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tarisilmarwen · 9 months

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Rebels Rewatch: "Zero Hour"

Thrawn's master plan pays off in a devastating season finale.

I calculated out once approximately how many onscreen casualties we had on the Rebels' side from this battle. I'd like us to keep those figures in mind while we watch as a reminder of how well Thrawn's attack actually went.

(People tend to selectively forget that part when talking about how all the main characters managed to survive.)

One of the Imperial musical motifs to open us up and even covered in smog and pollution Capital City is still pretty.

Unlike Tarkin's big entrance two seasons ago, there's only Konstantine and Pryce and a couple rote Stormtroopers to welcome Thrawn's shuttle. Because Thrawn does not bother with the flashy shows of force, with the politics and pomp and circumstance. All he cares about are results.

"Thrawn's Web" is in keyboard synths now instead of organs, for his first appearance, btw.

It's kind of adorable how Kallus repurposed the mouse droids to be spy cameras for him.

Our premise is set: Thrawn has figured out--from their sorties and surveys and smaller attacks, most likely--that Phoenix Squadron are preparing to move to attack Lothal's TIE factories. Tarkin doubts in their audacity, but Thrawn has seen Hera in action and knows she very much would dare.

This meeting with Tarkin is twofold, on the surface level a strategy conference, but also another attempt to bait out Fulcrum. Just as he used the map back in "Through Imperial Eyes", he uses this covert meeting to entice Kallus into warning the Rebellion, into taking action that would expose him.

I don't think they ever followed up on this plot element they introduce here, that Thrawn apparently had spies tracking Dodonna's group? Unclear if they were in that Rebel cell or just had good eyes on them. My vote is the latter because Yavin remains undiscovered by the Empire both before and after this battle and the remnants of both Dodonna's group and Phoenix Squadron flee there safely.

Tarkin puts a single leash on Thrawn for the upcoming pre-emptive strike: Capture the leadership alive. If not for this one condition, I'm pretty sure Thrawn would have just slaughtered both Rebel groups in full. Thrawn doesn't seem particularly bothered by this condition, in any case, not a single sign of annoyance or displeasure on his face, but a soft smile instead.

Leaning hard into these OT feels with Luke's Theme and what sounds like ambient noise lifted directly from the Yavin scenes in New Hope.

There's a distinct feeling of optimism here. Ezra is happily gushing about how much everyone else has done for the Rebellion. (Love that cute little wavering gesture he does with his hand to qualify Chopper's contributions lol.) And then Kanan says some of it was Ezra too and ugh my heart.

He immediately deflates and dismisses his own contributions. "Kanan, I... I didn't do any of this." and my brain goes immediately to his soft guilty, "I didn't do anything." from all the way back in the pilot and the self-esteem issues he's shown throughout the series, how he has trouble believing in himself, how he doesn't think he's anything without Kanan and the others, that there's nothing special about him. He thinks he would have been stuck on Lothal "waiting to be rescued like everyone else".

(This is one of the reasons Ezra's grief over Kanan later turns largely self-pitying.)

Kanan's "Ezra, you have never been like everyone else." stabs me right in the gut, hgn. This whole conversation about how Hera saw something special in Ezra, and he did too (eventually), how he wonders if there's even anything left he can teach Ezra... even with the death flags all over it it's still pure heartwarming, basically an open acknowledgement of Kanan as Ezra's father figure.

"He commands one of the largest Rebel cells I know of." HA. HA HA. HA HA HA HA HA. HAAAAAAA. *cries*

It's... adorable that Kallus was using Ezra's old comm tower to send his Fulcrum messages. Kind of stupid, because of course that would be the place to check for a Rebel spy heavily associated with a former Lothal-based group, he may as well have put out a big welcome mat for Thrawn, but it's cute nonetheless.

This fight has been analyzed a few times by people much more keen to this stuff than me but I do like how blunt and precise Thrawn's every move is. Also I did notice that Thrawn targeted Kallus's bad knee (the one he broke on Bahryn).

*grumbles* The "heart of a Rebel" line would have been just that much more awesome if it was a bit more earned. *grumbles*

You know I think this blather about Kallus providing the last clue Thrawn needed is a bunch of bullshit, Thrawn already knew the planet was there, he saw it in the artwork he was studying and realized it had been deleted off his map.

Man just wanted to gloat.

Kallus's face tho. :((((

Continuity callback to "Legacy" and the Empire flushing them off Garel.

The slow build-up of this ambush is great. Fulcrum cutting out, Ryder mentioning the fleet above Lothal just vanished, Hera and Ezra realizing with horror what that means, Sato called away to see the Star Destroyers dropping out of hyperspace, Ryder's holoimage vanishing...

And that final nail of dread when you realize Thrawn brought Interdictors to the battle to cut off their escape.

And there's the flagship in all her glorious splendor.

Thrawn's theme creeping in eerily here as the man himself decides to call in and gloat some more. With any other character this might be empty bravado but we know by now that Thrawn can back this threat up.

And so the stage is set.

Hera quickly realizes she can't brunt force her way through Thrawn's fleet without suffering heavy casualties, so her plan is to try and open the formation up enough to get a ship through to summon reinforcements, basically a Gondor Calls For Aid ploy. They hold out until help arrives behind the Imperial vanguard to distract them, hopefully allowing the Rebels to slip through.

"As Jedi you have the best chance to escape." Oof, Hera knows just how small their opening is going to be, going to need an assist from Force-imbued quick reflexes. And she knows the Alliance responds stronger to calls to action from Jedi, because Jedi are the inspiration, the standard bearers, Jedi make people hope.

Kanan planning on enlisting Bendu and Hera having no idea what he means lolol.

These goodbye/good luck shoulder touches mean everything ghkjh.

Luke's Theme struggles to break in, but the note progression is wrong, ascending to shorter heights than it should be. The heroism of the theme is hesitant, uncertain.

Thrawn's already pegged Sato's strategy, recognizing it by name and implements countermeasures smoothly. The plan to try and spread out the Star Destroyers is dead on arrival before it can get started, Thrawn closes formation and relies on the fighters to batter the front guard of the Rebel forces.

Konstantine whines about why aren't they charging in at full strength and Thrawn shuts him down, warning that the Rebels are going to do something unexpected and that it's only his strategy that's going to win out, shut up, sit down, and follow MY orders. Kallus, who has worked with Konstantine for years, knows exactly how Konstantine is going to take being told to stay put, exactly how he'll see it--as a petty fight for glory.

Thrawn dismisses that. He's not interested in glory, only results. And this is where his lack of political acumen is going to come back and bite him.

Hera enters the battlefield herself, and we see Wedge too. Kanan, meanwhile, is trekking it out to the Bendu hollow to go be a nuisance and give an excellent deconstruction of why neutrality in the face of evil is not only less than helpful it actively harms the righteous cause because With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility, if you can act to defeat an evil or work against it you should. This is why Empire stans' crowing about how there were good decent people working for the Empire holds very little water, at a certain point Joe the Average Stormtrooper is going to either witness or be asked to participate in some type of atrocity or injustice, and what they do when confronted with the knowledge "Oh, the organization I work for is actually Really Terrible And Evil." matters. If they bury their ears in the sand and declare, "Not my problem." they're complicit in the daily tyranny and oppression of the system they uphold.

"But when I saw innocents harmed, and knew I had the power to do something about it, I couldn't just watch it all burn down around me!" *CRIES IN "THE JEDI CODE IS LIKE AN ITCH, HE CANNOT HELP IT" FEELINGS*

Ezra's job thus far seems to be to help pick off Imperial fighters and stay out of enough dogfights to watch for his opening. He looks stressed.

Sato changes strategy, ordering a charge. It's disastrous immediately, they lose like three big ships in the space of thirty seconds. And Ezra can't edge around the battlefield far enough to get access to the hyperspace lane opening.

Frick, the frustration in his voice...

This pushes Sato to attempt the Rebel Alliance's favorite tactic: Ram a ship into another ship. This kind of heroic self-sacrifice happens all the time on the Alliance's side, a kind of lighter version of a kamikaze attack, an "If I gotta die I'm taking you down with me!" kind of desperate bravery.

The two pilots that stay behind out of loyalty to Sato says nothing really about them and everything about Sato and the kind of man he is, that people would willingly elect to stay with him to the bitter end.

Sato has them head on a course that seems like they're attempting to escape. Konstantine sees it and takes the bait, defying Thrawn and moving out of position.

Ho ho man the shock on Thrawn's face.

At the last second Sato has the pilots swerve course and plow into Konstantine's Interdictor and THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN A PERFECT TIME TO HAVE A REACTION SHOT FROM MART, GUYS, JUST SAYING.

Godspeed sir. *sobs*

Ezra slips through and Thrawn has his fleet tighten once again, repositioning his remaining Interdictor and you can hear the vaaaaaaaaguest hint of irritation in Thrawn's voice here lol.

Organs punctuate this cue, hints of Thrawn's theme overhanging, threatening.

Back down on the ground Kanan's Persuasion Check isn't working so now he switches to insults.

Bendu ah... does not take kindly. I think it's actually kind of hilarious that the whole terrible "It was the will of the Force that the Jedi get genocided!" take is put into the mouth of Bendu after he got pissy for being called a coward. I feel like that maybe was deliberate. Like, "You wanna be like this asshole, fandom? Yeah, didn't think so."

Ezra is having similar trouble getting help from Mon, who feels like sending any of their limited forces to the battle would just reveal them further to Thrawn, alluding to some kind of disagreement she and Bail had about this matter. Bail apparently thought it was too soon for open war. (And that's why he's still in the Senate and Mon abdicated to shore up the Alliance.) I think it runs deeper than that, though, Mon is many things but she's not a strategist and she knows it. In a way she's almost a foil to Thrawn, skilled in politics and people but ill-adept at battle, whereas Thrawn does not understand politics but is a devastating war general.

Ezra's not ready to just abandon Phoenix Group though, so he beelines straight for the person who's been missing from things this whole time.

For Sabine. <3

She's talked about a lot in the opening scene in the next episode, too, reminding us she's not been here. Thrawn's fleet has now made a blockade cover directly overhead of the base, and they're preparing for orbital bombardment.

The worry in Hera's voice when urges Kanan, "Faster... please?" <3

Heeeeeeeeeey remember that time the holonet referenced Base Delta Zero and I told y'all it was basically a bunch of Star Destroyers holding in orbit and glassing everything on a planet's surface?

NOW YOU GET TO SEE WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE DIRECTLY UNDER ONE! :D

Frick that's terrifying.

Thrawn's theme plays in brass, an overwhelming drama to the score as the batteries fall. I love the way this is shot, with close-ups on Thrawn and Hera's faces as if they're staring at each other from across the battlefield. Thrawn doesn't order the ceasefire until Hera flinches, turning her eyes and bracing.

This Base Delta Zero was not solely an intimidation tactic, however. Thrawn likely weakened the localized shield enough for the ground forces to be able to penetrate. He does have his directions from Tarkin and a ground assault will more likely yield him living prisoners than continuing the bombardment.

"I'm getting the feeling Thrawn's actually trying to kill us this time." "Ohhh-ho that is only funny because you're still alive. Now please, come home, love." <3333333 They are so married. So so married. It's actually been a while since Hera called him "love" so she must be feeling Some Type Of Way right now.

HER FACE.

SHE WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM. <3

They're both immediately in front of Ursa together to petition her. And they are this close to holding hands sssfdsrrrhfhghh.

Kallus cackling because he knows he can get under Pryce's skin like he can't get under Thrawn's.

Thrawn still sounds just a smidge annoyed. :)

Ezra preparing to leave by himself empty-handed until Sabine declares, "And Rohan will answer!"

Curse this photo limit I'm going to need to make a separate post of just their interactions there's so much good subtle stuff here.

SABINE THINKS THEY CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE BECAUSE EZRA BELIEVES THEY CAN, CRIPES I AM UNWELL.

Sabine thinking strategically and figuring out the obvious target. <3

Meanwhile Rex has set up a choke point to hopefully slow the ground forces down, buy Ezra enough time to come back with help.

Nnghhghkh I didn't think the AT-DPs were capable of freaking me out but that whole big cluster of them all advancing slowly is uh... a good contender.

Thrawn apparently sent the AT-DP company to sus out the Rebels' defenses, so now he's sending in the big bois, the AT-ATs. Not the first or last time he would sacrifice lower level troops to a specific objective. This also serves to prime us to expect multiple waves from Thrawn, which would be used to devastating effect next season.

Love this Big Damn Heroes moment from Kanan here. <3 One Jedi, one nice slice with the lightsaber, felled a whole walker.

The build-up to the Bendu storm is great too, the clouds keeping on rolling in and darknening. Atollon doesn't actually seem to get storms very often, the only two times we've seen it storming were in "Visions And Voices" and now. It does make Thrawn look very intimidating.

EEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

And the first thing our Mandalorian reinforcements do is jam transmissions. Not sure from where to where, from the Interdictor to the other Destoyers? From the Destroyers to the ground troops? Just trying to figure out how much of Pryce not telling Thrawn about the Mandos was her failure versus she literally couldn't call him.

Right so Pryce's first mistake was moving the capital ships, Thrawn had them smack over the base for a reason. Now there are gaps in the formation that the Rebel ships can slip through. The Fang fighters were sent in as a distraction while Ezra and Sabine bring the gauntlet in to attack the Interdictor.

AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER TO HEAR THE HEROIC VARIATION OF THE "SHENANIGANS" CUE.

AT-ATs firing up through the coral overhangs from below, at the landing platforms the Rebels have made on one of the big leaves.

Hera sounds like she was getting ready to make a last stand, she was insistent on being in the Ghost when she went out and she sounded astonished to hear Ezra.

ANDTHENTHERE'STHISASSHOLE.JPEG.

*pillows hands* It is fascinating that Thrawn specifically threatens Kanan first to get Hera to surrender. Methinks he has discerned the "special relationship" the two have.

He keeps his hand on his own sidearm, too, makes me wonder if he was planning on doing some of the executions personally.

Thrawn was all ready with some type of comment about not being afraid of the weather and then the lightning struck a liiiiiiiiiitle too close lol.

He's already looking up at the sky like, "Okay that ain't natural." and Bendu's face hasn't even emerged yet lololol.

Angry god face in the clouds and and everyone basically just scatters ha ha. Troopers go that way, Rebels go that way, this is a little awkwardly staged so yeah it does kind of feel like the Imperials just let Hera and the others go.

But again. Angry god face in the clouds hurling lightning bolts down on you. I feel like they don't cover that scenario in training lol.

Sabine with faith in Hera to get the others out awww.

HELLO YES, MY SHIP BE BATTLE COUPLE NOW Y/Y?

"Shenanigans" coming in again, grimmer and more serious than ever, such a far cry from its original instrumentation.

"Hey, I don't have a jetpack." "You have those little thrusters!"

*raises finger, opens mouth*

Was... was that supposed to sound like some kind of "size joke" innuendo?

<333333

"I might have made him angry." Lol just a bit, Kanan, just a bit.

A very atmospheric last look at Atollon.

Don't think we've ever heard Thrawn shouting before, he's trying very hard not to be unnerved lol. And amazingly his, "Shoot the hell out of whatever that is." idea works. Props to Thrawn he took down a literal physical god.

I love the whole fight atop the Interdictor it's just so visually interesting. And Ezra is awesome throughout.

Kallus makes his move once Pryce is sufficiently rattled and flustered by the Interdictor blowing up, sassing her into ordering him out the airlock.

Even with the second Interdictor gone, not all the ships make it through.

I love the way the Stormtroopers Kallus takes out just slowly slide down the wall ha ha. Also love that his escape plan was basically, "Eject myself into an open battlefield, send coordinates, and pray."

I love this music cue, it captures the drama and pyrrhic nature of their escape.

Aaaaaah yes, the Thrawn-Bendu conversation of Foreshadowing. I love this. Thrawn once again trying valiantly not to show how disturbed he is by all of this, Bendu sounding astonished that he was actually hurt by something and then the prophetic words:

"I see your defeat... like many arms surrounding you in a cold embrace."

Fandom had a hard time puzzling that one out I tell ya.

SINGLE TAKE SHOT.

This shot is so good, how we slowly track Kanan as he moves through the Ghost, pausing to listen to important conversations, how he puts a hand on Zeb's shoulder as he passes. THE MUSIC.

Underrated and undeveloped friendship, I want so much more interaction between these two. Fic recs? Anyone? Bueller?

Kanan makes his way to Ezra in the nose gun, who is dejected and somber. Losing Atollon is not just a blow to the Alliance, but a blow to him personally, since it was the attack to help Lothal that got interrupted by Thrawn's ambush. He'd just spend the whole previous episode getting his head back right about his purpose and true goal and place in the story and now it seems further away than ever and that much harder to accomplish.

For some bizarre reason fandom took Kanan's, "There's a future for us, one where we're all free." as much more literal foreshadowing than I think it merited. Mostly after the fact, to complain that it was some kind of broken narrative promise after Kanan died. Guys c'mon, this is meant to be taken in context, as Kanan comforting Ezra with promises of hope, just like Hera did at the end of "Visions of Hope". This is not a prophecy, the "us" is a general us not specifically Kanan-and-Ezra us and the repetition of "I've learned to see things differently" is about reorienting your perspective, not Kanan saying he's literally getting visions.

Anyway, on Kanan's note of optimism in the face of defeat, the remnants of the fleet jump into hyperspace and close us out.

"Zero Hour" definitely has a bit of that Empire Strikes Back pyrrhic victory feel, we escaped and live to fight another day, but the cost was high, the attack on Lothal's factories was delayed and will remain off sometime in an indeterminate future, we lost a major Rebel base and were dealt a severe blow to morale. The Alliance moves more hesitantly after this, afraid to tip its hand too far and attract Thrawn's attention. The camerawork is fantastic throughout and there's a feeling of homecoming as our scattered characters come back together. With a few quibbles, this finale is very very good.

Overall Season Thoughts:

Season Three is the most uneven in quality of the show. The standout episodes are among the more fantastic of the show's run, but the duds fall even flatter. There are episodes that are solid but just "okay", plot threads and elements that are introduced only to receive no follow-up, and overall it feels just a bit messier than the previous two seasons.

That being said... it's still my favorite season. XD I tallied it up and the majority of my favorite episodes were here so what ya gonna do?

Coming to the final stretch here, one more season to go. I expect to breeze through this one since I've already done liveblog reactions to the whole of Season Four so I'll mostly be rambling meta about music and themes and character arcs and of course commenting on my favorite bits and pieces.

See y'all at the finish line!

#star wars #star wars rebels #agent kallus #ezra bridger #grand admiral thrawn #rebels rewatch #spoilers #liveblog #sabezra #kanan x hera

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lustbile · 2 years

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if youre up for a challenge can you try writing enemies to lovers with mark lee

I feel like you say challenge, because who in their right mind would hate mark lee right? well I don’t hate him, but I do operate under the belief that if I ever met him he would hate me. so there’s that and that’s what I’m channeling in this. thank you

Warnings: reader causing problems on purpose, choking, face slapping, oral (reader giving)

also I feel like with every one of these blurbs Im just exposing myself for being a freak but whatever.

——

“For the last time,” Mark starts slowly, turning towards you with his index finger pointing towards you, his demeanor calm enough that it’s slightly worrying, “leave. Me. Alone.”

“Oh what’s wrong Markie,” you all but howl, grabbing his finger with one hand as you reach out and tug on his ear with the other, “am I getting on your nerves?”

To say you and Mark never got along would be an understatement. On your first few initial meetings you were fine, polite to one another and completely cordial, but once you continued to be forced into each other’s presence, things started to get a little tense.

Did you enjoy picking at the boy more than you probably should have? Yes, but in your defense, teasing people who you considered your friends was just second nature to you. You thought you and Mark knew each other well enough at that point that you could cross that bridge, but when his cheeks turned bright red and his eyes narrowed in your direction, you thought maybe you had taken it too far.

So, with Mark’s hint that he did not want to be teased coming through very clearly, that would mean that you eased up right?

Wrong.

The issue was, Mark was very cute. With his big eyes and crooked smile, one of the first things you thought when you saw him was, there’s no way a boy can be that fucking cute. But he was, and it only got worse when he was mad.

So you kept it up, teased him and teased him to watch as his ears turned scarlet and his hand morph into fists. It was pure, but harmless, entertainment, that somehow down the line turned into bickering. He started to fight back, and you were definitely game for a fight, but as time went on things turned a little too serious. And now whenever you and Mark were together, the tension was thick enough that you’re surprised your mutual friends didn’t suffocate on it.

“You’re always on my nerves,” he bites back, pushing your hands off him, disappointment on his face as he clearly didn’t want to encourage you with a response, “literally since day one you’ve been on every nerve in my body.”

You smile, the cogs turning in your mind quickly, but as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at you, you wisely choose not to make the argument sexual… yet.

“That’s not true, Mark,” you pout at him, moving closer as discreetly and innocently as you can manage, “we got along really well the first time we met, then one day you just decided you hated me.”

“I didn’t decide,” he groans, not stepping away from you like usual, the lack of action not going unnoticed by you, “it’s like one day you just started pushing my buttons while practically begging me to hate your guts.”

“Strike one,” you respond bluntly, holding a finger up as he makes a small noise of confusion, “I would never beg you for anything.”

“That’s not my point.”

“Well it’s my point now,” shaking your head stubbornly, until he starts to grit his teeth at how childish you can be, “you can hate me all you want, Mark. Just at least get the facts straight.”

“So what?” He shrugs, playing along with you for once, even if he’s not aware, “you asked me politely to hate you?”

“No,” you shake your head, reaching up to grab his ear again, “you hate me all on your own, I’m just having a little fun.”

“You’re a brat,” he announces sternly like he’s had an epiphany, his eyes shifting in a way you’ve never seen, and for a moment you wonder if you’ve flipped dimensions and stand in front of a different Mark entirely, “you’re just a fucking brat.”

“Wow, big words Mark,” you reply sarcastically, throwing your hands up on faux surrender, hiding how his sudden shift of tone makes you feel, “do you kiss mommy with that mouth?”

You’ve seen Mark angry far more than your fair share of times, but something about you being just flat out juvenile is what always sets him off. But this time he looks ready to snap, with his shoulders tense and his tongue rolling over his teeth. He looks so incredibly pissed off at you, that it makes you giddy in a way that you’ve never experienced, and you just want to make it worse.

“Shut the fuck up,” he finally spits out as he takes a step closer to you, his fingers flexing and digging into his arm.

“Make me.”

You don’t have a smart remark for what Mark does next, you don’t even have a verbal one. All you can do is gasp loudly as his hands grab you around the sides of your throat.

He walks towards you as he pulls you closer, your hands moving to wrap around his wrists as he gently shakes you and walks you to the couch behind you. He kicks your feet out from under you when he gets close enough to the piece of furniture, and when you hold tighter onto him as you’re forced to depend on his hold for balance, he lowers you down to the floor until your neck curves and you rest your head on the cushion.

He gets visibly more angry when you smile up at him, his eyes narrowing and his hands shaking when you start to happily giggle. He can’t wrap his mind around you, and as you seem to beam from the way he holds you, he wonders how you can even be real.

“What’s your next move, Mark,” you ask as excitement floods your veins. If you thought he looked so cute when he got angry, you learn now that he looks even better when he’s livid, and you want nothing more than to see how far you can push him.

“I said shut the fuck up,” he commands again, his head spinning as he tries to figure out what to do. He’s shocked that he even grabbed you in the first place, but he’s more shocked that you seem to be liking it.

“Why the fuck are you enjoying this?” he asks, his tone showing his genuine bewilderment. He shakes you more as he questions you, and you revel in the deep blush that takes over his features when you let out a soft moan.

“Hit me, Mark,” you tell him softly, your thighs tensing as you beg the universe for him to listen. You just want it once, the feeling of his palm cracking against your skin, and you hope your eyes fluttering and your face showing signs of you becoming light headed will be enough to convince him.

“Are you insane?” he coughs out, knowing the answer to the question before he even had to ask, but as you squirm and pant below him, he starts to feel an itching in the center of his palm.

“I’ll be good,” you try, pleading in your head that this doesn’t turn south and you don’t end up feeling like a fool, “I’ll be really good, I promise.”

“Fuck,” he swears as his eyes shut tightly. The response makes you sigh happily. And when you glance down and see the bulge that starts forming in his pants, you know that regardless of where his hands are, you know realistically he’s in your trap.

Your eyes close when you see him reel back, his hand raising hesitantly off your neck and past his shoulder as he mentally weighs his options. He could let you go, tell you to fuck off again and watch you try to play whatever is happening between you off. Or he could hit you, watch you react in a way that he can’t even imagine now. And one of those options is starting to sound a lot more fun.

The initial impact of his hand against your cheek is so shocking you don’t feel it at first, the stinging grows gradually until the skin is hot and tingling, but that doesn’t stop the gasp and elated moan that you let out and he stares down at you in surprise.

“I-“ he tries to start, his brain feeling jumbled as his mouth repeatedly opens and closes, before he clears his throat, “did you like that?”

You’re not sure if he intended for his voice to sound so concerned, the words coming out in a fumbled message as he watches you melt back into the couch. But you smile in response, the look on your face being dazed and lazy as you draw your knees up and together. And with a gentle nod against his flexing fist, you quietly ask for more.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits as he swallows roughly.

“Kiss me,” you encourage, chewing on your lip as you stare at his, before fumbling to correct yourself, “do whatever you want to me.”

For the first time in a long time, Mark smiles at you. A soft smile that tugs on his lips but keeps his teeth hidden as he watches the way your eyes gloss over. He’s always thought you were pretty, aggravating as hell, but unbelievably pretty. But as you lay beneath him and shift your neck under his hold, he thinks you’re the prettiest he’s ever seen you.

With a quiet huff of disbelief, he moves down, pressing his lips against yours. Your lips are slick from the small amount of saliva that dribbled out from his slap, and the way you kiss back is more eager than he’d ever thought you could be. You taste like the candy you had consumed earlier, the small pieces of sugar he knew would hype you up and make you a bigger problem from him later lingering on your tongue and turning you into his own personal treat.

He bites down on your lips harshly, making you squeak and thrash in pain as he sucks the flesh into his mouth, and when your jaw drops to let out a quiet cry, he shoves his tongue in your mouth to lick at the back of your teeth.

A small drop of your combined spit trickles down your chin as he kisses you roughly, and as he pushes his palm deeper against your neck, your hips start to tilt and move as if they have a mind of their own.

A string of saliva connects you as he pulls away, his eyes wild as he sees this and the way you pant and whine. His free hand lands roughly on your cheek as he licks his lips in hunger, and as you look at him with begging eyes, his thumb presses into your bottom lip and admires how messy you’ve become.

“Do what I want,” he mumbles as if to remind himself of your earlier words, and when you rapidly nod in agreement, he moves his hand from your face and begins to fumble at the button of his pants.

He lifts you slightly with the hand around your neck, dragging your back up the front of the couch as he steps closer to your face. His own breathing sounds quick and shallow now, and he lets out a small his when he pulls his length out from the confines of his pants.

“Open your mouth,” he tells you with determined eyes, his hand wrapping around his shaft as he brings the head of his dick to the corner of your mouth. He taps his length a few times against your cheek, and when your tongue flicks out to try and roll against his skin, he slowly pushes himself down until he hits the back of your throat.

“You need to put this mouth to better use than just talking all the time,” he grunts as he lets go of his length to push his palm against your forehead. He shoves your head back into the cushion beneath your head, and once he feels his grip on your body is enough to keep you stationary, he starts to roughly rock his hips down into your face.

You breathe deeply through your nose as he fucks your face, trying to stay calm as you gag slightly and drool. The way he stretches your lips and drags across your tongue making you overly excited as you feel your arousal dampening your underwear and making the fabric stick to your skin.

“Who knew all it took to get you to behave was smacking you around a little,” he says in mock disbelief as he shoves his hips forward with more force, his body shuttering and his eyes fluttering a bit when you let out rhythmic squeaks, “just had to shove my cock down your throat to get you to shut the fuck up.”

Tears spill quickly over your water lines as you try to keep your eyes on his twisted up features, your heart squeezing and beating quickly as you can’t help but be endeared by how his eyebrows draw together. You try and reach up to grab at his belt loop, but with how dizzy his hold and your uneven breathing makes you, your hands fumble and struggle as they try to keep up with his movements.

When he lets go of your neck, you let out a muffled whine, and when he moves his hand to wrap around himself as he slips from your mouth, you whine louder. If it wasn’t for the hold he still had on your head, and the way he cages you in with his legs, you would have chased after him with your tongue as it still hangs from your mouth, but instead all you can do is watch him with teary eyes as he moves his shaky fist up and down his shaft.

“Do you want me to come on your face?” he asks in a way that makes it feel like a warning rather than a question, and when you mumble out slurs of confirmation he looks at you with a dark grin, “beg for it.”

You hum out in confusion, your shoulders twisting as you pout up at him, and when you scowl at him and shake your head against his palm, he shoves his shoed foot between your thighs to press against your crotch.

“You’re not in a position to disagree,” he tells you, taunting you by bringing his length closer to your hungry mouth before pulling away, “you wanted to talk shit earlier, but now you’re sitting here all pathetic and whiny. So fucking beg.”

“Mark, please,” you finally choke out, your voice rough in a way that has you shaking in embarrassment as you take advantage of him standing still to grab at his hips, “please I want your come on my face so bad. Need you so bad.”

He starts to move his hand again as you beg, groaning out in pleasure when your voice becomes watery and distraught. He already seems to be teetering on the edge, locking his eyes onto your messy face to get off to, but when you reach a hand up to scratch deeply into the skin of his tense stomach, his hips stutter forward until his tip bumps into the bridge of your nose.

You open your mouth wide when he lets out a telling groan, his hand moving faster as he keeps his eyes trained on you and your wiggling tongue. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and as his skin flushes bright and warm, you watch him slowly fall apart at the seams.

The first bit of his come that hits your skin makes you jump, the sticky substance landing on where your cheek blends into the skin at the side of your nose and slipping slowly down. He moans out, low and long as he continues to coat your face, and when some of it lands on your lips and waiting tongue, you moan out with him with a grin.

He finishes with a rattling intake of air, his eyes shutting and his head tilting down as he collects himself and you just vibrate below him in excitement. When his eyes finally open again, he fears that he could get hard again, as you stare up at him expectantly, your face and tongue still marked with the evidence of his orgasm. And you looked so genuinely happy, he wonders for a moment how he ever managed to get frustrated by you.

“You’re something else, you know that?” He asks, his voice gruff as he matches your teasing smile.

You make sure he’s watching as you bring your tongue back into your mouth, swallowing dramatically before you lick at what’s left on your lips, and humming before you respond proudly.

“I’m very aware.”

#Nct smut #mark smut #mark lee smut #nct blurb #mark blurb #kpop smut #ask

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wtffundiefamilies · 1 year

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Imagine being a grown-ass man angry about Barbie with Down Syndrome. Worse, imagine being a human being who sees having a kid with DS as a political statement. Sure, the left is on a crusade to abort any fetus with chromosomal abnormalities because of...reasons...I guess?...why not, sounds legit. Because if anyone has access to abortion they would obviously not WANT a child with Down Syndrome. They only exist because some people know abortion is murder. Is that it, Matt? Not because someone might find out their future child is going to be a little bit different from most people and not react with absolute horror? Not because someone could hear their future kid is going to have potential disabilities and be like “oh, ok, we’re prepared for that”? Not because someone might WANT a child with Down Syndrome because they have the same value as people as everyone else and some people find that intuitively obvious? Not because some people know that DS isn’t usually some kind of devastating diagnosis (I mean true some kids with DS have life-threatening health issues I’m not trying to diminish that)? Not because some people are okay with the idea of having a kid who is less likely to grow up to be a heart surgeon and don’t see people with intellectual disabilities as somehow undesirable? (And I know there are plenty of very smart people with Down Syndrome! But as someone with learning disabiltiies myself I also know that being smart isn’t always enough for academic success.)

(Obviously people should be able to terminate a pregnancy for any reason they want; I’m just not convinced that that reason for most people is “I just really hate people with Down Syndrome and want them gone from the planet.” Maybe I’m the weirdo here.)

Also I feel like Matt Walsh is one of those people who thinks God created people with Down Syndrome purely to teach “normal” people life lessons and shit. But that’s just a gut feeling. I can’t prove it.

#matt walsh #'pro life'#steven crowder

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self-winding · 11 months

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Recently, I’ve been hearing Rachel Dolezal mentioned again in relation to identity issues.

I’m actually pretty sympathetic to the concept of transracialism, I think she is just a uniquely bad poster child for it because her identity seems so bound up in “political” blackness and the need to feel oppressed.

But if you accept that race is a social and cultural construct rather than an immutable physical reality which flows out of biological ancestry, the idea that someone’s race can be negotiable and at least partly based on their social/cultural reality, rather than purely on ancestry, seems pretty straightforward.

I don’t remember the dude’s name but I remember reading an article about a musician with Eastern European ancestry who was fairly dark-skinned and had grown up in a predominantly black community. Even though none of his ancestors were from Africa, he was perceived as black and saw himself as black. And that’s not even going into mixed-race people who can pass as either/or. Even more so than sex or gender, racial categories are very fuzzily defined and porous.

I guess (to state the obvious) the more controversial aspects of “transracialism” come in when people whose natural appearance is more stereotypically white start modifying that appearance to look more black, as Dolezal did. I will admit that this is more viscerally uncomfortable to me than an AMAB person wanting to present in a very feminine way, and of course there’s the association with blackface performances, but gut feelings are just gut feelings. Every attempted argument I’ve seen for why these things are different takes one of two tactics:

1. Transmedicalism; “it’s different because being transgender is a diagnosable medical condition, and transracialism is not. There’s currently no body of research to support the idea.” The obvious drawback to this is that a lot of trans people also don’t buy into the transmedicalist framework and consider it pretty limiting. There are large numbers of trans people it excludes.

2. Authenticity-by-oppression. Trans women “catch up” to cis women pretty quickly in terms of the types of discrimination they experience, and might even outpace them, whereas a Rachel Dolezal probably doesn’t experience the same degree of discrimination as someone who naturally looks very black. There are obvious issues with this framing as well, in that it treats the “realness” of someone’s identity as purely defined by oppression. If trans women stop being oppressed do they stop being “real women”?

So, does this mean I think Dolezal is “valid”? I mean, there’s plenty about her as a person that I find objectionable. But just asking, “Is Dolezal ‘really’ black?” implicitly buys into the idea that “black” is an immutable metaphysical category. Scientifically, it’s not. Socially and culturally, it is (at the very least) kind of hard to define in any rigid way, so we’re reduced to a kind of “I know it when I see it, and that’s not it” way of thinking, but that way of thinking has plenty of obvious pitfalls. My brain still has trouble accepting that a tomato is a fruit and that Pluto is not a planet.

If I allow myself to play devil’s advocate to myself: Yes, I do subscribe to the common sense definition that if you’re going to call yourself black you should have at least a little African ancestry, but how much is “a little”? I mean, technically we all have African ancestry. Also I know jack shit about how DNA works, beyond what I learned in my high school biology classes. All right, so if you’re going to call yourself black, you should be able to pass as black without modifying your appearance too much...but what is “too much”? Do dreads count, does a perm count, does a tan count? Well, you can do what you like with your appearance as long as your primary motive isn’t to appear black...but okay, now we’re talking about subjective, wobbly stuff like motive and it’s getting very tricky.

Idk man.

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solardick · 3 months

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Would one pray upon being a blessing on everyone they meet? As the term “to pray insists its existence in the absence of violence. Take the intent and pour power into it. This is the meaning of a prayer.

The constructive use of living images, fantasy, and the like. Is to put it to use. Active involvement with the motion to practice learn, and build, to particular social situations.

Is to play. The mind creates and doors open.

The day the world respects my choices and what i stand behind, while expecting me to give back the opposite of what is received would be great.

Thanks for breaking my sex. And thanks for reenforcing the notion that i’ll never get to experience the love of a good woman within a functional relationship. And not one knowing nothing else nut others dominance and negative reenforcements. 39 years and counting. Yeah for being alive. Ill work tillninretire if indont shot myself before then. And then ill shoot myself. And just continue doing what you’ve always done. Support others through transitions and healthy decisions. While they all rape existance for their own selfish ends. Existance will always ever be just me. Surrounded by violence manipuation and bs.

Prayers are useless to a slave.

I gave her the devil card through someoneelse. And all they did on my side talk about dicklove. Like usual. Buch of f@gt$

The positive side of the tower is the removal of constraints. Of the veil consealing whats within. It encompasses. Discovery and rhat ancxious type feelign. Perhaps a little exileration. It is tied to violence on the positive side to. It implied actions and impatience, and it implied receptivity to another party’s giving. Easily twisted as is everything in tarot.

The secret valentine or a gift on christmas morning. The french deck had it right with its raining one colourful lights found no when else but to december.

This too requires an act. An act of giving. Its a movement forward. In the place of expédition, the reception act is in confirmation. Though that door may be just as closed to the care of the response. Which is an iffy issue towards the selfish or selfless. For either one may be on either side.

More to gain here if, i can get mind on it.

And how else do most open a gift? It ties into the conditioned sexual act. One tares into it. At first in hast, later with more resistance. As if trying to be polite and civilized about it. Restraint. Built into the structure. Desensitized. To the experience. It’s amazing when it bubbles underneath. In one’s gut. In one’s chest. Feel it running through one’s hands. Is it just on the surface? or is it running through the bone? When all is right. Its just as dangerous if not. It wants a feedback.

The response which came back the next day. Another curiosity to being hooked up with a horny 20 y’old cousine of a bible camp trooper. Asked again. Ok, it isn’t just play. They want a fact. The natural response coinciding with the act;

“No, i don’t want a 20 year old slut. i ain’t a flooring dildo.” Message sent. Stop tying your gay shit to my motives. Pls.

Cant be said any clearer, or respectfully than that. If thats a problem for two, then that sounds like a you problem, dont take it out on me.

Dance with me, luv. She, so happens to dance. I’m giving back what was given to me. What else a man to do? No one knows the allure of a devil more than me. It’s been played on me since existence was born. All my life experience ties into it. I mean, what guy wouldn’t want a stand with a horny 20 yearold. Full smoking. ? That’s the play. Of course i do. Except…. Where’s the connection? Passion is deep, and frigid. Pure sexual gratification doesn’t matter and doesn’t interest me. The acts sensible to indebtednes and union as the basis. Beyond this, already bonded… theres more freedom of movement. For it centralizes around the pillar.

And i know its there, luv. It’s coming from you and i am weak. The card couldnt describe the relationship better. Where it goes from here. Im less concerned with. It feels good to provide. Since the social is flat. And exists solely on life support. Where “Waite’s” devil is a seal. Tying either party together. Morphing bonding impressions. Forming intent and magnetizing the compass, modifying direction. It was the perfect gift.

Direction is working again. But, north isn’t true north anymore and it never will be again.

Perhaps the shrink would say, im searching for mother’s approval. And not her spychotic disapproval. They’re all psychotics and im badly aspected to all of them. tmi.

Thr little amount of sleep and straining effort makes me sleepy. And not desiring to do anything. 5pm. Think its time for bed.

Well that all depends if they’re a scorpio rising or not. Perhaps its just a fluid pluto aspect. Scorpio rising at that age. Would place that saturn right where it belongs.

Though other “options” appear. A lower class striving. Ambition wise, is simple. And ungrandios. Not trying to fill in any shoes. French, less fluid in english.

I see, in this situation i don’t want to take advantage of. An Eros sun speaks volumes in the creation of love. Community endeavours.

#tarot #qwerty #tarotblr #the devil

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samuraisharkie · 6 months

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I’m fucking gutted by the fact that my parents are such shills for Israel that I have to look up shit proving Israel is making stuff up even though I’ve fucking SHOWN them what Palestinians are saying, I’ve given them the proof, and they have the gall to ask me “why weren’t you this broken up about Israel’s dead children? Why didn’t you cry everyday about Ukraine?” and say shit like “promise me you won’t put yourself out there and in danger by people taking advantage of your compassion. promise me you won’t put this family in danger. I’m worried about you. You should stop looking at it for a while. Tell me you don’t hate Israel.” I can’t believe that every proof I show they immediately get mad and defensive and “concerned” that they’re seeing more proof against Israel. If I ever show them Tantura, they’re not going to get three minutes in. They’re so obsessed with the Bible that they refuse to see the evil their supposedly “holy country” is doing!! They’re calling the Christians against Israel “bad Christian’s”. I got them to admit we need a ceasefire and that Israel doesn’t need help the other day, and in between that time they inundated themselves with more bullshit. The progress I make with them is always destroyed the moment I stop talking. I wish I could find a way to get them away from shit like Fox News without them throwing a fit, because I KNOW that’s where most of it’s coming from. I was crying about the civilians being killed in South Lebanon, three more children and one more adult destroyed because of pure hatred, and they can’t see it. It’s terrifying. The death has never been worse, and they want to police how I talk about it. They monitor my money, so I have to donate discreetly or to places like Doctors without Borders, or else they’ll completely fucking embarrass me like they did when I donated to BLM and Change.org (Change.org had some sort of issue where it kept taking money from me monthly even though I didn’t agree to anything but a one time payment so they decided I was scammed by BLM) by taking me and my twin OUT IN PUBLIC to have a confrontation and “intervention” to us about it!!! The most satisfaction I can get is that, when I confronted them that I feel like I have to work twice as hard to be heard because I’m looked down on, my mom admitted she dreads political discussions with me because she knows I’ve done my homework. (Undercurrent of that is also concerning, that she dreads it because she won’t get an echo chamber and it might be uncomfortable bc she won’t be able to dominate the discussion). I’m just. I’m so infuriated that my activism is neutered to whatever I can get away with online, and even then I can’t show it outwardly because then they come at me with “this isn’t good for you, you need to step away”. I’m gonna have to learn how to archive shit I guess, as much as I suck at navigating that shit and having a functioning computer/phone. I know they’re gonna come at me for “spending too much time online” and “hyperfixating on bad things” for it bc it’s gonna take a chunk of learning and doing, but like. what else can I fucking do.

#I need to get the fuck out of here.#don’t think I didn’t notice I got breadcrumbs this month from SSI. not enough money leftover after donating to genocide huh government.#trying to save to have independence is impossible rn. I’m so fucking frustrated.

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sirsirgirl · 2 years

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Why I believe the "harem ending" is unlikely to happen (Men of the Harem theory) - PART I

Disclaimer 1: What I mean by "Harem ending" is an escenario in which Latil stays with all her consorts instead of choosing just one.

Disclaimer 2: This post will contain spoilers from the novel.

Disclaimer 3: Please, take everything with a grain of salt. Although, I'll try to be as objective as possible, this is only my own interpretation of the story.

******

Let's start with some unavoidable facts.

1. All roads lead to... GUKSEO!

If you've been following the novel from the beginning, you might be aware of these two things.

- Latil established a harem to secure power. If you jumped the first chapters of the novel (as I did the first time), you might think the main purpose of having a harem was to take revenge on Hyacinth. Nope! In reality, Latil's first reason was to avoid her power and influence to be split over with a Prince consort too soon.

- Latil knew she will eventually have to choose a "real husband". Yup, that's right, even in fantasy, royalty cannot avoid the issues of the imperial family lineage. Although, her harem might act as an effective shield from the ministers concern about a successor, Latil knew questions about the royal heir and the imperial family will come back in the future, she just wasn't emotionally ready to think about that early on.

Yeah, I know some of you never lost sight of this, but looking at the comments on Naver, seems like a lot of us did. For better or for worse, chapter 585 *cough, cough* brought our feet back to the ground. Whether we like it or not, the Gukseo arc has been reopened, and my gut feeling is telling me that it will not be too long until Latil makes her choice.

Maybe now you're thinking "so, what's the problem with that? Latil can choose a Gukseo and still live happily with her harem, right? RIGHT????"

Well, not so fast, you innocent kind-hearted child, because...

2. Choosing a Gukseo will set concubines apart... Like, REALLY!

Instead of calling them "unavoidable facts", I might as well have called them "hard truths". But yeah, this is something I actually wanted to comment on a few weeks ago, and I believe the recent chapters are lowkey anticipating it.

At first, I thought only Ranamun and Guesta were particularly interested in becoming the Royal Consort. You know, Guesta is the son of Prime Minister Rhodes, and Ranamun is the son of Duke Atraxil. As their parents were political opponents, it was only natural for them to aim for such a privileged position to gain power and recognition in their political parties. However, as the story progressed, other concubines developed their own personal reasons to aim for the same. Let's see:

- Tasir: I think it's fair to accept he's been the most helpful consort along the story. If we are talking about ability, he would be the smartest choice for an imperial position. But is not like he has no pressure to become Gukseo. Although his personal reason to apply as a concubine was to investigate the death of the former Emperor, the official reason for his application was to gain a noble title for his family. We know he's the least dramatic concubine, but can he remain calm if he's rejected when he's perfectly aware of his contributions, and he knows what's at stake for his family? I'm not sure.

- Clein: We're gradually starting to see his ambitions. He might not be the most brilliant consort, but we already know he holds himself in high regard, and is indeed very selfish (even the chairman acknowledged this). Latil even says she's noticing his "hard work". Aaaand, he also has a personal reason to become a Royal Consort: his brother. He knows he came as a temporary consort and wants to prove his brother he deserves the position too (he's also very jealous of his intentions to marry Latil lol). We have witnessed before how Clein reacts to things he doesn't like, there's no doubt he would be extremely angry if he's not chosen. Also, I wonder if him using the power of the pure soul to seal Anyadomis will make him more prone to act with evil (not a fact, just me being curious).

- Jaisin: He's not personally interested in the position, but Baek Hwa is pushing him towards it. I'm not afraid of him being disappointed whatsoever, but I'm afraid of Baek Hwa’s reaction, we know he has chosen to believe in Latil temporarily, but what if he changes his mind if Jaisin is not the chosen one?

- Meradim: He might not be aiming for Latil's heart, but being a royal consort was one of his main intentions when he became a consort. I'm not afraid of his reaction either, I don't think he will be particularly mad unless Girgol is the one chosen as Royal Consort, and he might even not be so angry if the chosen one is Tasir (in case you don’t know, they’re really close and Meradim even calls Tasir "brother").

(I purposely didn't include Carlein and Girgol, they will have their own section)

Not only does everyone have a reason to believe they should become Gukseo, but most of them also have developed romantic feelings towards Latil (or Lord). Whoever gets picked, jealousy will arise, and so it's very unlikely they'll stay together for the power of friendship...

There are also other issues to consider. We know some consorts have some personal beefs with each other:

- Ranamun - Tasir: In chapter 284 (?), Tasir promised Ranamun he would not aim for the Gukseo position in exchange for his help in the purchasing of some properties (just so you know, Tasir never planned to keep his promise lol). Ranamun took it seriously. He even threaten Tasir in chapter 398*. I don't think there's any scenario were, if Tasir gets picked as a Gukseo, Ranamun will react peacefully. My main concern is that his anger will make him act as the adversary, and consequently antagonise with Latil.

*When Latil said she would become pregnant one day, Tasir held her hand and shared looks with her. Ranamun noticed it, and then approached him in private to warn him to never to sleep with her to avoid the risk of getting her pregnant. However, Tasir told him he couldn't avoid sleeping with her, because he was -after all- a consort first.

- Clein - Tasir: Similar case as with Ranamun. Tasir also promised Clein to help him become the Royal Consort. He might not have the same reaction that Ranamun, but he will for sure feel betrayed. I wonder what would happen if that were the case.

We also have Carlein - Guesta (remember when Guesta used the fox den to sent Carlein far away?), Clein - Girgol (remember when Clein destroyed his Greenhouse and Girgol did the same with his room?), Carlein - Ranamun (Ranamun accused Carlein of stealing Clein’s talisman), Guesta - Clein (at beginning of the story they fought endlessly), Guesta - Tasir (remember when they traveled with Latil to Karisen and all they did was fight?). I guess all of them have some reason to hate each other lmao, but I purposely just dove deep in the beefs that were more related to the royal marriage.

********

Well, Tumblr gals, this is the first part of my analysis. I wanted to cover some of the basic issues we shouldn’t ignore, regardless of our ships. I hope you like it. And again, this is just my take on what I've read, it's perfectly fine to have a different pov <3.

#moth spoilers #men of the harem #tasir anghes #guesta rhodes #ranamun atraxil #latrasil tarium #emperor latil #sir sonnaught

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bibbykins · 3 years

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Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

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#yandere bts #soft yandere bts #bts fanfic #bts series #yandere jungkook #bts angst #bts fluff #poly bts au

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic.

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane."

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears.

"bitch," you mutter under your breath.

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again.

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?"

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway.

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?"

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him.

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath.

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement.

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year.

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her.

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living.

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing."

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done.

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way.

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement.

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears.

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend.

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word.

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel.

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode.

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information.

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics.

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve.

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too.

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?"

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind.

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head.

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest.

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!"

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys.

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history."

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said.

"do you really want to know why?"

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart.

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss.

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone.

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment.

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day.

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor.

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down.

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud.

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand.

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't…

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper.

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused.

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going.

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back.

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video.

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers.

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples.

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration.

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin.

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day.

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder.

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp.

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time.

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside.

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home.

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off.

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung.

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him.

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with.

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it... but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you.

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob.

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face.

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

#hmu if i missed a warning #yandere doyoung #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #tw swearing #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw knife

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 12

WC: 773

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: big angst, implied infidelity, confrontation, relationship troubles, jealousy, brief mention of abusive parents/anger issues (in regards to Mr. Kreizler)

A/N: im sorry

🧠

As he left the tavern he texted you to ask where you were. To his surprise you responded immediately letting him know that you were at his home. He hailed a taxi and was on his way.

Reaching the townhouse he opened the door, basking in the warmth inside. Even into early March the temperatures outside could be brutal after dark. He hung up his coat on the rack, peering around the visible downstairs to locate you. A single lamp illuminated a corner of the parlor. He entered the living space to find you sat in one of his large armchairs. You wore no discernable expression on your face.

“How was your meeting?” he asked politely to start conversation.

“How’s Dr. Stratton?” you snap back. You had worked so hard to keep yourself in check, convincing yourself that you were just getting inside your own head. But at this point you’d reached the ‘zero fucks given’ stage.

Laszlo sighs your name with a slight shake of his head. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about-”

You interrupt him. “What is going on between the two of you? I feel like I hardly see you anymore - you’re always with her. You come late to office hours, you skip out on Friday nights, you cancelled on dinner last week when I was already waiting for you at the damned restaurant. That was embarrassing, Laszlo.”

“I can assure you that Karen and I are-” he starts civilly.

“Karen and I, Karen and I,” you mock. “Everything the last month has been about ‘Karen and I’. You’re what? Just friends? I’ve been trying to convince myself for weeks that nothing is going on between you two but I’m at my wits end here!”

He reels back at your outburst. “You are mistaken. Nothing untoward has happened that would cause me to be unfaithful to you - do you think so low of my character? After everything?”

“I saw you today! She was all over you in the coffee shop! So no, I’m not really sure what the hell to think right now,” your voice raises, as does your frustration.

His own ire grows. “She is no more than a colleague. I am allowed to socialize and meet with others for the sake of my career, am I not? She and I have not been anything more than colleagues since Germany,” he tries to explain.

“Since- since Germany?” You feel like you’ve been sucker punched right in the gut. “So you two were together then? How long were you planning on going before I found out? The day she came forward with your bastard child or some crazy shit? A little Kreizler Jr. running around that you couldn’t hide?” By now you have vacated the chair in favor of standing mere inches from him. The air in the room is hot and thick with tension.

“Yes, I confess. I was in a relationship with Karen for several years before I moved to New York. We separated when I left, that was the end of it. It had been four years since I last communicated with her. Her reappearance at the university and into my life has been purely in the academic sense. The affections that we once held have passed, many years ago. That is what I wanted to speak with you about.” He does nothing to hide his indignation.

“You should have told me from the start! When you found out I knew her you still kept it hidden from me. As for not having feelings? I’m calling bullshit on that. She’s clearly still in love with you and you're just going to sit by and have me watch it happen!” The shout that leaves you can easily be heard by the neighbors.

“Ridiculous,” he sneers.

"How can you not see it? It's so fucking obvious, Laszlo!"

“I had hoped to have a civil conversation with you so that we could move along from the dour attitude you’ve been sporting as of late, but clearly I have made a miscalculation.” He could sense that he was very close to losing his temper. For as angered as he could get he refused to be like his father. In an effort to calm down he turns away.

Your voice is deadly quiet as you say "Laszlo Kreizler I swear to God you better not walk out that door."

He looks over his shoulder towards you. “When you feel as though you can speak to me with a level head let me know.” Grabbing his coat, he leaves you to your devices as he closes the front door behind him.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @thatoneartgalsstuff @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s

#psychopathia sexualis #the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #i love my angsty laszlo #laszlo kreizler fanfic #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #tw infidelity #tw angst #tw anxiety #tw abusive parents #tw child abuse

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margridarnauds · 2 years

Note

the "more evolved" tankies use hypocracy strategy, example: they point off how civil russians are suffering (that cant get to metro post) that most of us agree on, but on the other hand not once have they shown symphaty for ukraine civilians will it be those running to safety nor those that are trying to defend their country. they try to refute every information from ukraine with sources from russian funded websites/social media (spurnik, russia today, telegram,..). You try to donate to ukrainian army? you are pro-war in their eyes or nzi. not once they mentioned putin. and when they did it was because uwu putin is trying to defend russia with atomic bombs because usa and europe has those? im sick and tired oof them blocked them all but somehow i still see their shit on my dashboard

They say "Fuck NATO" for egging on the war while ignoring that, at the end of the day, regardless of any other factors, Putin made the call. Putin made the call and is CONTINUING to make the call. And then proceeded to jail thousands of his own people.

They say not to donate to the Ukrainian army...fine. But they don't want anyone else to interfere because THAT'S imperialism. (Though to be honest I have mixed feelings about US involvement purely because my country doesn't have the best track record when it comes to letting other countries go once we "help" them...even when they ask for us initially.)

But, okay. Let's resolve this peacefully.

But they don't like SANCTIONS either. They talk about the every day people of Russia who are hurting -- I'm not a monster. I don't like hearing about sex workers not being able to withdraw money that they need to survive. I don't like hearing about the people of Russia suffering, especially when they've already been put through so much. And, as someone who's had to live abroad during a time when my country wasn't exactly the most popular country in the world for political reasons and faced my fair share of backlash for it, perhaps I sympathize with Russian people living abroad and being judged for their country's sins more than I should. But they don't say a single thing about the Ukrainian children that are being butchered right now. They don't talk about the thousands being forced to flee their homes. Something tells me that they're a LITTLE more inconvenienced at the moment, call it a gut instinct.

And, frankly, what DO they want? For Zelensky to get ahold of Putin via Zoom and say "Hewwo? Mistew Putin? I'm vewy sowwy, but can you pwease stowp invading my countwy uwu? I pwomise I'll be vewy good?" Like, what are they seeing as an endgame if you can't hit them physically, you can't hit them in the pocketbook, and you can't even say that that's a Very Big No No. For a bunch of brave revolutionaries, they seem to want the Ukrainian people to take this lying down. (Ignoring as well that they HAD talks today....that were suspiciously timed to more shelling.) But, then again, given they had no issues with the LAST time Russia had a chokehold over the rest of Eastern Europe, that's not really much of a surprise -- they want the old days back because, hey, maybe this time, things will be BETTER.

They want to talk about Palestine or Iraq. Fine. Let's talk about Palestine and Iraq. Let's talk American imperialism, or British imperialism, or French imperialism, and the hypocrisy of these countries because, in at least the case of all three, I can almost guarantee that I have some stories that you don't hear every day and, frankly, I would LOVE for the French in particular to grow an ounce of accountability. Let's talk. But don't forget for one second about what's going on. Don't use lives lost elsewhere as bargaining chips to justify how your side (like we're in a sports match instead of a life or death situation for millions of people) is right. They deserve better than that.

They say that invading a sovereign country is a war crime -- I fully agree, can we agree that there are now both USAmerican and Russian war criminals and move on from there, preferably while people are not still actively dying on both sides while we twiddle our thumbs?

We shouldn't put Zelensky on a pedestal -- I absolutely agree. The man's shown a superhuman amount of courage and fortitude, but he IS human. But, at the same time, SURELY that goes for Putin as well?

Ukrainian news is biased, but Russian news sources aren't? Have they taken lessons from the Republicans that only watch Fox News because "it's the only news channel without a liberal bias"?

Fuck the lot of them.

And the thing is that I see a lot of leftists who are otherwise NOT tankies reblogging from these sources because they want to show that they Understand All Sides, or they want to make a point against the USA, whatever, without checking to see if Tumblr User "karlmarxismysugardaddy" might have pictures on their Tumblr of them posing with a Putin body pillow, so the shit gets spread, because this is Tumblr.

#long post #current events

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moondustis · 4 years

Text

remember when (m)

pairing: jaehyun + reader genre: angst, smut, soulmate!au, rich kid!au, convenience marriage!au, hurt/comfort, college!au (more details + warnings after read more) word count: 12,7k summary: A story about vulnerability and the lines we draw to avoid it. About soulmates, desires, setting yourself free. And, of course, a story about love and discovering exactly what it is. song recs: skin by mac miller and pure love by hayley williams

warnings: there are some mentions of drug use, brief mention of mental issues, bad parenting. just overall some subjects that might not be comfortable to read like i usually put on my fics but it's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing graphics happens! disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. none of the events described are real or are an accurate representation of the people and brands named.

a/n: i would like to thank mary (neostains) for requesting this fic and cami (caiuscassiuss) for helping me with some informations about how ivy leagues work lol. this is my longest work so far, i think, and it’s a very special one. i hope you guys enjoy it!

✶

There was a time in your childhood where you remember being obsessed with princess movies. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, name a fairytale and you would have probably watched it a couple of times, entranced by the images playing on the newest television your father had bought.

Isn’t it fucked up that young girls are always fed this stereotypical image of love? It’s like a woman is not good for anything but to love someone, to be a half until she found the other and became whole. At 8 you ate that up like no one else.

At 11 your mother hires someone to give you a talk, about how the world worked and about the weird name that would appear in your arm once you turned 18. It feels like a lecture, the woman telling you about perfect matches, the probabilities of love and soulmates in a flat tone that didn’t make you feel as excited as you did watching the fairytales you used to like. When you tell your friends at school about it, they act surprised at the way you were told and instead, tell you about the stories about meeting your true love their own parents had shared.

At 15, your mother enrolls you in preparatory school, with full theatricals about intellects and getting into the best college possible so you can do your duty as heir of your father’s company when it becomes necessary.

It takes you a while, but you realize finally that love is nothing compared to money when you see for the first time that the name on your mother's wrist is not your fathers. Not long after that, you find out that for the sake of the company, you would be marrying Jung Jaehyun, heir of the second biggest automobilistic company in the country.

At 18 you think romance and love are trivial things.

⋄

NOVEMBER, 2013

It’s a harsh winter, one that makes your hands tremble and your head hurt more than usual.

You rub at your temples as you make your way down the hallway as students pass by you at the same pace as yours to get to their next class. A dreading routine, one that is so busy it leaves you with no time to think of anything else but the essay you have to write, or the grade you have been waiting to receive.

Today, though, your headache is so intense that your mind is filled with nothing but a black void.

Despite that, you walk in small steps to your literature lecture. Your bag feels as heavy as your head and the thick wool sweater you have on is barely enough to keep you warm, legs shivering from the stupid skirt they made you wear. Knee length, of course, but still a bother to sit and move.

Fuck boarding school, is what you think as you pass a group of boys talking loudly. One of them has a Harvard pin on his cardigan, you notice in the back of your mind. It only makes you feel sicker.

The first bell rings and you realize how slow you have been really walking. A faster pace, a muttered curse and then the second bells makes you feel like your ears are melting, headache increasing. Now you’re late, a rare occurrence that will probably not affect your records in any way, but still, makes you walk faster.

It all happens very fast. You turn into the corridor that leads to your classroom but not a second later you’re bumping straight into someone, books in your hand scattering to the floor and head spinning from the impact. It’s hard keeping your balance, but the harsh grip on your forearms helps and then you’re opening your eyes, that you didn't notice you had squeezed shut in the first place.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry.” The voice is familiar but the curse feels alien on your ears. Jung Jaehyun never curses, he has manners better than that. “I’m running late and walking too fast.”

He mumbles and you almost snort at the obviousness of it all. At the fact you were literally doing the same thing. “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention.” There’s no reason for either of you to be apologizing, is what you think about as your hand immediately moves to your temple again in hopes pressing on it will cease the pain.

He’s looking right at you when you finally meet his eyes. His face is painted with embarrassment, the red hue on his ears a dead giveaway. He doesn’t keep eye contact for more than five second, instead moving to pick up your books for you. “Still, I’m very sorry.” He sounds polite, as always. The curse from before is still fresh on your mind.

You had met Jung Jaehyun at the age of 9, not that you remember exactly how it went. Some random brunch where you and him sat side by side as your mothers talked about whatever was happening seven years ago. You remember your old nanny being there, and how she asked sweetly if you would like more juice. You remember missing her when she got fired three weeks later for unrelated matters that were never told to you. And that’s about it.

After that, the years passed with Jaehyun being a weird presence in your life. The rich kids ran in the same circles, that didn’t take you a long time to realize and wherever you went he was there too.

German classes at 11, the birthday party of the daughter of someone you didn't know at 12, etiquette classes at 13. An event for your father's company at 14, one of his fathers at 15 and now at 16, attending the same boarding school and having to meet each other like this, with awkward smiles and polite conversation. Because navigating a relationship you didn't know the other very well, but too well at the same time was a weird thing to do.

Jung Jaehyun was like you, but at the same time he wasn't. You were friends but at the same time merely acquaintances.

But this you remember vividly: him asking you random things at german classes and making you laugh with his awkward pronunciation. Him eating cake by your side at the birthday party, covering his lips before he asked you if you like chocolate or vanilla more. Him making fun of you quietly for dropping down your fork loudly in the middle of etiquette class. Him standing awkwardly by your side while you got reprimanded by your mother during the event, for not properly remembering the name of a lady that came to greet you, your head down as you forced yourself not to cry in front of him.

And then, his father clapping yours on the back after they talked about how lovely it would be if someday the two of you got married to join economic forces. No, not someday. When you two got married.

You, pretending he didn't exist after that day, because you realized that this too you wouldn't get to decide.

Jaehyun clears his throat, hands you your books. “How is your father?” He asks, a stupid question to ask when you're both late. A stupid question to ask, period.

You try not to grimace. “He's okay. Alive.” And then he’s chuckling lowly, awkwardly.

“That’s good, no company to run at 16 then.” He tries to joke and it's amusing, in a way that for someone else might not be. But you two are the same, at least when it comes to this.

“And hopefully never.” A stupid thing to hope for, but still he smiles at you.

Then the moment is over, the third alarm sounds and both your eyes shoot open and you’re muttering goodbyes before heading to your classes.

Your head still hurts, but you don’t feel as cold anymore.

⋄

2015

Anticipation, isn’t that just a fancier word to describe the gut feeling that something is going to happen? Worst yet when you know exactly what it is, but have no possible ways of knowing the possible outcome.

There’s a window behind your advisor, with a view to the field where the lacrosse team practices. You watch it with a lack of interest as the older lady flips through pages and more pages of what is possibly your future.

No, not possibly. Definitely your future. Because at least to this, you knew the only outcome possible.

It’s a pretty day, one that shouldn’t be spent inside a room with wood furniture and shelves and more shelves of books, that are almost as many as the certificates on the wall. Not when it also happens to be your birthday.

“This is a really good essay, ___. You have a talent with words.” Your advisor breaks the silence in a flat voice despite it being a compliment. It makes your eyes immediately refocus on her but she gives you no time yet to reply. “I am sure the admission team will read it with interest.”

“Thank you.” A polite smile reaches your lips. She was never much of a praiser, not that she needed to be. Your last name carried all the confidence you needed to have for a thing like this.

And, perhaps the interest they would be having would be exactly about that. What does the only heir of the biggest automotive company in the country have to offer for Stanford? Probably a lot, with a weight that heavy on her shoulders.

“You have started applications to only two schools, are you sure you would not like to add more?” Now she says it in a weirdly soft tone. Persuasion, because it would look good for the school that one of their best students accepted to all the ivy leagues. Your GPA would make sure of that, but that's not all.

“I don’t see the point. Stanford has always been my only choice.” You say it as nicely as possible because this is an old conversation.

“I see, well. This is it then, there's a few other students interested in attending Stanford too." She smiles bitterly, gathering the papers and putting it back on their respective folders. "But the chances of you getting in are very good. I'm sure all your hard work will pay off.”

You go to thank her but at that moment there's a pinch on your arm that leaves you distracted. It's followed by a weird burning sensation that doesn't cease when you grip it underneath the table as gently as possible. If anything, the fabric of your cardigan only makes it worse.

She bids you your goodbyes, with pleasantries exchanged but when you reach the door to leave she interrupts. “Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday, ____.” She smiles when you turn to thank her. “Please enjoy the rest of the day, turning 18 is very special.”

With a small bitter smile and promise to do so, you leave the room.

You reach your dorm room in no time, a stoic face on but with quick steps. And you try not to think about it, but the burning sensation on your arms continues.

It goes like this:

You close the door behind you gently, dropping your things down and immediately crumbling as you slide to the floor, unable to stand still anymore. You cry, for the second time today because birthdays were just not good. For about 10 minutes that's all that happens, your silent sobs and complete silence filling the room.

The burning in your arms stays there as a painful reminder and it tempts you to look, even though you know that the outcome didn't matter, not for you. Because behind blurry teary eyes you can see perfectly the image of your own mother's arm and the name of someone you didn't know, that she probably also didn't.

Because you are now 18 and you think romance and love are trivial things, that's all they could be.

You are now 18, and when you can't stand not knowing for another minute, you raise the sleeve of your cardigan and the name Jung Jaehyun is there on your wrist.

An ugly, incredulous laugh leaves your lips and soon turns into a sob. Of course it had to be him, you and Jung Jaehyun were tied to each other for a reason that was beyond fate.

You squeeze your eyes at the same time your hands squeeze your thighs, trying to get a grip. You calm yourself down, deep breaths in and out, your mind providing the good and the bad. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed like a trick the universe was playing on you. One, it would be worse if another name appeared, a name that you would have to pretend didn't exist, because this was just another thing you didn't have a say in. This was supposed to happen anyway, maybe it was better this way.

Then your mind provides another thought that makes your mind swirl. Jung Jaehyun had turned 18 in February, your name had appeared on his arms months ago and he didn't say a word about it to you, or to anyone for all you know. Maybe he was pretending too, maybe he wanted more time thinking that at least this he would get to choose.

Well, whatever fairytale that had been created inside stupid minds, was gone now.

⋄

The whole thing is announced two weeks later, in a gossip magazine with information from an inside source. Information that is carefully crafted from a marketing team the moment you reveal the result.

A result, like a test had been applied and you got Jung Jaehyun for whatever reason.

You exchange pleasantries the next time you see him, no trace of being too young to know the rest of your lives already. You just look at each other in maybe defeat, while your families make a toast to celebrate a wedding to take place in a few years from now. A wedding that held meaning beyond the marks that tied the two of you. Destiny just helped a little bit, it was just a good excuse to justify a marriage that had been arranged ages ago.

A month later you get accepted to Stanford, of course you do. And your mother's smile is a loud reminder of every single time she called you and inquired about every grade, every step you made to make sure this happened and that it all happened accordingly.

It doesn't take you long to find out Jaehyun got accepted there too.

⋄

AUGUST 2016

The heels of your Miu Miu boots make small stomping noises on the wood floor sounds as you walk through shelves and shelves filled with books. It’s not a loud sound, probably only perceived by your own ears, and you let it distract you as you navigate the big corridors of the Green Library.

Stanford had made your eyes shine during your first visit and then for the first months of your freshman year. The thrill of finally experiencing something new and yet undiscovered carried on until it gave space to normalcy, another routine. But this time, a feeling blossomed inside your stomach with wanting to eat it up.

A feeling that died and resurrected every now and then, but you played it safe. Navigating it with baby steps with fear of what could happen if you strained a little too far from the line. And what could that be? A magazine spread on how a famous philanthropic's daughter parties too hard in college, with pictures of you doing a line on marble countertops? A class failed and the disappointment on your mother's voice when she called you? A scandal about your night escapades? You didn’t want to find out just yet.

So you settle for your new routine, of going out every now and then with the roommates that you were about to consider friends. Pondering if it’s worth it to join another club, just to feel like there's something else that makes you feel excited. Coming to the library, studying to keep your mind busy because your thoughts were never up to no good.

And it's so easy, being busy like you always managed to, with assignments, and volunteering and maintaining a perfect GPA.

It's also easy to ignore Jung Jaehyun’s existence. Because this time, unlike in boarding school, the task is much simpler, since classes are filled with so many people that on the ones you shared with him you barely get a glance of his eyes. Because he ran around in circles that had nothing to do with yours.

It was always clear to you, since youth, that Jaehyun was a social butterfly that just needed a little pushing, and he was nice enough that people always wanted him near. A high contrast to your quietness and introverted ways, staying in small circles and almost never allowing people to get too close.

It's weird thinking about him, putting a face to the name that was forever marked on your skin as a reminder of your future. It was weird thinking that it was easy to ignore this feeling too, like all the other ones that you have kept away in your small little box. The feelings that came out at least once a year when it all became too much, and you would sit in a duvet to spill all the dead butterflies inside your stomach out on the floor of a therapy clinic.

But even like this, weirdness doesn't begin to cover the way sometimes you catch yourself thinking of a memory that involves him, random and unexpected. A moment shared before the two of you discovered what expected you, before destiny was revealed. And you don't pretend that it's not real, that you don't feel the longing and need to be close, that your skin doesn't tingle when you see him around campus. You were long past pretending now, because there was no reason to play dumb when sometimes all you had were your own thoughts to rot your brain.

What you were good at, though, was concealing it all.

Was Jaehyun good at that too? Now that's something that you think about more than you would like. It didn't help that sometimes you would bump into him out of nowhere.

You enter the marketing aisle, eyes fixed on the small numbers taped to each section in hopes that the book you need was still here. It takes you awhile to realize that there's someone else with you, only moving your head up when you hear the footsteps approaching.

“Hi.” Jaehyun says, a small smile on his lips that is as gentle as every other thing about his looks. He stands close, but not too much. A safe distance for you to run your eyes through his body one time, eyes stopping at the big ‘S’ on his sweatshirt.

You clear your throat before greeting him back. “Hello.” Your voice is low, thoughtful of your surroundings, but you match his smile in a silent agreement of politeness.

His eyes run through your face the same way yours does his. Curiosity, or maybe the longing feeling you try to not think about. The unspoken space in between the two of you is intact for now.

He has changed so much in a year, is what you always think about when you two get to see each other up close. It always made you feel a weird nostalgia, seeing a face you had known for so long but now feels a little out of reach because of your own stubbornness. Your own fears.

“What book are you looking for?” He asks after some time, making small talk.

You turn your eyes to the books, him following. “Uhm, Kotler.”

“Oh, of course. How is marketing going?” You almost laugh at his attempt to make conversation, a skill well acquired during etiquette class.

“It’s okay. Not regretting it yet.” A half lie. Maybe another thing you were keeping locked deep down, your dislike for your major. But thinking about that while having a conversation with your soulmate was far from something you wanted to do.

He hums amused, eyes still fixed on the shelf. “That's good.”

You finally find the book, leaning down to get it and hugging it to your chest as your mind searches for something to offer for your own piece of ice breaker. Then you remember seeing his face last week printed on a glossy paper, an intricate article on consumerism tendencies online besides it.

“Congrats on the publication.” You say, facing him again. It’s genuine, because you knew how things like that really mattered. Small things that were nowhere near the accomplishments expected of the two of you, but still something to be proud of.

He laughs lowly, with bashful manners of looking down to his feet and with ears turning red. “It’s just a campus magazine.” Because of course he would be humble, amongst all the other qualities you were well acquainted with. Deep down you know that it's just a reflection of the high expectations that have been set the moment he was born.

“Still, it was very well written. And everyone said it was impressive for a freshman.” Everyone being the friend that showed you the magazine, but you'll pretend for him that it was something more. To try and erase the feeling of not deserving something that probably runs through his mind.

You would crush it beneath your boots if you could, it's the weird thought that runs through yours.

He huffs. “Well, it’s Stanford. Hard to know what's gonna be impressive and what is just expected of you.”

“Good thing we are all promising young adults that don't need their egos to be fed, right?” You joke back and it makes him laugh a little too loudly, quickly stopping himself as you two exchange awkward but familiar glances with tiny smiles on your lips.

A moment of silence settles next, one that lasts only long enough for you to shift the weight from one leg to another. Then he's asking. “Are you… Are you doing something this weekend?”

“I’m expected at a company party.” You reply flatly, blinking twice but not really pondering the reasons for his curiosity. You two stare at each other for a second that passes quickly.

“The HSBC event?” He asks and you nod, expecting the words he says next. “Oh, I'll attend it as well.”

“Boring, huh?” An attempt to continue a conversation that should've ended by now.

“Yeah.” He looks at you, and then away, and then back at you. “I was thinking that we could have din-“

Footsteps interrupt his words and you look behind your shoulder to see who the newcomer is. A tall man, taller than Jaehyun even, smiles at you guiltily before he’s looking at Jaehyun and raising his brows. “We are late, dude.” He deadpans as you look between the two of them.

“Shit, I didn’t realize.” Jaehyun says in a groan, bringing his big watch to his face, and you have to contain a smile at the curse. Then he turns to you. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“It’s fine.” You mumble, the book still held tight against your chest.

He waves awkwardly as the other man throws you another smile. You watch them leave with trembling fingers.

⋄

DECEMBER 2017

December always made you feel a little weird. Blame it on the cold and the days spent in bed trying to get the warmth you craved. Or on the impending approach of winter break and having to deal with your parents and your obligations for the month to follow.

But you try not to think about that just yet, when the time comes you'll deal with it. That's what you always do. For now you let your bed swallow you as you scroll down mindless through your instagram feed, double tapping publications of past boarding school acquaintances smiling with the Harvard location attached to each picture, just like the brand names are attached to their clothes. It's a little pathetic to you that your own account looks the same, with pictures carefully picked with a marketing tactic in mind.

Your little distraction is interrupted when the door to your room opens and your roommate, Ela, walks in, clearly shivering from the cold even underneath her thick dark grey coat. “God, it's fucking freezing outside.” She mumbles as a greeting, removing her boots and setting it close to the door before draping her coat on her chair.

“How was the meeting?” You ask from under your blankets, laughing a little as she drops her things on her own bed. The question makes her sigh loudly.

“That dude is still an asshole.” The dude in question being her partner to a never ending project of rebranding that sometimes stressed even you, from how much she talked about it. “But we are almost done with it now.”

“That's good.”

She plops on her bed, across from yours and a comfortable silence settles for a moment as she probably tries to have a moment of calmness.

Ela was an old face on your life, having attended the same school but never really getting closer than knowing each other's name. Still, it was good that you got paired to dorm with her. A familiar face that became a friend of sorts, as the two of you built a relationship on things in common and the want to have someone you could trust in a new place. And she was different than you, more outgoing, had a liking for socializing that you could never match, but still understood you.

“Hey, did you finish that essay already?” She asks, turning her face to you.

“Yes, it was bitch to write.”

“And Kotler is super boring to read.” A sigh escapes her lips and you agree loudly because she's right. Sometimes, when you allowed yourself a moment of wishful thinking, you would wonder what it would be like to have a major that you didn't feel like your brain was melting from boredom when reading about.

“I'm really tired.” You reply, just to say something back.

“Same. Are you doing something for winter break?”

In your mind you know exactly what you'll be doing, a schedule even ready on your mind, but instead you say “Not really, are you?”

She hums, voice tired but still excited as she goes on about how she wants to go to Europe again, visit Amsterdam because that was one of her favorite travel destinations. When you ask how it was, she describes in perfect detail, how the streets looked and how it felt very welcoming, telling you that you absolutely had to go there someday.

You promise to go and in the back of your mind you wish you could. Maybe you can if you can do more week hours on your internship and ask for a free week.

You shake your head at that though.

“Oh, I got this little get together today. At that bar downtown.. .Do you want to go?” You know she’s asking out of politeness, not because she didn't want you there but because you rarely said yes to her invitations.

But there’s a tiny spark on your chest, one that resembles the restless feeling you would get when you stayed too long laying down. It's not a motivation as much as it is boredom and the wish to feel something other than half emptiness. Other than the want to escape.

“Ok.” You say, shrugging slightly.

“Really?”

The raise of her brow makes you laugh. “Yeah, we are getting home next week. That's the last time I get to do this for a while.”

⋄

The bar is a little crowded, with winter break approaching and no one really daring step outside for a smoke because of how cold it is. The owners took great advantage of that by offering a ‘buy two get one free’ deal, that if you take a closer look at is really just a scam considering the price. But it's enough to fool college students that are excited about being away from this place for a while.

That’s what you think about after you down the remnants of the third drink you and your roommate shared. It’s not that kind of night, of getting wasted and not remembering anything the next day. It’s more of a little get together, for your roommate's club members and you are here merely as an intruder.

You feel just a little tipsy as you listen to her friends talk, some of them you knew from afar and some were just strangers that were nice enough to make you laugh every now and then. Still, you feel detached from the conversation, smiling and nodding when needing but not really taking part.

“What about you, ___?” A girl with round cheeks and pretty eyes asks you regarding your vacation plans. “You gotta invite us if you are throwing a party.”

You scoff before you can catch yourself. Alcohol always drops your inhibitions a little, but still you are quick to cover it up. You laugh along with the others, promising to invite everyone even though you are not throwing any parties, most likely never.

You roommate looks at you from the corner of her eye, smiling sympathetically because she knows you, and knows how stupid her friends are, but it's fine. You just wish you could just take it easily, the interest, the wanting to get close so they too will appear in a gossip magazine and live the life they think you do, without wanting to tell them to get a fucking life already, because this is just pathetic.

You smile back at her, wishing for another drink as your thigh highs start to roll a little uncomfortably. Shifting from leg to leg does nothing to help it, so you try to push the little annoyance to the back of your mind.

The small groups divide in different topics over the time, and you find yourself talking to some guy you had never seen before, that goes on and on about his amazing business ideas and how successful it's going to be when he finds the right stakeholders. You nod and try to focus through the whole thing.

The rest of the night goes like that. Fake laughter, loud music and conversation that gets more boring as the clock ticks, so you find an escape excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, not because you need to but to get away for a second.

In retrospect maybe it would've been better to endure another discussion about LA clubs and entrepreneurship.

The bar is so crowded that you have to excuse yourself at least five times, and on the sixth one you end up bumping into someone.

“Oh.” Is the clever thing you say when your eyes are met with Jaehyun already looking at you, his eyes lower than usual from probably taking advantage of the drink deal like you had.

He looks relaxed, hair parted in a way that shows his forehead and an all black outfit that doesn’t look as expensive as it probably is, but he makes it work so well that you do a double look while in your hazy state. If he notices, he doesn’t show it by the way he keeps his smile unfazed at you.

“We gotta stop seeing each other by accident,” he says, laughing a little.

“Yeah.” His words take a little to digest so you keep looking at him for a beat of a second. It’s a first, seeing him in a place like this. Where you can see just how well he really can adjust to any setting. He fits right in with the low lights and the relaxed atmosphere.

“This is Johnny.” He gestures for the guy besides him, who turns his attention to you and smiles in a way that’s a little familiar. Then you realize he’s the guy from the library over a year ago, and the friend Jaehyun posted pictures every now and then on his instagram page.

“Hey, It’s nice to meet you.” Johnny says, same smile from before still on and you return it. “Have heard a lot about you.”

That makes you laugh, a mixture of confusion and excitement and politeness that confuses even yourself. “Good things I hope.”

He tilts his head playfully. “Only the best things you can hear in place like this.”

The three of you share smiles, the interaction then turning into a conversation promoted by a question you ask, both from wanting to have something to say and out of curiosity. Johnny does most of the talking, explaining how he and Jaehyun had been friends for a while but only got closer now that they are attending the same university. They share a story of something that happened, them buying each other the same thing for christmas and you listen to the whole thing entranced.

It’s weird in some way how you can learn so much from your own soulmate from someone else. And it's weird how you react with joy, perhaps, to the teasing Johnny does to Jaehyun so naturally.

When the conversation settles down, Johnny looks between the two of you for a few seconds before he’s excusing himself to find an unnamed person. It was predictable he would do that, with the way he kept aiming the conversation to make it about Jaehyun, as if he somehow had to wing his friend to you.

You stare at your shoes, unsure of what to say now and maybe too worn out from the whole night to come up with something to talk about. But you don’t have to, because soon he’s asking “Are you here alone?”

You look up, a tiny smile on your lips. “No, I came with my roommate. But she's with her friends.”

“Oh, I’ll keep you company then.” He offers and you nod, following him to the bar where it's more illuminated and you can both lean a little on the counter.

Jaehyun is good at making people feel comfortable, you had noticed that many times before and it's no surprise when he asks you about your roommate, about what songs you have been listening to lately. He tries to keep a conversation with ease, even if it stays in the usual surface you two are used to.

If you weren't so distracted by everything, your mind would probably offer that it feels a lot like when you were kids and standing in the corner of a ballroom in uncomfortable clothes, talking about things that didn't matter.

“Have you ever been to Amsterdam?” You ask him suddenly when the past topic dies down.

“Yeah, it's really nice there.”

You hum, remembering your roommate's words. “That’s cool, I really want to go there someday.”

Out of nowhere he starts laughing a little, as if you had said something funny. When you inquire about it, he shakes his head clearly amused by the way his eyes squint a little from his smile. “It's just… Don’t you think it's weird that we have known each other for all these years, and all we do is do this weird small talk?”

You laugh too, speaking before you can stop yourself. “And still for some reason I feel like I know you.”

His eyebrows raise for a second but his smile is unfaltering, your statement not bothering him. “You know me.” He says, as a matter of fact. “And I know you.”

Now this makes you freeze, blinking slowly but it doesn't last long until you are covering your surprise by chuckling. Your eyes meet his and it strikes you that it's true, you know him and he knows you. Not everything, but what would be the fun in that.

Maybe that's why the two of you kept doing this small talk, to get to know each other better even in the smallest things. That's what getting to know someone is, after all. Not the business interviews and networking you grew up with.

You shake your thoughts away, leaning on the counter with one elbow and then resting your face on your palm. “What is your favorite thing about me then?” It's what you ask, in a playful tone to keep the conversation going. Or because you actually want to know, out of curiosity or vanity.

He chuckles, bringing his hand to his face as if in deep thought, before he replies. “I like that you are smart.”

The simplicity of it makes you snort. “Please, that's a cliche thing to say in a place like this.” You say, mimicking the words his friend had said to you earlier. “What does that even mean?”

“I don't know.” He shrugs while laughing, “Johnny just says things like that sometimes.”

You nod then, making an amused sound while you turn on the counter to stare forward. Your roommate is on the opposite side of yours, leaning against a wall while talking to a girl taller than her but just as pretty. The view makes a tiny smile settle on your lips, the beginning of a spark on your chest.

It always amazed you how people who didn't know their soulmate yet continued to live on, simply letting the universe do its thing naturally. In your young mind you had always thought that love was supposed to be a yearning that you couldn't control, that you would have to be with the person you love no matter what, and do anything to find them. That had changed now.

You turn to Jaehyun again. “What would you say is your favorite thing about me then, if we didn't know each other already?” You ask. It's a weird question because it makes him raise one eyebrow at you, but there's still not a trace of annoyance on his face.

“Isn't that also cliche to say?” He huffs. “That you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen?”

You can't help the embarrassed laugh that leaves your parted lips in shock. “Are you flirting with me?”

His ear gets an incredible red shade and you find it extremely charming. “It's just the truth.” He defends himself and it only makes you giggle more.

You thank him, tell him that you think he’s pretty too and correct it to handsome when he raises one eyebrow again. It makes a nice atmosphere settle and you feel comfortable enough to ask “So... if we didn't know each other you would flirt with me at a random party? Buy me a drink and all that?”

He smiles, dimples showing while he brushes his hair back. It's not the first time, of course, but you find yourself a little in awe at how pretty he actually is. Pretty in a way that makes you feel a little out of it, stunned by the way his lips start forming his next words.

“What do you like to drink?” He asks casually.

Now it's your turn to raise one eyebrow. “Hmm, I like Moscow Mules.”

You watch as he turns to the bar, calling the waiter over and ordering two drinks of your said preference. The mixture of feelings on your chest make you feel drunker than you did before and you wish you could put a name to it. Excitement, amusement, whatever it is only increases when he looks at you again.

“I’m Jung Jaehyun, by the way.” He offers, smiling sweetly and you match it when you realize what he's playing at

“I’m _____. It's nice to meet you.”

⋄

Playing pretend with him is easy, even more when the drinks make your inhibitions fall completely. Jaehyun tells a joke and you lean forward a little. Then you talk about something and he comes closer as if to hear better. Another drink and plenty of silly conversation later, he's completely invading your space in a way that you don't feel slightly bothered by.

Not even when leans to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You leave the bar giggling like the two mildly drunk people you are, basking in the joy of it and of the little fantasy you two have created. Jaehyun keeps you close, your hands linked and it's such a nice feeling that you get even more overwhelmed in a good way. The two of you walk almost glued to each other basically skipping and muttering playfully things just to say something.

When you are near the dorm complex, he stops abruptly and when you turn to him, his hands find your cheeks and his eyes search yours for a brief moment before he’s bringing your face closer to his.

It's a sweet kiss, contrary to what you thought it would be when you allowed yourself to think about this. You had always imagined desperation, not being able to endure not doing it anymore. But the reality is that Jaehyun kisses you with delicacy and even if there is desperation to it, it's not in a way that overpowers anything else. But in a way that makes you moan lowly, makes you press him even closer by grabbing his shirt as he moves his lips slowly against yours.

There are no fireworks, no deep realization that you are kissing the person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. But it's good, makes you want more, makes you want to bring him closer than possible, and maybe that's proof enough.

You reach his dorm in a blink after that, him having a bit of a hard time opening the door but when he does it takes no time for you to be pressed to it.

For a moment he just looks at you, eyes hazy and shining. They run through your face the same way yours does his, with longing that is finally allowed. You try to quiet the way your heart beats by leaning forward and kissing him.

The kiss is hungry but never too fast, with his hands moving to your hips and you pulling on his lips. When you moan a little at the feel, he opens his mouth a little, sliding his tongue against yours and you swear at yourself for waiting so long. Swear that you will never get enough of this.

Your lips move together in a way that is proof enough to you that this is something else even in your drunk state. His lips are soft, tongue moving with yours as if he wants to take his time and when your hands move from his shoulders to his neck he shudders, parting from you with a wet sound.

“W-We should...” He murmurs against your lip and you nod before he even finishes, letting him lead you to his bed. It feels a lot like yours, and the rest of the room is just as familiar but you pay no attention to that when he lays you on it gently.

It’s no surprise that Jaehyun is a giving lover and you figure that out when he kisses you like he wants to find out exactly what you like. Exactly how to make you fall apart in his hands.

He does everything with an expertise that maybe should make you feel jealous, but out of all things you are, a hypocrite is not one of them. So he shows you what he has learn from other people, and you show him what you have

And he doesn't settle for anything less than kissing all over your body after the two of you get undressed. For less than telling you in whispered words that he has dreamed about this before so many times and immediately swallowing with his tongue the words you would never be able to let out.

That you had dreamed about this too. Dreamed about coming on his tongue as he eats you out, your hands grabbing at his hair and seeing stars. A giving lover, of the best kind, Even more when he asks, with his mouth shining with your arousal. “How do you want it?”

You blink as your mind spins with the endless possibilities, but the ultimate realization that you would have him any way. You decide on the one that gives you more control. “I… I want to ride you.”

He bites his lips, ears burning red again. “Yeah,” His words come out mumbles as he just looks at you for a second before moving to lay on his back. “Yeah, ok. Fuck.”

You straddle his hips after he rolls down the condom, his eyes looking up at you in what you think is adoration, pure desire. And then you kiss him again, all tongue but still slow. So deep that you think you’ll never forget what he tastes like.

He lets you sink down at your own pace, palms on your ass when you move slowly, feeling him stretch you with every inch you sit on. He hums, hands tracing your skin delicately and it only makes it so much worse.

You move, a grind at first testing the water and immediately crying out lowly from the friction and you look for support with nails grabbing at his chest. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Good?” A stupid question to ask with the way you are so wet around him that the room is filled with a squelching sound when you move up and down with all the patience in the world.

Still, you nod. “You feel - Fuck - really good.”

He looks down at where you’re connected, biting his lips to suppress the noises you want him to let out so you move your hips with purpose, eyes roaming his face to watch it contort in pleasure as he lets out the prettiest moan you have ever heard. Low and deep.

His hands move further down then, gripping your hips and moving you in a grind that feels too good. So good that you have to drop your arms to his chest for leverage as he moves you to his liking, pushing your hips back and forth.

You come with your back arching, long moan of his name as your entire body shakes and tingles and you have to grip at the sheets beside you for support. You try to keep moving as your orgasm washes over you but its too much and your walls clenching around his cock makes him grip your ass even tighter, the action sending a thrill down your body as you fall forward on his chest with a wail.

Your mind swims in the gooey feeling of pleasure and all you can think about is him. Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun.

He waits for a second, hand moving to your back as your body trembles, drawing calming circles on it. When you have calmed down, he plants his feet on the bed and starts moving his hips up slowly and patiently but with deep strokes that make you bite your lip with oversensitivity.

And when you can, you move your head up, balancing yourself on your arms and looking at him. He wastes no time in kissing you, not deep because he parts his lips in a groan during a particular stroke, speeding his movements and grunting when you try to meet them back.

It’s when he has had enough, that he pulls out only to turn you on your back so he can enter you more easily, his hips now meeting yours in a pace that tells you that he’s close.

“Jae, oh… oh my god.” You sigh dreamily yet broken enough that it makes him smile when a sharp thrust makes your hips raise a little. He looks proud of being able to get you like this.

He hums as if agreeing with a very thorough statement, moving his arms so he can press his chest to yours as he fucks into you with calculated thrusts . You can barely move with his weight on top of you, with how he seems to lock you in place with his hips and it’s enough for another broken sob to fall from your lips.

“Deep?” He asks in a groan and with a nice slide of his cock inside of you to punctuate the question. You nod frantically because he’s as deep as he can get, knows this very well, and the feeling is something that makes you flutter around him in the desperate need to come.

He kisses your cheek then, two sweet but filthy enough with his heavy exhales against it. His pace never gets too fast, just hinting at it but he maintains a speed that leaves you in the brink of another orgasm. But, you only reach it when he pinches your clit with his fingers, circling it until your lips part in a silent scream and you’re coming again, stars behind your eyelids.

And the sounds he makes when your walls squeeze just a little more than he can handle are something else. A deep groan and a pained little sob that you find extremely endearing and hot at the same time, his face contorting as he quickened his pace just enough to push him over the edge, finally releasing inside the condom.

He pulls out, breath heavy as he smiles at you falling putty on the bed and watching as he removes the condom and disposes it only to come quickly to the bed quickly.

He hovers over you, kissing you sweetly. Your arms find his shoulders easily as the two of you bask in the afterglow of it.

Then he kisses you again, tongues dancing together and you don’t mind when his hand starts to wander again, sending goosebumps to your body. His fingers find your clit with ease, circling it slowly before applying more pressure as your lips part and your hand grip his arm, for support and not to cut the actions.

You come again, not as strong as your first one but still enough to have you shaking a little and screaming silently. His finger stays at your clit, hovering until he asks again in a whisper. “Another?”

You nod, and he resumes his actions slowly, until you are seeing starts and he swallows your moans with kisses and stops your trembling with soft hands grounding you.

When you recover your breath, an incredulous laughter leaves your lips. “You’re insane.” He just smiles, nose brushing against yours. “God, I...I gotta clean up now.”

He moves to get up. “Yeah sure, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You end up cleaning together, a shower that doesn't take you long, even if it's hard to keep your hands to yourselves but you are both tired, feeling a little drained after the glow has gone away.

⋄

Afterwards, you are laying on his bed side by side, surrounded by the smell of his body wash and wearing the big t-shirt and sweatpants he offered you.

Your mind starts wandering lazily with the remnants of your high, that's why the words escape your mouth without much thought. “Isn't it weird that even if we have someone in the world meant for us we can still feel lonely?” You are not lonely right now, not really. Maybe it's just the sadness of winter speaking, or maybe you're still a little drunk.

He takes a second to reply, voice low when he does. “Yeah. But you don't have to.” He says.“ Feel lonely, I mean. You don't have to.”

It's a little funny how he feels the need to explain himself to you, as if you don't quite understand him when the reality it's both very far from that and exactly it at the same time.

“I don't think thats how it works. It's not up to me.” If it was, wouldn't you have stopped being lonely by now? Wouldn't you have finally succumbed to the desperate need of wanting someone, something, when late night hit and the mark in your arm would burn just as your eyes as you fought back tears?

Still, he says simply. “I think it is.”

You smile sadly then, turning to him a little and watching as he kept his gaze on the ceiling. He looked relaxed, as if this setting was soothing his mind and it makes a familiar feeling blossom on your chest. “What did you feel when the mark showed up on your arm?” A question that you had wanted to ask the moment you found out it was him, but instead had failed miserably to guess the answer to.

“Relief.” He says without thinking, a truthful and genuine reply.

“That you wouldn't have to end up marrying someone that wasn't your soulmate?” You ask. All these years you had thought that this must've been it, what you felt that day.

“No. I was relieved that it was you anyway.” Is his reply, body turning and eyes meeting yours. For a second you’re frozen, blinking because it’s strange to have someone put their feelings out so easily.

“Is… Is that what love is, then?” You ask softly. “Relief that you have at least one person that makes you feel held?”

Maybe this is not really what he meant, and more so wishful thinking of your part than anything else, but still he nods.

“I think it’s that. And other things.” His voice is soft when he says this. “I'm not sure what it is, but I want to find out.”

You can’t help as you examine his face after his confession. Is this what being soulmates is, then? Having someone that it's worth taking the risk of finding out? Or maybe it’s having someone that will show you exactly what it is.

Does all that explain the way you can't look away from him?

“Me neither.” You reply in the same quiet voice because it’s true. You tend to act like you know everything, and that you know what love is. You know love it’s pathetic and that it gets in the way of things, but is it really that bad? So you ask “Is it bad that I think you'll only love me because the mark on your arm tells you to?”

He laughs briefly. “No, it makes sense.” His eyes find yours again. “But you know it’s not, don't you?”

“I do.” At least you do now.

Maybe that's why you fall asleep so easily

⋄

2014 (flashback)

It’s the last day before summer break and Jaehyun is tired.

The other four guys he shared a room with are all packing their things for a nice vacation somewhere in Europe or one of the paradisiac beaches they all like to talk about. Jaehyun just wants to get home, not think about college applications for two months and maybe go somewhere he can be alone for a while.

“Sooyoung is kinda hot, huh?” Yugyeom says out of nowhere and the room settles in a unison hum of agreement. He joins in too.

There’s a loud creak noise as another one of his roommates slumps into the bed but he doesn't bother checking who it is, mind somewhere else as he stares at the ceiling.

“True. But I would die if Ela gave me her number.” Jungkook sighs dreamily and Jaehyun can't help the snort that escapes his lips. Just yesterday they had a conversation exactly like this one, but not quite as innocent. Trust a group of men that have no idea who their roommates are to act like this.

Even though Doyoung, the only one of them that already knew, still acted the same when it came to this. His soulmate isn't someone he knew already, so what was the point in waiting. That's why he asks the next question. “Jaehyun, you know ___, right? Does she stick to the whole ‘waiting’ thing?”

Jaehyun blinks, shifts almost unnoticeable. “I don't know her like that.” Is what he says, which is a half true. He knows her, probably things no one else knows but that’s what happens when you grow up in the same circles, he guesses. Right now though, he feels like he doesn’t know her anymore, not with the distance she had put between them after the wedding was announced by your parents.

Then, he starts thinking about himself. Is he waiting for his soulmate? He has kissed some girls, but it never went beyond that. But now he remembers coming home from german class one day and his mother making soft cake as she told him about the name that would appear on his wrist.

He remembers that he had said loudly that he wished ____ would be his name, because then they could be better friends for some reason as silly as playing around together.

Sicheng interrupts his thoughts by snorting loudly. “Are you really trying to hit?” He asks Doyoung. “Gonna end up in the cover of a magazine for trying to corrupt the nation’s good girl.”

The room erupts in laughter and comments after that. He drowns it with his mind going somewhere else.

That night he dreams about her.

⋄

10, FEBRUARY 2018

Winter break goes by quickly with one too many end of the year celebration and wishing people you had never seen before a happy new year.

You spend your days fulfilling your internship at the company you would one day own, following around the superiors for the Marketing team and playing nice when they try to flatter you.

So busy that you can barely think about it, but you still do. You think about him so often that you think you have lost your mind. And you see Jung Jaehyun too, here and there at parties, between whiskey glasses, tuxedos and unspoken words. Because, as you always thought, keeping it all unsaid is easier. At least for now.

Perhaps he knows it all, in a different way than you. So the two of you kept it lowkey, for the duration of those two months that are now gone with the wind. Two months of not a single magazine spread on your escapades, or you parents mentioning anything that is out of the ordinary.

It's as if the two of you have a secret, that some may assume, but still don't know for sure. What you and Jaehyun did that night is kept inside a locked box, one that you share with him and that every moment until now seems to fit in. What you don't know is if he too keeps the box as sacred as you do.

What you don't know is if the thought of it being opened by prying eyes scares him too.

Being back to campus is, ironically, a breath of fresh air. No more business meetings disguised as family celebrations, or stupid networking, or smiling for a camera to say that the company has never been better. No more internship and lack of time for something else.

February comes and it's just you, your dorm bed and the roommate you will miss when it's time. Just the lectures and keeping busy and trying not to think about things only to fail miserably.

But then, there are the phone calls, never ending and always the same. Or almost always.

The phone lights up, stupid ringtone, and your heart starts beating a little faster. How could someone ever guess what a phone call is about? Not having control made you antsy.

Your mother greets you as always, stern words, asking how you have been out of politeness. You spend the entire phone call waiting for her to just say what she wants to already.

She mentions being busy, good opportunities, of an article you should read and something that sounds like a threat if you let yourself slip and get a scandal, even though she has said all this not long ago after gifting you another piece of jewelry you’ll keep stored deep in your drawer.

At least this time it doesn't take long for her to finally say what she wants. “Jaehyun’s birthday is soon. Don't forget to greet him.”

“I won't.” You reply simply but she’s quick to cut you off.

“Publicly. Maybe sending flowers would be good, or buying something that can get attention from the press.” It’s obvious this is not about you and your soulmate, it’s about you and your future. As everything is.

“Ok.”

“Just because he's your soulmate doesn't mean people will connect you two together forever.” She continues, never knowing when to stop. “You have to remind them of that.”

“I know that.” Because you do. There was no guarantee that your marriage with Jaehyun would be good publicity if the two of you weren’t liked or even popular.

You fear that when the time comes, people will realize something you yourself already has. That maybe you don’t really deserve Jaehyun, not because he’s better than you, but because you are not sure you can give him the love he deserves.

What you don't know clearly yet, is that you’re selfish and want him anyway.

“Good.” Your mother says and then the line cuts.

One time a therapist told you that maybe your mother was jealous. Because you would get to experience something she didn't, being with your soulmate, and that it was normal. It didn't mean she was evil and hated you. Another one said that that was the reason she was so stern, she wanted to keep you in line to prevent you from failure so as to not hurt you. That, behind the lack of affection, was a wish for your happiness.

Maybe there will be a time you understand that plenty. Maybe some things can never be truly fixed, only forgotten.

Four days days after that, you text Jaehyun a simple happy birthday with a heart at the end of it. You also get a chocolate cake sent to his place from a bakery you like, and when he calls to thank you, you tell him to not post it anywhere.

He laughs and tells you that it's a good idea.

⋄

2007 (flashback)

It was another late afternoon party, for another thing that you couldn’t remember or care about because things like this shouldn't really matter when you are only ten years old. Still, you had watched the other kids play with each other as their parents talked business and laughed, drunk from the bubbly drinks they downed glass after glass of.

For a moment you felt like reaching out and playing with them too, but it died soon and you stayed unmoving on the chair you had been placed in, while your parents did the same as the others somewhere in the distance.

It had been a pretty day, you remember, the sun was about to set and it made the shiny fabric on the tablecloths that were spread around the individual tables set outside, sparkle just the tiniest bit. You played with it to have something to distract yourself with.

You remember too, that Jung Jaehyun and his family were at the table right in front of yours, your parents greeting each other and talking briefly. Later on the party you had watched as he listened to something his mother said to him. She was beautiful, like your own mother, and you had heard her voice before so it had been easy to imagine in what tone she was speaking. Soft and low, how warmth felt like. As to the content of her words you would never know, but it had clearly been something nice because it made her son laugh as she patted his head.

You didn’t know back then that this moment would stick with you for the years to come, for a reason that at ten years old you were just beginning to understand. But still, the weird twist in your stomach, as you started to realize that something was wrong, would be felt many more times. As you realized that your family dynamics were not as warm as the others appeared to be.

⋄

25, FEBRUARY 2018

What you and Jaehyun have turns into something hard to describe.

The line you had so clearly put between the two of you, to avoid your future, had been replaced now by acceptance and the weird feeling of navigating a relationship that It’s still a new thing, but it’s also nice enough. Especially when he sends you a silly text and jokes about something, later on commenting the same thing on one of your instagram posts. It makes you feel giddy, that you have a shared secret.

Even more when he gives you a small knowing smile across the table while your father is non stop talking about the new model the company is about to release.

It’s a small dinner to celebrate Jaehyun’s birthday, or at least as small it can be in a restaurant like this, where the waiter will look you up and down if you are not wearing your prettiest silk dress and stiletto heels.

The whole thing had been rescheduled twice, because of busy schedules and whatnot, and now that both your parents had been able to fly here, you all sit underneath lowlights and drink expensive wine that is accompanied by a conversation that is so boring that you have trouble keeping up with it.

He finds you on the rooftop, hair blowing a little as he walks to you and in the back of your mind you think it’s a crime that he looks this good in a suit. That’s probably all the wine you had talking.

“Sorry I left you alone there.” You mutter with a sympathetic smile thrown his way when he reaches you, but you both know you are not sorry at all for escaping the stupid conversation your parents were having.

He chuckles. “You leaving was just a reason for me to escape too.”

The two of you turn to look at the city, the illuminated buildings looking minuscule from here but the tiny lights from each of them make for a breathtaking view. Jaehyun stands so close to you that your arms touch. You don’t mind.

“Looking at the city like that makes me feel really small.” You whisper, without really thinking.

“That’s because we are.” You hear his voice clearly, warm like honey and you don’t try to help the smile that forms in your lips.

“How do you do it?” The question makes him look at you, raising one eyebrow. “I mean, you always sound like you got it all figured out. While I just say the most random stuff because I don’t know who I am.”

You know you are the heritage left to you, the face of your father's company, a good student, smart. One of the few socialites that have never stepped a foot out of line, according to the magazines. But take all that and what’s left?

“I don't.” He says simply, “I’m just good at pretending, like you are.”

That makes you laugh. “Good to know we are both good at playing our roles.” You say, as a joke, because you are sure the two of you are beyond the acting now.

And It’s always funny to you how the masks the both of you put on fall completely when you are alone. That’s what it means to be friends, you had realized, and that’s what you decide to call your relationship for now. Friends, from a long time, that happened to be tied together for other reasons.

And Jaehyun is a friend that sometimes makes you feel like you deserve the love you crave.

“Hey. You are ____.” He says after a second, for good measure. “That's enough, you don't have to be anything else.”

“Is it enough for you?” You ask without really thinking.

He smiles, dimples showing and your heart grows warmer. “Yeah, and we can figure it out together. Who we are and all that.”

You share a smile, both staring forward at the view and shivering a little from the night wind.

“I’m sorry for getting you into these deep conversations.”

He laughs deeply at that, with his whole body. “It’s good, don’t worry. I want you to trust me, even if you won't let me get to know you.” And you do, you want to desperately trust him and let him in. ”Because you are scared I can't handle your daddy issues or something.”

A scoff mixed with laughter leaves your lips. It’s been a long time since you were able to joke about this with someone. “It’s mommy issues, please get it right.”

He turns to you with a silly smile on his lips. “Is it because she made you take those piano classes?” He jokes and you laugh before tilting your head.

“Wait, how did you know I played the piano?” That was ages ago, finally a hobby that you enjoyed amongst the numerous other classes your mother had enrolled you in. You played it for a long time before you stopped completely for whatever reason.

“You told me, when we had to introduce ourselves and talk about things we liked in german class.” He explains. “You said you liked it, even though your mother forced you to go.”

You turn to him now as it strikes you that Jung Jaehyun remembered you from his childhood the same way you remembered him. Not the same things, but still memories. The thought is so comforting that you can’t hold the way your cheeks move up in a smile.

“What about you?” You question. “What things did you say you liked?”

“Hmm, I don't really remember.” Is what he says with a shrug.

You two share a look, perhaps meaningful but maybe that's the wine making you feel on cloud 9 under his gaze. “What do you like now?”

He chuckles as if your interest is amusing. “I like… music, getting coffee with friends. That kind of thing.”

“Not cars?” You joke, making him laugh. You decide then that you like making him do it.

“I mean, a little.” He replies playfully, and it’s very easy to be comfortable like this.

It’s good to know after all this time Jaehyun was like you, even if you felt alone in the world sometimes. That’s what a soulmate must be after all, not the missing piece to make you whole but someone that makes you realize exactly that you don't have to be.

“We should get coffee together sometime.” You offer after some time, a gentle smile being shared between you two in laziness, at the thought of soon having to return to the restaurant and popping out of the bubble you have started creating for yourself.

“We should.” He says, and the bubble stays afloat a little longer.

⋄

JULY 2019

It’s another charity Gala, with sparkly lights, champagne, fake smiles and a dress too tight. Everything is the way it always had been, except for you.

And Jaehyun, whose hand stays on your waist as he guides you through a slow song. He had wanted to dance, said he always thought it was nice when lovers did it in movies.

Lovers. The mere use of the word had made your heart somersault in your chest, but you kept it down. Instead, you move with him with soft smiles adorning both of your faces.

Your hand finds his cheeks. Nothing could describe the look you give him in the light but pure admiration. And you don’t care if anyone sees it, you don’t care if it ends up in a magazine spread. Because even if everybody knew about it, this is yours.

The way he brings his hand on top of yours, and how his eyes match the exact look on yours. Every little detail about it makes you know that this right here belongs to the two of you and nothing can change it.

“Jaehyun?” Your voice is low, almost inaudible underneath the music and conversation echoing through the ballroom. “I don't want to be here anymore.”

His eyebrows raise at your confession, steps faltering for a second as he loses the rhythm “What? We can leave right now if you want.” He offers. “I came with my own car, so we can-“

Your soft laughter interrupts his words. “No, I don't mean right now.” You explain, swallowing around your next words. “I meant.. I don't want to keep playing a role, I want to go somewhere with you where no one knows us.”

A smile grows on his lips, one that tells you that he understands exactly what you mean. And you don’t have to guess anymore, there are no more maybes. You know.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He pulls you closer, dance now long forgotten as you just move in complete muscle memory.

“I want to find out.” You confess in a whisper. A secret between the two of you that no one else would ever know. “I want to go somewhere with you and find out.”

You wonder if he already found the answer to it, to what love is. But you also don't need to know right now, because you will know when you have to. Either way you want to find out and it's not for you to guess.

He smiles genuinely at you, with his dimples showing, like he always smiles at you.

You smile back, heart aching from something that can only be only be explained by years of shared stories, and in your mind, deeper connections that go beyond what everything and everyone inside this ballroom would understand.

You smile back, in the exact way you have always smiled at him.

⋄

APRIL 2020

A ray of sun peeks from the half closed curtains and set right above your eyes, getting you to wake up lazily and slowly. It takes you a while to come to it, the sheets on the bed just now starting to feel truly familiar with the warmth left on the bed, from someone that had probably gotten up just a little before from you.

You blink once and twice before your eyes are completely open, vision still unfocused but it slowly comes back as you stare at the bedside table. A lip balm is the first thing you see, then your phone and lastly a picture framed of you and Jaehyun hugging in front of the sunflower field at the Van Gogh museum. He’s laughing, at something said by the kind fellow tourist that had offered to take your picture, and you have the beginning of a smile on your own lips. One that you mimic perfectly now as you remember that day.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the door opening and Jaehyun walks in the bedroom, holding a bowl. His eyes are still drowsy and his hair a mess but you think he looks right at home. Because he is.

“Morning, baby.” His voice is low and raspy, but enough to make you melt even more on the sheets.

“Good morning.” The smile settles fully on your lips now.

He sits on the bed next to you then, almost drowning inside his large t-shirt and hair plopping cutely when he tries moving even closer to place the bowl with sliced fruits on your lap. “We gotta add apples to the shopping list.” Is all he says and you nod while picking a slice of melon and chewing it leisurely as you bask on the hazy feeling of still being half asleep

Jaehyun stays by your side, head weirdly pressed to your chest, and asking silently for you to feed him apple slices every now and then with just his mouth opening.

Your mind wanders as you eat and then you’re having one of those moments where realization dawns on you finally. A silly small thing that makes you smile and your chest grow warm. “Jaehyun?” You call out softly, fighting back the bubble of happiness that forms on your chest because old habits are hard to die.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, eyes blinking at you in the same way he always does, but this time it makes you want to cry a little bit.

You lean down, press a quick peck to his lips that make you both smile and then the words are out of your mouth.

“This is what love is.”

#here she is!#cant wait to hear what you guys think about it #works #commission #neowritingsnet #nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenario

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