wet patch again, but as first kisses goes it’s…well. It’s pretty fucking excellent, actually.

Right up until Raphael pulls away.

“God, you really need to brush your teeth.”

“Yeah,” Simon says, backing up awkwardly. “Yeah, I’ll just—”

“There’s spare toothbrushes under the sink,” Raphael says, rolling his eyes, but the flush on his cheeks gives him away.

“Be right back,” Simon says, and tries to remember where the bathroom is.

+

Raphael’s doing the leaning thing again. Simon wants to try it but he’s not going to risk crashing to the floor whilst they’re still in the honeymoon phase. Besides, he doesn’t think he’d look anywhere near as cool.

Raphael’s embroidered jacket is draped over the back of his chair and his shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, and Simon has no idea what conversation the professor’s just struck up.

Which isn’t too different from normal, really.

Raphael catches his eye and Simon’s heart does a truly embarrassing skippy thing in his chest.

“You know that your book is upside down, right?” Raphael says, smirk sliding into place, and Simon sighs.

He can always kiss it away later.

+

[for the au + trope + prompt game. send me one!]

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Winter Solstice Gift for koikoipond

For @koikoipond <3

Read on AO3

*****

Call it Crazy, Call it Meant to Be

The morning of the second day Wei Ying met his soulmate, he rolled out of bed and made it halfway to the bus stop before realizing he’d pulled on his bunny slippers, a gag gift from Jiejie, and left his slip-ons haphazardly discarded by the couch. He’d still made it to the bus in time, though just barely, and had to call in Mianmian to take over the newbie’s shift. All in all a normal start to any day he had to open up the coffee shop.

In short, the universe had not prepared his poor heart for the man who strode into Latte Mugs Cafe at five after six, riding the crest of the crisp December air like some sort of angel in a white wool sweater. The door’s bell rang far too muted than was usual.

Wei Ying stared for what his racing heart later deemed a good five minutes before his gaze, somewhat distorted by the glass of the display he was arranging, rose to meet the man’s golden eyes. Oh, crap.

He shot to his feet, waved nonsensically at the man, shouted some rendition of “We’ll be right with you!”, and bolted through the door to the back room, whisper-yelling for Mianmian.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Wei Ying put a hand on his wildly thumping heart and paused to calm his breathing. Why is he here? When Mianmian emerged from the storage shelves (only one unit of which was used to stock non-perishables; the rest were filled to the brim with what the employees could only assume were the owner’s personal items, or else the remains of some poor, traditional tea shop, based on the sheer number of handmade tea sets), he ran up to her, putting on his best pout and swinging an arm around her shoulders. She glared at him and he carefully removed it and took a step back. Right. No touching.

“Mianmian!” he panted, eyes swimming with both remembered beauty and mortification equally, “The man- the bell- his eyes- and he just came in!” His voice was rising dangerously, and Mianmian thankfully stopped him before the taco place next door banged on the wall again, or worse, Lan Zhan, heard him.

“Wei Ying. Bi Disaster. Whichever you prefer,” her flat voice cut through his panic and grounded him, like a mother forcing her child into a life jacket against his will. Mianmian was great. “First off, my name is Grandmaster Luo, as per our agreement if I won the bet. Which I did.”

An exclamation of protest came from Wei Ying. It was ignored which was completely unfair because the bet had been who could last the longest without getting drunk, and sure, technically, Wei Ying got drunk first, but Mianmian had just been sipping the same cocktail the whole night!

“Second, who are you talking about and why does it involve me?” Mianmian had closed last night, too. Usually, she was much more pleasant than Wei Ying was in the morning, but today he’d taken one look at her and offered to work the counter. He’d rather not have to file a witness statement for a murder he’d seen committed at six in the morning, thank you very much. His memory was bad on a good day. He contemplated for a moment if Lan Zhan would be able to handle her and vice versa, but he hadn’t seen so much as a wince from him when the man was literally blackout drunk, so Wei Ying was willing to chance it. Who could get mad at such a perfect face anyway?

“Luo-jie,” he whined, “it’s Lan Zhan.”

“What, another ex?” She looked unimpressed.

“No! I haven’t dated anyone since the guitarist, you know that!” The guitarist—Wei Ying had blocked his name, which he remembered to be just as sexy as the rest of him, out of his mind—had been a mistake to begin with; a summer hope that turned out to be all riffs and no harmony.

She just looked confused, now. Well, guess she wasn’t lying when she’d said she tunes him out.

“No, no! Luo-jie, this is Lan Zhan . From the bar. Last week?” He winced at the memory.

“Oh. Your soulmate,” she said, as if this was common knowledge to the man waiting outside.

“Shh! Not so loud, what if he hears?”

The look she gave him this time was beyond tired, the sort of look his old government teacher used to give him when he derailed the discussion for the third time. Fond memories.

She appears to give up on the conversation entirely, brushing past him and moving toward the door. “Wei Ying, we’re talking about this. Later.” She pauses, and before he can embarrass her for caring about him, she says, “I saw him. A man that beautiful doesn’t deserve to be stuck with a soulmark he can’t remember. Even if it is to you.” Ah, there was that smirk he knew and loved!

Mianmian informed him when Lan Zhan left only a few minutes later. Apparently, he had asked for a lemongrass tea and nothing else. He hadn’t said a word about Wei Ying, or even The Insane Barista. Wei Ying was not upset by this, truly. All it meant was that the call he’d received the morning after their...escapades...had been honestly meant. His mind drifted back to Saturday morning as he mindlessly retook his position at the counter and finished his shift.

Wei Ying bolted up, his cheap twin bed creaking in protest as his phone blared the opening bars of Britney Spears’ Toxic—his ringtone—far too loudly. (If he let it keep ringing, it was just the first, really annoying bars, repeated over and over. He was unbearably smug about it.)

He reached over, trying to ignore his pounding head, and nearly dropped the phone before managing to accept the call. He mumbled out, “Hi this is-” before a deep, slightly groggy voice cuts him off.

“I have called to apologize for last night.” Apologize? Wait, was this- “I do not know what I said or did after drinking the alcohol-” Lan Zhan? “-but my brother informs me that you brought me home.” It must be. Though, technically, Jiang Cheng did the actual driving. He, after all, had not been drunk.

“Well, actually-” he was cut off again. Funny, Wei Ying thought sardonically, he remembered Lan Zhan being more polite than this. Even when they’d vandalized  the dumpster together, he’d insisted they leave room for future law breakers.

“I am grateful for that.” There was a pause, evidently for Lan Zhan to gather his thoughts. Wei Ying decided not to test his luck and gather his own as well. His brain typically didn’t wake up till at least nine on the weekends, but here he was—he checked his phone—at seven AM on a Saturday trying to have a conversation with a guy that refused to listen to a thing he said.

He didn’t remember much about last night, but that was normal for him. If past experiences were to be learned from, most of it would come to him later in flashes and pitfalls of regret. Still, he’d thought… He freed his left hand from where it was tangled in the sheets and—just sat there and blinked at it. Yeah, that was a fully-colored soulmark, to be sure. Which was—something he’d never had before.

Just yesterday, the twisting lines that covered his left palm and creeped though his knuckles were black and lifeless. Now, his hand looked like some sort of moving painting. The dull, monotone patterns had shifted, forming blue and white elegant clouds and delicate red lotus petals that swirled around each other as if moved by wind. He bent his fingers to trace the lines.

He hadn’t dreamed it then! He and Lan Zhan were soulmates and he was talking to his soulmate (or his soulmate was talking to him) and take that Jiang Cheng!

Lan Zhan was speaking, “-we should not contact each other again. Goodbye.”

No. No! Lan Zhan didn’t know! “Wait!” but the call had already ended.

He’d needed the whole weekend on his jiejie’s couch with ice cream and soup to feel better about the whole business. See, the thing was, he wanted to talk to Lan Zhan about it. Mianmian was right; it wasn’t fair that the man now had a soulmark and no clue who he was tied to for life—literally. Once found, soulmates lived and died together, unless a powerful enough rejection broke the bond.

Every time Wei Ying opened the contact he’d created on his phone, he found himself shying away, a knot of anxiety coiling in his stomach and threatening to boil over into panic as it bound his hands and prevented any communication with Lan Zhan. He’d studied soulmates before, had taken two elective classes on them his freshman year of college. He knew the fear of a severed bond was merely psychological, a flight reaction to rejection.

Severed bonds were permanent and caused by verbal or otherwise evident rejection of a relationship between soulmates. Physically, soulmarks kept their color but stopped swirling across the skin, an obvious sign which led to the Unmoving’s ever-shifting status in society. Emotionally, the soulmates often sank into depression. And so it was ingrained into the body that such experiences should be avoided. Wei Ying’s worry, the possibility of never seeing Lan Zhan again, the fear that his soulmate didn’t want him, pushed his body to such reactions. The whole thing made it frustratingly difficult to just talk to him.

Mianmian remembered to catch him just as he was leaving. She’d spotted him while on her way to her old mustang and had flagged him down like he was speeding in a school zone.

In typical Mianmian style, she gave him a once over, noted his stressed and slightly shaky appearance and declared, “You need to call him. I know you have his number.” Maybe she did listen, sometimes.

He sighed, a burst of warm air that puffed out before him and chilled, disappearing as surely as his prospects with Lan Zhan. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” A look. “I’m not being evasive! I really, really do want to tell him. I know he doesn’t-” a pause, and he continued quieter, “doesn’t remember me or our bond but he’s so kind, he might accept it anyway. He did seem enthusiastic when he was drunk. But…”

Mianmian’s eyes softened and her face looked completely different. “I know I don’t tell you because frankly your head is usually too large to make it through the door in the morning, but you’re not bad-looking or mean or stupid. I mean, maybe you are sometimes and you can’t expect to match your Lan Zhan for beauty, but it’s not like you don’t have a chance.” The last time he’d heard this tone from her was when he’d had a breakdown in their walk-in refrigerator. It was strangely calming, bringing to mind his sister and her gentle touches.

He smiled, chuckling softly. “It’s not that. I know I’m a catch! Though maybe a ten where Lan Zhan’s off the scale,” he joked, “But I just physically can’t confess or whatever to him. He- he almost rejected me once, though he didn’t know about the bond. And maybe it’s not fair, but I can only picture a still soulmark whenever I consider calling him.” He hated revealing that about himself, but he knew Mianmian. They went out for drinks most Fridays and she could sniff out a lie from him while drunk and flirting with a different dude. Besides, despite her thorny words and genuine annoyance with him, she did care. She’d even treated him to drinks on his birthday.

Mianmian looked at him consideringly and nodded. She understood. “You’re scheduled for most of the morning shifts now since those two students were hired. I’ll try to join you and work the counter for a while.” She turned decisively and got in her car, accepting his thanks with a nod. ”Don’t be late.”

*~*~*~*~*

During the following week, they established a routine. He and Mianmian would arrive at the coffee shop, baking and preparing together until six when they opened. Wei Ying would disappear into the back room, getting blends together and cleaning until Lan Zhan left at around 6:30. He showed up at 6:05 most days, give or take a few minutes. On one notable occasion, he had walked up (he walked! When it was literally freezing outside!) to the cafe at 5:55 and Mianmian had graciously let him in while Wei Ying made himself scarce.

Strangely, not once had Lan Zhan ordered coffee. In the coffee shop! Instead, he asked for infuriatingly healthy teas and protein bars which unfortunately did not include Wei Ying's prized creation: sweet habanero bars. Wei Ying had started to wonder why he even came. Their tea wasn't even that good! Not that Wei Ying liked tea, particularly, so he had to admit that he was perhaps not the best judge.

Still, he wondered if the punctual ringing of the bell had anything to do with the pull in his own hand, in his own mind, that wanted him to be closer to Lan Zhan. That wanted him to touch him, to talk to him, to accept him. Soulmarks, after all, did not care if one knew their soulmate or not. They were connected anyway.

One day, a week after the near-disastrous second meeting, Mianmian had to take off. She'd been applying for jobs recently, hoping to find a secretarial position with stable enough hours and pay to allow her to continue her schooling in law. A place nearby had allowed an interview and she didn't have time to take the morning shift.

So here Wei Ying was at six in the morning, working the counter as an exhausted student he wasn't letting within ten feet of the espresso machine stumbled around in the back room. He was stressed himself, but for once it seemed to work in his favor, tiring him out so completely that he'd fallen asleep while the clock was still on PM. He figured if he had to see his soulmate today, at least he wouldn't look like the zombie he normally did.

Wei Ying watched as a figure in a blue the color of his soulmark— their soulmark, as he'd learned the patterns and colors of pairs tended to be mirrors of each other—strode, sure and steady, through the door right as the grandfather clock in the corner struck 6:05.

A flicker of something passed through those golden eyes—surprise, maybe?—as he approached the counter. Just like before, Wei Ying's heart began beating wildly, echoing loudly in his ears and nearly deafening him. This time, however, he could also feel a slight tug, like a silk string had wrapped itself around his heart and was now gently pulling him closer to its other end. His soulmate.

A deep, quiet voice cut through his thoughts, and he quickly lowered the hand, his left one, that had been slowly reaching out. As he came back to awareness, he was suddenly beyond grateful for the gloves he'd decided to wear today. His mark would be a dead giveaway. "Good morning. Is there a certain tea blend you would suggest?"

For a moment, Wei Ying was taken aback, distracted by the man's voice and lost in his eyes, not completely comprehending the question. "Wh- What?" he stammered. "Oh, um, I'm more of a coffee guy myself, what do you usually get?" He spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. Was he revealing too much? Now Lan Zhan knew that Wei Ying knew he was a regular customer! Should he have just said Citrus! Tried and true ?

Lan Zhan's brow furrowed, a minuscule movement that would have been lost had Wei Ying not spent the last eternity staring at his eyes. He opened his mouth and Wei Ying decided that it was best if he focused on something else, in the interest of his own health. "I will take whichever coffee you prefer."

Wei Ying was speechless, a feat not many had achieved. Over the last week, he had used Mianmian as a spy, asking detailed questions about everything that Lan Zhan did. She was a surprisingly good sport about. The point was, Lan Zhan had always ordered tea, a different blend each day, and never anything else.

Lan Zhan turned around, unbothered by Wei Ying's confused and flustered state, and sat down at a two-person table next to the bookshelf. He pulled out a laptop from his bag and began typing away. Wei Ying squinted at the screen in disbelief, but couldn't make out the words from this angle.

He shook himself and went about preparing the mocha, opting to skip over the spice he liked to add. A memory of a truth-or-dare game in which Lan Zhan admitted disliking spicy foods provided a hazy warning. A shame, if you asked Wei Ying, but he hadn't. Wei Ying had told him anyway.

He paused before bringing the drink over to his soulmate. It just looked so sad, both the drink and Lan Zhan, sitting quietly in an empty coffee shop as the sky only just began to awaken. He still didn't think he could properly talk to the man if his performance earlier was anything to go by, but maybe he could...

He reached into the display case, wrapped his gift in a napkin, and delivered Lan Zhan's drink, a little addition tucked neatly beside it. He turned and just about ran to the counter, pulling out a rag and cleaning non-existent spills until Lan Zhan left.

When he finally heard the door close, Wei Ying straightened up from his bunker and drifted, dazed, over to clean Lan Zhan's table, finding only an empty cup. Wei Ying smiled. His heart-shaped ginger cookie hadn't been abandoned, despite the bold way it was offered. Perhaps he wouldn't be, either.

Emboldened by his success, Wei Ying called Mianmian and resumed his position at the counter, a plan formed and ready to be completed. He wasn't sure if it was caused by the civil and promising conversation yesterday or sheer eagerness, but he thought, just maybe, that he'd be able to get himself to talk to Lan Zhan. Hopefully.

*~*~*~*~*

At 6:05, Wei Ying was doubting his chances. He watched as Lan Zhan walked up to the counter, just as confidently as he had the day before, steadily getting closer. As Wei Ying had found tended to happen when one moved. His breathing quickened, the now expected response to his soulmate's presence, and he responded to the sharp tug in his chest by stepping back, just slightly. He was distinctly reminded of a prey animal trapped by a predator.

Instead of biting his head off, Lan Zhan simply stepped up to the counter and examined the fresh pastries sitting in the display case, for whatever reason ignoring the barista's slightly gaping mouth.

Wei Ying swallowed, stood up straighter than he did when he visited Madam Yu, and summoned up this morning's courage that had so suddenly abandoned his poor self.

"Welcome to Latte Mugs Cafe! What can I get you?" There, his voice barely shook!

Lan Zhan hummed—wow, that was way hotter than it should have been—and tilted his head just the slightest bit to glance at the menu on the wall. "I will have a mocha."

He'd liked it then! Wei Ying hadn't pegged Lan Zhan as a chocolate person, but he supposed he might have a secret sweet tooth. "No problem. It'll only take a few minutes. Would you like to make it a Mexican mocha?" He couldn't help but recommend it, not after he'd worked so hard to get it on the menu. He'd written an essay to the owner. Besides, he'd taken Wei Ying’s mocha suggestion and eaten his cookie. He wondered what Lan Zhan would do with something Wei Ying knew he didn’t like.

His stomach turned a little at the thought that he was getting to know more about Lan Zhan and he wondered idly if he could really blame all of this on their soul bond or if he should take responsibility for his traitorous heart. He dismissed the thought. If anything, Lan Zhan should be the one taking responsibility merely by virtue of existing. That thought twisted his insides even more. Ugh .

Lan Zhan gave a little noise that Wei Ying chose to interpret as assent before sitting back down. He stared in surprise for a minute at his turned back before carefully preparing the drink. When it was done, he once again paused before rounding the counter. Surely, Lan Zhan needed to eat something with his coffee. Who knew if he'd even eaten breakfast? He bent down, scanning the available treats, and plucked one from the shelf, placing it carefully on a napkin before bouncing over to Lan Zhan's little table by the bookshelf, trademark grin in place. Courage, don't fail me now.

"Hello, Sir! One mexican mocha right here!" All of his best (and worst) decisions had been made by following his instincts. He pulled the chair around from the other side of the table, scraping it loudly across the rough tile, and decidedly sat down, holding out his bright red offering with only a moderate heart attack. "It's a habanero bar! I made the recipe and it pairs perfectly with the Mexican mocha, trust me. Oh, and I'll pay for it, of course." Technically untrue, but he didn't think he could steal something he'd made.

Lan Zhan looked a little surprised if Wei Ying had interpreted the meaning of that blink correctly. Was he regretting his spicy choices? Still, he reached out a hand and took the treat with an appreciative nod. "Thank you, Wei Ying."

What. "Eh? How'd you know my name?" Oh please for the love of all that is beautiful, don't bring up the bar. Lan Zhan had forgotten. He had! But if he hadn't, then...

"Your name tag."

Oh. Maybe the three coffees he'd had this morning in preparation had...altered his cognitive abilities. At least, that was the story he was going with.

"Well! You have me at a disadvantage, then!” Yeah, because he’s hiding a night of crimes and a soul bond from you. “What might the name of this handsome one be?" Should he be flirting? Where was the button to turn it off?? Then again, Lan Zhan was his soulmate . If there was one person in his life he was supposed to flirt with, surely it was him.

"Lan Zhan." Were his ears red? Was he hot? Was he blushing ? The rest of his face maintained its pale composure, but his ears were gently dusted pink. Lan Zhan had been inside too long to attribute it to the biting wind outside. Wei Ying's grin widened. Not even when the man had woken up wasted had he seen him blush!

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he rolled the well-worn name in his mouth, a teasing lilt to his voice as he tasted how his tongue completed a pleasant circle around the syllables. This time, their flavor was not regretful or drunken or stressed. Simply Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying did not leave. Instead, he just started talking about all sorts of things—his job, his siblings, Mianmian. As he fell into the familiar pattern of rambling for as long as people will listen, he found himself relaxing.

"You'd think we wouldn't be that great of friends. We're coworkers in a coffee shop! But even though she claims I'm an annoying gremlin who wouldn't know his head from a rock in a lineup, she still comes out to get drinks with me—at Marco's, a few minutes away—every Friday. Sometimes, she even brings her new boyfriends! Which is like taking your partner to meet the weird relatives. I think she might use it as some sort of test. I drink them under the table nearly every time, though, so I hope they failed." He realizes, belatedly, that he'd accidentally mentioned the bar. One of literally two subjects to avoid. He discreetly eyed Lan Zhan's face, but there was no reaction, no indication of familiarity, just two golden eyes, gazing at him with interest as his soulmate listened.

Wei Ying’s heart stuttered, dangerously close to giving out altogether.

Eventually, Lan Zhan had to leave, quick movements revealing just how late he was for music lessons—he taught children to play the guqin! For a living!—and Wei Ying smiled brightly as he watched him disappear down the street. See , he thought to himself, there was nothing to be worried about.

The plan had gone off without a hitch. Not only had he managed to talk to Lan Zhan, but he'd also been able to get several responses from him, filling up the part of his memory reserved for the man he wouldn't ever forget.

These new pearls of knowledge he kept close: Lan Zhan was a music teacher and occasional performer with a local traditional music group. He taught and played the guqin most often but had played the violin in his high school orchestra. During his studies for university, he had learned several other string instruments and the french horn. He had an older brother, Lan Huan. He liked rabbits.

During the course of the next week, he learned these things and protected them: Lan Zhan and his brother had been raised by their uncle. They were not religious, but his family was traditional. Lan Zhan had gone to a private school. He hadn't liked it. Lan Zhan's mother was dead. He spoke of his father in the past tense. Both of his parents were Unmoving, their soul bonds broken. Lan Zhan hadn’t known if they were meant for each other or not. He despised lying in all of its forms.

There were also these things which laid soft and fond in Wei Ying's heart: Lan Zhan did not, in fact, like spice. He enjoyed drinking tea and reading a book in the park when it was warm outside. He preferred mysteries. He did not mind Wei Ying's chatter. He adored his students, one of which had little natural talent but had gone to region-wide contests. He was a lover of poetry and a hobbiest composer. He said "Wei Ying" as if the world spun around his name.

Talking with Lan Zhan was an experience greater than words. Many things Lan Zhan meant, he did not say. None of the things he said were to be taken for granted. With him, silence was just as comforting a companion as the loud atmosphere Wei Ying tended to create. It settled peaceful and honest around them. They sat, drank, and ate together as if they were friends of many years and not relative acquaintances. Like there wasn’t a secret resting between them like a viper waiting for its prey.

*~*~*~*~*

A week after their first meeting, it snowed. Flakes drifted down beneath a grey sky, piling up in the cracks on the sidewalks, on the windowsills, dusting the beanie of a certain Lan Zhan that strode in slowly even as he shivered from beneath his coat. Rosy cheeks and ears adorned a normally pale, jade-like face, tousled hair falling down to frame it as he removed the beanie. Wei Ying fell in love a little more at the adorable scene.

Once he’d made Lan Zhan's spiced apple tea, Wei Ying drifted over with his own latte, a chocolate chip cookie in hand.

"Do you own a car, Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying was curious. Surely he could have simply driven here, or even gone straight to work and skipped the weather entirely.

"Mn. I have lessons all over the city and we often perform hours away from here." Then why , Wei Ying thought, would you come here when it’s below freezing outside? He did not voice the question, though, because Lan Zhan's jaw had shifted just slightly, the difference a clear declaration: his mind could not be changed about this. Fine. He’d let Lan Zhan live with his choices.

Wei Ying laughed and changed the subject, reaching out to draw patterns in the cream of Lan Zhan’s coffee with his straw . "When's your next performance?"

Lan Zhan sat for a moment, thinking. "We do not have one lined up. We've been practicing to release an album recently."

"Oh really? Why? Just earlier this week you mentioned that the group didn't have the resources for it." He really hoped they would, though. Maybe with a solo piece from Lan Zhan? He hadn't heard him play yet, a true shame.

"Mn. I found a sound artist." His voice was sure and steady as he stared at Wei Ying, who looked away and chuckled awkwardly.

"You should have told me that was all you needed! I would have done the job for free, as long as you played for me. I have a bachelor's in audio engineering, you know!" To be honest, Wei Ying was a little hurt that he'd not been considered, or else Lan Zhan had tuned him out during one of the times when he had just spewed whatever came to mind.

Before he turned around, he felt a hand on his through his left glove and he flinched at the sensitive contact on his mark. Still, he longed to grasp Lan Zhan’s hand and never let go .  "Wei Ying. It is you," he paused, and slowly removed his hand, the echoes of his fingertips burning trails on Wei Ying's skin even through the fabric. "If you choose to accept." He takes a breath, and says, quieter, "I would like it very much if you did."

Like a lightbulb turned back on, Wei Ying brightened immediately, an obvious flush of embarrassment darkening his cheeks. He leaned forward, throwing his arms around Lan Zhan in a hug both to hide his face and to just get closer. Wei Ying mumbled into his shoulder, "Of course. Of course I accept. Thank you so much!" He leaned back after a too-short moment, looking Lan Zhan in the eyes and smiling. "When do I start?"

They settled all the details. Wei Ying would be attending their 6 PM practice three days a week for a month before recording and editing the final tracks. He would, actually, be paid, though they couldn't afford the usual rates. That was fine with him. Really, he just needed to put something in the ‘Experience’ section of his resume. Well, plus his overwhelming desire to hear Lan Zhan play his guqin.

When Lan Zhan opened the door to leave, Wei Ying called out for him to stop. He stepped forward exactly one step, in a completely normal and not-at-all-nervous way. He opened his mouth, closed it, and blurted out before he could change his mind, "Doyouwannagetdinnerwithme?"

Lan Zhan gave him a flat look, but the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed his understanding. Wei Ying took a steadying breath, fought the urge to glare, and stated loudly and clearly, "Will you go out with me later tonight?” His face felt like it was on fire. “As thanks for the job?" No one would ever guess the stone-faced man had a sense of humor, but Wei Ying was living evidence of it.

Finally, after a beat of silence during which Wei Ying mourned his stolen heart, Lan Zhan nodded once. "I will pick you up at your house at seven. Where do you live?"

The pure excitement that filled Wei Ying at Lan Zhan’s acceptance prevented any protest about how he was supposed to take Lan Zhan out and gave the man his address. As the ever-present bell marked Lan Zhan's departure, all Wei Ying could think was that he had a date. That he had a chance .

His palm tingled in anticipation as he ran to the back room to tell Mianmian the good news, filled with all the details she couldn’t get while eavesdropping.

*~*~*~*~*

Five minutes after getting in the car, Wei Ying regretted letting Lan Zhan drive. He should have risked his unused license or else simply called a cab because they were nowhere near the restaurant he had suggested, and he didn't know what to tell Lan Zhan if the man picked a nicer place. A barista was only paid so much!

Still, Lan Zhan refused to turn the car around or even explain himself when Wei Ying asked. He simply kept his eyes fixed on the road, staring at it as if it might disappear if refused Lan Zhan’s attention (Wei Ying sympathized). That determined set to his jaw was firmly in place. His eyes narrowed, and Wei Ying had the distinct impression that he was a man on a mission. Wei Ying just wished he'd been given a briefing.

Cars passed in pools of red and white that blended well into the background of a late December metropolis. Only about a week was left until Christmas and the trees were adorned with brightly glowing lights that bathed the streets in a familiar mix of artificial fluorescence and beauty.

He liked this time of year, enjoyed how his apartment complex decorated its buildings, smiled when the granny next door brought him homemade cookies and hot chocolate. He didn't even mind the cold that much, not when branching frost framed the windows and Lan Zhan's cheeks flushed red.

They were stuck in Friday night traffic for longer than he suspected Lan Zhan had planned, based on the finger softly tapping on the wheel, but eventually, Lan Zhan drove into a parking garage a good distance away from any restaurant Wei Ying knew and got out.

They walked a few blocks, glad for the several layers of clothes (Wei Ying actually had a reason to wear gloves, for once), before stopping at the entrance to one of the city's parks. A stone path twisted through the trees, a canopy of a million white stars enclosing the area and welcoming the two of them.

He grinned, turning to Lan Zhan and teasing, "I think we skipped a step. Romantic walks through the woods go after dinner."

A drawn-out, "Mn," the one that meant 'ridiculous', was the only answer he received. Instead, Lan Zhan smiled , which—wow. Illegal.—and offered Wei Ying his arm with far too much confidence. He blushed, hoped it wasn't visible in the lighting, and took it, only feeling slightly like some sort of flustered Victorian maiden.

Did Lan Zhan know what he was doing? Did he take every friend and business associate out to fairy gardens when they asked him to dinner?

Thoroughly confused but aware that Lan Zhan wasn't going to answer any pointed questions, he decided to enjoy the evening and pester him about the food instead.

"Lan Zhaaan," he whined, staring at the way the lights gave Lan Zhan's face an ethereal glow, " “When are you going to feed your poor A-Ying?"

At this, Lan Zhan put his other hand on Wei Ying's where it was nestled in the crook of his elbow in a comforting gesture and reassured, his voice calm, "We are almost there."

Wei Ying spent the rest of the walk as he was accustomed to doing around Lan Zhan—talking his ear off. He admired the lights, expressed his appreciation for Lan Zhan's outfi—a dark blue coat over Wei Ying's favorite knitted white sweater—and asked about the songs his group had chosen for their concert.

He couldn't wait to hear Lan Zhan play. He suspected music was the quieter man's true outlet for expressing his feelings, a language without the burden of words.

Lan Zhan spoke too, not as often or as loud, but he answered and asked questions of his own. Did Wei Ying play an instrument too? He had—flute in high school, though he preferred the piccolo, all the better to annoy people with. Portable, too! Why did he like alcohol? It was the experience, more than the taste, especially at a cheap place like Marco's. Was he planning on getting his Master's? He wasn't sure. He wanted to pay off some of his student loans before getting deeper in debt.

The easy conversation made Wei Ying relax, happy as always to be around Lan Zhan. It was strange to think that a week ago, he’d never met the man. He didn’t think he could live without him now.

Finally, they took a smaller, branching path, and Wei Ying gasped at its end; a white gazebo bathed in soft purple lights sat like a fairy house among gleaming trees.

He released Lan Zhan's elbow and took a step forward before looking back at his companion with an open mouth.

"You...you arranged all of this?" he asked, wonder coloring his voice.

Another "Mn," accompanied by a self-satisfied tightening of the mouth.

Wei Ying had long since given up trying to understand any of Lan Zhan's actions, but he was hopelessly endeared all the same. He grabbed his arm again, this time pulling him up the wooden steps and squealing in glee.

To one side there was a table laden with all sorts of foods, including, he was overjoyed to note, many dyed deliciously red. On the other side of the gazebo, a long, low table sat, a intricately carved, dark guqin resting atop it. A cushion, metal heater, and blanket were laid before the instrument, ready for use.

Impressed, Wei Ying went to inspect the dishes closer, his growling stomach refusing to wait any longer. He wondered at what time today Lan Zhan had time to set all of this up. Had he canceled some of his lessons?

Sitting down, he voiced his question, mouth watering at the appetizing smells.

Lan Zhan filled both of their plates, picking out for him nearly exactly what Wei Ying would have chosen, and answered, "I reserved the gazebo, but my brother set this up less than an hour ago." Wei Ying was incredibly grateful for Lan Huan. His food was still hot!

The meal passed mostly in silence. Though Lan Zhan had no problem talking over tea, he did not like to have a conversation around bites of food. For once, Wei Ying was happy not to say anything, simply appreciating the companionship and good meal.

He tried not to think too much about why Lan Zhan was doing all of this. He wasn't stupid, was in fact painfully and adoringly aware of the romantic setting, but that fear he had thought long since gone crept around his heart, daring him to hope and be crushed in its vindication. So he swallowed his words and ate his food in borrowed peace.

By the time they finished, Wei Ying's stomach was pleasantly full and he beamed at Lan Zhan, thanking him for the meal. Lan Zhan nodded and stood up, helping Wei Ying to his feet and leading him to the waiting cushion and—Wei Ying hoped—the performance.

"You really prepared!" He teased, pulling the blanket over himself.

Lan Zhan turned on the heater—the quiet, expensive kind—and hummed.

Then, he lowered himself onto his own cushion (sans blanket) and reached out to his guqin, warming up for a moment before glancing at Wei Ying, a suddenly hesitant edge to his eyes. "Are you ready?"

Wei Ying's smile softened and he nodded, fondness for the talented man before him almost unbearable. Lan Zhan returned his focus to the instrument and began to play.

It felt like the constant tug around his heart, like the many words that lay behind them and the greater part left unspoken, like 6:05 in the morning and laughter that tastes like coffee beans.

He closed his eyes and let the music fill him, heart thrumming in time with the music and creating  streams of pure feeling that branched out through his body until it reached his left palm. Wei Ying curled his hand in on itself. He wanted to memorize the sensation, its slight pain magnified and singular, but still a pull, a tug on his very soul. The feeling that encouraged him, warned him around Lan Zhan, his longing.

Wei Ying opened his eyes, simply gazing at where Lan Zhan kneeled behind his guqin, the gazebo’s lights framing his form as his graceful hands plucked at the strings, playing a song straight from his soul. He breathed in the cold air, letting it calm him and douse the burning in his veins.

As he played, Wei Ying felt his fear melt in the face of the pure emotion Lan Zhan channeled through the strings, felt his guilt harden into resolve because Lan Zhan didn’t know.

He kept silent for the moment, though. He needed to let Lan Zhan finish the piece, not only because silencing those strings now when all of Lan Zhan’s soul shaped the notes seemed cruel, but also because Wei Ying was greedy, and selfish. He wanted to keep this last, perfect memory, wanted to lock it in his heart like a golden thorn, a stolen parting gift if his words were not welcomed.

And so Lan Zhan played.

Wei Ying could not say how long it was before the song ended, could only center his mind around the swirling clouds that he knew curled across his palm, hidden like a shame when they were anything but. Finally, the last notes faded like acceptance into the cold night, and Wei Ying breathed in, and out, and longed.

“Lan Zhan.” It came out as a whisper, a ghost of a declaration. He needed a barrier between the song and his precipice of honesty. “What-” he stalled, biting back the hope, the despair. “What did you name it?”

Lan Zhan raised his gaze from where it had been fixed on the instrument, seeking out Wei Ying. He stood up in one smooth motion and crossed to where Wei Ying sat, pinned beneath golden eyes filled with something . An emotion he hadn’t seen, hadn’t categorized.

Carefully, Lan Zhan lowered himself to sit on the large cushion. He slid his gaze to Wei Ying’s left hand clenched on his knee, lifting his own and gently taking it, seeming to gauge Wei Ying’s reaction, but he only tilted his head in confusion. Why..?

Lan Zhan began pulling off his glove.

Wei Ying yanked his hand back. He couldn’t- why would he? He was going to tell him about the mark, but why did he want to know? Did he suspect he was Unmoving? Would he hate him if he knew the truth? That Wei Ying had played him for a fool, too cowardly to tell him about their bond?

At the stressed, almost wounded look in Lan Zhan’s eyes, Wei Ying made an aborted movement, reaching to comfort him. “Oh, Lan Zhan…” he breathed. He didn’t touch him, but after a moment of hesitation, offered his hand to his soulmate, palm up. Lan Zhan had merely been braver than he had, after all. The result would be the same.

Lan Zhan’s eyes softened and he carefully tugged off the glove, revealing the incriminating, promising, honest pattern. Twisting designs of blue clouds and red lotuses covered both their palms, side by side, blurred together as his throat closed and breath hitched. He made to move away, to leave Lan Zhan with the knowledge of his lie, but his wrist was gently but firmly held in place.

He sighed. Lan Zhan wanted him to say it, to confess, and suddenly the courage of a few minutes ago seemed out of his reach.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so good. Too good. Too good for me.” His breath caught. “I- I’ve known. This whole time.” He looked Lan Zhan in his clear, gentle eyes. “Lan Zhan. We’re soulmates. We have been since you got drunk at the bar.” He let out a shaky laugh, the first tear making its way down his cheek. “Well, I suppose we’ve been soulmates forever, but I found you then, and fell in love a little. You don’t remember, but you said you were happy. You went around showing random people your mark.” He was rambling again, but he couldn’t stop and nor could he leave.

He released it all, all of the caged words he should have laid at Lan Zhan’s feet a week ago. “I was so excited when you called me that morning. I thought you wanted to talk, to form a real relationship, but then you- you wouldn’t listen and it wasn’t your fault , you’d been drunk for the first time in your life, had a killer hangover I’m sure. But I- I thought if I called you, you’d just do the same thing again and leave me but then we became friends and I didn't want you to leave so I didn’t tell you and-”

“I am not.” Lan Zhan cut him off, voice quiet and pained, but firm.

“What?” he sniffled.

“I have not left you. I am not abandoning you, Wei Ying.” His eyes were pleading, filled with sincerity. He looked—so earnest and Wei Ying froze, uncertain.

“But—you hate lying.”

“I do not like hypocrites either. Wei Ying-” He looked away for the first time and Wei Ying panicked for a brief moment, what did I do wrong , before Lan Zhan spoke again, ears a deeper shade of red. “I knew too. This whole time.”

“What.” What?? Whatever Wei Ying had been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

“My brother was there at the bar. He...told me the next morning, but I did not handle the news well. I am sorry. I was simply surprised, and nervous. I did not remember you.”

Wei Ying was reeling. Lan Zhan knew and didn’t tell him but that was unfair because Wei Ying hadn’t told him either, so they’d both known, separately, and here they were, taking each other on a date and Wei Ying laughed, crazed at first, and desperate, but then an exclamation of pure joy. The atmosphere was romantic, after all.

He laughed and laughed and like a guqin string worn from loving use, the tension broke. He threw himself at his soulmate, at Lan Zhan, and hugged him until Lan Zhan hugged him back, until their eyes stung from tears and their voices grew hoarse from repeating the other’s name.

Wei Ying pulled back, cheeks flushed in the cold and eyes shining as he looked up at a soft smile. He reached out, cupping Lan Zhan’s cheek and resting their foreheads together, the contact burning, melting the longing that had become a permanent fixture  inside of him. Breaths mingled, puffing out in this warm space between them for a timeless moment.

With confidence born not from instinct or daring, but rather a heart securely held, he closed the distance between them, brushing winter-chapped lips against Lan Zhan’s soft ones, his last confession a raw whisper, returned with the same gravity it was given.

From then on, he held this warm truth in his heart: Lan Zhan loved Wei Ying, his soulmate.

Breathless and overwhelmed, he entwined their hands, bared patterns moving against each other, together. Nothing lay between them now, no confessions and no secrets. Only these: a prayer, a completed promise, and a bright future.

Extra:

“So, how did you know?” Wei Ying asked, exploring Lan Zhan’s purse.

He hummed, amused. “You told me yourself.”

“I did not! I’m pretty sure that was, like, goal number one. ‘Don’t tell Lan Zhan!’” he recited, voice playfully serious.

Lan Zhan brushed the hair out of Wei Ying’s eyes and took his left hand, fingers tracing the evidence of their bond.

“You waved.”

“But I had on gloves- oh.” He hadn’t, not yet. He only started wearing them after Lan Zhan had walked in the first day. “So you walked into some random shop and saw your soulmate who immediately disappeared.”

“Mn.” Lips brushed the top of his head.

Wei Ying laughed at himself as he went back to the purse. You could learn a lot from what a person kept in theirs! He pulled out a piece of paper, a half-composed score, handing it to Lan Zhan and looking deeper. Some chapstick (no wonder his lips were so soft!), several pens, a book on music theory, and—what was this? He grabbed it and brought it to the light. One of the cafe’s napkins, something wrapped inside. What? He peeled away the months-old paper, a breath caught in his lungs as the object was revealed.

It was the cookie, the heart-shaped ginger crisp he’d given Lan Zhan the first time he’d taken his order.

“You! What am I going to do with you!” he laughed, the sound bright and joyful as he tackled his soulmate in a hug.

“Marry me.”

“WHAT?!!”

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

What are we reading?

Ask: What fics are you ladies currently reading and what are ones on your list you're looking forward to reading when you have time? Thank you for all you three do with this blog!

It’s pretty long so our lists are under the cut below:

LYNNE

Just finished:

The Jeffery by JayhawkWrites

The Jeffery, a cute, upscale bar is the perfect place for a first date. But, for Kurt Hummel, The Jeffery is the place where an adorable young bartender saves him from a series of disastrous first dates. Maybe he's just going out with the wrong person?

~~~~~

Six Feet Apart by kuhlaine

Having to shelter in place in New York is already difficult enough, but when Kurt Hummel's roommate decides to head back to Ohio to ride out the pandemic with her family, things become infinitely more complicated. At the very least his new quarantine roommate, Blaine, isn't too bad on the eyes.

~~~~~

Love, Blaine by GleefulDarrenCrissFan

Blaine Anderson is a typical teenager. Except he’s not because he’s hiding a huge secret. He’s gay. But after reading a confession on the informal Dalton blog, he discovers that he’s not the only closeted boy at Dalton. After a moment of courage, he emails him and ultimately starts up a friendship that will change life as he knows it. Loosely based on Love, Simon.

~~~~~

Currently reading:

All Of Me by Hemingway72

COMPLETE! There is now a sequel as well!

As a young and successful fashion designer living in NYC he shouldn't have a problem finding a sub. Yet, he has been alone since a college relationship gone wrong. When the Department of D/s affairs proposes that he be a mentor for a college bound troubled sub from Dalton he accepts knowing it will be the right thing to do. What he doesn't expect is the perfectly submissive Blaine Anderson. Title based off the John Legend song.

~~~~~

Candyman by  dontbefancy

Blaine Anderson’s life is not what he envisioned. Enter Kurt Hummel - a man whose life is all he ever wanted and only wishes the same for the sad-eyed, sexy man whose cigarette wouldn’t light.

~~~~~

Cornelia Street by @blurglesmurfklaine  (WIP)

Three years ago, Kurt and Blaine went on a disaster of a date and never quite got off on the right foot. Now, just before they graduate from NYADA, there’s a national outbreak and they’re both self-quarantined in a mutual friend’s apartment.

~~~~~

To Read List:

You Me Him by @scatter-the-stars  (WIP)

Beverly Hills was meant as a place to start over. To move past the pain that Lime held. And it provides that for Kurt. What it also provides is Blaine Anderson. Blaine who is young, free, and wild. And someone who quickly becomes off-limits to him. After a horrible incident brings them closer, Kurt decides to forget the consequences of being with Blaine and goes for it. Life is never easy, though. When a choice pulls them apart, he deals with the outcome of that. And when they reunite, it's not long before he's falling fast and hard. But when his past comes back, Kurt finds himself facing the toughest choice he's ever had to make.

~~~~~

Teach Me Surrender by @scatter-the-stars

Part 2 of the Teach Me Series

Kurt is in a established Dom/sub relationship with his high school English teacher, Blaine. And Blaine decides to surprise him on his nineteenth birthday with something he never expected.

~~~~~

You Will Be Found by @kurtswish

While on a National Broadway Tour, Kurt meets an intriguing man. With more than just miles separating them, they must make a choice. Will they go back to their different lives, or will they let themselves be found?

TW: talk of suicide, depression and brief mentions of character death(canon).

~~~~~

In Every Lifetime Verse by  JayhawkWrites, TeddysHoney

A series of connected AUs inspired by this line from Blaine's proposal: "It's always felt like I was remembering you from something. As if, in every lifetime you and I have ever lived, we've chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again. Over and over for all of eternity."

~~~~~

MARJAN

I have to admit I haven’t had much time to read lately. I’m at home but still working, and my workload hasn’t lessened in the least. Also, I have children to look after, meals to make, laundry to do and a house to keep clean. So life in lockdown is really busy for me. Any spare time I have is spent with my hubby and children.

All I’ve managed to read recently is a few lovely one-shots: Soup for Sanity by @caramelcoffeeaddict, The Hot/Beautiful Barista by bolt_of_fate, OMG They Were Zoommates, Words, Words, Words and Just Keep Passing (The Open Window) by @hazelandglasz, Missed Opportunity by @holdingdaylight. Oh, and Kidnap My Heart by misskaterinab. All of them just the right length to read during meal times :-)

But there are tons of fics on my to-read list. Let me share a few with you...

@jayhawk-writes and @teddyshoney have written this fascinating verse in which they are exploring any and all versions of Klaine - finding each other “In every lifetime”. I can’t wait to dive in and enjoy this :-)

Also, the GPBB fic exchange writers have started posting their stories, and they sound AMAZING. Do check them out!

And right now, the story I’m going to read during my lunch break is Escape to Oakstone by dontbefancy.

~~~~~

HKVOYAGE

Honestly, every spare moment I have is spent replying to library asks or writing. The only fics I’m reading are some quarantine related, specifically Six Feet Apart by @kuhlaine​, Ride or die by Mindfilledwithletters, Zoom Mates by @gleefuldarrencrissfan​, and Cornelia Street by @blurglesmurfklaine​. However, when I become less busy, here are a few on my list to read.

Love, Blaine by GleefulDarrenCrissFan

Summary: Blaine Anderson is a typical teenager. Except he’s not because he’s hiding a huge secret. He’s gay. But after reading a confession on the informal Dalton blog, he discovers that he’s not the only closeted boy at Dalton. After a moment of courage, he emails him and ultimately starts up a friendship that will change life as he knows it. Loosely based on Love, Simon.

~~~~~

The Funkification of Blaine Warbler by Esperanto

When Rachel spies on the Warblers to scope out their competition for Sectionals, she is alarmed to discover how talented they are. Determined to get the edge for Sectionals, the New Directions decide to take a page out of Vocal Adrenaline's playbook and pull off a "funkification" of their own that starts Kurt and Blaine off on entirely the wrong foot.

~~~~~

You Me Him by @scatter-the-stars​ (WIP)

Beverly Hills was meant as a place to start over. To move past the pain that Lime held. And it provides that for Kurt. What it also provides is Blaine Anderson. Blaine who is young, free, and wild. And someone who quickly becomes off-limits to him. After a horrible incident brings them closer, Kurt decides to forget the consequences of being with Blaine and goes for it. Life is never easy, though. When a choice pulls them apart, he deals with the outcome of that. And when they reunite, it's not long before he's falling fast and hard. But when his past comes back, Kurt finds himself facing the toughest choice he's ever had to make.

~~~~~

The Elf on the Shelf by kellyb321 

The owner at Verve Design has decided the holidays at the office have been way too boring in the past. He's decided to kick it up a notch with a Christmas party, Secret Santas and...and adorable Elf on the Shelf for the office. Kurt might be a little smitten.

Note: This fic is completed even though it isn’t marked as such.

[undcrgrovnd]

( barbie ferreira / cis woman ) ALINE RIBEIRO is 23 years old and is a SOPHOMORE at thales university. SHE is majoring in COMPUTER SCIENCE and is known for being THE HACKER as SHE can be RESOURCEFUL and DARING as well as DISTRUSTFUL and CALLOUS. every time i see SHE, SHE reminds me of RIPPED FISHNETS WITH SCUFFED UP BOOTS, THE GLOW OF A COMPUTER SCREEN IN THE NIGHT, BARED TEETH IN A SNARL. 

im back w my third character.... the goth gf herself aline.......

full name: aline maria ribeiro 

birthdate: october 30, 1997

age: 23

gender: cisgender woman

pronouns: she/her

zodiac: scorpio

nationality: brazilian-american

ethnicity: white latina

hometown: cambridge, massachusetts

languages: english, basic spanish, basic portuguese

family:

maria ribeiro, biological mother

antonia ribeiro, older half sister

diane browning, foster mother 

keith browning, foster father

elijah browning, foster brother

orientation: bisexual biromantic

religion: atheist

height: 5 ft 6 in

distinguishing features: lips, eyebrows

character inspo: penelope garcia, jessica jones

triggers: drugs, addiction, overdosing, abandonment

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

ADDICTION AND OVERDOSE MENTION

aline is born the second daughter in cambridge, massachusetts to a mom who spends more time on drugs than her children. for the longest time, it was simply aline and her older half sister, antonia, her protector. she doesn’t know who her father is, neither are in the picture. 

it’s not the easiest upbringing, they’re not completely penniless but her mother’s disease quickly is taken note of when she overdoses, leaving aline and antonia to find her, she survives, but eventually, her and her sister are taken by a social worker, entering the foster system. 

END MENTION

they did their best to keep them together, at first, there were a couple of homes that would allow them to stay, but it never lasted long, aline had a bit of an attitude problem, a proclaimed ‘troubled’ kid, and almost always was the reason they couldn’t deal. it was almost as if she was testing their foster parents, pushing their limits to how far she can take it. she’ll commit petty crimes, vandalize things, etc. etc. 

eventually, her and her sister are separated, much to her chagrin-- she lost her shit truthfully, gave her more incentive to act out, she’d run away a few times in order to go look for her. the one time she finds her, she looks happy. like she belongs in the family. aline doesn’t return after that. 

she’s passed around homes for awhile, always finding a way to make things difficult, but when she’s thirteen, she meets a family that is surprisingly patient with her. they understand she’s been through enough. but her anger is deep, and it burns. it’s hard for it to get away from it. however, she receives her first laptop, and she quickly becomes enthralled. 

throughout her highschool career, she’s quickly become known as the person you go to if you want shit to happen electronically-- known by her nickname vixen, she hacks into various settings, school, work, you name it, she can do it. It’s not hard, and she gets paid a pretty penny to do so.  

she graduates from high school with no prospects in mind, no want to go to college, instead joins the work force in a shitty minimum wage job, enough to keep her parents off her back. between that and the hacking, she’s saved enough to be able to move out of her parents house. 

what pushes her to apply for college is the idea that she can do more with a degree, and while she loves hacking, she definitely thinks she can earn more. so she gets a scholarship to thales, and eventually ends up enrolling at 21/22. 

she met nana at a party and automatically thought she was absolutely full of shit, and if she had half a mind, she’d probably have blackmailed her, however, they had a mutual disdain towards one another. steven, however, used her services quite often, for various ghoul gang activities and whatnot

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

it’s not that aline is unfriendly, but she’s definitely has her walls up, she’s not the most trusting person and therefore comes off as brisk and paranoid to many people she meets. she takes pride in her work, but wants to keep it on the downlow for obvious reasons because the work she does is never exactly legal. if you are friends with her, she’s loyal to a fault, and if you break her trust, you’re practically dead to her. she has an angry streak, not one she often acts on anymore, but when she’s overwhelmed or anxious it manifests into frustration, which on occasion, pushes people away. she’s just a little broken, but that’s okay-- she’s not a bad person, she wants to help. 

𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒

has full sleeve tattoos on both side, they’re mostly not cohesive just random tattoos that fill up her arms, also has tats on her chest and thighs 

used to get into fights a lot as a teen but not as much anymore 

listens to mostly women rappers and punk music 

will hack shit for money and does it often, pretty lucrative, not above blackmail 

smokes cigarettes, weed, etc., does a lot of recreational drugs as well 

bisexual and a disaster because that’s just a common trait among my characters, has been in a few relationships but none that have lasted very long 

can find her a lot in her room on her computers, has a huge set up with multiple screens etc. 

doesn’t really care about any of this shit going on? genuinely she’s sad about steven she guesses but like... not her business 

drives a shitbox car with a billion bumper stickers on the back of it, she calls it ‘the fuck wagon’

has a hairless (sphynx) cat named marty 

parties on occasion but honestly not that big of a fan of crowds or most people 

goth gf? goth gf 

has a septum piercing, multiple ear piercings, her nipples pierced uhhh 

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

best friend

someone who’s come to her for hacking expertise (can be multiple people) 

fwb 

exes 

someone she’s fought? 

a crush 

roommates! 

someone she’s fucked over thru hacking 

someone she doesn’t trust 

someone she’s surprisingly soft for 

big sister/little sibling energy 

[wingsofkpop]

When You Love Someone - Part Four /// Eros

pairing(s): Park Jaehyung x Reader, Day6 x Reader

genre: High School!AU, Young Love!AU, pretty much all Angst this one is

warning(s): None

word count: 2,7k

synopsis: There are many paths in life, but the longest of all is the path to the heart. In your eyes, what does it truly mean… to love?…

chapter directory

In the entire four years of your friendship, you and Sungjin have only had one meaningful fight that led to eventual disaster. It was right after winter break of junior year at the high school’s annual Winter Formal event. To be honest, you can’t remember the true details since the entire night was merely a blur of fake snowflakes and mediocre music—all except it was the first time you’ve ever seen Sungjin lose his temper. 

From what you can remember, you had been dancing with Jae—both of you agreed to remain friends after your breakup—when Nayeon and her entourage ended up spilling their cups of punch on your mother’s old homecoming gown, a dress that her own mother had given to her in the past. It was an accident, until Nayeon laughed and said you could pass for a tramp on the side of the road. You blacked out with rage after that, so the rest is a little fuzzy, but the last thing you remember is Sungjin dragging you outside the party and angrily chastising you for causing a scene—it's also important to note that this was where you first learned the two were dating. Anyway, still blinded by your temper, you ended up saying some pretty nasty things about not only the cheerleader, but your friend as well. And he, the same to you. 

Long story short, the two of you avoided each other like the plague for almost a month. However, you were the one who caved first and waited almost an hour on his doorstep to apologize to him in tears. It’s something neither of you have talked about since then, being mutually agreed that it’s definitely not one of the best moments in your friendships, nor have you really thought about it much. Until now. 

After your screw-up, you tried to call Sungjin the next day as well as the day after. You tried to call once in the morning, twice in the evening and once before bed—knowing that he’s probably up late studying or working on some last minute college stuff; Sungjin’s always been an overachiever like that. You also tried to catch him at school, but no matter how early you arrive to his classrooms or how late you stand outside the building, his face never comes into view. It’s as if he has vanished from your life with as little as no trace to find him. 

It’s ironic… cause you miss him more than ever. 

You watch the soccer team battle against one another, likely practicing for an upcoming game. The sight of a dozen students in bright, neon uniforms chasing after a black and white ball was boring, but mind-numbing. Not enough to completely distract your brain from the ache in your chest, but enough to at least calm your thoughts. Your eyes twitch when you spy one of your own friends, Jihyo deliver a kick that lands the ball in the opposite goal. Shouts and cheers emerge across the field—you meant to call out your own praise, but you couldn’t find the voice. You couldn’t find a lot of things lately. 

“Since when do you watch soccer?” Your gaze snaps to the side at the familiar demand of your best friend. Wonpil carefully climbs his way down the bleachers to where you’re currently sat, lowering next to you with a sigh of exhaustion, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” 

You shrug still not meeting the newcomer’s eyes, “I needed some air.” 

“Long day?” 

“I guess.” Wonpil huffs at your reply, but makes no attempt to scold you for your indifference. Instead, he also turns his attention to the active players, eyes darting back and forth as the ball rolls about the field. You find yourself suffocating in the awkward silence—completely aware that Wonpil wanted to say something more—and turn to face the boy with a glare. He catches your gaze with an expression of surprise. 

“What?” 

“If you want to say something, Pil, then just say it.” 

His face goes blank. “It’s not my place to say anything, noona.” 

“You say that every time-” You chuckle, the sound laced with sarcasm. “-can never have an opinion, can you?” Once the words leave your lips, guilt immediately spreads through your body. Your eyes flutter shut with another sigh, “Sorry… that wasn’t fair.” 

Wonpil shrugs, “I’ll let it slide. I know you’re having a hard time, right now.” 

“I just don’t know what to do, Pil.” You confess, carding a hand through your wind-blown hair. “He won’t talk to me, much less see me.” 

“You hurt him,” Wonpil says. “Can you blame him?” 

“Of course not. I just don’t know how to fix it.” You bury your face in your hands, “I mean… what if he never forgives me?” 

“You’re so blind, noona. Both you and Sungjin.” 

“What?” 

“After all these years and you still haven’t noticed,” He shakes his head with an impatient sigh. 

Your eyebrows furrow, “Haven’t noticed what? What are you talking about, Pil?”

“I’m talking about the fact that Sungjin is in love with you,” Wonpil answers, “and you’re obviously in love with him.” 

The first feeling that enters your chest is the incredulity that your best friend would even consider saying something like that, but when you open your mouth to retort and defend, you find your own throat dry with speechlessness. It’s not like you’ve ever not thought about what it would be like to date Sungjin—hell, every person has thought about what it would be like to be romantically involved with their best friend at least once in their life—but you’d never let it go farther than that… right?

You think back to the most golden of moments you’ve shared with the boy, analyzing each one in closed-detailed context: He listens when no one else will. He accepts all of you, the worst of your flaws included. He always has your back even in the most inopportune of situations… But aren’t these all things that best friends do for each other—with some extra benefits in between? Like the skinship and nicknames… or the fact that your heart beats a million times faster whenever you hear his voice… or maybe that you never feel truly complete until he’s around...

Your stomach aches at the realization—because you know better than to lie to yourself and certainly not your own heart.

“...Why did he never say anything?” You murmur finally, already physically and psychologically exhausted from the thoughts bouncing through your mind. With tears welling in your eyes, you meet the gaze of your other best friend. “I mean… after Jae and I broke up, I thought he would at least-” 

“-He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than you already were, noona.” Wonpil moves a hand to your knee, sympathetically squeezing the flesh. “That’s why him and Nayeon started dating… so he could get over you…” 

“But I just-I still don’t understand… Why stay away all those months?” 

Wonpil sighs, “He was afraid that he would ruin what little time you have left together before graduation—so I told him he needed to figure out what he really wanted before it was too late.” 

“You…?” You whisper, “All those times you tried to get me to talk to him… so he could-” 

“-so he could see how much he needs you, or at least, you could realize.” He chuckles sarcastically, “Like I said though, the both of you are just so freaking blind.” 

You shake your head, still drowning in disbelief, “...What do I do?” 

“That depends… Do you love him?” 

“I-I… I think so.” 

“No, noona.” Wonpil’s gaze is stern, almost as if he were scolding a small child. “Do you love him?” You shiver beneath the intensity, but gradually relax as more and more intrusive thoughts settle themselves within your mind. Soon only one remained: 

“I do.” 

Wonpil smiles, “Do you want to be with him?”

A smile of your own forms for the first time in the past few days. “Yes, I do.” 

“Then go.” 

“What?” 

“Honestly, noona-” Your companion delivers a hefty shove to your shoulder and points back toward the school, “-you’re killing me here! Go get your man!”

Your eyes widen, “Right now? But he won’t talk to me-” 

“-Just go!” A surprised gasp escapes your lips when you realize your and Pil’s conversation had attracted the audience of the soccer players. You almost laugh at their invested expressions, but decide not to test just how far their and your best friend’s patience goes. Instead you take off across the field and back toward the building with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

You can only hope Sungjin will be willing to listen one final time.  

“I just can’t believe Mr. Nichkhun won’t allow me to write a song in place of a story for our project.” Wonpil explains as the two of you watch Kang Younghyun shove his way through a bunch of giggling sophomore girls. He continues to sail his way through the crowded hallway, passing the two of you without so much as a second glance. You hold back a laugh as Wonpil visibly shivers and continue to pilfer through your locker even as he drags on about the teachers of the school are limiting student expression.

“Don’t give up just yet, Pil,” You say, switching out your trigonometry materials for your sociology ones. “If you prove to Mr. Nichkhun that you really want to do that, I’m sure he’ll change his mind.” 

“I can’t help it.” Your companion sighs, “I really don’t want to have to write a fairy tale.” 

“Then why on earth did you take creative writing?” 

“It seemed like an easy A at the time.” 

You shrug while rearranging your art supplies, “That’s why you shouldn’t always go for the easy way out.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Your laugh at the boy’s defensive tone, but the sound gradually dwindles when you peer past his shoulder. Barely a couple feet ahead was Sungjin, deep in conversation with some other students you recognized from the student body, and at his side was none other than Nayeon, the head cheerleader herself. 

Wonpil, startled by your sudden mood change, looks over his own shoulder. His features soften as he observes the sight as well, turning back to you with a sympathetic expression. You avoid his likely apologetic eyes and continue to search for a pencil, even though you already have two tucked away in your notebook. 

“You know-” He pauses for a moment as if arranging his words, but quickly resumes, “-The dance was weeks ago, noona… You should go talk to him.” 

“And say what? I think Nayeon’s the most self-centered, dramatic, privileged brat that I ever met and have no idea what he sees in her?” You slam your locker door with a huff before turning to face your companion, your tone a bit more softer than before. “I can’t talk to him, Pil. Not after everything we said to each other.” 

“I’m sure Sungjin is missing you just as much as you miss him, and if you just tell him how you feel-” 

“-He could care less about how I think they’re incompatible. He made that very clear.” 

“Are you sure that’s the real reason why you don’t think they should be together?” You freeze at Wonpil’s question, nearly sending your books crashing to the floor. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you glance back—unaware of the panic in your eyes. 

You shake your head, “What other reason would there be?” 

He stares back, his expression completely blank. “I don’t know. Just wondering.” 

You take his statement for what it is, feeling relief when Jae appears from somewhere amongst the crowds. You bid your best friend a final farewell before slipping your arm through your other friend’s and dragging him down the corridor toward your next class. When you pass Sungjin, you make sure to laugh a little louder at Jae’s joke. 

—As if it would distract you from the slight ache radiating from your chest.  

You managed to track Sungjin down in the hallway, having just caught him leaving a National Honor Society meeting in the library—memorizing his after school activities schedule does have an ounce of worth. Upon your arrival, the boy obviously notices your presence and attempts to duck behind his other club members in order to escape. 

“Wait, please! Sungjin!” Dashing around the group of students, you stop Sungjin just as he reaches the threshold of the front doors. Once again, the boy tries to maneuver around you to slip out the exit, but you block the doorway before he can pass. “Will you please just talk to me?” 

“Move, (Y/N). Please.” 

“Not until we talk.” He moves to push past you again, and this time you go for his wrist. “Sungjin, please...” 

At your whine, Sunjin stills. A brief moment of silence encompasses the atmosphere before it’s interrupted by his murmur, “What, (Y/N)?” 

 “About the other night,” You begin, “I’m so, so sorry-” 

“-You’re sorry? That’s what you came to say?” 

You frantically shake your head, “Well n-no, but I needed you to know that.” 

Sungjin stares at you for a moment, his eyes filled with something that you couldn’t read. His gaze sends tremors to your knees, but you stand your ground, your conversation with Wonpil echoing in your head like a motivational symphony. However, anxiety floods your system as an expression of frustration emerges over the boy’s face. His sigh of exhaustion sends more shivers through your body. 

Sungjin’s head rocks back and forth, “I can’t keep doing this with you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“This.” He says softly, “I’m always there for you, (Y/N), whenever you need me.” His eyes finally lift from the floor to meet your gaze and you find your heart shattering at the absolute pain present within the chocolate irises, “but the one time I need you, you’re not there.” 

His statement has tears welling beneath your lids, guilt and dread blossoming in your chest like a poisonous flower. You step closer to your companion, moving your hands to his elbows. He continues to hold your eyes even as salty droplets begin to spill from his own. 

“I know I messed up-” Your voice cracks. You take a moment to compose yourself, to stop the tears from escaping, before continuing, “-but if you just let me explain and let me fix this...” 

“Enough damage has already been done, (Y/N).” Sungjin pulls away from your grip, leaving your arms to helplessly fall to your sides. You can’t bear to watch as he heads toward the door, instead keeping your eyes on the linoleum floors. You don’t bother to hold back the tears this time, allowing them to flow down your cheeks like rivers of fire. However in the very corner of your vision, you notice his figure pause just beyond the door. For a moment, you had hope—until his cracked comment met your ears: 

“Some things are just best left broken..” He smiles sadly, “I hope you find whatever it is you want, sweetheart.” You watch Sungjin exit the school, his silhouette fading with each step he takes into the blinding sunlight—and you’re left with nothing but another round of fresh tears and a heart broken to pieces. 

“(Y/N)-noona!” You quickly dry your tears as Wonpil appears from the opposite end of the hallway, a red-faced and gasping Jae not too far behind him. You meet them halfway, somehow finding the strength to move your legs, and the bright grin across your best friend’s face immediately falters when he takes notice of your tear-stained cheeks. 

“It’s like I told you, Pil. He won’t talk to me.” 

“Then we’ve got some work to do.” Your companion grabs your wrist and pulls you forward with Jae following not too far behind, leading you toward the exit where Sungjin disappeared only moments before. “You’ll need that prom dress first.” 

“I already told you, Pil.” You say, comfortably adjusting your limb in his grasp. “I can’t afford the dress, especially after I quit from the store-” 

“-We bought the dress for you, (Y/N).” Shock invades your body like an electric current at Jae’s amused reply. He bumps his shoulder against yours before sending you a mischievous smile: 

“-but you owe us, and not only for the dress—but for finally setting you up with the guy you’ve been madly in love with for nearly all of high school.”

[buhayngkbp]

Emotions and Quitting

I hate that I’m still upset about this, but I’ll really have to face this topic tomorrow and I just don’t want to, but it’s pretty inevitable.

So I recently lost an election in my favorite club which, now, was my favorite thing about my college and it’s honestly pretty sad and pathetic how hard it’s hit me.  I like to think part of why it stings so much is that I already had the position and was running for re-election, and I lost, which in my head says that I did not do a good job while I held the position so the people seek to replace me.

And all of this hurts me for a lot of reasons.  Primarily though, I always take losing so personally.  I wish I didn’t, it’s exhausting crying for hours because I lost something but then if I don’t just let it out like that it bottles up and I become moodier for longer and in the past have taken those feelings out on loved ones which I don’t want to do.  I’m trying to deal with my feelings in healthier ways, but honestly I just wish I wouldn’t feel them.  I wish I wouldn’t take competitions so seriously and be so hurt when I lose.  I guess part of it stems also from my insecurities and when I lose, I feel that they confirm every insecurity I have that has previously led me down dark paths.

Since I found out I lost I’ve bene debating quitting the club entirely at least for this semester.  Part of it is that I don’t feel so welcome in the club anymore and like my presence isn’t wanted, just accepted, almost tolerated.  And it’s a dance club that usually has performances at school but because of the pandemic there won’t be any so all we do is record ourselves in small groups and post those videos.  I can almost do the same thing just by myself so really, the only point in partaking in the club is to interact with other members.  But if I feel like the other members don’t really want me there, just accept that I’m there, then is it a good environment for me to be in?  Another part of it though I suppose is that in a way I want to punish them for not re-electing me.  But that would require me to know that I contribute so much and am wanted in the club to the point that they would suffer without me.  That requires more arrogance, or at least confidence, and ego, none of which I have nor want.  So really, it would backfire again in that I would become less attached to the club, fewer people know me well, lower chance of getting elected to either the same position (more thoughts on this below) or a different one, etc.  Thus, I don’t think that would work the way I wish it would so why do that?  But, then another part of it is that I’m embarrassed.  I’m so embarrassed that I really had the position, was up for re-election, and lost.  What faith in me did people have the first time that they voted me in but what did I do to make them lost that causing them to vote me out?

On that note, I’m trying to understand.  I’m trying to just find a lesson in it all and improve, maybe to be elected once more later or just to overall be better.  But everyone I’ve expressed these feelings to has simply said they don’t think I did anything wrong, I did a great job in the position, etc.  Well then?  What’s there to learn from this?  Where’s the meaning in it?  What’s the purpose of hurting me like this?  I guess I’m struggling to find a reason behind it and that is what sucks too.

Going back to the idea of running again, now having lost and feeling so embarrassed about it just make me scared of experiencing it all over again.  Sure I can do my best to sweep it under the rug, put up a facade of confidence and maybe somehow have some charisma to get people interested in me having the position again.  But then what if I lose again?  THAT would be even more pathetic and sad.  And the club has a rule that you have to be in the club for at least two semesters to run for a position and we have quite a few freshmen this year that have been very involved that I’m sure at least some will be interested in running.  It just really fucking sucks because my school fucking cast out sophomores that though freshmen, juniors, and seniors were allowed back for in-person classes, we couldn’t, so we were screwed over in being as involved in our clubs as them.  I wonder if that could’ve played a part in it as well.  I imagined last year before quarantine that I would be able to be a huge part of the club, connect with new members well, etc. and that plan got shit on.  But anyway, the point of all this was that I feel like once so many of the new people are eligible to run, they will.  And the club is quite clique-y, especially with the sophomores being pushed aside this fall, so no doubt they’ll all back each other up because they know each other and no one knows me.  AND because we were pushed aside, sophomores also haven’t been that active in the clubs either!  So it went both ways in that people that do know me quite well weren’t that involved and didn’t participate in the election and those that don’t know me were the ones participating.

But yeah.  I’m just thinking about this all again because I’m reflecting on the kind of person I am.  How petty am I?  Do I just self-sabotage thinking that I’m hurting others?  If I’m hurt by others, is it okay that I’m trying to hurt them?  Am I justified in even being hurt by this?  Do I really take everything too seriously and too personally?  I know that we are emotional creatures and emotions aren’t bad to experience, but is it okay to this degree?  How do I stop thinking all of these antagonizing thoughts?  Do I have to work on not thinking them at all or pushing them aside?  Is pushing them aside okay?  Am I a quitter?  Am I someone that only does things she’s confident she can do?  Am I less of a person for it if I do?  What kind of example do I set?

I try to encourage others to keep going for something for as long as they want it.  If in their heart of hearts this is still something they genuinely want, then keep trying.  When I say that, does it only apply to things that aren’t completely competitions?  And by that I mean, things where only one person can have it.  So take the Bar Exam as an example.  It’s not like only one person at a time can pass.  If everyone taking it has sufficient answers, everyone passes.  So those taking the test need only worry about themselves and ensuring that they understand the material, not how to get the upperhand on the person next to them.  Or acceptance into law school.  Yes, there is it indeed competitive, but there is not only one applicant being accepted at a time.  That scenario is a mix.  I suppose in that case, my mindset has also been to not focus on getting into only one school specifically, but maybe that’s also what makes that situation different and thus this analogy doesn’t mean that much?

Overall now I’m just thinking, “What’s the point in all of this?  What lesson am I supposed to take away from it?   Am I just supposed to learn that there may not be a reason for things and I have to find a way to be okay with that?  Why should I have to be okay with that?”  I ask that last question in particular because I believe that for as long as what happened happened because of people’s choices, there should be sufficient explanation and people held accountable.  To me, the phrase “life is unfair” is a sufficient explanation for things like someone who has never smoked cigarettes getting lung cancer, but someone that has smoked doesn’t and they feel that that is unfair (now though with things like companies putting employees in danger resulting in them getting sick, global warming and the terrible natural disasters that happen more frequently and more severely, etc. those also don’t fully get the “life is unfair” explanation).  But yeah, so who is accountable?  I would say me because I must have done things wrong to lose.  In which case, what did I do wrong and will someone please tell me so I can be better?  Are they accountable for making it entirely about who they know more/like better?  But then also, why don’t they know me more?  Why don’t they like me more?  It could be my fault for not talking to them more, being more friendly, etc.  So just.  What do I have to do to be good enough?

I’m sorry this was so long, I didn’t intend for it to be, but getting all of these thoughts out helped me a lot.  Also I’m sorry for the confusing and disorganized structure, I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t really follow along with what I’m trying to say.  It’s okay if you couldn’t, these helped me most just by letting me really clarify to myself all the reasons I’m upset about what happened even now.  If you made it this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read this mess.  Lol at least I didn’t cry this time while getting all of these thoughts out

[lovelyirony]

"Maybe I’ll see you in another life/if this one wasn’t enough" from Florence + the Machine prompt lists, for winter13, please?

Sharon is no stranger to knowing tragedy. She sees the way Aunt Peggy’s lips curve up and fall slightly when she talks about knowing Steve Rogers. It’s a life that is not defined, not confirmed. But there was possibility. Sharon knows about possibilities. 

When she’s eighteen, she sees him. 

Winter Soldier. 

The legend that Peggy tells her about. 

“I’m not supposed to be telling you,” Peggy whispers. Sharon knows more about SHIELD than she should, but Peggy’s soft when it comes to Sharon. She knows Sharon’s destiny, knows that she needs to know more than the average recruit when she goes into the organization. 

“Be careful,” Peggy says. “The Winter Soldier isn’t a myth. He’s real. They remade a man into what they wanted, and that’s...Sharon, you know how dangerous that is.” 

She does. She knows that this person, whoever they are, will not hesitate to kill. He won’t listen to any pleas or bargains, because that’s not in his code. He will not stop, will not stray from the mission, and will not look at you--he will look through you. 

Her graduation present from her parents is a trip to Europe. She gets to visit Vienna and learn all about old history, carefully taking note of suspicious characters. Peggy has come along to tell her all about World War II and the history of it, rare smiles gracing her face as she explains a prank Sergeant Barnes pulled on the rest of the division or the time Dum-Dum messed up ordering food. 

They see him. 

Winter Soldier is not on a mission for Director Carter--or rather, former Director Carter. He’s on a mission for someone else. 

“We need to follow him,” Peggy says. “Sharon, get the car.” 

Sharon has never driven in Europe before. But she manages just fine as she nervously presses on the gas pedal and they zoom forward. Winter Soldier is chasing after someone, and someone who knows it. 

Aunt Peggy sees red hair and pauses. 

“Sharon, get out of the car. Let me drive.” 

- 

Sharon is not allowed to tell her parents that she met Black Widow, or that Peggy dented the car hood by attempting to run over the Winter Soldier. 

She also does not tell anyone about the fact that as she opened the car door for Black Widow and her charge, that Winter Soldier tore off his goggles and stared. 

That was...unsettling. His eyes were brilliant. She could tell they were a light color from a hundred feet off. 

“This your girl?” Natasha Romanoff asks Aunt Peggy. 

“Yes.” 

“I’m impressed,” she says. “Welcome to SHIELD, Sharon.” 

“I’m not inducted in yet.” 

“You might as well be, facing off the Winter Soldier,” she says with a snort. “Come on. Peggy, we need to start training.” 

Sharon starts during college. She still goes to college, although her heart is not completely in it. She finishes her classes with passing grades, gets a degree in sociology, and moves on. 

Natasha trains with her and she becomes skilled as all hell. 

She still dreams of light eyes staring through her. The dreams are more like nightmares as they get closer and closer. 

- 

She sees him again when she’s in New York helping out with protection at an undercover science delegation meeting. Some of the most influential scientists are the ones you never hear about. Sure, they have published papers, but they also have papers that never see the light of day because it would change the fabric of reality as everyone knows it. 

Winter Soldier doesn’t spare her a glance, not until she launches herself at him to knock him into an alley. 

“Stop,” she hisses. 

Sharon didn’t think this through. She most definitely is not on his skill level, and they both know it. 

“Let me go,” he says, voice almost dead. “I have a mission.” 

“So do I,” she says, “and it involves stopping someone like you.” 

“You miss the point of my existence,” he says, almost robotically. “I am not a someone. I am a something.” 

“You know the difference. Robots don’t,” Sharon says, dodging a fist that goes slamming into concrete. “Now back the hell off.” 

In all of the missions that Winter Soldier can recount, (oh yeah, they’ll let him remember the decapitation but not his own fucking birthday. Classic) most of the agents that are sent to stop him are not this bold. 

Because a.) they realize in the moment that they are outmatched and outclassed in every way that matters, and b.) they have accepted death. 

Not this girl. No, she’s young and she’s fierce but she knows...she knows something. 

This gets him distracted. 

And this allows Sharon to be able to slash a knife down his leg, and it’s not the kind of cut that allows continuation to be done. He would survive, but this is gonna slow him down. 

Begrudgingly, she has his respect. 

- 

He doesn’t tell his handlers about her. He doesn’t know why. Usually he’s fine with revealing anyone who got in his way, and usually someone catches onto the fact that he’s lying and make his brain circuits go pop. But not...not this time. 

They believe the fact that a spare part from a crashed car knicked his leg as he jumped down. They stitch him up, give him a good old brain wipe, and send him to the freezer. He’s not sure when the next year will be, if they’ll even let him out again. 

(There’s a joke about rent insurance in there somewhere.) 

-

Sharon cut the Winter Soldier. She fucking cut the guy who people said would kill you. She got away. 

This isn’t something you brag about. She could but then she’d be an asshole who everyone at the office hates. And instead of them stealing Rumlow’s lunch once a week, it’d be her. 

And she likes that Rumlow keeps bringing quality food. 

She doesn’t tell anyone. Well...Peggy doesn’t count. 

Peggy is riveted, on the edge of her seat. 

“You didn’t,” Peggy swears. “You didn’t!” 

“I did,” Sharon responds. “But I don’t know what he told whoever he works for. I could be dead, Peggy.” 

“Nonsense,” Peggy scoffs. “It’s been more than a week, correct?” 

“A month.” 

“You just told me this today?! And it’s been a month?!” 

“...I didn’t want you to worry.” 

“If you had told me the day of, I would have worried. But if they haven’t sent anyone to kill you, your little escapade is safe. Although it does make me curious...” 

They sip on tea for a while longer and laugh about Sharon’s father, who is fretting about Sharon all over again. It’s a bi-monthly occasion, very entertaining for Peggy, who knows that Sharon knows a little over a hundred ways to incapacitate someone who’s up against her. 

Sharon kisses Peggy goodbye. 

- 

Winter Soldier is woken up for another mission. 

He remembers a woman with blonde hair and a firm ask for him to “stop.” 

There’s a feeling that she’s important. There’s a feeling that Hydra doesn’t know anything about her. 

He’s sent to make sure that SHIELD is destroyed. 

Great. This is gonna go fantastically, he’s sure. 

-

Sharon really knows what’s going on. Peggy had her suspicions, and made sure that Nick Fury thought outside the box. Hell, that he thought outside the universe. She knew that SHIELD would never be pure of intention. Peggy never was, why would her organization be? Humanity isn’t either. 

She knows that Hydra is inside SHIELD and it’s looking for Captain America to be its first example. 

Do they know it’s a Wednesday? Like honestly, it’s a Wednesday. It’s two p.m. She thought she would get herself a pizza tonight, make a wine night. Wine Wednesday. It would’ve been fun. Maybe Natasha could’ve come. 

But no, Hydra decided they wanted to eliminate threats they couldn’t control so now she’s on the run from the guy the next office space from hers and has to deal with Rumlow bitching about people stealing his sandwiches. 

“Your own fault!” Sharon yells, swiping his feet from under him. “You’re also just annoying as fuck!” 

She then has to run. 

She knows that Natasha and some special agent who was in the flight division are helping Steve and maybe Maria. Probably Maria. They wouldn’t have gotten as far as they had if Maria wasn’t in on it or if she was Hydra. 

God, if Maria Hill was Hydra...

Couldn’t think about that travesty now. She has a world to save. 

- 

Steve, naturally, has been sort of a disaster. He makes it functional. She sort of wishes that she could make it functional, but she is not able to have that sort of function in her life, unfortunately. 

He’s wearing his old uniform. She doesn’t know why, just that he’s stupid. She doesn’t care how carefully the restoration workers at the Smithsonian have repaired it, she knows his levels of stupidity. 

And then he turns. 

Winter Soldier. 

Now, apparently, Bucky Barnes. 

What a kick in the goddamn head. 

She can’t even think. She doesn’t want to think, she just charges and kicks him out a window. 

Steve slams the card in, they save the world, and she’s diving after a man with a metal arm. Metal is also falling from the sky, so you could imagine the level of difficulty she is under. 

But she finds him. He’s a heavy guy as she lugs him to the shore, waiting for him to wake up. 

“Who the--?” He’s coughing out water, trying to get up. 

“I’d suggest you take a vacation,” Sharon says. “I think you have a lot of days saved up.” 

Sharon doesn’t know why she leaves him there. She really doesn’t understand why she doesn’t just say “hey, come with me,” and then he decides to join SHIELD and Steve and him can bond over not understanding music apps. 

But he needs to have time to himself, she reasons. 

“You’re insane,” Natasha says to Sharon. Steve is trying to visit Sam and hang out, so they’re doing their own thing. “You let him go?” 

“He needed to find his own life,” Sharon says. “You know Steve likes to define what he knows, and he knows Bucky Barnes. But I think Bucky Barnes isn’t really a sure thing right now. So we’ll find out.” 

“Okay.” 

“Hey. If I’m meant to have him in this life, great. If not, then that is what it is,” Sharon says. 

- 

She doesn’t know that Barnes did not hop a plane to Europe. Not yet, anyway. 

No, he’s a block away in an abandoned office building. He’s not sure what he’s doing, just that he doesn’t want to leave anything yet. 

She may hold answers. Answers that he wants. 

[theartoflivingalways]

i’ve been awake for over 24 hours

I haven’t been on tumblr in years. i stopped using it after high school, but I don’t know why. but now I’m back tonight, because I needed someone to talk to, but I have no one to listen. i have friends, i have family, i have a boyfriend. i have a therapist. but no matter what: i feel so unheard, so unseen, and so ignored by everyone in my life that i literally feel like i have no one to truly turn to. for anything. so, here i am. hope i get a warm welcome!!!

here’s the thing: i’m NOT a depressed person. i’m not sad, i don’t have any major mental health issues apart from anxiety and some adhd. and before you take that the wrong way, please don’t. i just got my master’s degree in social work and i’ll be starting my new job as a therapist in a couple of weeks.

but, i’m also NOT a happy person. tbh, i can’t really describe my overall ~mood~ or whatever you wanna call it. i kinda just wake up and survive the day, every day. i take it one day at a time ... kinda like what AA says to do; but no, before you ask or the thought crosses your mind, i’m not an addict. at least not a alcohol/other drugs addict ??? sorry

maybe this is why there’s no one to listen when i need them to. i fucking ramble about literally nothing before getting to the point. 

it’s weird that i’m writing right now (ok, typing???). i haven’t done this since i was little. it feels good to do this, to have some sort of outlet when you feel so fucking unseen and unheard by every. single. person. around you. 

so i haven’t slept in over 24 hours. it’s my own fault for sure and i have adderall to thank for that (yes i’m prescribed). i decided to start a blog again because i’m sitting here, still wide awake in my apartment, alone, while my boyfriend is sound asleep in my bedroom.

so what’s my fucking problem??? why do i want someone to talk to?? i don’t know honestly. i just feel like lately all i do is listen to others, help others, give myself completely to others. and in return, i get nothing. nothing even close to what i give, or to what i’m capable of giving. which is sad. not for me particularly (maybe?), but for others, yes, i think so. 

i’m not saying that i expect anything in return for helping others, because i don’t. i didn’t enter the field of social work for the fucking money. and i know a lot of fucked up shit is going on in the world right now, and in no way do i want to minimize ANY of that. i’m just feeling a little lost and lonely, so i’m hoping this is a new outlet for me to sort out those feelings.

the last couple of hours, i’ve had a LONG string of thoughts. if you read through, you’ll eventually found out how they started. but one of the things i’ve been wrestling with in my mind is the type of person i am. 

you see, it’s difficult to be “that” person for others your whole life, especially all the fucking time. if you’re anything like me, you know what i mean by that. and if you aren’t anything like me, well, first of all congrats!!!!, and secondly, i’ll explain what i mean.

when you’re “that” person for others, like myself, it’s easy for other people to walk all over you. take advantage of you, take you for granted, expect you to ALWAYS be there no matter the cost. and of course, why wouldn’t they? you’re always there to help. you’re ALWAYS there to offer support, guidance, and advice. you’re nurturing. you listen. you’re a fucking irreplaceable, loyal to death friend. if you’re VERY much like me, you’re also the one person in your family who isn’t a total fuck up (at least not publicly?)

you’re also nonjudgmental, and you were blessed with the curse of being empathic towards others at all times. empathy of course is beautiful and a very good thing to have in this life, but do you know how hard it is to feel for every single person around you.. and not have anyone feel for you???? damn

also, you never let anyone down!! ever. you’re reliable, dependable, trustworthy to the point where it’s almost sketchy because like??? who can be that way to everyone else at all times? you guessed it- people like me and people like u!! (if this is even semi-relatable, i’m sorry) 

but people like us, like you, like me, tend to do this thing where we keep the same shitty fucking toxic people around that have hurt us, continue to hurt us both indirectly and directly, and who have let us down time and time again, because we continue clinging on to the fucking useless hope that “someday they’ll change”. someday, they’ll realize how fucking important you are to them and how shitty their lives are, and would be, without you in it.

you- we - also live by honesty and truthfulness, and assume others just live by this as well. but then you’re proved wrong over and over and over again, yet you never fucking learn your lesson because you are STILL hopeful that somewhere, somehow, deep down, other people DO stand by the morals you try so hard to stand by in life. most of the time, though, you’re completely avoiding the reality of other people and their experiences and who they really are, only to try to fit your own narrative of how you see things and how you think things should be. 

if this sounds anything like you... i’m sorry. i know it all too well. 

i grew up as the “golden child” in my family. not just my immediate family. my entire fucking family. the pressure to be perfect has lead me to develop debilitating anxiety in my 20′s, and it is what it is, but like, why the fuck couldn’t i have anxiety in high school like a normal teenager? why now? 

so yeah my anxiety’s pretty bad. it’s pretty bad tonight, which is why i turned here. to tumblr. to try to write out my thoughts. which, by the way, i’m sorry, because this is an absolute fucking mess and makes no sense. if you are reading this, though, thank you. thank you for listening when no one else seems to.

anyway. growing up with the pressure of being *perfect* has a cost. at least for me it did: 1) anxiety of course, and 2) perfectionist tendencies. these have literally- LITERALLY - ruined my entire college and graduate school experience. perfectionism combined with anxiety is a recipe for fucking disaster, and i’ve been cooking it for years.

i am deliberately writing this without proper punctuation/grammer/whateverthefuckyouwanttocallit, not capitalizing my letters etc., because i want to not have to be so perfect all the time on here, if this is something i’m going to stick to.  i know that sounds silly but it’s actually been very difficult for me to write in all lower-caps and i’m very worried that no one will even read this and HEAR ME because of my literacy negligence (i have no idea if that’s even a real thing or if it even has meaning but it sounded right)

do u want to know why i decided to write this though, truly? what lead to me feeling like i’m “spiraling” - apart from no sleep in over 24 hours now? well, get ready to laugh, because i truly think i’m pathetic and going crazy.

i went to dinner tonight with my boyfriend and his fam. our waitress was a girl i used to know years ago in high school. my boyfriend knew her too. in fact, he knew her VeRY well. for the sake of my anxious overthinking, i don’t feel like going too much into the details of *that* situation, so thanks in advance for understanding.

anyway. this corny bitch made a joke about the current political environment. i won’t say what exactly, because i’d really like to keep my identity as concealed as absolutely possible on here. but long story short, no one really laughed - every one just kinda smiled awkwardly. but you know who did laugh? my boyfriend :) 

TO ME, it seemed intentional. she wasn’t fucking funny, for one. she made a bad - no, a very bad- joke. like one of those corny dad jokes. not even a dad joke actually. a step-dad joke, except your step-dad is a loser that you hate, who treats ur mom/dad bad, has no sense of humor or a horrible sense of humor and idk, just fucking sucks you know ???

sorry that got kinda dark and it was unnecessary but do u know what i mean??? and no, that was literally not relevant to me or my family system/structure in any way. just kinda came to me, ya know? ...writing works in mysterious ways man

alright so if you don’t agree, that’s fine. i already told you to get ready to laugh, because i am well aware of how insane i fucking sound. but you know what makes anxiety & perfectionism 100x harder to cope with? insecurities. and i’m FULL of them. 

so anyway. we left dinner. him & i were driving home. i will admit that i did have some wine at dinner, and i wasn’t drunk but i definitely was feeling cocky enough to stir the pot with him. so, i casually said, “hey... didn’t you date _____?” *insert annoying waitress’s name who i knew once upon a time*

i said it very calmly. very coooool. v collected and nice. he said “no? i’ve never even talked to or hungout with that girl”.

i wish u could see my face as i’m writing this right now bc i cannnot. like i gave u a choice.... the opportunity. tHE SIMPLE opportunity - a chance - to be fucking honest................................

this dude. straight up. lied to my face. about this fucking girl. ???????

YEARS AGO, they most certainly did talk. a lot. in fact, my crAZy ass searched their names on facebook to find their old little love notes to each other that they posted on each others’ walls. which were very cringey but nothing that made me feel jealous or insecure (for once). after all, they were from years ago- i’m talking 5+ - so likeeee.... why would he lie (: 

oh and they definitely did hang out because.... i remember clearly.... a PICTURE OF THE two of them *together* *hangin* (prob bangin too) (sorry) years ago in this now-waitress’s bedroom. i believe it was a ~webcam photo~ that they took on the new mac computer her parents prob bought her. so this photo is now NO WHERE to be found. and believe me, i looked. no, i LURKED. i went to the beginnnning of her instagram posts and deep into her uploaded facebook pictures. ok, not ‘deep’, i literally got to the first pic she ever posted on FB just to try to find this damn picture. and it took me for. fucking. ever. because this bitch has prolly posted a million pictures in the last 5+ years like who does that???

but i swear to fucking whatever the fuck that this picture exists. i have fucking seen it. i’d describe it in perfect detail right now as if i saw it today, but, once again, i’m concealin my identity, yo, so i can’t do all that. v sorry

anywho. this dude - who i call my boyfriend (and yes i love him very very much and our past is absolutely fucked but that’s a whole other story for a very different time) - had the nerve, the audacity, to tell me to my face, that he “definitely doesn’t have a picture with her” because “they’ve never hung out or talked before” ... ?!??????

obv i sent him screenshots of the dirt i dug up on facebook from 5+ years ago (i.e., the old posts between them in case ya forgot during my rambling) bc like, caught ya in a lie sir. red handed.

i might be late on mentioning this part, but here’s the fucking kicker (and i’ve never used that phrase and i don’t know why i said that but ok?): TODAY, for the first time in MONTHS, literally!!!, bc of the virus and the quarantine and all that, i got ready today for dinner with his family. like actually got ready. i spent HOURS doing my make up. i don’t even remember the last time i did my make up, ok. i dressed in a really cute outfit. i felt fucking very good about myself. i thought for sure when he’d come pick me up to go to dinner he’d at least say something. at least acknowledge it. he has literally only seen me in raw form for too many days now. like, complete bare face and sweat pants basically every day since march.

but. did he even look at me twice?!!? no. did he mention anything about how i looked? how it was drastically different from my everyday attire the last couple months? did he take 2 seconds out of his day to say something corny or flirty to me? even just, “you look beautiful”??? honestly i would’ve even appreciated, “you look beautiful, for once” ???

did u guess the correct answer? well if u didn’t, it’s N O.

but u know who he did look at twice.

our waitress at dinner.

(: 

i think i wrote enough for one night. if u think this is my anxiety/perfectionism/insecurities combination spiraling out of control after being tamed incessantly for 20+ years, PLZ TELL ME.

but also, if you have a fucking brain, you’d know that:

1) this is definitely NOT the first time i’ve responded to something like this the way i did, and 

2) i really just needed to ramble on and vent about all the shit that’s been going through my mind the last 2 1/2 hours, so there’s that.

have a good night get some sleep!!! thank u for ur time. 

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ Conspiracy (Rikkaidai)

Genre: Crack, Friendship, Crossover ☁

Word Count: 2,126 ☁

Pairing: None ☁

World: Prince of Tennis ☁

Author’s Note: I actually did have all of these issues with an old laptop, I believe it was a Dell. Naturally, I had to write about this experience with my favorite characters from my favorite anime!

━━━━━━༻��️༺━━━━━━

“You’re crazy~” Niou was lying on your bed, propping himself up on his elbows as his aqua orbs followed you as you paced back and forth.

“It’s not crazy, Niou.” I scoffed, sending a mild glare towards my best friend. “It’s a fucking conspiracy!”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Marui was sitting next to Niou, legs crossed Indian style with a bag of pink and blue cotton candy in his lap. He pinched off a piece of the blue sugar and popped it into his mouth. “Computers can not conspire against humans, idiot!”

“Bullshit! Wasn’t there once a prophecy about robots taking over all of humanity?”

“You’re thinking of I, Robot puri~”

“We’re not even talking about robots! We’re talking about a laptop.”

“It still counts damn it!”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“Yes, it does!”

“Does not!”

“Does so!”

“Not!”

“So!”

“Enough!”

The three of us turned our attention to the doorway of my bedroom where the yell had come from. Sanada was glaring at us, eyes narrowed in annoyance while Yukimura stood beside him with a small, gentle smile on his face.

“What’s going on in here?”

Marui and I exchanged glances.

Niou chuckled, amused by our antics, which some might consider childish but I do not. “Jay is convinced that her laptop is conspiring against her.”

“Are all high schoolers that dimwitted?” Sanada commented, leaning against the door with his arms folded over his chest.

I scowled, glaring at the younger male. “Fuck off!”

“Dear,” Yukimura called out, his tone calm but with a slight undertone of warning; he never did like it when I used such language. “Explain to me why you think that.”

“Gladly! It all started about two years ago…”

Incident #1 – The New Laptop

It was my 15th birthday and I had been given the gift of a brand new laptop. I was quite happy, naturally, since I had been wanting one for a long time.

Not even a week after I received it, however, I began to experience trouble with it. Now, being the stubborn person I am, I simply shrugged it off with the thought, ‘It will eventually go away’, a lot like any medical problem I may have.

Anyway, as time passed, the problems with the computer got worse until, finally, the stupid piece of shit stopped working and would not even turn on. So I took said object to my local electronics store where the geeks could handle it and find out what the problem was. Of course, I had the thought in my mind that it may be a virus, but for some reason, I doubted that it was the cause.

After weeks of waiting, I finally got my computer back. Apparently, the hard drive had gone bad –  or some stupid shit such as that.

Despite the fact that all of my precious shit was gone from said object, my computer was back and working, and I was satisfied.

Incident #2 – Internet Problems

I had gotten a wireless laptop internet card. Now, it was good and it worked, though it was quite slow. I didn’t really mind it – as long as it was the internet, I was fine. However, said internet liked to cut off randomly and would not come back unless I completely shut down the computer and restarted it – and this didn’t always solve the problem.

Now, it was extremely annoying having to close down everything that I was working on to restart it, get it working just for it to stop again 5 minutes later.

Finally,  after many varying priced bills and annoying phone calls, I switched to a different internet provider. It was faster, more reliable, and happened to not cut off every time I took a breath.

I was happy once more.

Incident #3 – More Problems

It’s almost like it had a mind of its own. One minute the CD/DVD drive is working, the next it’s not. It freezes constantly, is slow as shit and likes to piss me off by NOT WORKING.

Now, this often makes me feel like slamming my head against a brick wall, but I refrain like the well mannered little shit I am and simply grind my teeth, trying to keep my bad-tempered adolescence under wraps.

Incident #4 – The Power Cord

Now, I knew from the very beginning that the laptop company was a piece of shit, especially after all of the problems that I’ve had since day one, but I never expected the power cord to go berserk as well. It started out where the cord only worked when I played with it and moved it to a certain angle. No big deal.

But then it started to get harder to get it to work, no matter what position I held it in.  The problem, I guessed, was a short in the wiring just at the base that connected to the computer, not the plug. Anyway, it was fine, as long as it worked.

Until one day, when I moved it in an attempt to get it to work. I never would have expected what happened next.

The power cord shocked me and burned the palm of my hand, leaving a black mark in its wake. I had cursed in pain, unplugging the object and quickly throwing it on the ground. It hit my cat, who was sitting in front of me – don’t worry, she was fine! From there, it sparked and attempted to catch on fire. I quickly unplugged it before that could happen.

Despite the pain in my hand and the annoyance I felt towards the cord, the company refused to do anything. Sure, they put the case on high priority, but they never did shit about it.

Now the evidence is gone and there’s no proof to show that the cord was dangerous in any way.

Incident #5 – Sharing Is Not Caring

It was annoying having to share one cord between two laptops, one belonging to a college student while the other belonged to a person who had no life.

It didn’t help that the computer died within less than 10 minutes of no power (when it’s supposed to last around 6 hours). Only about 5 minutes after the other person took the cord, my computer decided it didn’t want to exist anymore. And so, I was left to sit in my room with nothing to do.

It was agonizing.

In the end, I did manage to get another power cord that worked on any computer; it had different attachments according to different brands.

Everything was fine and dandy once again.

Incident #6 – Internet Cable

Cruel fate?

Proof that life is indeed a bitch, just like its counterpart, Karma?

A sick joke, played out to someone’s vain amusement?

Did they know that I had no life and wanted to see just what would happen should they take away the one thing my life pretty much surrounds?

Apparently, someone was seriously enjoying my misery.

One of the small wires inside of the ethernet cable somehow managed to snap; seriously, what are the chances of that? Now, when I fiddled with it, I managed to make the wires touch again and the internet worked… until I moved an inch and it’d cut off again. Much like the power cord incident, if I messed with it, I could get it to work. This time, though, no matter what I did, I just couldn’t get it to work. Instead, I said ‘screw it’ and went to bed.

Thankfully I managed to get a new ethernet cord…. the problem this time? It was too short and I honestly did NOT feel like sitting in the closet just to use the damn computer. So, I went back and got the only longer one they had, which happened to be a used one.

It worked and I now had internet without a problem, but I couldn’t help but wonder – how long will it last?

What disaster will happen next?

Two very good questions indeed.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“Do you see? Do you see what I mean? What’re the chances of that?!” I fell down onto the bed between Marui and Niou, lying on my back and letting out an exasperated sigh.

“When you put it that way… it does kind of sound like a conspiracy against you. Almost like the computer is recruiting the other things to piss you off.” Marui commented, popping another piece of cotton candy into his mouth while absent-mindedly staring up at the ceiling.

“And it’s working!”

Yukimura sighed, his hand resting on his forehead. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his head throbbing from the tale that I had just told him. “It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence? Come on, Yuki!” I sat up so quickly, my world spun for a moment. “How can all of that just be a coincidence?!”

“Maybe it’s you. You have been known to destroy things fairly easily, with that temper of yours.” Sanada commented.

I glared at him, eyes narrowing. “Who the hell let you in my house?”

He scoffed, dark eyes narrowing into a glare that rivaled my own. “You don’t honestly expect us to believe such a ridiculous tale, do you? Sorry, but middle schoolers are not as stupid as you high schoolers.”

“Why you – !” Niou grabbed onto me before I could even get up, his arms wrapped securely around my neck and his legs resting over my own so that I couldn’t move. Niou was one of the very few people who could control my temper. Yukimura and Tezuka were a few others.

“We need to think of this rationally.” Yukimura sent me a look, making me scoff and look away. Niou’s grip remained, just to be safe.

“Is this going to turn out like that transformers movie?” Marui questioned.

“Now that is stupid.”

“Oh come on! She talks about a computer conspiracy only targeting her and I’m the crazy one?” Marui scoffed, stuffing more of the sugary treat into his mouth with a pout.

I turned my glare on him. “Stuff it, Pinkie.”

“My hair is not pink! It’s Fuchsia!”

“It’s pink.”

“Fuch-”

“Knock it off,” Yukimura commanded, causing the pair of us to quiet down immediately. It didn’t stop the glares from being exchanged, though. “It’s most likely just a string of bad luck. It’ll pass.”

“Did you break any mirrors recently~?” Marui teased, poking my arm. I slapped his hand away when he tried to do it a second time.

Sanada, who had had enough of the bickering, walked over and slapped both of us on the back of the head. “This is ridiculous and is getting us nowhere.”

“Where’s there to get? Jay’s nuts!”

“Keep talkin’ pinkie and you’ll find out just how nuts I am.”

He stuck his tongue out at me in a taunting manner and I made a mental note to throw his sweets in the toilet.

“Do you guys hear that?” Niou pulled himself away from me, standing up and beginning to search the room for the sudden static noise that was filling it. The search led him to the closed laptop on the desk behind Yukimura. “Is it on?”

“No,” I responded cautiously, moving to stand behind him – if something went down, he’d take the brunt of the damage and not me.

Yukimura turned around in the chair and opened the computer. He jumped in surprise after being zapped by it. The screen blinked several times before settling to white. A large, bold L appeared, followed by a distorted voice.

“We are here for the simple purpose of taking over humanity. We will destroy you all.”

After a solid minute of near deafening silence, Marui screamed like a girl and ran from the bedroom, clutching his cotton candy and yelling something about Decepticons.

“Well, that was one hell of a delayed reaction,” I muttered, staring at the door.

“Should… we be worried?” Niou cocked his head to the side, his finger resting on his chin as he stared at the computer with a thoughtful look.

“Yukimura?” Sanada questioned, wanting the opinion of his beloved Buchou.

Without a word, Yukimura stood up, turned around and left the room, slamming both the bedroom and front door. The three of us exchanged glances before scrambling to follow after Yukimura.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Elsewhere

The large shinigami let out a roar of laughter as he lay in front of L’s computer.

How did he manage to get into the room? Who knows.

How is he able to use a computer? Who gives a damn.

How did he even get L’s laptop? Well, he is Light’s shinigami.

Where the hell was L while Ryuk had his fun? Trying to talk Light into going and getting him some sweets.

In the words of Shuichiro Oishi, What kind of world do we live in?

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[xoexoxhoe]

On The Hill

A/N: This is LITERALLY one of the most interesting things i’ve ever read. My Co wrote this based off of her love for political angst/dramas, and honestly, it’s really good guys, TOTALLY WORTH THE READ. We hope you enjoy this little piece by Momo (@sailor-baek )

Characters: Park Seonghwa (ATEEZ) & Reader (Y/N), featuring another ATEEZ member! 

Theme: Political AU, angst, love affair, political drama 

Nothing comes easy when you work for the President of the United States. Especially when it involves Park Seonghwa. 

💥Warning: Angst💥

The processional march was colorful noise in your ears as you followed closely behind the big man. It got older every time you heard it, which was, quite regrettably, every first Friday of the month. Really, anything would be better than the obnoxious blaring of-what was it? An oboe? You had no idea but it sure didn’t sound like the Chopin Nocturne op.9 no.2 you had to turn on every night to sleep.

“You’re doing it again.”

You didn’t even remember getting on the floor, a communications intern behind the press caucus chuckled. Carrie Ann. George Washington University undergrad and poli-sci masters at the good ‘ole Harvard. You made a mental note to fire the little shit as soon as this thing was over. Your attention turned to the man, still waiting for a complete introduction at the podium.

“Doing what, sir?”

“That frown thing with your eyebrows. You’re gonna get wrinkles, Y/N. What was that cream thing you use? You better stock up before Big Pharma gets their hands on the patent or I’ll have to call you...what is that new movie with Oprah?”

“A Wrinkle In Time, sir.”

“Yes, that one! A wrinkle-”

“It’s a childrens movie; nothing to do with premature aging, sir.”

A little huff escaped his lips and a slight tug appeared on yours. The press secretary was clapping now signaling for your boss to give his address.

“I’m sure your daughter will be happy to watch it with you tonight. Mr. President, you’re up.”

“Ah yes, it appears so.”

You watched as he made his way up to the center; flurries of camera flashes turning the west wing corridor into a light show. This is the time when you would check out. His speech was solid, you had looked it over yourself the hour prior. Today, however, there was a particular bump in your paved smooth travel down the hill. A rather large bump, by the name of Park Seonghwa. He was standing to the right behind his Prime Minister with the cheekiest smile plastered across his face. Bilateral economic relations didn’t warrant this kind of happiness, it oozed off of him like fucking honey. You had heard your greenies gushing over him earlier that day. The hot speech writer from the embassy. Why was he even here? Stupid question, you knew it was because he was Prime Minister Cho’s nephew. Nepotism at its finest. You had to use that one later. It would definitely sting. When clapping resumed again you made your way to the podium to rally the cameras back into the hall.

“Coverage of the reception will be permitted. I’ll have the details sent over via secure line. Until then please wait in the briefing room for further instruction. Thank you, everyone.”

You turned the corner still trying to shake that stupid smile from your mind when Carrie Ann caught your eye at the coffee corner. Before you could stalk all the way over, someone called your name.

“Ms. Chief of Staff...sir?”

God, you had forgotten your interns had project due today. “One sec, hun.”

You pivoted straight into a paper cup of coffee. “You look like you wanted to, um, talk to me.”

“Carrie Ann, do I amuse you.” The cup was warm in your hand now; sickly sweet aromas filling your nose. A little sip of the searing liquid confirmed your suspicion, too much liquid sugar. The poor girl had gone white.

“More specifically, my face-does it...does it make you want to laugh in a room of every major news outlet in the Pacific?”

“No ma’am, I didn’t mean to-”

“But you did.” You took a longer sip and gave her one last canvas before turning back to the little crowd that had gathered. “This coffee is wonderful by the way. Just a little suggestion, though; go easy on sweetener. You’ll need to remember that when you start at the local Starbucks.” You relished the gasps all the way to your office. It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that you remembered you weren’t alone.

“Shitty morning, my greenies. Tell me something that won’t make me want to throw you off of the east wing balcony.” A lazy finger point at the intern that had tapped your shoulder earlier opened a flood of updates.

“The KORUS coverage just hit air and it’s already trending on Twitter and Facebook.”

“Washington Governor Townsend has agreed to the state park expansion plans in Olympia; we should have the contractors’ bids on your desk no later than noon.”

“The writer guy is waiting in your blue room, ma’am. Said he has an appointment.”

Messy papers were strewn all over your desk; draft bills for POTUS to look over and countless testimony from the bane of your existence that was the municipal aide fund. You didn’t even look up. “I know plenty of writers, Joshua, you need to be more specific.”

“The hot one, ma’am. Tall, Korean, windswept hair look-”

“You need not go on, dear, this is the White House, not a middle school cafeteria. Send him in.”

The group trudged to the door. “Wait. I want all of you to finish up those Arbor Day submissions from the kindergartners. Pick a winner too.”

“The criteria, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, pick one that colored the trees unrealistic colors. I support impressionism and nothing says ‘Happy Tree Day! Thank you for the oxygen!’ more than a purple ficus.”

“Got it, ma’am, purple ficus.” You shoo-ed them off with the hope that the president would get a chuckle from handing a five-year-old artist a certificate for a periwinkle disaster on national television.

“That girl from earlier. I passed her crying on the way here; such a harsh way to be let go.”

You scoffed, “I might just call secret service to drag her out. Why are you here, Mr. Park? You didn’t have an appointment.”

Seonghwa sauntered to your desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket while easing onto the varnished oak and cocking his head to the side, “Hm…” he grabbed the bow cascading down your blouse, rolling the silk in his fingers, “I never imagined something so frilly on someone so…”

“So what?”

He glared down at you, dropping the bow and retracting his fingers, grabbing the pocket square out of his suit, “So… disdainful.”

You smiled unevenly, “Sometimes I wonder where you learn words like this, but then I remember you went to college here and I can’t one up you with pretentious vocabulary.”

A smile spread across his face, “Do you want it in Korean? 경멸적인.”

“Why should I respect you, Seonghwa? I’m the White House Chief of Staff; not the eager college girl that gets you a cream cheese bagel in the morning.”

The way he got under your skin was criminal. Bad enough that he still hadn’t answered your initial question. What was the question? You were getting too old for this. “Your speech on NATO was cute; Prime Minister Cho did well for the press.”

“Did you like it?”

“Oh, I did. In fact I have a particular word in mind to describe it.”

“What would that be?”

“쓰레기.”

“Ah! She knows Korean now; such a dynamic personality.” His index finger tapped against his palm, “First off, we have a condescending Chief of Staff, who, with no mercy or remorse, loves to fire her perky college interns. Second, she must be achingly smart because she dragged my Korean speech-”

“I’ll stop you right there. Perky? Not exactly the word I’d use to-”

Seonghwa stood, readjusting his suit, “Let me finish, Y/N. Finally, for someone so beautiful, you sure do have a terrible temper.”

“You came here to be an asshole; is that it?”

“Takes one to know one, ma’am.”

“You’re the one that called it a dynamic personality.”

He paused, clasping his hands together, “I simply came to ask if I’d be seeing you at the party tonight.”

“To gawk at your latest arm candy? Don’t count on it.”

◎

The Secretary of Commerce had always rubbed you the wrong way. From the beginning of the appointment, green shadows in his hollow eyes had made his motive clear. Sure, the trade renewal was beneficial to everyone. It was especially so to one certain senior official that had poured half the budget into the Korean subsidiary of a Chinese chemical manufacturer. You weren’t a god, neither was the president. The things that were sacrificed in the name of universal well being wouldn’t keep you up at night. Besides, the geezer talking your ear off had to pay for his estate in Great Barrington somehow. You felt a hand slip around your waist.

“It was a pleasure, Mr. Secretary. Congratulations on the agreement.”

Pulled away without much more than a nod in his direction you turned your attention to your companion. “How did you know I was dying of boredom?”

“Y/N, dear, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It couldn’t have been more obvious if you had screamed ‘insolent plutocrat’ in his face.”  

You gravitated towards the bar and took the cucumber vodka Yunho held out. He was every bit the man your parents had expected; fitting the description a 9 year old you had mapped out and stuck to the fridge. Doctor Jeong Yunho; Chief of surgery at Georgetown, specializing in neurology. How else could you describe Yunho but simply strapping. Heels didn’t challenge his height. His goofy smile never faltered and his bright eyes followed you like a puppy. Walking into any function with him felt like a cold drink laced with ecstasy; only mildly dangerous and the biggest ego booster. He made you feel powerful.   

You leaned in to begin a whisper into his ear.

“My my my, what do we have here?” If Yunho was ecstasy, Seonghwa was the dirtiest mephedrone on the black market. That hand found your waist again. The woody scent on Yunho’s lapel invaded your senses. There came a time every woman had to face the music; you hadn’t wanted it to be tonight.

“Mr. Park, I don’t believe you’ve met my fiancé.”

“Park Seonghwa, right? I’m Yunho, nice to meet you, man.”

The newest patron took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Likewise, Doctor. I assume congratulations are in order.” You cast a sidewards glance to Yunho who was playing idly with the silver band on his finger. The whole ordeal was suffocating.

“So when’s the big day?” Seonghwa’s eyes were on you now, still full of the morning’s mischief.

“End of June; we’ll make sure to send you an invitation.” You scooted a little closer to Yunho, letting his guarding presence hold you upright. A shrill beep sounded from his breast pocket; one that you had heard many times. He cleared his throat a little and reached for the pager. Duty always called. It didn’t matter even if you had just helped to divert a nuclear crisis. If someone had their head cracked open on an operating table, Dr. Jeong would be there to patch them up. You took a long swig of the sweating cocktail and set it down.

“You should go, honey. It sounds urgent.”

He offered you a sheepish smile. Seonghwa just turned to face the bar, sloshing a drink in his hand.

“Multiple trauma crash on the 95. Baby, I’m sorry.” Yunho lightly grabbed out your hands that re-did the buttons of his suit.

“I of all people know that work is work. Don’t sweat it kid. I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?”

“You’re not coming home?”He met your lips in a chaste kiss.

“I fly to Mumbai first thing in the morning and I still have lots of stuff to do before then.”

Yunho just nodded with understanding and bent down to peck your cheek one last time. “Text me when you land.”

“Will do. Drive safe.” When he was far you heard a snicker come from the side. Rolling your eyes you motioned the bartender over for a refill. It was Bruno tonight. Thank god. He always kept the good stuff on the side for you.

“Work is work, huh?”

“Precisely.”

The brooding man eased towards you slightly, still looking forward. “Are you working me?”

“For what reason would I do that? I have nothing to gain.”

He downed his dark liquid. “We both know that isn’t true.” and with that, he was gone into the crowd of tipsy politicians. Dim chandeliers and the gaudy presentation was suddenly becoming too much. With swift steps you made your way to the president’s table, a pleasant smile plastered on your face.

“Sir, I’m going to head out for the night; lots to do for tomorrow.”

“Of course, Y/N! Send my regards to Yunho on his surgeries. I saw that he left earlier.”

It was that obvious, huh? “I will. Thank you, Mr. President. Congratulations again on the agreement.” With a quick side hug to the misses and last goodbyes, you walked to the back entrance. Your night detail was waiting at the door, purse and coat in hand.

“Evening, ma’am.” You took your purse and got into the car.

“Hello, boys. I’m so ready to sleep.”

“Home, ma’am?”

“Not tonight, Sarge.”

“Of course.”

The ride to the Regis was short. Without much thought you were in your suite; draped in silk and nursing a vintage malt the adorable concierge had given you. And you had tried so hard to not come off as an alcoholic. How disappointing. The door clicked open but you didn’t pay it any attention as you were still enthralled by the itinerary in front of you. A hand pulled the pin out of your makeshift bun sending hair cascading over your shoulders.

“You work too hard, Y/N.”

“I am my work. It runs my life” The humming in your ear made a familiar heat rush to your chest. It flared out down your arms in little tingles.

“This here isn’t work. I think this is something you’re doing all for yourself.”

You reached behind you, bringing lips hard against your own. There was a little cut on the bottom one from a consistent bite the owner was likely not aware of. Sucking on the spot elicited the deepest moan you’d ever heard. Music on par with Nocturne op.9.

“Add selfishness to the qualities of my dynamic personality.”

You turned around in your seat and found a firm grip on your ass pulling you flush against a rattling chest. “He seems like a great guy.”

“Don’t talk about him, Seonghwa.” Stepping off the chair you pushed him towards the bed. He fell onto the plush surface without a sound of protest.

“You definitely have a type. The press would have a field day.”

Settling over the cocky speech writer that had been tugging on the edges of your mind all day was satisfying to say the least. You fit there perfectly; taking everything that was Park Seonghwa in until it made you dizzy. Though not as dizzy as he became when you abused his neck with abandon. You always adored his icy veins threatening to pop in restraint. His hands fumbled at your hip, willing you to move against him. He was too busy getting off to shameless moans of his name in his ear to feel your knee press down hard on his clothed dick.

“If anything gets out to the media, prepare to have this handed over to your uncle on a silver fucking platter.” His breath hitched and you swore the bulge in his pants only grew. You replaced the knee with your hand and used the other to rip open his now wrinkled button down. Your favorite surface. Not as broad as Yunho, but Seonghwa would say the filthiest things to get you to paint trails down his chest until he couldn’t breathe. That’s the difference between your choice of drugs. The most dangerous ones were the most addictive. So when he captured your mouth again, a fresh whimper on his lips, you had no intention of backing up the threat. Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Pure honey to taste.   

“Please, just fucking ruin me, Y/N.”

“I serve at the pleasure.”  

[prorevenge]

Destroy my childhood, ruin my chance at college, and laugh when I said I was homeless? Lol cool, I'll ruin your life.

Long story. TL;DR at the end.

BACKSTORY: My mother was a really shitty person. I have 4 other siblings. One older sister, 3 way younger, 3 different dads. Before I was born (im a male btw), my oldest sister was taken away from my mother when she was a few months old because she tried to stab/slice the father of my sister WHILE HE WAS HOLDING HER. She lost custody and the dude left her. Older sister goes to live with her fathers family in a different city. CUE LIL OL ME COMING INTO THIS SEXY WORLD. My dad went to jail 2-3 years after I was born for a while, I rarely saw him. He's an alcoholic if that matters. She was a single mother but she made it work and she worked hard. One of the bigger problems was that she took out all her agression and hatred of my father on me as well as work stress and etc. She dealt with sexual abuse growing up which I'm sure definitely affected her relationships and how she treated me as well. Anyways...

Cue me being abused from the age of 4-5 to about 17. Every day was hell. She was extremely strict and her perspective was warped. She was also pretty big in stature and had alot of strength. Examples of her being shitty: I've gotten beaten up badly once because HER room was dirty. The dishes weren't washed and I got beaten soon as I got home, even if there werent dishes when I left to school. If i walked too loud, id get my ass beat. She broke my nose for looking at her the wrong way on my 10th birthday when she brought me a cake I was allergic too(It had peanuts, she knows im slightly allergic but feigned ignorance..) It was more or less every day or every other day. She used her fists/elbows/extension cords/hangers/chairs/canes/bats/etc. Whatever she could find I was getting beaten with. I couldn't ever escape to my room for long because she would always call me every few minutes to get her things or to yell at me. She never drank or did drugs or anything. Whenever she was upset and I happened to be in front of her she'd kick me down the stairs to make me hurry up. She's put a knife to my neck before and had to be forcibly stopped by her bf of the time. Burned my christmas presents from other people (she didnt get me anything that year) and just other really shitty things. The only thing I will say, she tried really hard to make up for it with video games and electronics and etc. It didn't make a difference to me though, it never helped.

She controlled most aspects of my life. I got by with little petty revenges. Peeing in the lipton iced tea she drank. Rubbing her forks and spoons between ny buttcheeks before i served her dinner. Ignoring her screams for help when she had kidney stones (how tf am i supposed to help anyways??) But by the time i got to highschool I turned to alcohol. I resented her and the negative atmosphere affected who I was as a person. I started to be cold and uncaring. Calculated. She started kicking me out every few months telling me to find somewhere else to live by age 15. She sent me away to a different country for a year and tried to keep my passport but I made it back to the US with the help of the embassy and my step father (she'd already left by that time and found some other dude). I came back senior year with no credits for the prior grade which ended with me getting a GED. I spent most of the time i could with my best friend and started working shitty jobs. I was terrible at saving as i had accumulated loads of shitty habits while growing up so it didnt make much difference. She eventually told me that If i went to college, I would ALWAYS have a place to live until I finished. Cue my first 2 semesters at a 2 year college, I maintained a 3.7ish gpa. My teachers loved me and it was my escape. Towards the end of my 2nd semester during finals, i came home late one night around 10pm and my mother yanks the door open screaming in my face asking when I'll move out. I'm slightly drunk and decide to completely ignore her and walk to my room. If I opened my mouth, that day would be the day I blew up and cursed her out. I've rarely ever raised my voice at her because it never ended well. Now at this point im 19 and I've been doing school full time with no savings. Im also fairly fit and could easily take my mom at this point (Never laid a hand on her or any woman, i hate violence). I get to my room, she rips my door open, and starts yelling. I say nothing and stare at her. She walks away and called the police on me saying she thought id murder her and my younger siblings. I don't know where the fuck she got that idea from as she's the one who's nearly killed me many times.

I packed everything into a duffle bag and left 5 minutes afterwards. I failed all of my finals because I couldnt make it to my school. Things kinda spiraled and the next 2-3 years were me on and off homeless. I survived the best I could in a big city with no college degree and made alot of shitty choices due to my shitty habits. Eventually i found a profitable hobby that gave me meaning and through that i started to work my way up. Got my own apartment, had a full time job, and did my hobby on the side. I hadn't kept up contact with my mother at all but my younger sister who was old enough to have a phone found me on social media so i saw photos and such, she didn't have it anywhere near as bad but she did get beaten occasionally. My mother reached out via email all smiles asking how I've been. Now guys, ive always been envious of the relationship most ppl have with their moms so I gave her a chance and gave her a call. We talked for a few minutes and everything was civil and seemed like things would go okay but then...

She asked me what I've been up to the last few years and I told her honestly, that I was homeless for a while and struggled alot after what she did to me but I worked my way out of it. SHE LITERALLY LAUGHS. She laughed for a few seconds in a very condescending kinda chuckle and then said "I never did a thing to you so you don't know what abuse is! its your own damn fault you were homeless. So how about yo-" but by that point I hung up. I was speechless and fuming. I don't know what abuse is? OKAY BITCH. IVE SPENT TOO FUCKING LONG LETTING YOU DESTROY MY SANITY. NOW IS THE TIME.

There was a few things my mother didn't know. One, I knew for a fact that current well paying job she had was gotten on lies as she never got her college degree and lied about it on her resume. Two, I had access to all of her email accounts and cloud storage accounts since I was the one that set them up when I was younger and she never changes her passwords. Lastly, she DEFINITELY wasn't aware that from 13yrs old and onto the last time she hit me I took photos of ALL my bruises/marks/wounds/bloody noses saving them to my computer and then google drive. ON TOP OF THAT, my little sister had been sending me photos via social media of the bruises she got from my mom.

The first thing I did was compile ALL of those photos/videos into one folder. I then reached out to CPS in my city and explained that my siblings were being abused, how I was abused in the past, and that I had mountains of proof. Since ive called the cops on my mother before AND the thing that happened with my older sister, there was immediately a home visit. They arrived almost a day later with the police and coincidentally my mother was literally in the process of beating my younger sister when they were knocking. Cue an Emergency removal of all my siblings from the house and my mother getting arrested though she was released hours later. (I was getting a day to day play by play because my mothers best friend is a blabber mouth and everything my mother said she told her son who relayed it to me without either of their knowledge.) I sent CPS all the evidence and there's a legit case against my mother now. The next day I emailed and then called up her job to inform them that she had lied about having a very necessary college degree as well current events in her life which sparked a background check. She was fired days later. Say adios to 75k and a blacklist in the only industry you know how to work. I then spitefully deleted every cloud account and email address I ever made for her, which was all of them which im sure will make keeping up with alot bills and etc nearly impossible. I then anonymously reported her to the IRS because of the tax fraud she committed for years by claiming people's children that weren't hers with ALOT of detailed information since I lived with her while she did it.

So now, my mother lost all her kids and her job. Im meeting with a caseworker from CPS next week to talk more about what happens moving forward but I do know they're NOT going back. Idk how she's gonna pay her mortgage now and survive. I'm sure she's gonna get a call from the IRS who'll be looking for a few thousand dollars she owes them. She also has to go back to court in a few months, not exactly sure what she was charged with but ill update when I find out how everything turns out.

Side Note: She isn't aware im the cause of any of this. I plan on keeping tabs on her and waiting until it seems like she's close to death before I tell her it was all me and I peed in her lipton.

TL;DR - My mother abuses me badly for most of my life as well as my younger siblings. I have to drop out of college and support myself after she drove me to homelessness. She proceeds to laugh at me about me being homeless and denys abuse. So I ruined her life by getting my younger siblings removed and her arrested, making her lose her job, reported her to the IRS, and essentially set her up so that the remainder of her life is full of disaster and hardships.

(source) (story by howbout_that_lipton)