#and lo and behold they had a broken bone! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soraviie · 2 years ago

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spending holidays together.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff, some angst if you squint ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: I tried to make this as vague as possible but obviously coming from a country and a family that celebrate Christmas, I was a little bit biased, either way however you celebrate this time or if you're just chilling, I hope you can enjoy this little reaction regardless. Also, there might be a little continuity from previous reactions for some boys

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: “Monie! Come here, boy! Monie!”

Seeing only the rushing colours of the uncaring crowd, you waddled to the side and began to weep uncontrollably. Monie will get lost and die, and Namjoon will hate you forever. This was your first holiday together and you couldn’t even do this one simple thing.

And perhaps, yes, it was the three cups of Svarak talking which you’d drunk while wandering the Christmas market in Prague and perhaps yes, it was the horrid jetlag clouding your emotional state to the point where light inebriation was the least of your worries. Oh, why did you pressure Namjoon into bringing Monie abroad? Who brings a dog to a romantic getaway abroad anyway?

“He’ll get lonely,” you whined, placing your palms against Namjoon’s chest as you adjusted yourself in his lap.

“He doesn’t understand that emotion,” Namjoon had snided, hands reaching up to grab your hips. “Or any emotion for that matter.”

“Dogs can feel emotions!” you pouted in the poor thing’s defence whilst Namjoon brushed his thumb over your lower lip.

“I know, baby,” he affirmed. “I’m just saying he specifically doesn’t have them.”

“You’re so mean.”

Well, this idiot of course. Maybe you should have been meaner too, maybe then Monie wouldn’t think it as funny to rip away from his leash and go running off in between vendors selling gingerbread cookies and hot wine. And now be lost forever.

“Baby?”

Seeing Namjoon, trying to hold onto the thousands of gift bags to send home, running towards you, only made you weep all the harder, snot falling onto your jacket.

Tossing the paper bag into the slushed snow, Namjoon took a hold of your face and fretted, like he always did, a million miles per second.

“Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you? Are your bones broken?!”

“You’re going to hate me!” you cried, earning nothing but a confused frown and prolonged worrying.

“Why would I hate my baby?” he cooed but you fervently shook your head, evading his kiss.

“I lost Monie! I-I lost him and they’re gonna sell him, Namjoon! Oh god, they’re gonna sell him to some mean kids as a holiday present who are going to pull on his tail and ears! Oh, God, what have I d-done?!”

“You mean this Monie?” Namjoon asked with a smile as he stepped aside and lo' and behold without the slightest hint of shame in the eye stood a white dog, his leash stretching to tie around Namjoon’s wrist.

“Oh my God, you bastard!”

The little dog was rather displeased by the callous and unrefined way of your hugging but you paid it no attention.

“I found him some five minutes ago,” Namjoon explained, more than a little bewildered at your outburst. “Trying to steal some poor guy’s chicken kebab.”

“And all the trip you fondled him more than me. I was but a decoration.”

“Okay, I get it.

“I mean, I bring my wonderful partner halfway across the world to the top 1 spot to celebrate winter holidays in Europe and what do I get? Nothing. They spend the entire time not admiring the splendour of a city with more than a thousand years under the belt, no, they spend that time buying dog treats.”

“Would you shut up?” you pressed a palm against Namjoon’s mouth, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your skin. “It was our first holiday together, sorry for being emotional about failing you.”

“You could never fail me baby,” he muttered softly, taking your hand away. “Happy holidays. May we spent fifty more together.”

With a kiss against your temples, Namjoon tucked your legs closer into his lap. His apartment might not be a city with a thousand years under its belt and perhaps it did not smell of hot wine, but it was warm and comfortable, standing strong against the harsh weather of this year's winter and you were perfectly content on spending the holidays quietly in your lonesome. Either way just like he did in Prague, Monie slept the night away, only waking when needing to beg for some food.

YOONGI: “So which one is yours?”

And because it made sense, your mother removed her glasses, squinting at the TV.

“The second one on the left.”

“What, broad shoulders with a nice smile?”

“No, mom, that’s Jin! I’m with Yoongi.”

“Is it the little one?”

After a partially amused albeit exhausted sigh, you affirmed.

“Yes, it’s the little one.”

“He looks…nice.”

“He is nice,” you smiled softly to yourself. The broadcast ended and Yoongi’s face was replaced by a soft strumming of generic winter music. Looking out the window with a tangerine twirling between your fingers, you hoped he was at least warm somewhere in Seoul, warm and resting. As it was yesterday and as it will be tomorrow, there was a sunken pang that came when thinking of Yoongi. In times like these you wished nothing more for him to be normal, or at least a little less remarkable, for it to be ordinary enough to sit here with you, awkwardly nodding to whatever your mother said, holding your hand in his and gorging on these tangerines that you subconsciously bought for him.

But well…life was what it was and you had to accept him. All of him.

A ring at the door.

“Oh!” your mother jumped, startled by the jarring sound perturbing the otherwise mellow evening. “It’s probably those damn singers!” she cursed, rolling up the newspaper as if a bunch of mitten-cladded carolers could be thwacked on the nose like a misbehaving dog.

“I’ll get it,” you sprang to your feet, rushing to the door. “Hey, listen,” you yelled at the ringing stranger, battling with the rusty lock. “This is not a festive house so don’t expect any - oh.”

“Oh,” Yoongi echoed softly. His might be freezing red, along with his nose and his hat was perhaps so big it seemed to envelop his head as a whole, and he just might be covered in snow from head to toe as though he’d tripped and dove face down into a big pile, but to you, he was nothing but a vision.

“Happy holidays,” he whispered and stretched out a small parcel towards you which you clutched, head pounding away thoroughly dazed.

“You don’t even celebrate,” you muttered but Yoongi only shrugged.

“I’m here to celebrate you, nothing mo - wow!”

Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck you began to truly ponder if wishes could indeed come true in this harsh and unfair world as someone liked to say.

“You’re choking me here, lil’ heater,” Yoongi gasped for air but you didn’t listen, smelling in his faint cologne and breathing a heavy exhale of relief.

“Deal with it.”

He hummed lowly, with one palm reaching to pat your back. It might have been freezing but you didn’t even notice. Unbeknownst to you neither did he.

JIN: “It’s fine, Jin.”

Nervously, he exhaled, still twiddling with the reindeer print of his singing tie in the front seat of the car.

“I need to be perfect,” he muttered, peering through the dark at your childhood home standing in the distance like a menacing shadow of an oppressive rock face. One he had chosen to smash his head against this night.

“You don’t need to be,” softly, you denied, kissing his cheek. Even with the ring on both of your fingers, he blushed. “But you still are. Don’t worry. As heinous as you are, you're an angel compared to my relatives.”

Because of the panic-filled tremor running up his spine it took a whole two minutes for Jin to truly register your words, during which you’d already climbed out the car, taken the largest bulk of presents in your arm and knocked on the door, fully awaiting to be greeted warmly back home for the holidays.

“Heinous?” Jin muttered absent-mindedly before shaking himself out whatever terrible spell besieged him. It wasn’t your mother he was so afraid of -

“Oh, Seokjinnie! How’s my favourite son-in-law doing?!”

No, it definitely wasn’t your mother, though he would appreciate she’d pinch his cheeks just a tad less.

“So, you’re the fiance that they divorced once already.”

It was your judgmental aunts that had him sweating in consecutive nightmares for many months now.

“Auntie A, please, let’s be civil,” you pushed yourself in front of the slowly brewing conflict. “Not on the holidays.”

“So, Seokjin, we wanted for you to be more included so we…tried to make some of your home foods.”

Jin didn’t know much of this nice woman who spoke kindly to him. She might be your second cousin twice removed on your father’s side, or your aunt thrice removed on your mother’s side… Either way, the spread on the table indeed looked far more eccentric than he was used to. And ever since you’d entered his life, it had been nothing but eccentric.

With bated breaths, the nice lady and your mom waited for his approval and cringing inside, he gave a hollow, polite smile.

“I like it,” he vomited a bit in his mouth.

As soft music travelled from downstairs, muffled multicolour of lights glimmered from the small window of your bedroom behind which stretched vast slopes of snow covered by dark.

“What are they talking about?” Jin whispered, stroking your hair as you laid on top of him. Usually, he’d never liked it but you’d been more of his firsts than he’d ever thought. He could hear just the end of the conversation but the drunken drawl made the words nearly incoherent.

“About how much they love you,” you muttered in reply, tracing absent-minded patterns on his chest.

“Liar, liar, ugly pants on fire.”

“Hey, these pants are not ugly,” you whined and Jin hummed. “And I wouldn’t lie. Not on this season of goodwill.”

“Good will, my ass, are you not grinding against my crotch?”

HOSEOK: “Would you sit still?��

“Sorry, my nose was just itching.”

“Well, do you want it green?”

“No, ma’am.”

You smirked slightly before focusing back on the work at hand. Or should you say on the hand.

Hoseok really shouldn’t be looking this good in nail polish. Especially how immediately much you wanted these fingers up in your…Well, either way the polish would be destroyed then.

With the lights twinkling in the background and the fireplace burning, the night was swimming away into the late night with gracious, almost lulling ease. And while you drew the golden stars one by one, there might still be that treacherous minuscule pang of discontent in the lower pits of your heart, but you pushed it away. Ironically, the first night you painted matching nails it was a time much like this - winter holidays, here in snow-dusted Seoul.

“Just say you’re disappointed,” he had sighed.

“And what would that change?” you mumbled grimly, focusing on dragging the brush with near perfection, coating the nail slowly in all black.

Hoseok didn’t say anything, only drew yet another heavy sigh, before laying his head in your lap.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. You knew this would happen - no couple shirts, no photos, nothing shared in public, nothing to ever prove that this, whatever that even entailed, was real. You knew all that but if only knowing would hurt the hollow ache taking root. You felt the weight of his stare but rather than confronting it you decided to be a coward and focus solely on painting your nails. Because that’s what mattered when the love of your life had to tuck you away in his home like a dirty sock otherwise you’ll be harassed until mental breakdown. You knew he carried that ceaseless guilt all around, so much so, that even his ever-present smile was cracking at the seams like vinyl in a cold room.

“Maybe you can paint my nails?”

That at last had you glancing sparsely towards his side.

“You mean…like matching designs?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, the tone sounding completely casual. Almost too casual. “I don’t mind painting my nails and…

“And I’ve never stopped wanting to have a little bit of you with me everywhere.”

“As cute as it is, I think Baloo just farted.”

Hoseok threw a heavy glare towards your old, over-fattened Grinch of a Birman only to have it returned back tenfold.

“He hates me.”

“Just a bit. All done.”

Blowing on his nails, Hoseok glimpsed outside and you watched as his stare turned wistful, seeing the many rows of families, friends and couples all enjoying outside, trading easy laughter and intoxicated cheer.

“You don’t regret it, do you?” he muttered, almost incoherently. “Being with me?”

You brushed a hand over his knuckles with a sad smile.

“Our family might be small and our home might be a little quiet but it’s a good one. I don’t need anything else.”

For a second, Hoseok almost appeared stunned before his eyes softened in the glimmering lights and he brushed his forehead against yours.

“Happy holidays, baby.”

JIMIN: As the years began to pile up, more and more you began to understand the unceasing back pain all adults seemed to complain about and even more so the sentiment behind Grinch standing on a hilltop and yelling down upon the entire city “I HATE YOU!” The hatred for you came shockingly easy, hey, maybe you were just a bad person but what was not easy was to remember that you’d lost your best friend and the man of your dreams all in one well-coordinated swoop.

Forever didn’t seem so stable when it could be killed by a few petty, anger-driven words. The only forever would be the ceaseless taunting.

If only you would have spoken more; if only he would have listened more. If only you had been brave enough to finally tell your best friend you loved him. If only you were just bold enough to believe that his jealousy was out of fear and not some chauvinistic sign of unspoken ownership. If only you’d have the guts to crawl back and apologise. If only…

If only you’d crashed into him harder and cracked your own skull in the process. Then you wouldn’t have to be standing here, in the middle of a snowing open-air ice rink, with children skating amok, evading the pleads of their exhausted parents; you wouldn’t have to be standing here looking at the stupid face of stupidly endearing Park Jimin, of his stupid red eyes that hinted at not so long before finished crying session, of his stupid mismatched hair, growing dark in the roots and still blond at the tips and most of all you wouldn’t have to be feeling the unmistakable sensation of sheer joy as you were faced with someone whom in anger you swore to hate forever.

Guess that forever didn’t last either.

His hands, red and roughened from the cold, shuttered to a halt, previously occupied with dusting off your coat as he’d bumped into you on the ice, hurtling you painfully through the air.

He wet his dry lips and gently ghosted those dry-ass hands of his over your elbows, wanting to trap you? Hug you?

Either way, you were pissed and the crowd as it turned could be extremely lonely. Snowflakes fell in large clumps from the blackened sky, behind which sprawled the infinite Cosmos. Infinite Cosmos! With planets and galaxies and universes beyond your comprehension so why? Why, oh why, did this man hold so much power over you?!

“Don’t come near me,” you growled. “I don’t want to forgive you!”

Jimin being an obnoxious, catty bastard of an angel leaned into your face, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your nose, his own expression marred with sheer spite.

“So I’m forgiven now?”

There were many things to hate about Jimin. How he made your heart quicken and how well he was aware of that fact. The cocky smile he wore as your face hued in unflattering shades of red. You hated how sad he looked when he was down and how it made you want to ruin the entire world for ever daring to upset him. You were supposed to be unflappable, unapproachable and yet slyly like a creeping cat he had pushed past all those finely built walls to make a home in your heart.

“I’m angry at you!” you curled up your fists only to receive a harsh scowl in return.

“I’m angry at you as well!” Then he smirked because, despite all your talk when his arm wrapped around your waist, you made no effort to remove it.

“Stop doing that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my face makes expressions,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you closer.

Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that winter lights were pretty but they were cold, much like the sun at certain longitudes of the Earth, but currently, you couldn’t possibly get any warmer. Your back was positively sweltering acutely aware of his stable touch and the fine line you so inappropriately were skating on. Friends. Not lovers. Friends. Just friends. Not even friends now, ex-friends! Strangers! But the way he was holding you was of no strangers. Of no friends.

Standing here in this stupid, overpriced ice rink with its stupid golden lights, you felt yourself falter, succumbing to weakness. It was all his fault! So why could you not stop the smile blossoming upon your lips?!

“Park Jimin,” you shoved an accusing finger into his chest that definitely hadn’t been getting more toned as of late. “Will you hold yourself responsible when I experience emotional malfunction?”

“Do you mean feelings?” he clarified, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. “Because if you do, I've been experiencing emotional malfunction for a long time already. I’m the victim here!”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, but you knew that glint in the eye that had nothing to do with the glimmer of the decorations. “Kiss it better why don’t you.’Tis the season of kisses.”

“It’s not.”

“It is now,” he growled and pushed his lips upon yours.

TAEHYUNG: Honestly, of all the crazy moments within the last year, it was this one that made you fully grasp just how wild one’s life could get. Here you were on this shaking metal box, after much snivelling and snarling to get a little piece of paper, cramped in between two sweaty dudes and travelling hundreds of miles per hour just to see someone’s son. Embarrassing. And yet you were trembling inside.

Catching a taxi, you tried not to get overwhelmed by the bustling of this foreign city and instead focused on perfecting the tied ribbon, praising the heavens that it didn’t get too smushed in your carry-on luggage. Your family were more than a little concerned and more than greatly disheartened by you skipping away across the world on winter holidays of all time but anyone with eyes could see - your heart was already long gone to that stranger in your phone.

Naturally, you didn’t enjoy seeing Taehyung so glum but the miserable reply of “Doubt so” to your misleading little “Happy Holidays, dear!” did grant you a bit of selfish cheer. He was missing you.

As the decorated trees and many overrun shops breezed past the car windows, you smiled to yourself, nuzzling into the red scarf he’d gifted you. Though when the time came to rap at his door, after getting through the apartment security, you found a sudden knot forming in your throat. What if he didn’t want you to see you? The plans after all had been seemingly set in stone - you return back home and spend the time there. What if he’d been preparing to go out with friends? What if he wasn’t even home? You’d look even more foolish after going through all this trouble.

Shaking off the nerves, you gathered yourself and knocked before the sliver of cowardice could nestle once again. You could hear Tannie bark on the other side which was a rather good indication he was home and just a second after were elatedly greeted by the sound of slippers shuffling across the floor. You threw a wink at the camera showing his doorstep, barely having the time to jump out of the way when light speed they were thrust into your face.

“You might get stuck that way,” you teased as Taehyung stood in the doorway, floundering for air like fish out of the water.

“I thought you were going home for holidays.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone,” you shrugged. “Don’t say that you’re not - oof!”

With the gentleness of a raging rhinoceros, Taehyung yanked you into his arms, swaying around as though he was hearing his favourite song.

“You didn’t even look at your present,” laying on the bed next to him, you pointed at the still-wrapped gift perched on the nearby bedside table. With an elbow braced against his head, he didn’t even glimpse at the gift or attempted to deny the accusations.

“I will tomorrow,” he promised quietly and you hummed, twirling the button of his loose cardigan that truthfully sat too low on his chest for your mental well being.

“I’m sorry this probably wasn’t the best winter holiday -”

“It is,” he interrupted without blinking, tone gaining such a lilt of fierceness, you raised your head in astoundment.

“Did your wish come true or something?”

“Yes, it did,” he answered simply.

JUNGKOOK: Perching the laundry basket on your hip, you tilted your head to the side, curiously inspecting the green thing attached to the ceiling. You knew Jungkook had his fair share of quirks but putting herbs in the doorway… Shaking your head, you gave a resigned sigh and decided to leave your boyfriend be. But the green thing seemed to haunt you like the world’s shittiest ghost. It wasn’t enough for it to be shoved in a random corner of Jungkook’s own home but soon it invaded yours as well. Waking up, with one cheek pressed against his chest, you shook Jungkook awake, pointing concernedly at the vegetable hovering on the lamp above your head.

“What is that for?” you inquired, confused but he merely smirked, wagging his eyebrows in nothing but the most annoying fashion.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“How would I know?” you grumbled, kicking a leg out of the covers, missing the affronted look Jungkook threw your way, when you missed his puckered up lips.

As the month dragged on, you grew increasingly perplexed at how Jungkook’s green celery seemed to simply appear wherever your eyes strayed to. You were growing half convinced he had these things half a dozen shoved down his pants.

“Yes, mom, I got the correct size,” you defended, trying to spot Jungkook’s car in the underground car park of the hellsite that was a shopping centre during the holiday rush. A black car…in a shopping parking lot...like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. Finally, seeing the correct licence plate, you drew a heavy sigh of relief.

“I’ve got to go, talk to you later!”

Upon getting in, you threw the many bags in the backseat, ready to yap Jungkook’s ears off with some overdue complaining only to fall promptly silent when seeing that piece of kale hanging from the car mirror.

“Ehm…I don’t think it’s an air freshener, Koo,” you gently informed him and he scoffed, lips jutting out in a deeply offended pout.

“What did I do?” you whined, receiving a dirty glare as an answer.

“Do you hate me or something?” he glowered after turning his head to the other side and laying his chin on the steering wheel.

“Why would you say that?”

“You’ve not given me any kisses,” he pointed glumly at his spinach.

“Why would…why would a bundle of herbs equal kisses?” you frowned, failing to see his logic. It wasn’t like it was rare but you’ve never been this confused, especially given how resentful he appeared.

“Herbs-?” then all of a sudden he broke out in roaring laughter, startling you immediately. Clutching at his stomach, Jungkook threw his head against the seat. “Oh my god, I’m in love with a dummy.”

“Don’t call me a dummy!” you insisted. “Explain why artichoke equals kisses?”

Whatever you said set him off even further and loudly clapping, it would seem Jungkook would commit suicide by choking himself with laughter.

“ᵃʳᵗᶦᶜʰᵒᵏᵉ,” he gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks and blissfully ignoring your budding irritation.

“Fucking Elmo laughing ass,” you groused, turning up your nose and hissing when Jungkook pressed a wet kiss against your cheek.

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lovebugdrabbles · 4 months ago

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Soleli Soleli (Neuvillette/Wriothesley oneshot)

notes: hiii this is the first oneshot on this acc :DD i'm glad its a red and blue pair lmfao. this will be posted on ao3 and linked on this post within the next few days under the same name so if that's more your style feel free to take a look for my acc there !! ty for reading in advance and feel free to point out any mistakes i made as this was written over several late nights lol link and textpost below!

summary: Neuvillette is a tired, tired man (?) and gets home late to an early and (sort of) surprise visit from Wriothesley. Jokes, slight pampering and cuddling ensues.

warnings+tags: no warnings, Established Relationship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Wriothesley is called ‘wriothes’ a couple times, i pronounced it like ‘writhes’ in my head but it’s up to reader, multiple petnames and nicknames, i pull french out of my ass, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content,i just made innuendos and jokes, Neuvillette is mentioned to have multiple hearts bc i just watched doctor who also i think its COOL, Implied/Referenced Sex, I need readers to please go into this believing, Wriothesley is in his late 30s early 40s, Oneshot

-----

The Iudex of Fontaine’s footsteps sounded down the empty street, dimly lit only by the lamp posts. The street was quickly darkening more by the gathering clouds, threatening rain despite his attempts to hold it off.

The day had worn him to the bone and his head ached from reading papers, and proposals, and case files galore, causing thunder to sound in the distance much to his dismay. He looked up to realize his doorstep was only a few yards away, to his exhaustion, it felt like miles. He picked up his pace to close the distance and just as those miles had been crossed in speed-walking steps a few raindrops began to fall onto the cobblestones.

He pushed his key into the door and turned it slowly opening the door after hearing the click of the bolt unlocking, just as the rain began to pick up. He pushed his hair back as he walked through the door of his quarters.

He closed the door and locked it for the night. He released a heavy sigh as he leaned back on the door, closing his eyes and drooping his shoulders in defeat. Once composed, he made his way to the living room, where he sat in the armchair closest to the empty fireplace. He laid back in the chair and glanced at a clock on the mantle.

11:47pm.

God, he was home late. He thought about how he would need to go to bed immediately but something about his exhaustion from the day just made him look to the wall and stare in one spot listening to the ringing silence and rain pattering on the windows softly.

As he sat there he realized the ambiance was periodically broken by a faint rumble, this time, not from the sky but from the bedroom down the small hallway.

He sat straighter in his chair and looked towards the hall. He stood slowly, with a puzzled look now furrowing his brow.

He quickly and silently made his way down the hall, passing the bathroom and home office stepping to the slightly ajar door of his room, now understanding the rumble was something in it. He opened the door slowly and looked to his bed where he found a large figure perfectly comfortable in his sheets and snoring away.

Wriothesley.

He had sent word in one of his letters that he’d be visiting and would be arriving tomorrow morning but, lo and behold, here he was, already having made himself at home.

He was in the pants of his nightclothes and he had commandeered Neuvillette's pillow to wrap his arms around as he lay on his side. He would have looked perfectly tranquil if not for his snoring which sounded just as loud as the heavy machinery back in the fortress.

Neuvillette sighed quietly and watched Wriothesley's chest slowly rise and fall, a soft expression washing over his tired face. There was a slight hitch in Wriothesley’s breathing and Neuvillette tilted his head in curiosity but just the same it continued regularly once again.

Suddenly, Wriothesley sat up like a bat out of hell, practically diving for the bedside table where his vision lay. He stopped when he saw the tall figure unfazed beside the bed, illuminated and silver-lined in the moonlight streaming through the windows.

“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley said breathlessly as his face softened and his shoulders drooped

“You’re early,” Neuvillette said chastely.

There was more silence but it was short-lived as Wriothesley's hand grazed the cool stone of his vision and he was thrust back into the moment.

“Shit. I'm sorry, Neuvi." he pulled his hand away and rubbed his eyes, taking the moment to embarrassedly hide his face "I didn’t even–”

"No, no, I shouldn't have been… staring.” Neuvillette looked away and hesitated to admit he was watching, admiring even. “You looked very peaceful.”

Wriothesley exhaled out his nose and smiled, reaching out a hand to which Neuvillette gladly took and gave a soft squeeze.

“You were watching me?” Wriothesley said teasingly as he squeezed back

Neuvillette cracked a smile “Perhaps I was,” he said as he sat down on the bed next to Wriothesley, sitting perpendicularly “Or perhaps I was just investigating who decided to break into my room?”

Wriothesley chuckled as Neuvillette rested his hand on his

“It’s not breaking in if you said I was welcome anytime and if I have a key.”

Neuvillette rolled his eyes and grabbed a hold of Wriothesley's fingers, giving another soft squeeze and a relieved sigh

"Rough day huh?" Wriothesley asked, giving a squeeze and rubbing his thumb gently on Neuvillette’s hand

"Archons was it ever.” he looked to Wriothesley lamely

Wriothesley smiled sympathetically "You look beat, sweetheart. Why don't you get dressed and come lay down?”

“I feel… beat.” Neuvillette said quietly

Wriothesley chuckled at his wording “You really are tired. Go put on your pajamas, doll.”

Neuvillette rolled his eyes at the man in the bed and stood up, still softly holding on to Wriothesley's hand. Neuvillette feigned to let go as he walked towards the closet but, he knew he couldn't hold on forever. He let Wriothesley’s hand fall but still, Wriothesley smiled softly as he watched Neuvillette disappear into the closet.

Neuvillette made quick work of his day clothes, throwing his shirt and pants into a hamper and hanging his overcoat. He unbuttoned his spats painstakingly and threw his dress shoes to the side with them.

He threw on a nightgown just long enough to hit his knees and glanced at his reflection in the floor-length mirror as he instinctively brushed the front of the nightgown as if to get rid of invisible crumbs or dirt, before starting for the doorway and peeking out quietly.

Wriothesley was laid on his back, now no longer snoring, just breathing softly, one arm resting over his eyes, the other resting on his waist; Neuvillette’s pillow now discarded and lying in the empty area of the bed.

Neuvillette stepped out quietly to the vanity where a brush and hair ties sat and took a seat on the stool.

Neuvillette carefully removed his barrettes and opened a small box placing it inside next to others similar to them, before grabbing the brush and beginning to detangle his hair. As he combed through his locks behind him he heard Wriothesley inhale deeply. Neuvillette looked behind him in the mirror watching as Wriothesley sat up and swung his legs off the bed before he stood and stretched.

“What are you doing?” Neuvillette asked quietly, turning to face Wriothesley

“I’m helping you,” Wriothesley said, cracking his knuckles as he stepped closer

“You don't have to. I do it every night, it's nothing I'm not accustomed to.” Neuvillette tried to protest

Wriothesley rolled his eyes “Come on, let me help. Just this once? ”

“Fine, fine,” Neuvillette raised his hands defensively brush still in hand

Neuvillette held out the brush to Wriothesley who grabbed it with a soft smile growing on his face. He undid the tie on the end of the silver hair and began to brush the soft strands, carefully minding the horn-like tendrils. There were very few tangles but he was just glad to oblige Neuvillette’s habits and maybe it didn't hurt to get a bit of fun out of it himself.

Wriothesley sat the brush down and began running his fingers through the soft strands and scratching Neuvillette’s scalp. The silver-haired man closed his eyes and shivered as Wriothesley went upwards and back from under his scalp with his fingers.

Mostly for his own enjoyment, Wriothesley made a note to scratch behind Neuvillette’s ears prompting more shivers. Wriothesley chuckled and smirked as he continued, now running his hands through Neuvillette's hair to pick through any knots he made before repeating the process a few times; taking care to scratch gently and slowly.

After a short while, Neuvillette's shoulders were no longer stiffened and his posture had relaxed, allowing him a bit of slouch.

He would have continued playing with his hair for the rest of eternity if he could, gently scratching and massaging occasionally making a new parting to attempt a new style but, he understood it was late and downtrodden-ly picked the brush up to detangle the Iudex’s hair once more so he could braid it.

He counted in his head as he brushed; 1, all the way to 50. 50 brushes in the morning and 50 brushes at night before braiding it. 100 a day at the very least.

Wriothesley brushed his hair a bit more than 50 times and made quick work of Neuvillette's hair, dividing it into 3 and stacking the strands one after the other. He grabbed the ribbon off the vanity and tied a small bow to the end of the braid, satisfied with his work.

He moved Neuvillette's braid over his shoulder and leaned down to press a kiss on the back of Neuvillette's neck. He pressed a few more, and Neuvillette sighed and tilted his head. Wriothesley smirked and pressed a few more softly before moving closer.

“Yknow, the night is still young and I mean, we do have the first half of the day off… we could always…” Wriothesley adjusted to whisper in Neuvillette's ear “...mess around a bit.”

Neuvillette shivered again and chuckled, “Wriothes, while I do enjoy our escapades; I… really am exhausted tonight. I'm sorry, Amour.” Neuvillette turned slightly, “Another time?”

“Of course, doll.” Wriothesley rested his hands on Neuvillette’s shoulders “More energy for next time, anyways right?.” He pressed a kiss to Neuvillette's cheek and looked at him in the mirror with a smirk.

“Are you sure?”

“Sweetheart, if I was truly that desperate I could always read your letters– and y’know, with your particular detail, it's almost as good as the real thing.” Wriothesley waggled his brows and his smirk widened to a grin

Neuvillette gave a playfully unimpressed look and Wriothesley pressed another kiss, this time, to the side of his forehead.

“Let’s lay down before I decide never to send you another letter, hmm?” Neuvillette said patting one of Wriothesley’s hands

“Hey now let’s not go that far.” Wriothesley laughed, pulling away to stretch as Neuvillette stood.

They shuffled towards Neuvillette's bed, Wriothesley settling into his previous spot and very reluctantly handing Neuvillette his pillow back as he settled into his own side of the mattress.

Once they had stopped shifting around, Neuvillette gingerly reached his hand across the small space between them in the bed, wrapping their pinkies to test the waters before softly grasping their hands together.

A cool silence settled over the quiet room.

“If you really wanted to, could we do something quick?” Neuvillette said quietly, looking over to Wriothesley

“Not if you’re tired, sweetheart. There's always another time.” Wriothesley gave Neuvillette's hand a squeeze and turned to look at him with a soft smile.

“Are you sure? You kissed my neck more than a few times. You always kiss my neck when–”

“Yes, Neuvillette.” Wriothesley interjected with another squeeze of his hand, a bit of pink tinging his face at the mortifying thought of one of his tells being known, and one of the more intimate ones at that

The room went quiet after he said that. Wriothesley turned to lay on his side now fully facing Neuvillette who was looking away to the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong technically but. it had been a few weeks since we…” Neuvillette hesitated “and couples do cite these types of issues all the time for reasons to disband relationships.” Neuvillette looked away again

“We don't have to do anything just because I'm here,” Wriothesley paused and gave a soft squeeze and smiled “It’s a… non-issue.”

“I understand that but I feel bad saying no. Especially since you’re visiting.”

The clock on the vanity began taunting Wriothesley in the growing silence. tick. tick. Speak. tick. boy. Tick. speak. tick. tick. tick.

Wriothesley reached for Neuvillette’s hand again, taking it in a gentlemanly fashion, ghosting his thumb over the other’s pale knuckles, hesitant to touch the soft skin with his calloused digits. Neuvillette looked back from staring holes into the ceiling.

A question unasked nipped at Wriothesley’s heels and breathed down his neck as Neuvillette stared into him. Wriothesley dreaded the answer to his question but if he didn't ask how could he know?

“Did I do something to make you feel that way?” Wriothesley hesitated

“No.” Neuvillette said, immediately and breathlessly “You’ve done nothing.”

Neuvillette held Wriothesley’s hand with both of his, grasping softly. Wriothesley looked back, his eyes now looking polished and slightly bloodshot, a confused look still pooling in them.

“I think I may be… letting my work get to my head and… I’m sorry.” Neuvillette said dejectedly, “I shouldn't let my work interfere with my personal life.”

“You don't need to apologize. Your job is hard and… it’s a valid fear in some–” Wriothesley hesitated “Relationships… The topic should have been brought up when we started getting more serious, but we never really… said ‘no’ to anything… ”

“I think it was just an oversight. We’re both just," Neuvillette took a long inhale “Exhausted.”

“You’re telling me…” Wriothesley trailed, looking down and softly rubbing Neuvillette’s knuckles, less afraid of the roughness and now just longing to feel Neuvillette “Maybe we'll feel better after some shut-eye?”

“One would hope,” Neuvillette said, quietly watching Wriothesley’s digits smooth over his skin. “Let’s lay down.”

They let go of one another's hands to settle back into the bed. Another silence settled over the room and the clock kept ticking. Neuvillette stretched slowly to interlock their pinkies, testing the waters before jumping in the deep end.

Wriothesley obliged and Neuvillette soon after moved to interlock their fingers to which Wriothesley once again allowed. They stayed there awkwardly waiting for the silence to no longer sting so harshly, but Wriothesley was the first to succumb to the deafening roar growing.

“We don't just have to hold hands...” Wriothesley said quietly “That’s not an innuendo to be clear.” he added

Neuvillette chuckled and Wriothesley relished in the sound, almost physically feeling his pupils turn into anatomically incorrect hearts. He could have sworn the room brightened with that laugh.

“Please, come here,” Neuvillette said, pulling Wriothesley's hand to him and beginning to move closer, Wriothesley, following suit immediately.

At that one sentence, they reached for one another like they were flailing in the sea. Wrapping arms, intertwining and tangling legs, with soft rubs on any piece of exposed skin, just content to once again know the touch of the other.

The salt and pepper-haired man felt his body relax as he clung onto his life jacket in the sea of the bed. He made himself comfortable just above Neuvillette's chest, listening to the soft thumping rhythms. He felt a wave of tiredness sweep over him as he lay there, disappointingly reminding him that he wouldn't be awake to fully enjoy holding onto the Iudex for much longer.

To remedy himself, Wriothesley closed his eyes taking a deep breath, re-familiarizing himself with the familiar scent of faded lavender soap and cologne while he was still awake, giving a soft squeeze of his arms.

“You missed me.” Neuvillette said quietly

Wriothesley chuckled softly and Neuvillette was almost positive he felt his hearts skip a beat like a love-struck schoolgirl, giddy she had made her playground crush laugh.

“I always miss you,” Wriothesley mumbled

“As do I,” Neuvillette said quietly

Wriothesley smiled and nudged Neuvillette, prompting him to softly place a kiss on Wriothesley’s head before settling to rest his chin in Wriothesley's hair. He also took in a deep breath, prompting another laugh from Wriothesley, who was then playfully poked by Neuvillette’s chin.

The clock ticked quietly, now only doing its job rather than patronizing the two of them, the sound of the ticks and the other’s breathing lulling them to sleep for the night.

Hours later, the morning cold seeped into the room making Wriothesley slowly aware of his surroundings and the soft ache in his bones. Their limbs had untangled in the night but Wriothesley could feel Neuvillette had still managed to keep a hold of him, softly grasping his toned arm.

He listened to the soft breathing from the sovereign just inches away from him as he lay in bed, thinking fondly of how Neuvillette always held on somewhere be it, a hand, an arm, his waist, or even his pajamas, and once; his calf.

Satisfied with his observations his eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the soft sunlight streaming through the windows. Glancing around the room, he made note of the clock on the dresser that so agonized him last night and squinted to read the hands of the clock. It was 9-something by the looks of it.

He yawned quietly, stretching his free arm and legs. He gently tried to pull his arm out of Neuvillette’s grasp without waking him but as soon as he began to pull it free, Neuvillette inhaled softly and fluttered his eyes open, grabbing at air.

“It’s just me, doll. You’re fine,” he said quietly, sleep still dripping from his words as he turned over to his side.

He took Neuvillette's hand in a gentlemanly fashion, slowly raising it to press a few kisses to Neuvillette's knuckles with a sleepy grin.

“Good morning,” Neuvillette said softly, sleep still clinging to his vocal cords, blinking a few times, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning,” Wriothesley said before leisurely pressing another kiss

“Did you sleep well ?” Neuvillette asked, now gaining his bearings

“That was the best sleep I had in weeks…” he said lowering their hands “Seriously.”

Neuvillette’s lips curled to a smile and hummed at the remark.

“I'm inclined to say the same, so much so that… I don't want to get out of bed.” Neuvillette said, pulling his hand away and turning around to scoot closer and be spooned by Wriothesley.

Wriothesley chuckled as he gladly snaked an arm around Neuvillette’s waist, his hand then taking hold of the top of Neuvillette’s hand.

“I'm sure we could make that happen,” Wriothesley said, snuggling closer and closing his eyes again, more than willing to drift back to sleep.

“Hmm… It would be pleasant, but…” Neuvillette paused “I do seem to recall you saying something about more strength for the next ‘escapade’” Neuvillette said nonchalantly, scooting his hips back and into Wriothesley’s pelvis.

Wriothesley’s eyes popped open and he blinked a few times but he regained his foothold and smirked.

“I suppose I did.” he said with a kiss to the back of Neuvillette's neck and a hum “and I recall a few things that you said you’d just love to make good on in those particularly-detailed letters of ours...”

He pressed another smirking kiss to the side of Neuvillette’s neck and Neuvillette grinned as he raised a hand to hold Wriothesley's face as he continued.

“Touché, mon amour,”

-----

end notes: tysm for reading!! hope you enjoyed :)) my requests for hcs posts and asks are always open feel free to drop in wheneverrr

#wriolette fluff fic #wriolette #neuvithesley #wriothesley x neuvillette #genshin impact #genshin impact fanart #wriothesley #neuvillette

12 notes · View notes

atxxzist · 2 years ago

Text

broken | c.s (06)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 8.6k

warning: suggestive, idk what else but do lmk if i missed sum!

"so, want to play a few frames?" jongho asks.

though you considered the idea, you still weren't one-hundred percent sure about this 'double date', having told yuna you still needed some time, but she managed to drag you to the local bowling alley, squeezing you into the tightest dress she owns.

it feels like you're being suffocated because not is it only incredibly tight, but also a size too small.

"we could, but, i've never played before."

"oh, thank goodness," he says in relief, "me neither. but you know, protocols and whatnot."

a nervous smile emerges from him and you giggle in response, attention quickly batting to yuna and minhyuk by one of the lanes all flirty smiles and heart eyes, trying to act like they're interested in the game but you know it's the last thing on their mind.

when you first saw minhyuk, his sharp eyes and prominent features were the first thing you noticed.

he's handsome, in an overly intimidating way that probably has fathers pointing fingers and telling their daughters this is the kind of guy they need to stray far from.

which is why you expected his friend to be equally as alarming, only for the softest looking boy you've ever seen to pop out from behind him in parted black hair and puppy-like visual.

he's also an entire grade younger than you.

"you have a boyfriend, or?" his sudden question catching you offguard, unable to help the laughter that slips off.

"i don't," you reply casually. it might be because he's younger that allows for you to relax a little and not feel so tense around someone new and unfamiliar.

"ah, okay. just trying to minimize the risks of possibly getting a black eye, if i, by any chance, happen to hit on you."

another laughter pours at the silly comment.

"if i had a boyfriend, i wouldn't be here."

"oh, true. in that case, i hope you're ready to hear all the bad pick-up lines i've been waiting to use."

you roll your eyes, trying the very best to reframe from breaking out into an amused smile at the boy's attempt. the stark contrast to the one you're used to, because it's so innocent and it doesn't make you feel a little sick afterward.

his silly antics continues to entertain you, a giggle finally leaving along with a big smile plastered on your lips, you wouldn't even think of the possibility of someone watching a little too closely.

but san having arrived long enough to catch the exchange and occupying a booth far in the back, leans into the ear of the girl he came with, spewing a combination of words that brings out a smirk in her before really excusing himself.

"ok, you tell me which one sounds lamer--" jongho is rambling on when a figure comes into his peripheral vision, pausing midway to glare out of curiosity, one eyebrow raising at the person standing before him.

"san? you asshole, is that you?"

your breathing cuts short, head turning around so fast at the name that makes your heartbeat multiply. because it couldn't possibly be your san, right?

but lo and behold, there he is in all flesh and bones--it's those lips you kissed a couple days ago, and he's perfect just as you remember, going on to take a seat beside jongho while nudging him playfully to make space.

"i knew it was this fucker as soon as i stepped foot into the place," san says, a smile too warm on his lips.

jongho snickers and scoots over a little.

"what gave it away? my incredibly handsome look?"

san returns a snicker but with more edge. "the violence i suddenly felt at seeing your annoying face."

"real funny, choi number one. considering you came all the way over here, i'd say you even missed me a little."

"wrong. i came here for y/n."

the way your smile drops from their small banter when san immediately looks your direction is not even funny.

you want to comment on what a small world it is, that your blind date happens to know san, but the only thing that comes out is you in a stuttering mess and muttering out such a rhetorical question.

"y-you guys know each other?" stupid. of course they do.

san looks like he's going to say something but the younger boy beats him to it.

"he attended the same high school."

"right," san adds, "and jongho here, had a thing for playing hero and making my life all more difficult."

jongho chuckles it off and leans back, crossing his arms.

"i was on the school committee. i mean, i still am," he states almost too proudly, "and i was the one who busted this asshole for vaping on school ground."

san quirks his lips to the side with a shrug.

"student life was stressful," is all he says.

"yeah yeah. and somehow i became choi number two just because he's older."

"also because you're a little bitch that got me put on community service my last year of high school. an enemy situation throughout."

jongho stands back up to straighten his posture.

"i object. more like a little enemies turned friends, no? i think we got along fine during the last few weeks of school."

"that's only because i was tolerating your ass and school was ending."

a scoff accompanies jongho as he turns to you.

"somewhere in that cold heart of his, i know he has a soft spot for me." he smiles and you can't help but giggle, missing the way san quickly scans the amount of skin you're showing, along with the kind of dress he thinks you should wear more often.

"so, from what i'm hearing, we're all acquaintances here?" jongho continues.

san has to pry his eyes away while yours shoot to him when he hums out a low note in response.

"well, maybe you and y/n are. but i'm sure i mean more to her than that."

he delivers you a look, something so playful but with a hidden mystery to them that is all more attractive because of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

you don't know what all of it means but he just might be trying to get the upper hand against the younger boy who's even more clueless than you are.

"definitely not her boyfriend, at least. she told me she doesn't have one."

a light pink blush crawls onto your cheeks, growing shy from something that is as a matter of factly, true; having only made it known not even that long ago to said boy.

san chuckles at the sight, the smirk that was there before turning into an amused smile that's just a little addicted to the flush on your face.

"oh, did she now?" he mumbles; an edge to his voice the same time his lips quirk to the side so handsomely.

but jongho doesn't miss a single thing. not the look in san's eyes--a familiar one he's seen far too many times, and definitely not the lovesick symptom on your cheeks.

"you sly mother fucker," he hisses, shaking his head.

"you see, y/n. this is the kind of guy you stay away from."

san laughs, dimissing the boy's remark and playing it off as something lighthearted though it was said with just the smallest kind of cautious undertone like a warning.

"while guys like minhyuk, they might look like they got some shady shit going on, but let me tell you, that guy donates to the animal shelters a few times a year."

you swipe another glance at your roommate and her date from the comment, a smile so wide on minhyuk's face when yuna scores a strike.

"pfft," san blows with a faint eye roll, you turning back to stare at the two in front. "and what kind of guy would you be?" sarcasm in his delivery.

jongho sneers, a confident smile on his expression.

"exactly the kind y/n over here would love to get to know."

san laughs loud and amused, the sound so harmonious to your ear, you wouldn't mind hearing it every single day if given the chance.

your stomach still flutters a little at jongho's words, the silliness that was present before seemingly fading out replaced by a more stern tone that overtakes him.

"i'm sure y/n doesn't date little kids," san snarks, a smirk on him from beating down the younger boy.

"only a couple more months and i'll be of legal age, i'm sure she doesn't mind the wait."

the snicker that escapes you can't be helped, flattered by his attempts but still unable to take him seriously just because he's younger and might just be doing it to piss san off.

"and when is that, if you don't mind me asking," you bring up, genuinely wanting to know and not just because you'll wait for him.

"october the 12th!"

"ah," you softly mumble. "i'll be sure to write it down."

jongho looks to be in awe, haven't really thought that you would take it so literally.

"really?"

you nod, a thin smile drawing on your lips.

"in that case, i should ask for yours, too. when is your birthday, y/n?"

san watches the exchange the entire time with intrigued ears and eyes, at first annoyed by the younger boy who always know how to ruffle a few feathers, but what takes his breath away is how relaxed you are when conversing with jongho.

a side of you he's only seen when you're with your friends; something more lively and carefree, a complete contrast to how tense you always are around him.

but when jongho asks that question, it's the sinking realization that he doesn't know it, too. not just your birthday, but also anything else about you besides your body.

he doesn't remember a single time he's asked you any questions if it wasn't for his own personal benefits.

so why, why the fuck is he suddenly having this crisis and mulling over not knowing enough about you just because you're nosy and want to know more about him. especially when it's something so small and stupid like birthdays.

even when you tell jongho with such a shy smile on your face, uttering the month and day, he knows it will fly over his head later. he's never been good at remembering these kind of things anyways.

"i am going to be sure to remember it!" jongho states with determination, san being unfazed and knowing for sure the boy will because if there's one thing to know about him, it's that he has an annoyingly good memory.

"but say, y/n, you're having a birthday party, would you rather it be at the park or at your grandparents' house?"

"now, why the fuck would you do it at your grandparents' house?" san finally speaks up, his comment earning a low chuckle from you.

jongho groans in agreement. "that's what i told my mom!"

"i guess i'm with the both of you," you say softly, "though i probably don't have the best judgment. i-i don't really celebrate birthdays."

jongho's eyes stills as they keep open, the atmosphere dropping silent until he subtly starts talking again, "oh? how come?"

you never even knew birthdays were deemed such a special occasion; it being celebrated with friends and families all around, happy for that one day that you grow a year older.

the only birthdays you knew of wasn't anything special at all.

it wasn't until mingi invited you to a party of his that freshman year of high school that you learned birthdays aren't supposed to be spent in the small space of your tiny room alone, or trying to guess which parent you'll end up being shipped to next year.

"just something my family never did much, i guess," you simplify, and jongho nods along with an understanding hum.

"they're really not all that," san chips in, both yours and jongho's heads snapping his direction. "waste of money and time."

jongho takes offense, his expression twisting in response.

"okay there, edgelord. someone obviously never got invited to birthday parties as a kid."

"like hell i'd go," san snarks.

jongho rolls his eyes and moves his focus back to you.

"anyways. i will be taking the college entrance exam later this year, and if i don't get into yonsei, you just might see me around after i become of age," he announces somewhat jokingly but with the smallest chance that he means it.

san's husky and unbelievable laughter bursts from beside him, wanting to roll his eyes all the way to the back of his head, knowing the younger boy is playing it up.

"isn't it past your curfew," he remarks, totally out of topic but just eager to take a jab at the innapropriateness of it all considering jongho's age.

jongho furrows his eyebrows and actually checks his phone, an annoyed look on him once he registers the blow.

"you liar. it's only nine."

san scoffs, a little satisfied smirk at the corner of his lips.

"my curfew is at ten, i will tell you!"

the boys continues to make small, harmless insults to one up one another while you watch on the side, officially becoming a third wheel but the sight is too endearing for a subtle smile to not crack.

eventually, you have to use the restroom; sparing one last glance at yuna before excusing yourself to ask one of the workers.

this one is a little bigger; a few stalls at least and has two sinks. but while washing your hands, all you're able to think about is san back there and how it was the most you've gotten to know about him without having to ask.

maybe it's the magic of jongho and his more childish, laidback persona that allowed for not just you, but san as well, to show a more playful side of him. nothing like the man you've become accustomed to who's a little more calculating in his nature.

having watched as he fooled with the younger boy, wrestling and tickling him with a certain competitiveness that brings out a cute giggle that makes him look so approachable, exactly the kind of guy you think your aunt and uncle would approve of.

from a mere glance, no one would be able to tell this is the guy currently breaking your heart; the one having planted so many doubts in your head, he doesn't even bother to call or text anymore after having made clear what this is between you and him.

because unless you seek him out first, you won't hear from him. and it's been three days since the last time you were at his place, breathing underneath him and feeling so much pleasure, only to regret it later, swearing on your life this is the worst feeling ever and you're not sure if you can do it again.

you just didn't think, especially during a time where you're supposed to be forgetting about him--your face full of makeup products you usually wouldn't wear and a dress too tight hugging your body, that he'd show up so handsome and charming; all kinds of reminder why you returned the two times before and why it won't be the last.

about ready to go back, you're only a few inches out the door when a pair of hand latches onto your shoulders, pushing you back in against the counter, your eyes looking up into the one person capable of cornering you like this.

"hey," san utters, a coy smile on his lips as his hands releases from your shoulders and settles on the counter, trapping you inbetween.

you tense up a little, shifting in your spot and managing to reply through your trembling voice.

"h-hey."

he quirks an eyebrow before a smaller laughter bubbles out, one hand going to move the strands covering your eyes the way he always does.

"what's the matter? i haven't seen you in three days." his chest relaxes a little and his shoulders drop, inching even closer to you.

it's like once he really got that out of the way, everything starts leaking to the surface as well. everything about who this man really is and how he's nothing alike to the sweet, considerate boy you bumped into back at the party who helped you.

it's an awful discovery.

but what's worse is whenever you look at him, beyond his exterior and closed-off nature, you think there's a person underneath that you would love to know.

someone who has a story of his own; a story you would love to listen to if given the chance.

but that's always been your downfall. because when you love, you love hard. and maybe you didn't completely love junseo, but when someone is yours and you're theirs, you give them your entire heart.

and someone like san, someone so unattainable with his coy eyes and dimply smiles that always turn you a few shade redder, you think it would be nice if he was yours and you were his... because you would undoubtly love him wholeheartedly.

"i was busy," you tell him, swallowing down the pit that is both nervous but excited at whatever's about to come.

"that's fine," he dismisses it along with a low buzz under his breath, eyes quick to drool over the amount of exposed skin he's been dying to touch all night.

he's never seen you in this kind of outfit before. you were usually covered in three layers of clothing that was always annoying to take off.

"how did you know it was me?" you ask, playing dumb to the sight of his bottom lip in between his teeth.

he has to rip his attention away to meet your stoic eyes at the question, murmuring, "huh?"

"you told jongho you came over because of me, or was that--" a lie, too?

"--no, no, beautiful." he shakes his head, both hands caressing over your cheeks. "of course i was telling the truth. i knew from the hair and from the mole on your right shoulder."

san might not know a lot of things about you. not even the basics of your favorite movie or your dream, and he's not even sure if he remembers your birthday although you just told them not even that long ago, but he knows your body and all the ins and outs of it.

how your lips taste like, how pretty your boobs are, and how exactly to get you to cum. he knows all the faces you make during sex, and what to say and how to say it just so he can see that color on your cheeks that he likes a little too much.

and he definitely could spot that soft, silky texture of hair that had a big likelihood of it being yours.

he was only maybe seventy-percent confident at first, but the closer he got to the table, catching that mole on your shoulder he's gotten used to seeing, he knew it was you for sure.

"oh..." you say defeatedly, unable to wrap your head around the fact that san can actually recall something about you.

"what's wrong? you're not actually thinking about waiting for jongho and disappointed that i showed?"

your lips forms a pout, shaking your head.

"no. it's not that."

he chuckles, always having enjoyed backing you into a corner as if that's ever been hard to do.

"good. because he already left. his mommy called."

"oh..."

"yeah," he repeats, a tone so satisfied about the fact he's the only person for you at the moment. no chances of anyone else stealing your attention away; not even a pestering high schooler who lives to annoy him but also has the possibility of developing the smallest crush on you.

one of his hands suddenly snakes to your hip, settling on it with a light squeeze that makes you jolt up; the closer he leans in, the more your back presses against the edge of the counter.

"you look so fucking hot like this," he hisses, eyes once again unashamedly checking you out.

"it's yuna's dress."

"well, you should wear yuna's dresses more often."

his hand at your hip fumbles with the material, bottom lip caught in between his teeth again when it comes over just how perfect it fits over your figure.

silence eats up the air until he looks up and catches your gaze in his, staring at him like you're just waiting to be wrecked the same way he's always done it. a smirk crawls onto him and with one lift of your chin, you're both kissing and making out like it'll be the last time.

your arms are thrown around his neck immediately, and he's come to love the fact that you're starting to strip away that shy, hesitated act the more these sessions happen.

his hands that were on your hips are now all over your body as he nearly backs your head into the mirror, barely able to plant a kiss on your jawline when the sound of distant footsteps outside pries him away, staring into your horrified eyes at the thought of being caught in this position.

he shushes you, index finger to his lips and drags you away to the nearest stall, his back against the door and you breathing hard on his chest.

a pair of female voices echoes through the room, a conversation you don't really catch because your waist is wrapped around by one of san's arms while his other one travels down the bare of your skin, landing on your ass and squeezing it with a sadistic smirk on his lips.

you would've yelped if not for the current situation, in turn settling for a soft push to his chest that brings out that smile you so much despise because you hate how adorable it is and how dangerous it is on a man like san.

all you hear is the sink running and a few pops like something opening, maybe to reapply their makeups but is it drowned out by san's lips on yours and you at first unsure about making out in a restroom stall, but soon enough, you're gripping at his shirt and forgetting about all consequences.

you don't even realize the two are gone until san pulls away and the quietness of it all confirms it's only you and him again.

"let's take it back to the dorm?"

and you would've impulsively said yes, if not for your conscious serving as a reminder of the existence of your roommate who you came with.

"i want to, but, i came with yuna..."

"i'm sure she'll understand."

you used jongho as an excuse; your partner having gone home and all leaving there nothing to do. yuna didn't seem to mind, head occupied and infatuated with her date.

as soon as you're both off the elevator, his lips is on yours and your hands are running through his black hair, grateful for the late hours that has less students running around the building.

because it would truly be shameful if someone is to catch you two in this state, so high drunk off of lust, the key in your hold struggling to fit from your shaken hand.

but once you get it to open, you're both in immediately and the door behind is slammed shut, your back already touching the sheet of your bed and he's hovering on top once again diving down to kiss you.

his hand is fast to make an appearance under the skirt of your dress, kneading the soft skin of your thighs and traveling to the top of your underwear. you made sure to wear one alike to safety shorts.

while he works your undergarment, you pull at his shirt that rides up his toned abs, but you only make it about halfway before a sound in the pocket of his pants go off.

he ignores it the first time, but then comes the second.

a groan loosely escapes the tip of his tongue, having to break the kiss to stand on his knees, one hand rummaging his pockets.

you sit up with elbows planting the mattress and watch as his once annoyed expression dissipates at whatever is on the screen, his eyes even swelling a bit.

clearing his throat and shoving it back where he got it from, you can sense the change of demeanor, his body language giving away that he now wants to be out of here.

climbing off your bed as you stare with a disappointed sadness in your eyes, he finally speaks the dreaded words.

"hey, beautiful, i uhm... i gotta go." he awkwardly fidgets in his spot when telling you that, looking so out of place.

"oh..." you voice lowly, sitting up and scooting until your legs are hanging off the side of the bed, not bothering to hide the disappointment.

he attempts to put on a smile; try to make all of this hurt a little less, walking forward and placing a kiss on your forehead.

"i'll call you."

and when he leaves, you don't feel any better or any worse. the feeling is always the same; a deep hollow pain in your chest that makes you feel like an empty shell of a person.

why do you keep subjecting yourself to this kind of treatment? a part of you aware to the great possibility that the only reason he asked to come to your place was for this exact reason.

saying he has to go or that something came up is easier to lie about than straight kicking you out. and someone like san always know how to play his cards so he can lessen the blow.

so perhaps it's his adorable smile; the way your heart always flutter at the sight of him, and whenever he talks, you want to listen to him forever.

that stupid ounce of hope you so foolishly hang onto, wishing one day he'll come around because you're even more stupid to have faith in him.

facts about choi san.

1. birthday: july 10th 2. favorite color: purple 3. major cat lover 4. deathly afraid of bugs 5. was on community service senior year of high school

when san called earlier, asking if you can come to his place some time in the late morning, you know it's a bad idea.

you have already set a time and place to meet with yeosang at noon because the second exam is approaching fast, and shortly after, you have to leave for work, your schedule having been moved up the one weekday you don't have any class because your supervisor wants you to experience an actual classroom setting instead of the after school kids you've been watching.

the job proved to be a lot more than just being a teacher's aide, granted you told them you couldn't really work mornings because of being a college student and all.

but you haven't seen him since that night, and his promise of calling having came true filling you with that temporary feeling of joy and excitement, convincing yourself it doesn't hurt to see him for a bit as you rush over to his place.

but when you arrive at the scene, the new sight of his door left slightly opened along with what sounds like feet shuffling around tells you you're not going to get to see san today.

"no, because you're literally always fucking like this!"

you flinch at the sudden high volume of a voice you recognize as it fills san's apartment.

"you bring your shit into my house and i'm always the one who has to clean it up."

and though you've only met him a few times, you know it belongs to wooyoung.

"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"

the sink in your chest is heavy and the beating of your heart is loud; it's an awful revelation that the topic of conversation is... you.

"you don't. no matter who she's friends with or related to, you don't look at someone and think they're the next pretty little thing you're going to ruin."

you listen in closely, a silence that gauges the air making your breath catch inside your throat at the suspense.

you know it's wrong, but turning back doesn't seem to be much of an option especially when it's about you. it's only a given you'd be nosy.

following the silence is a heaved sigh before there's another round of feet walking in place.

"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."

it's san's voice, shortly followed by a sarcastic, dry laughter from wooyoung.

"that's what you always say, choi. that it's their fault; they knew what they were getting into, when you know damn well what you're fucking doing."

he pauses to catch his breath, not done just yet.

"so either get your shit sorted or stop messing with the girl because the last thing i want is a room full of death stares and resentment because my friend is a grade a asshole. i did this shit for you in high school but i'm starting to get real tired of it."

you don't get the chance to process the whirls of emotion attacking all at once, the direction of the footsteps sounding like they're headed for the door and you just assume the worst--that it's wooyoung leaving, scuttling away before you can be seen.

when you return to the dorm, the first thing you do is text san with an excuse that something came up. you wouldn't tell him you overheard a conversation that makes you sick to the stomach, so many conflicted thoughts running loose.

surely wooyoung would have suspected something (it's not like you guys were that good at hiding it), but you're also not close to him like that, which leads you to believe the outburst had more to do with yunho and mingi than you.

"well, how was i supposed to know that she's friends with yunho and mingi and that you would end up liking them so much?"

and you're not sure what's worse; having one of your friends tattletale to wooyoung to get san off your back, or that one (if not both) of them knew this whole time.

all those excuses and attempts at being discreet probably looked pathetic to whoever knew it was just so you can fall into the arms of a boy who doesn't care for you in the slightest; who lies to your face and messes with your head.

"i don't know what you want me to do? if she didn't want it as well, i wouldn't be doing it."

you're still not in a good headspace by the time you have to meet yeosang, which is literally just an hour after you were supposed to be seeing san.

he's in the far back of the cafe, eyes and nose stuck to a textbook and looking like he's absolutely going to ace this upcoming test.

you on the other hand, is absolutely pissed off your mind the more you keep lingering on it, coupled with the fact that there wasn't even enough time to actually get over it beforehand.

but why couldn't they just talk it out with you first? why did it have to jump straight into telling wooyoung about your business?

and also why the fuck are you not more upset at san? you should be. you need to be. it's evident he planned it all from the start and never really had any good intentions with you.

it's funny how you found all of this out while at his doorstep; maybe the only good thing to have came from it is you didn't end up in his bed (today at least).

but you suppose san being a walking red flag you should stay away from is the equivalent of beating a dead horse at this rate.

the tension is written all over your face when you take a seat across from yeosang, him looking up to quirk an eyebrow.

"hey?"

"hey."

"you sure you don't want to come over here?"

you briefly recall how anal he was about it last time when you sat across, so without further protests, you stand up to go plop down next to him, an irritated sigh departing without much thoughts but it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"well... okay," he mutters under his breath, wondering who or what managed to tick you off knowing it's not him this time. he's only said a few words so far.

quick to dismiss it because of the limited time, he pulls the neglected laptop into his view, navigating to the school site.

"he made a study guide, we can go over that."

and he really is trying; this being the second time, even gave you somewhat of a proper greeting without any snarks or additional comments, but what bothers him more than your already less than stellar arrival, is your lack of participation.

eyes and ears not even following along and head entirely elsewhere.

mind you, he had to push his schedule back just to come here.

"something wrong? if there's anything bothering you or you have somewhere to be, you can tell me."

"it's nothing."

"sure looks like something because i doubt you heard a single thing."

you knit your brows together, arms crossing over one another as you glare at him.

"blade server: type of server that exists in the form of a single circuit board," you repeat the last term he was going over, even slightly imitating the way he said it.

he chuckles wryly.

"well, you heard one of them at least," he says; some kind of satisfaction that graces the corner of his lips with a faint smirk.

you roll your eyes, moving your attention to one of the paintings hanging on the wall, trying to reframe from bursting because you're still not over what you just heard not even that long ago.

"isn't it tiring?"

your head snaps back to him, confusion overtaking your expression.

"what is?"

"this shy, reserved act of yours whenever you're with others. with your friends, with that guy, san. do they know you're this overbearing in actuality?"

"excuse me?" your voice high in disbelief.

he cocks his head a little.

"or perhaps, that's what it is. you only act like that around guys like san, but someone like me, you're not trying to impress so you don't give jackshit about how you come off."

red on your face, red in your veins, and red under your breath.

"and you don't have an act of your own?" you fire back, somehow managing to find the girl in you who has a voice and definitely some guts, but she who goes missing when it comes to telling san to fuck off.

"pretending to be this nice guy around yunho and mingi, like you're doing a favor by helping their friend when all you do is insult me behind their back."

you stand up furiously, grabbing at your things and sparing him one last glance (that you hope will intimidate him).

"you won't ever have to worry about wasting your time on someone like me ever again."

you don't need mingi or yunho (or both) shielding you like you're an infant still in a cradle, and you definitely do not need kang yeosang blowing up on you when you're just starting to realize how much you hate this fucking computer class and all this technical junk; when everything's already going to shit.

but your whole life has been a load of shit one after another so you suppose it's not entirely out of place.

which is why you ultimately decided that if it's going to turn to shit, it should all just be on the table at this point.

when you show at mingi's door just a few minutes right after you get off work, you know wooyoung is not there. he usually never is. he's always either at his own parties or at one of the five other properties under his parents name.

between the two options, you're more willing to bet it's the one person who actually shares a living space with wooyoung, squeezing yourself in and slamming the door behind before mingi could even get out a simple 'hey'.

he's stunned by the sudden cornering, as expected.

"woah there, missy," mingi coos, that lighthearted tone in his voice you recognize whenever he jokes around--completely disregarding the more serious look on your face.

"did you... by any chance, said something to wooyoung?"

you try to keep vague, for all you know, you just might be overstepping the boundaries and giving your friends too little credits.

wooyoung could've done it even without the push from one of them, but it's best to confirm before digging your own grave.

mingi pulls his brows into confusion.

"like?"

you clear your throat, swallowing down a knot, loathing how much harder he's making this, or if he's just really good at burying his own dirts. it's not exactly out of character for him.

"like--"

the abrupt knock at the door from behind cuts you short, your breath fuming before turning around to open it; the thinning patience not allowing you to consider even for a second who it might be, a small jump in your body when you see it's the other suspect. how convenient.

yunho doesn't say anything and neither does you or mingi. he awkwardly clears the block in his throat and walks himself in through the small space until he's standing tall in front of you.

after you close the door, it's the longest silence you've ever endured in the presence of the two, all your eyes bouncing from one to another before yunho finally speaks.

"did i miss an invitation?"

mingi chuckles, seemingly already relaxed.

"you're not the only one. miss y/n just busted into my room to interrogate me."

you shoot lasers at him and mutters something inaudible under your breath. it could be yunho, but he's usually the wiser of the two and mingi hasn't exactly done anything that makes him less likely--

"it was me," yunho deadpan, both you and mingi shooting his direction so fast.

mingi having no idea what's going on, switches his gaze between the expressionless boy next to him and the enraged look on you.

"why?" you say, so short and simple but the tone is everything but that.

"because i can't bear to watch you keep doing this to yourself. my intuition was right, and--"

"and you couldn't just talk to me?"

"wait, is this about san?" mingi ask, his voice such a contrast to the bubbling tension.

"and if i talked to you, would you have even listened?"

"well, i wouldn't know because you didn't even talk to me. you just went straight into airing my business to his friend."

"it's definitely about san," mingi mutters to himself, his presence completely ignored.

"i just thought that maybe san might listen to wooyoung since they're friends. and that if he stays away, you'll reframe from seeking him out."

it's quiet after that but the air is thick as you two stare into each other with something unpleasant brewing in your chest.

"h-how did you know?"

a low exhale departs yunho before he answers, "it was only a suspicion at first, but then i saw san walking back with you to the dorm that night. and well... you're kind of awful at being discreet."

an eyebrow raise at the confession, your face eventually twisting into distaste.

"you were spying on me?!"

"i wasn't spying on you. it was a coincidence, ask mingi. me and him were coming back from the library because of the campus job i was telling you about."

so... mingi saw it, too.

"yunho... i appreciate your concerns, but, i can make my own choices."

a dry, almost mocking laughter leaves him as he takes a seat at the edge of mingi's bed and stares you down.

yunho isn't an intimidating person; the boy always so nice and easy to talk to, any fights or arguments you guys ever had up till this point has never been this bad. but his gaze right now does make you feel a little small.

"and what is that going to be?" he throws his hands up. "returning to the same person who you know is emotionally unavailable? who won't ever love you the way you really want him to?"

"you talk as if you know him personally..."

you know you shouldn't have said it; defending someone who doesn't deserve it, and well aware there's not a single bone in yunho's body that is capable of harms, but you're so tired of the coddling.

so tired of being looked at as someone breakable.

"no. but i know people like him; guys like him. i know that they will never just magically come around, and most of all, i know that this isn't what you want. you're sticking to him in hope that he'll change his mind, no matter how much you want to deny it."

you've always hated how observant he is...

"then... why do you guys hang with wooyoung, and why is he friends with san? wooyoung is a good person, right? so shouldn't san be, too?"

you're deflecting; it's awful, but it does catches yunho offguard, and even mingi. yunho who was so sure before now mouth clasped tight, because yunho's an honest man, and as an honest man, he doesn't know either.

the couple of times he's met wooyoung, he's aways been pleasant to be around; welcoming of his presence with opened arms and always with a smile on his face to make sure yunho was never left out.

the question asked--more for wooyoung himself than yunho.

"i'm not sure if i can answer that, but, can you promise me at least? that you'll stay away? if not for me, do it for yourself."

you're quiet, shifting to look down at the floor and tracing the pattern when a groan falls from yunho.

"fine." he stands up, his towering height and cold eyes making you feel all sorts.

"call me whenever you actually consider our friendship these last four years instead of whatever you're having with a guy that you just met this semester."

"yunho..." mingi mumbles, disapproval in his tone.

yunho doesn't say anything else, only rushing for the door as he brushes past you before it is slammed shut.

"he didn't mean it." mingi glares at you.

"i know he didn't."

you limp to his bed, taking the seat where yunho was sitting before, still able to feel the warmth he had left behind.

mingi sighs, shaking his head and eventually sitting down with you.

"and i know you don't want to hear this again, but he's right."

as a friend, mingi cares for you. of course he does. but as the boy who found you under that oak tree when you were fourteen years old; as someone who knew you before yunho, before anyone else, he also understands the curiosity you hold for the world; for what else is out there.

you have been deprived of these things almost your entire life, he thinks it's ony natural. so he never tries to be too hard on you when he sees your eyes wander and your nose perked.

he's just always sitting back and watching; observing. yunho and him the perfect contrast to one another because though he may be loud and obnoxious, he tries to stir away from possibly upsetting you. whereas yunho can be a bit overprotective despite his quietness on a surface level.

"i know..." you say, "i just... wish he'd have a little bit more faith in me. i-i can handle it." even you're failing to convince yourself.

mingi breathes out a pitiful look in his eyes, taking your hands into his and locks gaze with you. he's about to get sentimental and you know it. his silly and laidback personality a perfect combination to his more vulnerable side he lets loose once in a while.

"remember the last time you fought with yunho?"

you wouldn't really call it a fight, it was barely an argument, maybe more of a disagreement but aside from this one, that was definitely the most heated you two ever got.

you nod, mumbling in a low volume, "yeah."

"and how angry you were at him?"

"yeah, because he was acting without thinking and i was worried about him."

it was a fight between yunho and minji, at first over something so small but eventually escalating into something bigger.

"i was afraid he was gonna do something he'd regret later."

yunho had spent most of his high school years crushing on minji, always so shy and unconfident, until he finally mustered up the courage to ask the girl out to which she said yes (obviously). and he was gonna throw it all away for something that he probably wouldn't even think about a week from then.

"exactly. because you were looking out for him, and he's just looking out for you, too."

your hands stiffen in mingi's grasp, a sullen look on your face. you also know that.

"look," he says, scooting closer. "i poke my nose in everything, and it's only because i live to annoy you, but in all honestly, i wouldn't ever intrude on your personal affairs. but some days, i still think about how he treated you back at the party."

he goes on, "i was happy at first, him being wooyoung's friend and all. he was also okay when we went out to dinner, but someone who genuinely likes you would not sideline you the way he did."

your mind briefly flashes back to the party, thinking about how hopeful and stupid you looked with that jacket on like a little lost puppy.

thinking about the smirk so fittingly as it rested on his lips when he flirted with your unknowing roommate, using her as leverage to achieve whatever end result he was getting at.

thinking about how you foolishly believed his lie at the time, but overtime seeing for yourself nothing is accidental or coincidental especially in the face of a man like san.

everything is done intentionally and with the purpose to gain; getting you a job and definitely messing with you at the party. he might've even lied on that date with jongho, too.

"and i never asked for anything from you before, but i'm just asking this one time, if you can... please listen to yunho and keep a distance from san."

mingi squeezes your hand, his stance desperate as he awaits your answer.

it takes longer this time around for you to say something, but when you finally do, mingi could've swear he heard it wrong when a quiet "fine" falls from your lips.

"r-really?" his eyes grow in incredulity.

you nod. "if you and yunho are this worried, then i'll stop seeing him."

his chest exhales in relief, the once uneasy expression on him dropping, wondering what prompted the sudden change of mind or if he's really just that good at giving overall sappy speeches.

"oh dear, you got me so scared."

you giggle at his comment, the first time today you're allowed to smile.

he releases the hold on you, backing up a little but gaze having never left, a slight tense in his body language that you know he's going to act on.

"okay, but, can i ask something? and bitch you better not lie to me. we tell each other everything, remember?"

you swallow the knot in your throat, afraid of what he's going to ask and with a feeling it's going to knock your breath away.

"right," you hesitantly answer.

and well... you hate to be correct.

"have you slept with him?"

you almost choked on your own saliva.

"mingi..." you hiss.

"you heard me, bitch. did you guys do the devil's tango?"

you roll your eyes, kicking at his leg lightly and exasperating out loud.

"oh my god, why the hell are you calling it that?"

"oh, whatever. you know what i mean. did. you. guys. fucked?" he crosses his arms.

he can be so sweet and understanding, and then at the same time, go and ask questions like this.

he squints his eyes.

"you know, silence is incriminating. hesitation is damaging, and something tells me you slept with him. not once. not twice."

a small surge of panic rushes in, grabbing at the pillow nearby and smacking him in the face with it.

he winces in exaggerated pain and you toss the pillow back, shooting daggers at him.

"i swear, if you rip that, you're paying for a new one."

"worth it to shut that big ass mouth of yours."

it's a couple seconds before he breaks out into laughter and you follow along with a simple giggle.

"okay but please... can you promise me you won't tell yunho?"

he shrugs, lips quirked to the side.

"what makes you think he doesn't suspect it as well? but sure, i guess. you should really talk to him, though. after this."

mingi plays it cool, a smile on his face and burying that feeling aside that he's just the littlest bit of sad your first time went to someone who doesn't love you.

granted, he's never really cared too much for such thing, always having joked around his parents will end up with no grandkids because he doesn't plan on adopting, either.

but he's always thought that if you were to have it, he'd want your first time to be special. with someone you love, and who loves you the same; your heart always so big and with so much to give.

not someone like san who lures you in with his handsome look and butterflies-alarming words, knowing he never planned to give anything in return except to add to the list of your miseries.

he can't help but feel it is his fault--for leaving you at the party and for ever introducing wooyoung.

but at least now, you will stay away and spare yourself an inevitable heartbreak... he hopes.

you approach the door of yunho's room with cautious steps, hesitation in your appearance because of the one person he shares the space with.

you knock lightly, proceeding to wait and it doesn't take long before it creaks open and yunho is standing before you.

he doesn't look surprised by it, if anything, he looks like he was expecting you to show up at one point. it's just so in character.

you take this chance to sneak a glance past his shoulders, seeing it's in the clear.

"may i come in?" you ask sweetly.

he nods, a hum under his breath and steps aside to let you in.

"i'm sorry," you say, turning to him as his back is to the door. "sorry for acting like a bitch earlier, i know you were just looking out for me. and... i talked to mingi, and i already promised him i-i'll stay away from san."

rather than a sudden change of mind, it was more the realization that you don't need whispered sweet lies or kisses from a boy who doesn't even like you; who always have made you feel so shitty about yourself.

your friends matter, and you're going to listen to them.

that the next time choi san calls or texts, no matter what emojis he uses or what words he will say to get you to come to his place, you're going to ignore him.

next // series m.list

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @belletiny @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @m4rsluv @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa

#the amount of times i write about someone's eyes #or them smiling #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san angst #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #san angst #fic: broken

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cavecrawling · 7 days ago

Text

abigail thought death was finally going to open its arms to her. wrap her in its warm, forgiving embrace and take away the pain she'd endured at the hands of mother miranda.

lo and behold, even the sweet release of her demise would not be granted.

when he came - she didn't know his name - the mutations were frequent. more frequent than they'd ever been. switching between forms too many times to count in a single day, often mere seconds between each mutation. it was torture. her bones and her muscles couldn't keep up with the rapid, consistent changing of her anatomy. it was the worst pain she had felt since the initial procedure.

when he entered the caves, she could do nothing. only sob and wail, doing anything through the spasms and contortions of her body near impossible. curled up in a ball, his approach was met with aggression - hisses and growls from between clenched teeth, spit flying from a trembling maw. but the strain on her bones left her unable to move. no defence, no attack. shame wracked her body in waves of shivers, face hidden behind long hair. she didn't want to be seen. she was disgusting. a monster. a creature - far from human.

yet all he did was watch her. a beast, a young girl. a beast, a young girl. a beast, a young girl. a few minutes and the transformation had occurred more than it had in years. as he stepped closer, she could do nothing. she would do nothing. countless times she had prayed for death, and it wasn't fear that took ahold of her upon his approach - it was relief.

garbled words slipped through razor sharp teeth. rage melting to begging. desperate pleas for him to end the suffering. to end the misery she'd been forced to weather. it continued as bones creaked, the broken whisper of a nineteen year old replacing the scratched tone of the monster. "please. please. i don't want to do this. not anymore."

death did not come. perhaps it never would. what did come was a soft touch atop her head. the softest she had felt since the tender press of her mothers kiss on her forehead. or the tiny arms of her youngest siblings wrapping tight around her waist. they would be dead now, no doubt. their faces are mere blurs in her memory, their voices never concrete - always changing.

the sob that wracked her body was violent, and for the first time that day the mutations ceased. the ache remained, but the misery dissipated as tremoring hands braced on the damp stone floor. there were no words exchanged, and as he began to walk away she felt despair return to her heart, digging its blackened claws into it until she felt the beginning of shifting limbs.

to her disbelief, as if sensing her anguish, he turned back to her. the look on his face was the most gentle that had been directed at her, and the growing of her bones ceased following the brief nod of his head. he wanted her to follow him.

abigail didn't want to. facing the world she'd hidden from for so long was petrifying, yet despite it she rose onto wobbling legs. every moment she expected it to take ahold of her once more. expected him to turn and flee. yet it didn't. instead he remained until she'd padded on bare feet to stand beside him. it took a moment for the girl to look up from where she'd been boring holes into the floor, but when she did - for the first time in years - a smile pulled at her lips, reciprocating the strangers own encouraging one.

perhaps... perhaps she would be alright.

#abigail elwood #she's so tragic #re8 oc #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 oc #resident evil #ethan winters

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writing-and-art · 1 year ago

Text

#13

context: dazai, chuuya, teenagers and a poorly thought out study. (its just dazai being smitten, don't take this seriously. hes in denial)

Notes on Nakahara Chuuya - by Dazai Osamu

The slug is o’ so painfully human- it disgusts me how blind he is to it.

The first time Dazai had met Chuuya, he had been contemplating whether to try hanging himself again. The plans had been literally kicked from his brain with all the subtlety and finesse of one Chuuya Nakahara- which is to say, none.

Like most, Dazai had heard of soulmates. He’d read all the tropes- red strings, telepathy, timers, and colours exploding when eyes meet. Whilst he found the concept fascinating, he firmly believed it to be untrue. It was ludicrous- the idea of someone understanding you on such a visceral level; as if you were made for each other.

Lo and behold, enter: Chuuya Nakahara, science experiment extraordinaire and other half of Soukoku.

Dazai didn’t believe in such whimsical things like soulmates; he believed in Chuuya though. Chuuya, and the colours he bought with him.

“You ought to drink more milk,” Dazai told him, and held back a grunt when kicked in the face.

And that was how it started.

Then came Rimbaud, and then Verlaine. It was a shitshow. Chuuya saw his friends die. Chuuya saw his clone die. Chuuya got tortured. Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya.

Despite his near perfect memory, Dazai, for the death of him, wouldn’t be able to recall what he had said to Chuuya in regards to the chance of finding out his humanity disappearing. All he remembered was the blue and brown of his eyes- eerily vivid, almost glowing, as if the singularity powering him was shining through.

‘Eyes are the window to ones soul,’ Dazai had once read. He still stood by it years later, when he was clad in brown and missing a few bandages.

Ever the bleeding heart, not fighting wasn’t even a choice. Dazai didn't make it a habit to underestimate people, but Chuuya had always gone above and beyond.

Roaring winds, trees ripped out from the ground, and death. It was enchanting, in a distant, detached sort of way. Oh, it was all very dramatic of course. Ever benevolent, Dazai figured he would refrain from mocking the other, just this once.

Two singularities, beings of mass destruction and very little else.

Throughout it all: Chuuya.

Dazai had caught him. The shorter boy’s mangled and grotesque wings had disappeared in a flash of blue and the red lines marring his body faded, leaving blood and broken bones behind in its wake.

How anti-climatic, he had mused, holding the shorter’s body in a way that didn’t aggravate his wounds.

Dazai wasn’t blind, he could see parallels. He also wasn’t an idiot, and figured that whatever happened to Soukoku, Dazai do something as inane as turning himself into a singularity. No, they would die together.

Later, sitting beside a certain someone’s bedside and flipping through a book without absorbing much of anything, Dazai would ponder the limits of humans. It would be a very entertaining train of thought, full of witty comments made by himself, to himself. That would be later, of course.

In the face of the aftermath and the responsibilities that came with it, Dazai was content to dump his workload onto Hirotsu and entertain himself with hearing the beating heart of his much detested partner, annoying him in his sleep by fiddling with the other’s hand and messing up his hair.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #writing #bsd writing #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #soukoku #skk #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai chuuya age fifteen #bsd stormbringer #dazai x chuuya #but not really #look theyre just kids okay #please notice how i word certain things #theyre either deliberate or im bad at english

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silversiren1101 · 1 year ago

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5 & 7 for mino and regill!

For the Hellpair, of course Taylor!

Read more because uh, these got long!

5. How do they consciously realize that they like each other? Does it take them a while?

Lol. Lmao. “Does it take a while?“ Lol. Get ready for DEEP LORE. Things that are on my official timeline and have drafted but never fully written and published. Fun stuff from pre-canon.

Also, funny thing to realize is they both only realize it after someone else points it out to them!

Minovae: it takes fives years after she joined the Hellknights, around the time of the Dospera Massacre during the Civil War. She’d probably been crushing on him for a while without knowing it but that’s when she realized it: the wake of the brutal siege that lead to the destruction of her childhood home and district… where the Scourge turned on their former allies after allying with House Thrune. During an attempted siege to Rego Crua from Rego Plea through the sewers/subterranean aqueducts, explosions from above ground destabilize the passage their unit is crossing through and the floor gives out. Realizing she can’t save both herself and Regill (her squad’s acting leader then), she chooses him, swinging him up the stable ground and falling down into the depths to what everyone involved thinks is surely death. At the time, she thinks it only duty and her intense loyalty (friendship) with him that makes her sacrifice herself—aside from the fact she has nothing else left and she’s contributed to the destruction of her own home in the name of ending this war.

The flow sweeps her out into the Westchannel. Next thing Mino knows, she’s baking in the sun, caught like flotsam on one of Westcrown’s “natural dams” of shipwreck wood and shells discarded by fishermen throughout the centuries in the bay, with what feels like more broken bones than not, and being shaken awake by a familiar sight. Before she left Westcrown years ago, she’d been a bard at one of the brothels in the Rego Pena catering to the docks and ships (and left because she was fired for breaking a man’s wrist for assuming she was part of the main entertainment, lol). Two of the working courtesans had been very fond of her (a feathered tiefling and scaled aasimar pair who taught her how to take care of her own features!), and it’s coincidentally they who find her strewn up on the dam while out in the dawn taking care of laundry. She’s subsequently dragged back to the brothel by one of the bouncers they kindly ask to help carry her heavy ass, peeled out of her armor and the armor hidden so no one targets her for being a Hellknight, laid up in bed, and a runner sent up to the Scourge’s main encampment back up in Rego Crua to report their MIA knight in dire need of some healing magic.

Imagine Regill’s immense surprise upon being summoned by his superiors, and he arrives to find a brothel girl talking with them; even more so when he learns Arangeir isn’t dead. He’s granted leave to confirm, bring requisitioned potions to get her back to her feet, and deliver her next orders... which he does--Goes to the brothel with glamered armor because technically its behind enemy lines and, well, as a gnome he won't exactly be clocked as a Hellknight out of his armor as easily as anyone else, lol. Lo and behold, his missing ganzi and savior is indeed alive, all sorts of messed up (broken bones, swallowed so much saltwater, water in lungs, sun exposure), but he's immensely relieved to see that she made it. He questions the owner about why they saved her, a Hellknight, leading to him being dumbstruck when they laugh and tell him: "We look after our own in this business, no longer in it or no. Imagine our surprise today seeing her now. She left us as a spitfire with anger issues but a golden voice and shows back up clad in blackened plate. I dare say few of us approve of the life she has chosen since leaving us, but... I can't look at that tail and that mess of platinum hair and not see that desperate young girl that pleaded with me for a place to work and stay all those years ago." The owner doesn’t say why, only says it’s not her story to tell, and Mino who has quietly regained consciousness a few minutes before (thanks to a potion) cheekily rasps at him why she was fired and, a bit delirious, cracks a joke about any assumptions he might’ve leapt to about her working there, and with the Hellknights not running any background checks aside from passing the Trial, a Hellknight whore isn’t that out of the question. (Something she groans at when fully conscious lol).

He regains his composure (he wasn’t as stoic 80 years ago, pre-Bleaching) and sternly informs her she has 2 days of leave to recover before she is expected back in her duties. He also salutes her, and tells her she has been recognized for her commitment to her duty and valor in saving his life and that there is a commendation waiting for her upon her return… and also he is pleased they didn’t lose as good a knight as her. He looks forward to welcoming her back to active duty, but also tells her to rest and recover.

Only when he leaves do the women start giggling and asking her questions. The owner says something about him being handsome, but never expected Mino to fall for someone like him: so stony and stoic and intense. She is totally flabbergasted and denies it, only for the owner to remind her that she can tell where feelings have taken root in order separate her workers from repeat clients should relationships start to bloom… and Mino’s aren’t just rooted, they’re full on blooming without her knowing.

It haunts her for days and days, firmly in denial, until she returns to camp and when Regill goes to help her to her feet after she’s knocked to the ground during sparring drills, she can’t deny it anymore. It hits her like a fucking carriage.

She has to swallow it down, knowing nothing would ever come of it aside from heartbreak.

Regill: His takes like 80 years. He had a little crush before she left and then, well, she was actually dead until Areelu brought her back. After she is reported MIA -> KIA in the Worldwound, he feels this inexplicable bitterness about her leaving so suddenly with no explanation, especially with how broken she seemed. She also had stolen a kiss from him and he's just very... Well he doesn't know what's going on and it all just manifests as anger and this sense of waste that grows numb overtime.

Game starts, the anger is back but all twisted up with relief and other confusing things that she is alive and back... especially since she doesn't remember him (until later). Events of the game + her regaining her memories and he is so so so blind to his growing camaraderie and respect for her reaching a point where it simply isn’t just mere respect anymore. In Mino’s “custom mythic path” canon, she succeeds in the Legend path until her powers are immediately foisted back onto her not even minutes after purging them by her sire/creator, Ssila’meshnik. The aeon power is infused with an equal amount of pure chaos to form a paradox, and the surge of power as they're forced back into her causes them to spiral out of control. She jumps ahead 3 days into the future, wounded and terrified and helpless, while the rest of the world has to wait for time to pass normally to find her.

Regill doesn’t handle this well. He'd already been agonizing over her madness and fall across the events in the Abyss to then, preparing to even mercy kill her before she was totally lost. A protean lord appears, calls her 'daughter', impales her, and the last thing she did in her fear was reach out for him for help before disappearing in a warpwave? He barely sleeps. Barely eats. Desperate to find her and figure out where she will appear so he can be there to bring her back to Drezen for care. He’s a complete mess but doesn’t consciously realize he is, snapping at everyone, trapped in his thoughts and searching, and he eventually drops from exertion and weakness. The rest of the companions are also messes in their own way and boy does it start a hell of a fight. He hears in the next room over where he’s laid up Daeran shouting at Sosiel and Seelah both “can’t you see he adores her?! I know next to nothing about true love but if that isn’t it then I don’t believe it exists and your goddess can smite us here and now for my heresy!”

It’s definitely his cliche “oh” moment, forcing him to realize why he couldn’t figure out why he was feeling so physically awful and pained and sick and anxious: he had no idea what love felt like, much less the aching grieving fearful kind he’s been drowning in with her missing and him helpless to do anything about it.

7. Do they pursue the other character’s affection, and if so, how? Do they tell the other character how they feel? Try to earn their admiration? Woo them with romantic gestures? Flirt with them?

This is a loaded ass question!

Ultimately their relationship is based on Love as a Choice. Their feelings sprouting are not a choice, but their decision to act upon them and not ignore them/squash them is one! They choose to love each other, and as Hellknights that is a big deal. Their love is not a pursuit but an offering: I am giving you my heart and my life. It's not a matter of pursuit but simply accepting what is willingly being given as a choice.

Hence, they essentially take things as they come, and they’ve known each other for so painfully long and know each other better for anyone that things like trying to earn their admiration or flirting don’t really happen between them—it’s already there.

As for "earning their admiration", it's more like "not wanting to lose it". The beginning of their relationship is characterized with a bit of hesitancy and fearfulness at "messing it up": Mino worries about losing his admiration by being too merciful and Regill worries about losing hers by being too merciless (even though these are already known factors and part of the reasons they fell for the other, lol). She is also scared of moving too quickly and scaring him, or fully accepting their relationship as reality at first because she's terrified he will "see reason" and call things off. Regill, meanwhile, has zero relationship experience and zero romantic experience at all as the most glacial demiromantic and demisexual man in all of Golarion lol. He loves her, he finds that out, but the acts of doing it? Navigating this new territory is also something he's figuring out, all the while worried about hurting her with his emotional clumsiness and inexperience. The early relationship sees him being frustrated with trying to identify these new emotions, much less handle them with any sort of grace.

As for wooing - Love as a Choice means that it's pretty much in everything they do. I'm choosing to spend my life with you. I'm choosing to fight and die and bleed with you. I'm choosing to sleep at your side and hold your hand when it hurts and reassure you when it all seems hopeless. That to them is romance. So, whatever romantic gestures they do are usually small, and so much more meaningful because of it. Being at the center of history, something are mundane as learning and taking part in Mino’s grooming routine is immensely romantic to her because it’s a choice to take part in just… her. Her finding interesting philosophical books and military strategy ones, and listening to him talk about such things simply because she likes to hear him be passionate about them is also something he finds remarkably endearing from her. Romance is in every refilled coffee mug and "I grabbed you a snack because you seemed cranky" and reminder to grab a coat because it's cold and rainy.

They do talk about their feelings and relationship more than you would think. She wears her heart on her sleeve and he doesn't have issues speaking the truth so much as he's not equipped with the right words and still figuring things out. Hard to explain that which you have so little idea of! There is no embarrassment or difficulty saying "I love you" between them~

As for flirting... Mino is a strange case. She is extremely seductive and good at fake flirting, using her skills as a former bard and espionage specialist in the Scourge. Real flirting though? Oh she's so hopeless. Bright red face beneath her scales, stumbling over the delivery, laughing mid joke, drowning in butterflies in her stomach... When the love and feelings are real she can't put on the sultry flirting act since her real love is very bubbly and earnest and filled with laughter. Regill meanwhile doesn't flirt and he doesn't have to. He says things so confidently and in such a way that statements delivered totally straight sound super sexy to her anyway, lmao.

From this list of questions!

#silversirenwrites #oc: minovae arangeir #pair: hellpair #regill derenge x minovae arangeir #thank you for reading all of this if you do! premium peak into the DEEP LORE of their past #there is so much in my mind its like the pepe silvia board with red string that is their past and connections #wrath of the righteous #and if you didn't read it all I also understand lol #ask game

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lasabejas · 1 year ago

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I still love you. I didn't know under the pressures of your love I would bloom and that change would fate our doom. I never knew I would fear hell for it meant being separated from you. what scared me the most was that if I had to choose between you and I to my surprise I would choose you. betray my morals. betray my mind. betray my intelligence just to rest between your thighs having you hold me in a way that made me feel fine. and that was it. you made me feel okay just the way I was. I was enough. but then I became more and was relegated simply as a whore. a chore. no longer worth fighting for. I still love you. the you I saw when it was just us two shielded from the worlds view. the you I would get on my knees and consume like divine fruit. the you I would bow to even if it meant I was denying the truth. perhaps love such as this was too pure for our tainted world. I still love you. I always knew you would never be enough for me. even before I became more. but even now I'm unsure. I was made to wander the planet but that was done long before I was born. saving me from myself, you let me wander you. feeding me the treasures of your body. Allowing me to lap the waters from your valleys and shores. giving me an experience I thought was lost to my ancestors of exploring a place you adore. making me a cartographer to your topography. making a biologist to your flora and fauna. making me an alchemist to the elements of your chemistry. making me more. the me you could see when we were shielded from the world's view. at least I thought you could. when I would plant myself inside you, you were all I needed to be. you were my world. you were all I need. you gave this orchid a tree, a taste of immortality. but then I become more and was no longer enough for you. I still love you. the journey I would take so we could be lost in each other's gravity was worth it regardless of what I would endure. no matter the cost or any violence wrought against me I knew I would be restored due to you being my fountain of youth, rejuvenating me, making me me brand new. making me realizing realize at the end of the day all I needed at the end of each day was to be entangled in your embrace. the way you would look at me I would never assume it was I before your eyes being seen for want I truly am. a galaxy encarnate. I still love you. I knew no one can be enough for me. it isn't their responsibility but loving you taught me I could. I fell into myself the way I fell into you. completely. even the parts of me I deemed too ugly and I am beautiful. and I am terrible. and I am beautiful. and I am terrible. and I am beautiful because I am terrible. I thought that this is what you could see when you would look at me with those eyes that complete me. as I descended into the pits of my soul I expected to find you there waiting to greet me. smiling so carelessly, as you are one to be, asking me what took you so long to see that this is why I love you but lo and behold when I reached the bed rock of my being I was alone. I still love you. I still blame you. I put the onus at your feet. I know it sounds crazy but if you hadn't looked at me that way that said you saw me and I was okay even though I was broken, I would have never delved into tartarus to get more. I thought you wanted all of me, the terror and the beauty, monstrous divinity. I still love you. I refuse to hate me. I'm sorry you feel used because it's true. I used you. I used loving you to teach me how love myself. maybe I seem deluded to you but I know the truth. I know you are me and I am you when our love is sheilded from the world's view. I was finally complete, then I had to wrent bone from flesh, to cut my heart from my flesh. remove you. leaving me empty. leaving me hollow. leaving me without you so I could be me. I remember when you said to me "you don't love me the way I love you" and it know it's the truth because I still love you.

~delete my number (2023)

#poetry #poem #poema #poesía #meus #lasabejas

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daisychainsandbowties · 2 years ago

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I love your writing. I love how vulnerable you allow the characters to be. I love how you make ugly things beautiful and pretty things holy and reverent. I am extremely thankful for you and all that you do.

But I'm curious:

Are there any writers/works that you would say have had an influence on your style?

crying and crying. honestly yes! ugliness is very beautiful to me it’s very human & vulnerable & good to be ugly & i think life tends to be very imperfect & messy but we can be very beautiful (and yes, holy) inside of it.

hmm so first thing is that i’m mostly a poet & i came to that in my usual way which was deciding one day to teach myself how to Poetry. i figured it could not be very different from math and lo & behold it was not very different from math

i grew up using recitation of poems as a calming technique so those certainly influenced how cadence occurs to me, patterns of language (some poems were as gaeilge). some of the poems i memorised growing up were Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen; Ode to a Nightingale by Keats; a whole bunch of Dickinson & especially Persimmons by Li Young Lee. the waste land by ts eliot too. i did adore shakespeare & how easy it was to commit to memory in iambic pentameter.

but then when i was 16 i decided to ‘git good’ at poetry (i was, in fact, very bad at it for many years to come) so i picked up Ariel by Plath & a load of Anne Sexton. Richard Siken too. and i read those books about 50 times each. could never read them too many times.

realised that poetry should be kind of like eating good food or having good sex. an experience that bears repeating.

so yes Sexton & Siken especially i think are explicitly influential to my style. also recently have learned a lot from Ocean Vuong (Night Sky With Exit Wounds but also please read ‘Not Even This’. listen to Ocean perform it) oh & also very recently impressed with Hull by Xan Phillips, & Danez Smith’s ‘don’t call us dead.’

language was made for puncturing & those poets know how to turn a sentence, a stanza, a turning of thought into a lung collapse, a harpoon.

i do firmly believe that it’s pointless to mimic style. it can happen that other words bleed into yours but it should be an accident, like the mirroring of language that forms the basis of so many interpersonal movements. language IS an exchange but we all bring something to the table.

& again it’s food - personal and cultural and loving and it’s about need and want and desire and death (food & death so tenderly intertwined in so many cultures). so i think reading good writing lends you instinct; the ability to look at what you make and know if it is good or at least true and therefore ‘getting there’ and therefore beautiful in the attempt regardless of imperfection.

i believe in purple prose and also Just Saying Things & i really think (i teach creative writing sometimes at uni) that i can bring out beautiful writing from anyone. it’s not always about skill it’s about heart, and then skill creeps up on you. i can always tell when someone is just performing writing and when someone has a story to tell.

so like!! the #1 thing that has influenced me is learning to love the way that writing makes me feel (powerful, stupid, profound, unoriginal, death-defying, mortal). i think reading so so much & just internalising different language-textures helps a bunch! i get so much inspiration from reading textbooks, wikipedia articles, random journals & i think poetry even if you are not & don’t wanna be a poet is very good at showing you the bones and sinews and connective tissue of meaning.

i am also so influenced by sci-fi & fantasy. particularly the Book of the Ancestor by Mark Lawrence (more gay nuns lmao) & N.K. Jemisin with The Broken Earth trilogy. 'the slow regard of silent things' specifically by Patrick Rothfuss (not a person to learn pacing from but astounding at sentence-level). also i am very influenced recently by This Is How You Lose The Time War. as a kid by Garth Nix (particularly Lirael, Sabriel) & artemis fowl.

of course on that note it’s usually the non-literature things that inspire actual writing from me. it’s principles in physics or math or thinking about Voyager 1 or philosophical questions that actually produce the sort of rabid pursuit of meaning that writing is. truly immersing in curiosity is an excellent way to approach making art. it's about reaching out & touching for a moment the fabric of everything - & you might find it is wet & sticky or dry and dusty or soft or that it hurts your hands to touch, but the chasing of meaning is worth it, & making meaning is divine.

i hope that is (somewhat) of an answer

#very interesting ask thank you!#on writing #casper writes

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terrence-silver · 2 years ago

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How would Terry react to Beloved being a doctor?

The title of Dr. sounds amazing attached to the surname of Silver.

Doctor Silver.

That is, when and when beloved becomes quite literally his.

Which they will be.

They already are.

Beloved is accomplished and educated by their own merit and Terry will be damned if he doesn't covet that and he'll be also damned if he doesn't add to those accomplishments himself so beloved would be intrinsically interwoven with him in every semblance of their medical career, private life and all their dealings, attached to him legally as much as they are emotionally, unable to ever leave in the worst case scenario --- a smart investment for the future. A private clinic of the most exclusive sort opened somewhere in The Valley so they can conduct business with Terry's own guidance, knack for finance and kickstarting franchises? Maybe even several clinics? Hey, how about as many clinics as there are Cobra Kai dojos to cover as much field as possible, because the more land Terry owns over anyone and everyone else, the better? Check! A carefully selected staff employed by Mr. Silver himself to aid along with beloved doing what they do and, hey, if need be, report back to him on what beloved does all day, outside, you know, all those security cameras that are all around the place of employ? Check! Marketing billboards all around the country, so many in fact, until they kick out all other competition and Cobra Kai and private hospital centers under the name of Silvermedic is all one can see driving down the highways of California and beyond? Check! Commercials...of course, without beloved's face (or even full name) anywhere to be seen or precisely outlined, because he might promote their business (now co-joint venture) but he doesn't want to promote them. The thought makes him, well, I daresay, livid?

Speaking of, after a while, all his charity takes a wrong turn.

It sours in its own intent.

He can be as generous under the right circumstances as he is selfish.

Terry, he builds up beloved's business and gifts it to them and then promptly realizes, somewhere along the way, that he rather doesn't enjoy beloved giving all that attention and empathy to all those...people. Touching them. Looking at them. Someone looking at beloved. Spending entire shifts surrounded by anyone and everyone who isn't him. Listening to their nonsense problems and fixing them. Listening to their heartbeat with a stethoscope. Tracing the outline of their spinal cord during a check up and mulling over results for hours and hours. Wasting time with broken bones, eczema, unhealthy organs and shanenigans. No, no. It is far too intimate. Far too close for comfort. As I always say, Terry can get behind kindness as an idea, but only if it is directed towards him and mainly him, with extremely small exceptions, so yeah, beloved can be kind and empathic and helpful, but only towards the one and only Terry Silver. What's this with them having...patients? Sure, he always knew they'd have patients, but theory is always different from practice and his hidden, cold jealousy blinds him. Should he do what he did to Mike Barnes' furniture store and just burn down the very clinics he bankrolled, one by one? No, that would make beloved unhappy even if they never discovered these weren't freak accidents during the summer height of California's humid and hot drought season where, lo and behold, conveniently, forest fires are frequent and bullshit happens. No. Maybe Terry can suggest the employment of more doctors, to help beloved, slowly, within due time, until beloved can easily retire from the very chain of businesses intended for them. And they can retire content thinking that everything is settled, never realizing how much of a tactical manoeuvre this all was and that Terry effectively very smoothly and quietly had them removed from their own position as the main doctor of this great line of institutions. Money is rolling in, business is big and blooming and they don't even have to be at work anymore because someone else does it for them.

Isn't that a dream? Well, isn't it?

A war won without a single shot fired for Terry.

Isn't that great?

He gave beloved an immeasurable gift in the form of over, lets say, fifty or so clinics all around the country...and then he retired them too because being a doctor is backbreaking word in the words of a manipulator trying to very sweetly coax beloved to his side. Now, Terry can both be the best, most generous and helpful significant other that ever was and also have beloved entirely for himself. That PhD of beloved's can be just...tucked away and retired too.

#silvermedic is a great name for some high end beverly hills medical facility #terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #doctor!reader #doctor!beloved #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #yandere

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burritosandpeppermint · 2 years ago

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OH BOY MORE FUN WITH MY TEETH OH BOY

In 2021 I finally went to a dentist for the first time in none of your business and had to get a crown on a pretty decayed tooth, which already had a bit of broken filling come out because of course (I was still drinking like a fish and smoking like a chimney, so that didn't help). So I got the crown and all was well until we moved here in April last year, when I had significant pain under that crown. Lo and behold more decay kept happening under the crown so they had to do a full extraction and root canal, let that heal for a while, put in the bone graft, let that heal, implant, let that heal, and finally the new crown. Great. Except last week I noticed that it had a little wiggle to it, so I went in today and guess what? The implant is moving a little bit, so I might have to go through a new implant again. In the meantime it's become pretty obvious that what's likely causing this now is bruxism, or grinding my teeth at night. Fan fucking tastic.

Below the neck I'm feeling completely fine so between my mental issues and my teeth I guess you really could say that...all of my problems are in my head.

#but I really am sick and tired of this #everything that grows out of or goes into that socket just turns to crap #and I don't know that I want to get a bridge

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jimmymiller99 · 2 years ago

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The Sad Smile, Part Two

[Jeff felt like he was falling down a hole, like if he had jumped out of an airplane and forgot to bring a parachute. He could feel the cold air surrounding him as he fell, then as if on que, he hit the ground hard. He groaned as he got up, feeling as if every bone in his body was broken. As he looked up, he saw a pair of long legs, and not the sexy kind, no no, no, they were the long legs that could only belong to a monster. They belonged to this faceless yet dapper dressed creature, with a long trenchcoat that look more like a cape or cloak. The creature titled his head back and grabbed Jeff by the shoulders and began shaking him all the while a loud, horrible sounding static noise rang out. It sounded like a thousand souls screaming at once. Eventually, Jeff woke up with Liu over him.]

Liu: Jeff, you okay? Jeff?

[Jeff groaned and got up. He was on the floor, and he felt this horrible pain at the back of his head.]

Liu: Dude, you fell and hit your head on the nightstand while you were rolling around in bed. Are you alright?

Jeff: I did? Oh, shit. I'm fine, just...I'm fine. Just go back to bed.

Liu: ...Okay then.

[Jeff and Liu went back to bed, and Jeff made sure to stay in the middle of the bed. He didn't want to go back to that realm again or break open his head.]

[The next morning, the Pattinson family was up. The sun was up with them as they made the beds and checked out of the motel. Everyone got back into Bobby's car and resumed their drive to California, along the trip, Liu turned to Jeff.]

Liu: Hey Jeff?

Jeff: Mhm?

Liu: You doing alright?

Jeff: I'm fine.

Liu: You sure? I mean last night...well, you know.

Jeff: I'm fine, I just rolled off the bed.

Liu: And bonked your head on the nightstand.

Jeff: Dude, I'm fine.

Liu: Alright, man.

[Jeff turned to face out the window. It was the same damn thing he'd seen for the past 5 hours, grass, dirt, sand, and shit. Jeff turned to his journal, took out a pen, and began writing and doodling in it just to past the time. He drew monsters, one-eyed creatures, snakes with battle axes for heads, sexy demon women, and you get the picture. Edgy shit. He then began properly writing into his journal. "Today sucks. Everything about this day just sucks. Why did we have to move to California of all places? Our neighborhood was cheap enough to stay in, the rent wasn't that bad, and it was easy enough to get around. I bet it has something to do with mom getting promoted or something like that. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for her. It just sucks ass that we have to move all the way to crappy California." Day eventually became night, 10 o clock to be exact, and lo and behold, they finally arrived at the new house. It was your typical average modern American suburban house with a green lawn, picket white fence, beautiful blue color scheme, and beautiful garden. Complete with a shitty driveway connecting to an indoor garage. But Bobby didn't pull into the driveway, which caught Elizabeth's attention.]

Elizabeth: Dear, we just passed the house.

Bobby: I know, but I'm sure the kids are hungry. Let's stop at a pizza place before we bunker down for the night.

[So, the Pattinson then drove to a nearby pizza place. The pizza place in question was a horror themed pizza place called "Killer Pizza" in red bloody lettering. Classy. The family got out of the car and went inside. It was a nice change of scenery compared to the nothingness of driving across the lands of California. They got a booth in the back, but Jeff didn't sit down just yet.]

Jeff: I'll be right back, I gotta go use the bathroom real quick.

Bobby: Alright, bud, just be careful.

[Jeff walked into the men's bathroom. It was a surprisingly small men's restroom, just three toilet stalls and two urinals. Were they clean? Probably not! Jeff walked over to a urinal and did his business. He washed his hands and walked out of the men's bathroom. But as he was about to make his way back to the booth, he bumped into a worker, both he and the worker fell to the ground.]

Jeff: Ah! Shit, I'm sorry.

Woman Worker: I'm so sorry, are you alright?

[As soon as Jeff looked up, she saw her. Probably the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life, long black hair, beautiful emerald greens eyes, soft lips, gothic makeup, pale white skin, perfect slim yet curvy body, she was perfect to Jeff. Her nametag read "Jane." He then immediately got up and held his hand out to help the chick up. She looked up and took his hand, Jeff lifted her up. It was a cute, if awkward moment between the two.]

Jeff: I'm alright, are you okay?

Jane: Yeah, I'm okay. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you coming.

Jeff: Oh no, no, it's alright, I just didn't see you there. My bad.

[Jeff smiled a little, no doubt freaking the fuck out imternally since, I mean she was a hot goth girl. He then awkwardly made his way back to the booth and just sat down and didn't say anything. The family ordered pizza and ate, and they ended up paying up $13 just for a pizza. What a steal! The family then walked out of the restaurant, got back in the car, and drove to their new home. Bobby unlocked the front door and led everyone inside. The inside was a beautiful white and grayish blue color scheme. The floors were birch wood flooring, the countertops in the kitchen were stainless white marble, the tables were professional made wood, and it was all perfect. There was a basement, an upstairs, outside was a beautiful backyard, and what every American family could have expected to see for the inside of a suburban house. Jeff headed upstairs and went into the room to the right. He called dibs on it. He saw that a bed was there, everything looked clean and untouched. He didn't care. He just fell into his bed and fell asleep, finally done with the long ass journey from Brooklyn to California.]

The end of part two

#Home #jeff the killer #jeff the killer origin story #jane the killer #The Sad Smile #creepypasta #Finally

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ntls-24722 · 24 days ago

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dirt skeleton fun fact's. cus he's on the mind at 1 am

His "iris" doesn't look the same as a human iris (lines converging on a point) but it looks like more like fractals branching out from his luminescent, white pupil. It's constantly shifting, from focusing his gaze on different things or when highlighting specific objects to be visible. To elaborate:

Because the dirt skeleton is your friendly neighborhood planetary tapeworm, he really only sees what he wants to see, in order to make it easier to see where he's going as he gracefully noclips through the earth. He can change his sight to only see certain things, "certain things" being literally anything he wants, which is why he likes looking at you. Living things are very fun to "gross body x-ray" (e.g: examining every part of you, from looking over every organ system you have and watching your neurons firing) with his eyes, and due to this he would make a very good doctor... if he had any idea what he was looking at.

The dirt skeleton DOES know how human bodies typically look though, and has spotted cancer in one of Comet's coworkers before it could get dangerous. He didn't know that it was cancer, just something delightfully abnormal like how comet's skeleton is bright yellow, and told Comet about it. Lo and behold it's cancer, thanks dirt skeleton.

He can't speak, but he can make creaking and droning noises. Also scream. He can scream extremely loud.

Speaking of the fact he has no medical knowledge of anything, the dirt skeleton has no point of reference of how serious most bodily injuries are. A small cut is just as fascinating and dire to him as a bullet hole, which is: not much. ("Ah! How interesting, your inside fluids are leaking." ←skeleton thought on both a papercut and being ripped apart by lions) However, fittingly, he will deeply freak out about ANY bone damage. Seeing broken, fractured bone, even just hairline fractures, will cause him to freak out, pick you up and start screaming for your assistance. Noticing that you have bone diseases will make him very uneasy at best.

This is because he has broken bones, and everytime he has, he has had to heal them without medical assistance. He has had to be stuck in the same place that he broke it for decades in order for it to heal properly, in agonizing pain the entire way (as you can imagine, breaking a skeleton's bones is the worst a skeleton can feel.). Like something out of an earth creation story, entire lakes and cave systems have been created from his tears. He cannot bear to go near those places ever again.

#ntls-24722 #dirt skeleton #oc #original character #fritz #note also: dirt skeleton is aroace #he does very much enjoy whatever affection comet gives him though

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newmusicradionetwork · 2 years ago

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The Americans “Stand True”

Every few years, musicians arrive on the scene with an undeniably fresh approach to a tried-and-true genre. Showcasing this with unparalleled proficiency is the acclaimed Los Angeles-based Americana band The Americans. Upon hearing Stand True the band’s forthcoming 11-song, sophomore studio LP (out May 6 via Loose Music) it’s evident why revered producer T Bone Burnett raved, calling them, “genius twenty-first century musicians that are reinventing American heritage music for this century. And it sounds even better this century.” The title track and album opener, “Stand True,” showcases the group’s riveting grip on storytelling, dynamics and melodic hooks that leave listeners cemented to their speakers. Patrick Ferris (vocals/guitar), Jake Faulkner (bassist) and Zac Sokolow (guitarist) collide to deliver a moving collection that lands somewhere between Bruce Springsteen, John Mellencamp and Nathaniel Rateliff. Following their 2017 debut album, I’ll Be Yours, The Americans took a step back, regained focus, and went into Big Bad Sound studios in Los Angeles to carve out an album of material that “is more our own than ever before,” the band confirms. The overall touchstone of Stand True, which the band self-produced, is devotion in the face of loss. And with that, the album’s sophomore single, “Born With A Broken Heart,” solidifies that concept as it showcases an edgier side to the band; a gritty ode to the way romantically wounded people sometimes find one another. “Driving home from gigs, Zac would tune into a Navajo AM radio station out of Window Rock, AZ,” recalls Patrick. “Parts of the song came from some of that music. It feels like driving through Los Angeles at night.” It was sometime in the 1970s, a decade before front man Patrick Ferris and bassist Jake Faulkner were born, that their mothers met on a train to Woodstock. Patrick and Jake met as children, but they lived in different cities and saw very little of one another before reconnecting in high school. They got along immediately through their joy for busking (street performing), and pre-war American country and blues. “Nobody I knew liked the same music,” recalls Patrick. Jake came to San Francisco from Los Angeles to visit, bringing his guitar and baskets of recording gear. They spent that summer recording homeless street musicians with a mobile unit they lugged around the city, making copies of the recordings for the performers to sell. Guitarist Zac Sokolow had dropped out of high school and was busking on the streets while working construction in Los Angeles when Jake saw him playing guitar. Jake convinced him to move in and start a band. They spent years digging through obscure records and arcane field recordings, teaching themselves the banjo, fiddle, mandolin, harmonica, and slide guitar. Patrick calls this long immersion, during which he created and hosted a radio show, a “purist” phase. “We were suspicious of modern rock music,” he says. “When we got together and formed a band, we had to make everything from scratch. We had no template. There was no band we wanted to be like. We were curious if we could create something brand new, summoning the spirit of old blues and country through what we’d learned firsthand, leaving nostalgia behind.” “We write our songs inside-out,” says Patrick. “We grab hold of something minuscule and primitivea simple turn of phrase or an unusual beatand try to build a song around it. It’s inefficient, and hard to write words over, but it’s magical when it works.” The band’s distinctive, powerful works have captured the attention of a number of stars. They’ve backed Nick Cave, Lucinda Williams, Ashley Monroe, and Devendra Banhart, and twice joined Ryan Bingham on national tours. They worked closely with Jack White and T Bone Burnett, joining Nas, Elton John, and Alabama Shakes in the PBS primetime series American Epic. Their live show, honed over many hundreds of performances, is something to behold. Ron Wray (No Depression) writes, “they’re led by lead singer, guitarist Patrick Ferris, looking like James Dean but even better…Jake Faulkner, with his dark black beard and jaunty hat, dances across stage, lifting his stand-up bass like a dancing partner.” Steve Wildsmith (Daily Times) admires their “anthemic guitar hooks and a heartland sense of urgency that’s tailor made for road trips and late-night parties beneath a field of brilliant stars.” The band’s first tour was different from most. A friend who’d introduced them to Robert Frankwhose collection of photographs inspired the band’s namewas appointed drummer. He was allowed to play with only a plywood suitcase, which he beat with a soup spoon. The band set off on a meandering, quixotic odyssey that found them playing honky-tonks, rural bars, a Navajo radio station, and a wine cellar in an abandoned Coca-Cola bottling plant. Some of the venues hadn’t hosted a live band since the 1980s. “We had a passport to the hidden heartland of our country,” recounts Jake. “What you learn exploring the nooks and crannies of any place, but especially this country, is that there’s no type of person.” Zac adds that “stereotypes break down at the individual level. What makes American music great is the same thing that makes America greatpeople who come from all over the world, each with a story, each with something to contribute.” Additional Artist/Song Information: Artist Name: Americans Song Title: Stand True Publishing: HIGH WATER MUSIC Publishing Affiliation: ASCAP Album Title: Stand True Record Label: The Americans Read the full article

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zoeykallus · 2 years ago

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Crosshair – My beloved Enemy 34 - When The Wolf Eats The Sheep

Crosshair x Female!Reader (FF)

Warning: 18 + Violence /Injury/ Blood / Hurt/ Angst

__________

Rampart is really pissed off and he plans to take it out on you while Crosshair has to watch. His approach, however, looks different than expected.

sorry

__________

What Happened Before:

Part 1 - Crash Landing

Part 2 - Hot And Cold

Part 3 - Hello Kitten

Part 4 - Look Who’s Back

Part 5 - Rebel Darling

Part 6 - Burning Anger

Part 7 - Love And Pain

Part 8 - A Difficult Reunion

Part 9 - The Bitter Taste Of Blood And Failure

Part 10 - Where The Dead Ships Dwell

Part 11 - A Lonely Firefly In Space

Part 12 - Broken Wings

Part 13 - A Helping Hand

Part 14 - The Justifier

Part 15 - The Bounty

Part 16 - Trapped

Part 17 - I Love You Too

Part 18 - When The Past Catches Up With Us

Part 19 - I’ve Never Been Good At Goodbyes

Part 20 - Unexpected

Part 21 - The Question

Part 22 - Sleepless Nights

Part 23 - Sleepyheads And Making Up

Part 24 - Crosshair’s Conclusion

Part 25 - Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Part 26 - I’m Sorry Kitten

Part 27 - Bracca

Part 28 -Rampart

Part 29 - It’s All Tactics

Part 30 - CT 6116

Part 31 - Of Wolves And Sheep

Part 32 - Dying Hope

Part 33 - Hero Of The Day

Part 34 - When The Wolf Eats The Sheep

It took several days of you being restlessly stuck in the cell before Rampart decided to visit you again. He was not alone. The trooper who entered the room with him gave you goose bumps, you had never seen one like him before. His armor was jet black with red lined kama. The pauldron on his right shoulder was also red, as was the visor in his black helmet. He looked creepy.

The gaze of the man under the helmet was on you, you could feel his gaze. When you looked at Rampart again, you could see a satisfied smile on his already healed face. He had seen the nervousness in your gaze and was obviously pleased by it.

"Moff Tarkin is visiting, so I don't have much time. But I have brought someone here who will take care of your questioning."

Your heartbeat quickened and an uncomfortable tingling crept under your skin, down to your bones. What you were about to face was not good, not good at all.

"So you're not going to get your fingers dirty anymore," you nevertheless said defiantly to Rampart who was already preparing to leave the cell again.

The Vice Admiral stopped and looked at you, a spiteful smile on his lips.

"I thought I was doing you a favor. You do like clones so much, don't you?"

You blinked, feeling your heart skip a few beats.

Rampart prompted the trooper, "Take off your helmet."

Your eyes wandered to the trooper, who complied with the admiral's request. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the trooper's face. The scar, the artificial white eye....

"Wolffe...?"

"Purge Commander Wolffe, that's what it is now," Rampart enlightened you "In the time you've been stuck here, we've taken advantage of Wolffe's knowledge and training again. A new chip and a quick conditioning and lo and behold, an obedient clone."

"Monster!" you growled at Rampart.

As you stood up you were immediately shoved back onto the cot, so quickly and roughly that you gave a startled little cry. Startled, you looked at Wolffe, who was now standing right in front of you, looking down at you.

"Wolffe? Do you remember me? Y/N... we came here together"

Rampart laughed and said, "Nice try. Commander, make sure she talks, I don't care how you do it, keep her alive if possible, but she doesn't necessarily have to stay unharmed"

"Yes sir! I'll take care of it."

You felt sick.

Rampart left the cell and you were alone with Wolffe. You looked up at him nervously, not sure what to expect, but knowing it could only get messy.

"Wolffe, I know you're still in there."

"Where is the rest of Clone Force 99?" he asked you coolly, directly, in definite terms without responding to what you had said.

"You mean Hunter and Wrecker? I don't know, I just know we got separated, you know that too."

Wolffe pulled on his gloves and said, "I ask my questions twice at the most, then disobedience is followed by unpleasant consequences."

"But Wolffe..."

"Where are Hunter and Wrecker?"

You blinked, even if you knew you wouldn't have told him, at least that's what you wanted to believe, but you were clearly afraid, that in front of you was no longer Wolffe.

"I don't know," you said so softly he almost didn't hear.

His gaze was strangely blank and cold, his movement so fast that you realized far too late what was happening. The back of his hand hit you so hard in the face that you fell off the cot. You blinked, tears welled up in your eyes, your face burned like fire, your cheek in particular and your nose which he had partially hit. You felt some blood running from your nose over your lips.

Your heart was beating so hard and fast, you could feel your pulse in your ears, almost hear your own heartbeat. Your arms were shaking as you leaned on them to stand up.

A squeak came from your throat as he grabbed you by the back of your shirt and pulled you up from the floor to haul you back onto the cot.

Crosshair and Tech had seen it all. Crosshair kicked and drummed furiously against the cell door, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"COME ON, I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT TO KNOW!"

He kept lunging for the door, having already broken at least on of his fingers, and his voice was already hoarse from shouting. Tech stood behind him, pale and frozen, looking at the monitor that showed your cell.

"COME ON YOU SONS OF BITCHES! I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO KNOW!"

The cell door opened in surprise, someone jammed a stun baton into Crosshair's stomach. The shock burned through his muscles, causing him to fall down the three steps in front of the cell door.

Tech tried to rush to his side, but a trooper pushed him back with a stun baton. Another trooper bent over Crosshair, who was lying on the floor.

"The Admiral is no longer interested in your testimony for the moment, so shut your stupid mouth or we'll have to shut it for you".

Crosshair gritted his teeth, the pain in his body was intense but that was the least of his worries at the moment. He said in disbelief, "What he's doing to Y/N isn't right..."

The trooper laughed under his helmet.

"Dude, do I look like I care, honestly I would love to trade places with the Trooper, I already know a few things to loosen her tongue or shut her up".

A wave of pure hatred surged through Crosshair. He grabbed the Electro Staff, ripped it out of the Trooper's hands, rolled around so that the surprised Imp was lying underneath him, and rammed the handle of the staff into his larynx with full force, so hard that he heard a crack.

Tech jumped the other trooper, who tried to come to the aid of his colleague, pulled him to the ground and disarmed him.

Crosshair looked down at the trooper he himself had disarmed and knocked down. He was gasping, clutching his neck, blood oozing from under his helmet.

"Have a nice die," Crosshair rumbled, hitting the other trooper so hard that Tech winced in startlement.

"Is that really necessary?"

The look Crosshair gave him instantly silenced Tech.

Your lower lip was slightly chapped, you thought that maybe one of your teeth was loose, in general you had a taste of blood in your mouth and your left eye was already swollen shut. You had bruises on your arms where Wolffe had grabbed hard. You lay on the floor next to the bunk and raised your arms protectively above your head, your legs pulled against your body like a fetus, your face wet with tears. You whimpered softly, already not responding to his questions at all, just waiting for the blows.

As he reached through your guard for your collar and pulled you up, you croaked, "You promised everything would be okay!"

Wolffe blinked.

"You promised it would! You also promised that you would protect me before we left, when you saw that I was scared."

Another blink.

You grabbed the arm holding your collar with both hands, trembling.

"You promised," you repeated softly.

The next moment you were pressed against the wall, so hard and fast that you couldn't breathe for a few seconds. You obviously hadn't quite gotten through to Wolffe or what he had once been.

His hand came down on your neck, squeezing. You looked into a face so motionless, so lifeless, there was nothing human anymore. At first you fidgeted, panic flooded your mind, your body wanted oxygen, your fingers scratched uselessly over his armor.

His grip suddenly loosened a little. You stared at him and he stared back, a tear running down his cheek.

"Good soldiers follow orders..."

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@eternalwaffle

@misogirl828

@tech-deck

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