#I don’t care about what’s going on (only bc I’m sick and not here mentally) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marshmallowprotection · 1 year

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Hello ! This is pukey Saeyoung anon.

I’m comin off anon bc honestly that shit is too much work. Pretty sure being sick this long has fried any last sense of inhibition or shame in my brain and I think everyone deserves to know how much I love Saeyoung smh. The extent to which that is my Mans. I will publicly gush if I so please. 😤😤

Plus! I’m pleased to report that I haven’t actually thrown up in about two weeks! So like. Hashtag recovery life I guess. 💀

But that’s what I came here to update you about. :’D

I feel like I kinda left you with a cliffhanger there with the whole bone cancer thing. (If it makes you feel any better, the hospital did too 👁👄👁)

November was very much,,, a terrible horrible no good very bad type of month. I spent nearly two weeks waiting for them to get back to me about my dumb bone marrow autopsy only for them to cancel my appointment last minute. And in the meantime I was just getting sicker and sicker… I ended up in and out of the hospital again a couple times,, but by the third time I was scared to go back bc the second time I went they didn’t even admit me overnight. They basically just charged me $700 to take a four hour nap. And cha boy doesn’t have that kinda money. 😭

But it got to the point that I really physically couldn’t take it anymore… I have never been in so much pain and discomfort in my entire life. Which unfortunately with the life I’ve had,, that’s a high ass bar lmao.

And it was just CONSTANT… I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t look at any screens. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stand. I was literally too weak to even pull a blanket up over myself. I literally was spending every night sobbing/shivering/barfing myself to sleep. It was baaaaaaad.

Luckily my roommate at this point had probably started to get annoyed by hearing me crying from pain all night and was like “dude I’m taking you to the hospital again”

And my third hospital visit !! They FINALLY gave me an answer as to wtf is going on!

Good news is…? Not bone cancer. I don’t have to enter my Deadpool era Quite yet.

Bad news…? Apparently I’ve got fuckin Lupus 🤡

Which is super cute and fun because,, you know. Incurable lifelong chronic illness. I’m literally gonna be dealing with this shit for the rest of my life. :)

But like. It’s a perfectly livable disease. As long as it’s, you know. Actually being taken care of and treated. Which I now have enough info to actually do haha.

(Hit the self-loathing so hard that even my own fuckin immune system was like, oh shit we gotta take this bitch DOWN 💀)

I’m soooo glad to be home and back from the hospital… but it’s been very strange too. I’m still really sick and I can’t really do much on my own and,,, my brain physically doesn’t know how to process being like,, taken care of. Honestly it kinda sets off alarm bells in my brain 😳 but I’ve had to accept pretty damn quickly that,, I don’t really have a choice rn. I’m so used to just being on my own pushing through all my pain and just. Waiting till it goes away on its own. But if I do that in this case… the pain will just get worse and my body will quite literally shut down on me and I will literally die. Sooooo like,,,, 🤡 I guess maybe I can stand to be taken care of for at least a little while.

Doc says with all the damage that’s been done to my organs and stuff this past year, they caught it early enough that the damage is reversible. But I need to undergo a really strict recovery treatment,, and they estimate it’ll be at least 18 months before I’m able to get back to my ~normal healthy baseline~. Which is insane… like am I really gonna be out here living like a sickly hermit for a damn year and a half?? I’m gonna keep feeling better, I know. And I’ll slowly be able to do more again. But I can’t go back to my job. It was causing me waaay too much physical and mental strain. :( so that’s gonna be fun to figure out.

They also put me on literally 12 new medications when I left the hospital to help control my symptoms. Each of which I have to take 1-3 times a day. So that’s super exciting. Love a big bowl of pills for breakfast every morning.

It was torture at first because I hate swallowing pills. But it’s been about a week and I’m honestly getting used to it already. And better yet? Even after only a week… they’re noticeably helping my symptoms… and I’m actually starting to be able to do things again… I *almost* feel like, 60% of a normal human person again,,, maybe even 65%! I’m slowly starting to regain my appetite finally… and I can do little things again… like play the new Pokémon game, or watch anime, or draw, or call a friend on the phone. Which… god what a relief 😭 words cannot describe how good it feels to be able to do those things again… frankly,, it was traumatic having to spend the last few months watching my body physically deteriorate in real time… so now that I’m starting to feel like myself again, if only a little. I’m like. Hey?? I actually love myself so much???? I think I’m a pretty cool fun interesting person. Thank GOD I’m making a comeback 😭😭

Saeyoung of course has been a great source of comfort for me throughout all of this… he always is one of my biggest sources of comfort in life… literally even just imagining him being in the same room as me is enough to put me more at ease…

When things were at their worst a big part of how I dealt with shit was vividly daydreaming about making up silly stories with Saeyoung to distract me. This is something I’ve done for years when I’m too upset or stressed to sleep,,, it’s been a reliable source of comfort for me for a hot minute. But it’s never gotten to this extent haha.

We have a whole ass story going,, I’m actually starting to get pretty attached to the story and the characters… which is stupid AF because it’s literally just. Me and Saeyoung Choi as fantasy self-inserts wherein he’s a court jester and I’m a knight and we’re going on a quest to ~find a cure for my mysterious illness~

But a part of me is like 🥺🤔 what if I actually wrote the story tho? Lmaoooo

Amongst other coping mechanisms and distractions,,, I’ve also been falling HARD into my online shopping addiction. But also, idk, can you blame me…? I’m a material gowrl at heart and I haven’t been able to go shopping in person for months 😔😔 I need little treats to get me through the day.

Mostly I’ve been spending an UNGODLY amount of money on plushies. Like… idk if I could count them and I don’t even wanna THINK about the prices fhdhdjd-

Mostly Pokémon and Sanrio characters. But a few other random critters as well.

And tbh?? I don’t regret a single purchase. They’ve literally all helped me feel more comfortable and joyful these past couple months, which I’ve really needed. So, even if my bed is starting to look RIDICULOUS from sheer volume of plushies…. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m living my best life

A few days ago I got a giant charmander plushy… and like. Ordinarily I’m not even the biggest fan of charmander (shut UP ABOUT CHARIZARD GAMEFREAK. IM OVER IT. GEN 1 IS POPULAR WE GET IT)

But I swear to god this young man is changing my life. It may be the softest squishiest most huggable plush I’ve ever encountered. I’ve been carrying him almost everywhere,,, starting to feel like the “ahh yes. Me, my partner, and their life sized mareep plushy” meme for real 💀💀

((How do you think Saeyoung would feel about me turning our bed into a literal mountain of plushies? Or having to compete for attention with my charmander? Hehe. ))

THERES ONLY ONE MORE THING I WANTED TO SAY…

If you’re actually taking the time to read all of this,,, holy shit thank you. And thank you for providing lonely bitches like me this outlet c’: to be able to talk… and share comfort… and express our deep love for these characters without fear of judgement. It’s really just such a lovely blog and I can never thank you enough.

But the last topic I wanted to touch on!!!

Ugh,,, I read your answer to the ask about Saeyoung with an MC into pastel goth fashion and…

That made me so happy 😭😭❤️❤️

I love fashion,,, so much. Truly one of my greatest joys in life is getting into a really cool fun outfit and strutting around Knowing that I’m cool as fuck and I look like a sexy badass 😤😤 it’s simply the most powerful feeling.

Love when I’m wearing an outfit I know looks fire and I can’t stop smirking haha.

And I just,,, love being flamboyant and silly and having fun with it. I’m 100% the type of person to walk into a store and go “this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. The colors and patterns are such a mess they’re practically nauseating. I NEED IT.”

I have a collection of tacky button up shirts that could probably blind a man lmao. And JACKETS?? Don’t get me started on jackets. Boots,,, cargo pants,,, earrings,,, big colorful sunglasses. Ugh. <3

Since I’ve been so sick I haven’t been putting much effort into my appearance. My outfits were so joyless for a while… and then, well. I’ve spent the last month and a half wearing exclusively Pajamas and Hospital Gowns 😭

Considering that my main fashion inspirations ordinarily fall somewhere between Elton John, Lil nas x, and Jojo’s bizarre adventure…

Quite the glow down haha

I don’t think I realized fully how much I missed that until I read your ask…

You inspired me to go looking for some fun new clothes online. And now I’m feeling so excited and impatient for them to get here because I can’t remember the last time I got to put together a fun outfit… I actually wanna like,, get up and get dressed for the first time in so long c’: if only to waltz around my apartment a little bit and take a few selfies.

I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get back to my FULL level of glamour,, my inflammation is still pretty bad so my face and body are kinda weird and swollen and lumpy right now 🥴 and again,,, standing and walking are still very much a challenge. Idk if I could wear heels right now haha I’m wobbly enough on my feet already.

But I can’t wait to get back into it…

Like you were saying in that ask too… another part of why I love fashion defs has to do with my gender expression… and I LOVE LOVE LOVE when people bring that up with Saeyoung 😭 it always makes me grin and fills me with so much adoration to think about Sae getting to have fun and experience that euphoria with clothing and fashion as well… and especially the thought of us getting to do it together….? c’:

Literally a concept that is SO important and special to me 😭❤️❤️

Idk what kinda wonky matching outfits we’d be putting together but I know that we would look so fuckin cool and hot 😤😤 and best of all we could have so much fun. Which… tbh, there’s nothing more I could ask for in life.

Plus of course,,, there’s always the added fun of self indulgently getting to imagine Saeyoung admiring and complimenting me on my fashion :’D and like,,, thinking I’m cool or whatever 😭

Anyways! Those are all the things I wanted to say.

If you’re still reading this,, //what’s wrong with you bahaha I’m such a rambly mess

But like. Thank you. And deadass if this is too long to read or respond to feel free to leave it in your inbox or just delete it.

Honestly it was just really nice to be able to type out all these thoughts just to sorta. Get it out and decompress, ya know…? c’:

I hope you have an absolutely beautiful day.

While I am happy to hear that you have a better understanding of what's going on in your life, I'm sorry you're going through this transitional time when you discover that you have chronic illness. That has to be the most difficult time for a lot of people. You have to make a lot of adjustments and make changes that you may not be happy with to make sure that you're taken care of. I empathize and understand this because I deal with multiple chronic illnesses. If you ever need a safe space to vent about it, this is always a safe spot. Whether you want it to be posted or not, you can always scream into the inbox.

I hope you don't beat yourself up over the new limitations and changes that are coming into your life. It'll be hard for a little while to get used to everything. But it'll be okay. I can't promise that it'll be easy in the long run. This journey is a lot different for everybody. I think what helps when you feel lonely and isolated in that regard, is to find comfort in the things that make you happy and if that is this video game, then I'm glad that you have it. It's been there for me through all of my experiences so I'm also grateful for it.

I know what it feels like to be lonely and afraid. Having my blog like this... it’s a place where I’m able to help everyone’s dream. It’s simple, it’s small, but I know even the smallest response of “Yes, your favorite character would do this for you today!” means the world to someone on their worst day. I hope that you’re able to find some spoons to dress up and feel good very soon. It’s hard to find a good day sometimes, but you’ll have soon, I’ll cross my fingers for you.

Imagine that, I mean, imagine Saeyoung gushing over you because you found the energy to get up and show off your new outfit. There’s dazzling sparkles in his eyes as he looks at you. His hands are pressed to his mouth, and he looks like he’s going to keel over in delight. He’s absolutely enamored and in love with the sight of you. “You’re so handsome! I can’t take it! I’m in the presence of the best lover! I think I’m the luckiest boyfriend in the world!” Cue him pretending to faint before you ask him if he’s getting dressed, too.

That’s when he springs back up: “Wait, wait, wait, I’ve got the perfect dress that’ll match this. I’ll even let you pick my hair style for the day!”

#longpost #long post #queue #ask #pukey saeyoung anon #mod kait #clownishpossum #also don't worry I've got plenty of daydreams about saeran.#we're coping. this is fine and dandy.#so you and saeyoung? valid.#grief and anger are the things that I felt most at the start so be gentle with yourself.#tw chronic illness

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itsgivingautism · 3 months

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01/18/24 — Zia rants about being autistic & physically disabled & chronically ill in a fucked ableist society & having to be dependent on their partner

Started to have meltdown over this & other stuff to my partner before he left for work…. I didn’t meant to have a morning meltdown. I found myself shutting down and feeling guilty before he left bc I can recognize it’s hard on him even when he doesn’t wanna show it. But needed a place to rant and ended up going off down below for a like an hour. I don’t want to open up but I made tumblr after not being on here since high school for an outlet for a lot of reasons, with support & encouragement from therapists to do so. But I also hate being perceived. I’m just so fucking annoying tho I somehow always bring attention to myself that I never want….. but I’m also learning to tell my story & share my experiences. As an autistic person late diagnosed who was severely abused throughout my entire childhood opening up, learning to unmask & not shutdown, understanding my own thoughts, feelings, & experiences is so fucking hard.

I am so grateful for my partner but god I wish I was independent. I wish I had the ability to take care of myself. I wish I wasn’t so fucking dependent on his love and support. I wish I wasn’t so needy, or clingy. I wish I wasn’t disabled physically and mentally. I wish I wasn’t so wounded & traumatized. I wish I wasn’t so chronically ill. I wish I wasn’t in autistic burnout, a state of prolonged cognitive decline that one average can last 2-10 years.

I wish I could get a job. Even working from home but my mind can’t even. I’m constantly age regressing and going across different timelines of my mind and getting trapped, constantly disconnecting from this current physical reality even when I seem like a part of it to others - but it’s just automatic masking as a trauma response. All a result of my CPTSD+autism+adhd

I haven’t been able to work a real job since 2020. I’ve been fighting to get the support & benefits I need but constantly being shit on. Having to go thru constant channels to prove how severe my issues are and then being told try this treatment first and when it doesn’t work its still somehow my fault. I’m sick of having to prove my disabilities & illnesses and then when I show how bad they are I’m being dramatic. But when I mask & show strength, I must be making it up. How could you be so strong about then? There’s no winning. Only losing. I don’t see a point in showing weakness or asking for help. But then refusing to and bottling it all up, that has lead me to deeply problematic bad spirals. I just want to be taken seriously by doctors & medical professionals. I hate this country.

I wish I was normal. I hate burdening my partner. Although I know he doesn’t want me to feel like one and he genuinely wants to help me, I also know I stress him out….

I am dependent on him financially while his job is fucking over their contracts, refusing to give him & his coworkers the raises they were supposed to get a year ago. Him and his coworkers have collectively trying to unionize for months (which is the only reason they actually didn’t get a pay cut which the company was tryna do even tho they were supposed to give raises last year) and ofc my partner has been the one leading the unionizing. (We joke about my radicalism really rubbing off on him)

I’m constantly trying to find ways to make money, which end up doing more damage to my body. He hate what it does to me. He wishes he could do more while stuck in his work contract. it’s a lot on him. And I feel like his life would be so much less stressful without me tho….. or at least if I could just be normal & healthy….

Even my friends point out that unless I’m talking about my emotions & trauma I don’t make any sense talking…. like burnout really shows…. It’s embarrassing constantly. I sound like a so clearly disabled most of the time. I used to exceptionally smart & articulate before this burnout. Ik they mean it accepting my but it’s hard when 90% of what I say comes out wrong. It’s hard when I’m trying to be supportive and it sounds like asshole shit bc my issues with speech & cognition. I want to be a lovely validating friend. Not the one they have to dissect my word vomit to find the love & support in foolish clumsily words. I’m technically hyperlexic so I can keep creating words but my other learning disabilities downgrade the quality & meaning of those words.

But I also only make sense when talking about my looping emotions & trauma is bc I only share what I can (the deeper stuff is vaulted by selective mutism & shutdowns). This is the shit going thru my brain, talking to myself about and looping constantly. Ofc it’s the only thing I can talk about. But even most the time I’m still not making sense entirely. But it’s all I can think about, talk to myself about, and it’s all the my brain is giving me permission to share about myself.

#disability rant #autistic rant #actually autistic #actually disabled #actually chronically ill #autistic adult #autistic blogger #disabled blogger #autistic experiences #disabled #chronically ill #actually cptsd #Zias diary 🌿#Zia 🌿#chronic illness

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icharchivist · 11 months

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you ever get a compliment so specific on your field of study that all you can do is cry

I haven’t really kept up to date with my life on here bc things have been messy but this year i’ve been trying to finish up my uni diploma, which i had left in pause for years because health issues, esp mental health, just made it impossible for me. One of the class i still had to pass was English Literature analysis for this semester, because of a mix of “i can’t process all of those texts” and the fact it was an oral analysis presentation and my social anxiety had kicked up so badly those past few years that any physical presentation led me to such mental states crumbling that i just mostly didn’t manage to finish it up.

the oral was today, i’ve been stressed for weeks about it, i didn’t read half of the recommended texts, i don’t remember half of the lessons i did participate in, and i was so panicked i couldn’t bring myself to study at all, those past few weeks have kinda been a stressful nightmare on that point

I still managed to push myself to go to the exam (major upgrades on the last time i tried to pass it), despite an awful night and the fact i have constant dizzy spells these days (probably bc of stress)

turns out not only i was getting interrogated on the subset of the class that i didn’t vibe with at all/am not at ease at all, but i fell on a text we studied in class when i was sick, and therefore, it was legit my first time seeing the poem at all.

so i go in, lacking all sort of confidence, thinking to myself i mostly just need to show i was here and i’ll still validate the year with that. I try to yolo an interpretation of the poem as i can.

Only so that at the end of the presentation the teacher tells me it was incredible, that this interpretation was really good, and when i mentioned i was really uncomfortable because i actually didn’t know the text at all, she told me it’s even MORE impressive that this is what i came up on my own in 30 minutes. She then asked me if i was pursuing further degree in literature because i “clearly have a gift” for analysis and was disappointed when i said no because she said i would really bring something to the field.

i was panicked for weeks over all of that and now i got this compliment and i cannot process it properly, i’ve been crying for the past half hour or so

I genuinely lack so much confidence in my analysis in general (despite trying to hold up the appearance that i’m actually super confident, promise! any confidence you see on this blog is me lying through my teeth) so being told that by a professional on the field is just. oh god.

anyway idk if i’ll manage to process more brainpower for today but for now i’ll just stay in a state of limbo a moment over the most specific compliment i could get on something i genuinely care about to start with.

man.

#ichatalks #ichapersonal #ue ue ue

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yunwooz · 2 years

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I am a little pissed about the news. What reason could there be for TWO world tours in a year except trying to milk the money for the one they missed bc of covid out of them? I can't even imagine the stress...

i think it’s lovely that they’re going to canada (ie a country they’ve at least never been to) and some cities that they’ve never been to as well, so i don’t wanna diminish anyone’s excitement about those positive aspects. my issue is that yeah exactly it’s another world tour in less than a year that’s being announced when they are still conducting the first world tour in japan today? not only that but they’re prepping for a comeback along with kcon in california and based on the dates and gaps between canada and japan shows, they seem to have blocked out time for end of year shows as well...

in the last united states and europe tours that happened literally a few months ago, multiple members were out with sickness, muscle pains, injuries, dehydration, etcetc and all kq seems to have done about that issue is put more rest days between the tour stops. not only that but they continuously failed to inform fans of what was going on or waited until hours before a show to say ‘hey yeah he wont be here xx’ after going into radio silence for days and continuing to be silent about the members’ physical conditions beyond saying they wouldn’t perform at the concerts. i for one couldn’t give two shits about whether xyz is performing when his health is on the line and i’d much rather know that he is okay and resting before i know whether he’s gonna stand on a stage or not. it’s not like they’re poor. they’ve made millions from the tour in the first half of the year alone, and there are reports that show they are no longer in debt anymore. on top of that they release merchandise for every little thing that happens like it’s nothing.

as much as the members themselves tell fans not to worry, worrying over someone you respect and care about is inevitable and impossible to control at the end of the day. it’s entirely natural to be upset and put off by news that they aren’t going to be getting well deserved rest after half a year’s worth of touring, and it’s not like they’ll get much opportunity to rest between comeback and the start of the tour when they prepare for those tours months in advance and they’ll have to prepare entirely different setlists and productions for all these venues and all these concerts. i don’t doubt that they’re planning another europe leg of a tour with more dates than this past spring too.

i’m with you anon, i’m frustrated at the company who, as much as they support and seem to take good care of the members when they are hurting both mentally and physically, continually put the same members through that same mental and physical stress under the guise of being such an angelic company compared to the bigger ones out there. two world tours in a year is ridiculous at best and it’s frustrating because people will try to tell you that you can’t be concerned for ateez’s wellbeing just because they’ve told fans not to worry in the past. burnout and mental/physical fatigue is unavoidable if this is how they’re being worked.

#luna.answers #sorry for the rant in response T_T #okay to rb ig if u want to #i have no issue with it

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xorobyn · 2 months

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Bitches’ stomachs look so nasty after pregnancy. Seeing that shit makes me fucking sick. I’ll literally gag. If bitches wanna ruin their bod ok… and I can’t say this to too many ppl bc bitches will get offended from hearing the truth but oh my god. It’s so disgusting. And pregnancy in general ruins your body. Idc what these pro woman activists say - it fucks ur body up.

A bitch like me could never

Never ever ever

I’ve been in shape my whole life

Been in the gym since 9th grade bc soccer and volleyball

Then continued in college

And now I’m in such good ass shape

My body type is perfect

Bitches PAY to look like me

And I’m in love with my body

Why tf would I throw all this away from some dumb ass kid

Let’s not forget my tits are perfect

And bitches pussy’s rip down to their ass hole…

When they push that mf out

So they just have one big hole

FUUUCCCCKKKKKK NO

Not about to have a stitched up ratchet ass pussy

Stretched out pussy and stomach????

I’m gooooooooooooooooooooooood on that

You got me fucked up

And a tummy tuck doesn’t help bc ur stomach still looks fucking gross

You will have a big ass scar

God

I’m investing in my body while I’m young bc as I get older I’m going to just keep getting sexier and being sexier than the old hags around me that let themselves go and they no longer have youth to rely on

This is a great example of how I’m a hating a hoe

And I rlly don’t care. Bitches are fucking stupid. Just shooting out kids bc it’s what they are told they should do. Yet have no fucking ambition. Can’t afford to live on their own… think a kid will make a mf stay. That’s so crazy to me - having a kid out of wedlock. At least my parents were married when they had me. It’s so trashy how ppl have a “baby daddy” and even have multiple. What the fuck???? Trashy ass hoes. And there’s so many bitches out here like that. I’m immediately already better. Having a mfs child with no ring is outrageous. Congratulations ur kid is a bastard😭😭😭 they are setting them up for failure from the jump.

Bitches are so fucking dense. Having kids but can’t even afford an apartment. Can’t even afford day care. Don’t even have a nice car. Just some fucking kids that are going to live in poverty when the baby daddy moves on as he will. If a man lets u have his kid and doesn’t marry u………… yeah bitch that’s all u need to know. That man doesn’t want u. And now he’s trapped. And u need to abort that fucking kid.

Shit just frustrates me so bad bc these kids don’t deserve to grow up in broken ass families. They don’t deserve to have men the bitch is currently fucking to come in and out their life. I would fucking never like huuuuhhhhhhh. They really just don’t care how pathetic they look.

And relying on someone else’s finances instead of your own is foolish. Congrats now that man has full control over ur life. And u know what? He probably fucking likes that. Bc males love to control bitches. And that’s only going to lead to more abuse. Next thing u know this male is beating u and guess what????? U can’t leave bc ur dumbass has no fucking career to support yourself. I mean goddamn. Why do ppl want a free hand out?? Whatever happened to ambition?? And being independent?

A bitch like me has ALWAYS EVEN SINCE I WAS A KID KNEW I was going to have MY OWN MONEY MY OWN MY OWN!!! My own fucking everything. I knew from the jump I wanted independence. And that’s why I started working at 15 so I could have my own money and not beg my mom. Financial freedom is true freedom. And that’s what I’ve been chasing my whole life. Living independently and free to do whatever I please. And make my life whatever I want it to be. I don’t have to fucking answer to anyone.

No one I know has the same deeply driven mentality as me. Bc I have shit to prove. But I also don’t. I have shit to prove to myself!! And I have shit to prove to the fucking statistics that said I wouldn’t be shit. I’ve been saying my whole life I will not be a statistic. I don’t have shit to prove to anyone in my life. Or anyone on earth. They can all suck my dick from behind. I’ll spit on you. I’m better than you can even comprehend. My existence is all the proof I need to show. Look at my life you. I did all this for myself and by myself. God there’s so many losers out here. Sooooooooooooo many. Sooooo many. And as I’ve gotten older it’s just like wowwww. Bc ppl don’t have as much youth to blame it on. Don’t get it twisted - it’s never too late to do shit w ur life. But I’m out here seeing ppl who don’t even care to figure something out. It blows my mind how ppl aren’t ambitious. I have to judge. It’s a character flaw. I’ve always been ambitious as fuck. And that’s always been the most attractive thing a person can be to me. I could sit here and teach a class on how to not be a bum and why not to be. And I’ll NEVER be caught dead marrying someone who ain’t got shit lmfaooooooooooo

Whoever I marry (if I’m unfortunate enough to get married) will make just as much if not more and be educated. That’s very rare. And I’m okay with being alone for the rest of my life before I settle. I’ve already had my life planned out being alone. I’ve never dreamed about getting married or having kids… I dreamed of going to college and getting a prestigious career and making some good ass money

And I just started crying bc I really did that. I really really did. And I’m so used to pushing myself and never stopping. It’s so easy to get lost in the game and not appreciate what I’ve done. And I’m so proud of myself. Proud isn’t even a good enough word. Im so in love with myself. I love myself so much. Never once did I doubt myself either. I just KNEW BC I KNOW MYSELF AND WHAT I STAND FOR AND WHAT IM CAPABLE OF!!!!!!!!

Ambition is my religion.

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snugglebuddyhan · 1 year

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I have several undiagnosed mental problems that have kept me out of work and living at home for years. I’m constantly getting the run around on what I should do. People are telling me to go to the doctor and get put on meds and others are telling me their personal stories of how their meds ruined their lives as well as physically altered their bodies. I have no idea what to do

My brother on the other hand translates all of this to me being lazy and told my mom to kick me out of the house if that’s what it takes to get me off my ass. That she should stop being my safety net and that’s where he’s wrong. I’m not lazy. I’m genuinely confused about a lot of things. There are many decisions and paths to choose and I don’t know what's best for me and I’m scared of making a decision for the worst. I don’t enjoy living like this. Everyday is hell. I try my best to cope, but it’s not easy. I want help. I’ve made appointment after appointment, but cancel last second, bc what if getting help makes me worse? That’s what happened to my stepdad. He has schizophrenia and bipolar. His meds have ruined him. He’s not the same person and he can hardly take care of himself anymore. I see what could be my reality everyday and it’s scary, but I guess my brother thinks I’m living a perfect sunshine and rainbow life over here

What I don’t appreciate is how he judges me and the life I live like I’m nothing, but a disgrace to him and that’s funny coming from someone like him. He used to be an alcoholic and a drunk driver. Would come home so drunk he could barely walk. He was like this for years and could have easily killed someone. He stole money from his job for years and once he was caught he was going to be reported to the police, but was instead given the opportunity to quit quietly. Him getting an out doesn’t make him any less of a thief. He’s going around telling people he paid off the rest of my moms house (20K) when he didn’t give her not one penny. He’s lying to his wife and her family about having spent time in Iraq when he never made it past boot camp, bc he broke his wrist not even 2 weeks in. Every Veterans Day his wife makes a post about how she’s proud of him for his service and people comment and thank him and it makes me sick to my stomach. My brother is not only a criminal and has shown no regard for his or other people's lives, but is a habitual liar as well. Me and my mental problems need to stop leaving his mouth when the person who needs to take a look in the mirror is him

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hyunverse · 1 year

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omfg i cannot imagine a life without fall. that is so tragic. the rory gilmore vibe is definitely there especially bc i live in nyc so you can really get the fall grasp yk ? YEA can we please talk about changbin in the samsung ad bc holy shit. he’s like. legit perfect. aren’t they all tho like isn’t that why we’re all here in the first place 🤭. i cant get enough of them

100% agree i can’t imagine having a s/o rn. tooooo much work and i’m just not mentally there yet yk 😭 the thought is a lot nicer than the reality of it

i can bet money that you would beat me and that i am far from a bowling prodigy 😔. i have no coordination whatsoever. i’m also extremely short with tiny hands and arms (me and felix are twins) so i’d look an absolute fool LMAO. and it is so cute we do the opposites at the same time but still can communicate like just little humans doing cute little human things on our little phones

cute minho pics 100% made my day better. his little pout i’m distraught <///3. this is my second day w an awful migraine idk what my deal is 💔. i hope your day was good tho and you get some good rest tonight love :)) i read some of your hyunjin stuff again before falling asleep last night and i swear i shed a tear. too much fluff for my sick heart hyunjin just makes me SOFT

- 🐈‍⬛

tragic innit 💔 i sound british ANYWAY. waa u live in nyc? that’s sickkkk. how’s life there like? i only ever see nyc people complain abt the rodents on the streets and random people tryna get u to listen to their mixtape 💀 i hope ure not. . . rodent infested? all jokes pls dont hate me </3 the seungmin kinnie in me popped out for a sec.

changbin’s biceps r so big it gives me the urge to sink my teef in them. go absolutely bonkers with it </3

during my last semester, my roommate had a boyfriend, and she would argue with her boyfriend pretty much everyday so it kind of made me not want one. because imagine finishing your assignments at 1am, and arguing with your boyfriend ‘til 4am? and then having to wake up at 6? i don’t think i can handle that. so many of my friends’ boyfriends ended up being a bit controlling too, not letting them go out and have fun with guy friends. (even with other girls around them!) i feel like at this age, i want the freedom to do anything i want, u get me? a boyfriend would definitely stop that.

it’s ok, i bowl funny too. i’m pretty sure the way i bowl the ball isn’t correct but we r all unique ‼️ who cares if im not swinging my arm right? LMAOO. i have long arms but my hands are tiny so i guess we’re matching at that too 😭 i love felix’s tiny hands. especially when they’re compared with hyune’s like. . . he got hyune looking like a whole gorilla 😟

u are my tiny silly little companion in my tiny silly little phone <3 i’m glad minho made u feel better, i hope your day is better today! i’m sorry to hear about your migraine, my love. have you taken painkillers? drink enough water and do take your meals on time or i will fly to nyc and do it for u. (this is a threat.) my day was so slow LMAO i did absolutely nothing! though i did receive exciting news — got a 4.0 gpa and into the dean’s list!! ‘m overjoyed!! spent the day laying as reward. (thats my excuse for being lazy) thank u for reading my fics hehe. comments like that make me wanna keep going :-) i wanna write a oneshot abt playing with his hair!!!

sending u warm hugs ^__^ with much love frm your rin <3

#i will sign out like that frm now on #rin's lovemail!#🐈‍⬛ anon 💌

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cringeghostking · 2 years

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cw: long-ass COVID rant, ft. a real shit eugenics-y quote. bc it’s all finally Got To Me.

so. parents gave me COVID 2 days before i got vaxxed w the bivalent booster + the flu shot + i didn’t know bc i started feeling the symptoms exactly…2 hours after i got jabbed 🫠

and honestly? and im…im SO upset. i cried. i will probably cry more, for awhile.

i try so hard to be careful. i’ve let go of so many things i desperately wanted to do or would have tried to make happen if we lived in a world that, if it weren’t pandemic-free, at least fucking tried to respect Other People, because “personal responsibility” or whatever the fuck will never be enough.

i had the chance to visit one of my dear friends, and simultaneously to see a play that as far as we knew was a limited-run adaptation of a book i hold very, very dear. i had everything in order. and then the 2021 summer wave of COVID hit and i just…wouldn’t risk it. i didn’t get a refund on my flight because the airline claimed to no longer provide COVID-related refunds.

i had the chance to see one of my favorite bands live in concert. the concert required proof of vaccination and/or a negative test. i masked. i left the event early. and i still caught the delta variant, perhaps at the concert, perhaps at an airport. and since then? i don’t do much of anything i want to.

my friends around the country want me to visit them. i go to the ones i can afford to drive to, sometimes—and so i haven’t seen most of them since 2020 or before.

and im just. really really hurt honestly that everything i tried to do and everything i wanted to do and didn’t wasnt enough, that i still got sick bc my own parents can only half-ass caring, because, in my father’s words, “some people will just die and the world can’t stop for them.”

being infected with delta is still fucking with my lungs. i used to, and enjoyed!!! walking for 2+ miles daily. i was a swimmer with a decade of swim team behind me; i would swim laps decently, if not at the level i was as a teenager (which lmao wasnt anything special, despite the history, i promise), without Perishing.

i tried to swim a few weeks ago for the first time since COVID. it was like drowning; for days afterward, i couldn’t breathe properly. mentally, it felt like crossing off something i used to love: “guess i can’t do that again—for now, i hope”

i cant walk and talk at the same time now; pacing circles in my living room on the phone leaves me gasping awkwardly between words in short sentences. my friends used to ask if i was alright; now i suppose they’ve adjusted, too. walking and talking through a mask is near-impossible; ask me if i’m going to bitch about it. i went from “i’m not the peak of physical health, but i can function about the way you’d expect,” to “i’m using this grocery cart like a funky little walker because i’m Having A Time Of It getting to the goddamn bread isle”

it’s shit!!!! it’s such fucking shit and i didn’t WANT this again and i dont want anyone else to have it!!!! other people have had lasting symptoms SO much worse than mine and i can’t fathom shrugging this off when it’s the worst fucking roulette wheel!!!

god, i want this to be over, too. i want to visit my friends, i want to see the book i love adapted to its award-winning play, i want to go to fucking graduate school and sit in classes and not be terrified that the majority of the class isn’t wearing masks and someone in here is sick because of a shit sick policy! i want to go to live events and not weigh the cost of whether it might earn me a 3rd infection, and what that might do to me long-term!! i’m so sick of sitting in my house with my cats and my silly little internet connection!!!!

im so tired of letting things go that i would so desperately look forward to

anyway, if you read this far…wear a fucking mask, at least. please. tightly-sealed n95s are ideal, but if you look into it? literally any mask reduces the chances of infection DRAMATICALLY if all parties are masking.

#ash throws a bitchfest #cw covid #covid rant #cw eugenics #covid-19 #covid 19 #covid #if you know a better trigger tag for that quote from my dad than the eugenics one pls lmk #also there's probably a better article out there than the one i linked but #i read this one recently and i am too miserable and exhausted to research #as you know #fucking covid #long post

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alasmydearatlas · 2 years

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numb again let’s gooooo

i keep feeling things intellectually, not in my body

like I’m thinking my emotions not feeling them

i should be so excited my bfs coming to visit

instead it’s just blank

i should miss him

but it’s just this empty wall in my head

and im pretty sure it would move if i touched it but maybe i feel like keeping my hands to myself rn

and i feel like im fucking 15 again

seeing my parents made me feel like that i think

left out and left alone and isolated and unwanted and like i will never be good enough

i can’t do it right and she knows that

im trying

i know she wants me to come home and then when i come home it’s not the right time

im not good enough and nothing i do will ever be enough

except sometimes i make her happy and so i keep trying

and i know i let things slide and that she thinks i should be better

dad defends me

but i don’t want him to have to

i just want her to like me

i want to feel safe and warm and welcome

but i don’t and I’m scared to feel that with someone new

with someone who isn’t here

and i don’t want to feel pain so instead i just feel nothing at all

the more i think about it the more i can feel the cloud I’ve covered my emotions with

it’s there and i refuse to touch it

im afraid I’m going to break down when Ms here and he’s gonna get sick of me and my dramatic, sad bullshit

it’s only cute for so long

I’m trying to be better tho im trying to be worth it for him

i think i judge him too

without meaning to, it happens and i catch myself doing it and i feel like shit

it’s not my actual thoughts but it’s my gut reaction

i feel mean spirited and too sharp

my family is funny

but we are not always nice

and as long as they’re laughing at smth you said they’re not really laughing at what you can’t control

i feel empty and unfulfilled

are soulmates made? are the found?

i think L is a soulmate of mine

but i didn’t feel that way about her at first i think i thought she was cool

but i want to feel the way ab M the way i do ab L

and i think I’ve pressured myself to be in love but it hasn’t been that long

we’re going slow and that’s ok

I just don’t want him to be bored of me

I don’t want to get attached bc im scared I’m gonna fuck it up

i feel trapped but it’s my own fault

im always looking for an out

for ways to leave him

bc i cant fathom the idea of him leaving me

like that isn’t even smth i can stand to think about

and my eyes are filled with tears but my heart still beats hollow in my chest

and my bones are made of syrup and my skin isn’t attached to my body

i applied for a job , interviewed for it, got it, and turned it down

like a psychopath

did i even want it

did i stop to think about what i wanted

or did i just need control

to feel like my worth was still worth something

i could get it, i wasn’t even worried

it’s not that i didn’t care

i just couldn’t

grey

everything is grey

im nervous

mentally

i don’t know how this weekend is gonna be

i want to know the future

sometimes i feel like he’s not exciting

do i want him to be

is it that anxiety i crave

what the hell is wrong with me

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s-prince · 3 years

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Tw// transphobia & the recent drama vaguely

If we could tag transphobia that’d be lovely

#I don’t care about what’s going on (only bc I’m sick and not here mentally)#but seriously transphobia isn’t something you should just be casually mentioning without some warning #it’s easily a trigger for trans people (reminder I’m trans I’m not pulling this out of no where. normally this would disturb me as well)#like transphobic comments are a lot of times something trans people experience all the time (again my experience)#and for me at least obey me is a safe place #literally my comfort media bc your gender and appearance and everything couldn’t matter less #so if you’re a cis person and being an ally please at least tag transphobia #watch #tw// transphobia #transphobia #drama #obey me

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junghelioseok · 3 years

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heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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janecrockeyre · 3 years

Text

scum villain is a greek tragedy disguised as a regular tragedy disguised as a comedy disguised as a danmei

this is going to be long, and this is only PART ONE.

a.k.a, Analysing the plot of Scum Villain’s Self Saving System through Aristotle’s Poetics, because I Have Mental Issues

Part One: Introduction and the Tragic Hero

Scum Villain’s Self Saving System is a tragedy disguised as a comedy, unless you’re Shen Yuan, in which case it’s a mixture of a romance and a survival horror. It's a fever dream. It's a horrible, terrible book that made me feel new undiscovered emotions when I finished reading it.

The thing is... SVSSS shares characteristics with some of the most famous tragedies in the West, such as Oedipus Rex, Medea, Antigone, the Oresteia... if you haven’t read these, I’ll explain everything. But the gist of my argument is this: SVSSS is the perfect tragedy. In triplicate.

Tragedy as a genre is old as balls and so it has meant slightly different things to different people over the last few thousand years. I'll be focusing on ancient Greek tragedy, which was performed at the yearly Festival of Dionysus in Athens during the 500-350s BC (give or take a hundred years). Aristotle, when writing about this very specific subset of tragedy, had no idea that one day Scum Villain would be written, and then that I would be using his work as a way to look at Shen Qingqiu’s Funky Transmigration Mistake. Anyway!

Greek tragedy greatly influenced European dramatic tradition. I have a lot of opinions about white academics idolising and upholding the classics as the "paragon of culture" but I'll withhold them for now. I have no idea if MXTX has read Greek tragedy or not, so don't take this as me saying they are writing it.

In my opinion, tragedy is a universal human constant. We are surrounded by pain and hurt and none of it makes any sense, so we seek to process that pain through drama, art, literature, etc. We want to understand why pain happens, and how it happens, and try to make sense of the senseless. The universe is cold and cruel and random. Tragedy eases some of that pain.

On that note: Just because I am analysing Scum Villain through a Greek lens doesn't mean that it was written that way. I'm pasting an interpretation onto the book when there's probably a very rich and deep history of Chinese tragedy that I just don't know about. If you ever want to talk about that, please, god, hit me up, I would love to learn about it!!

Anyway, tragedy. MXTX is excellent at it! Mo Dao Zu Shi? Painful dynastic family tragedy. Heaven Official's Blessing? Mostly romance, but she managed to get that pure pain in there, huh?

But in my opinion, Scum Villain holds the crown for the most tragic of her stories. MDZS was more of a mystery. TGCF was more of a romance. Neither of them shy away from their tragic elements.

Scum Villain would fit right in between the work of Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus. How? Let me show you. Join me on my mystery tour into the world of "Aristotle Analyses Danmei..."

Part One: The Tragic Hero

What is a tragic hero? Generally, Greek tragic heroes are united by the same key characteristics. He must be imperfect, having a "fatal flaw" of some kind. He must have something to lose. And he must go from fortune to misfortune thanks to that fatal flaw.

There are two (technically three) tragic protagonists in SVSSS and all of them are tragic in different but formulaic ways. Each protagonist has their own version of “hamartia” or a “fatal flaw”.

Actually, hamartia isn’t necessarily a flaw - rather, it is a thing which makes the audience pity and fear for them, a careful imperfection, a point of weakness in the character’s morality or reasoning that allows for bad things to happen to them. For example, in Oedipus Rex, the king Oedipus has a “fatal flaw” of always wanting to find the truth, but this isn’t exactly a flaw, right? Note: this flaw can be completely unwitting, as we see with Shen Yuan. It can also be something that the protagonist is born with, some kind of trait from birth or very young.

Shen Yuan

Shen Yuan’s “hamartia” is his rigid adherence to fate and his inability to read a situation as anything but how he thinks it ought to be. He believes that Bingmei will grow into Bingge, and it takes several years, two deaths, and some truly traumatising sex to convince him otherwise.

Shen Jiu

Shen Jiu’s fatal flaw is his cruelty. It is his own sadistic treatment and abuse of Binghe which directly leads to his eventual dismemberment. This is kind of a no-brainer. Of course, it isn't all that simple, and as an audience we pity him for his cruelty as much as we fear it because we know it comes from his own abuse as a child. This just makes him even more tragic. Delicious.

Luo Binghe

Luo Binghe’s fatal flaw is a complicated mix of things. It is his position as the “protagonist” which compels him to act in certain ways and be forced to suffer. It is his half-demonic heritage, something entirely out of his control, which sets in motion his tragic reversal of fortune when he gets yeeted into the Abyss. He also, much like Shen Yuan, has the propensity to jump to conclusions and somehow make 2 + 2 = 5.

As well as having their respective “flaws”, all three protagonists match the rough outline of a good tragic hero in another way: they are in a position of great wealth and power. Even when you split the different characters into different “versions”, this still holds true. Yes, Luo Binghe is raised a commoner by a washerwoman foster mother, but his dad is an emperor and he also ends up becoming an emperor himself.

Yes, Shen Jiu is an ex-slave and a victim of abuse himself, but Shen Qingqiu is a powerful peak lord with an entire mountain’s worth of resources at his back.

Shen Yuan is a second generation new money rich kid.

Bingge is a stereotypical protagonist with a golden finger. Bingmei is a treasured and loved disciple with a good reputation and a privileged seat by his shizun’s side.

In a tragedy, having this kind of good fortune at the beginning of your story is dangerous. Chaucer says that tragedy is (badly translated into modern english) “a certain story / of him that stood in great prosperity / and falls out of high degree / into misery, and ends up wretchedly”. If we follow this line of thinking, a good tragedy is about someone who has a lot to lose, losing everything because of one fatal point of weakness that they fail to address or understand.

If we look at Shakespeare, this is what makes King Lear such a fantastic tragic protagonist. He is a king in control of most of England, who from his own lack of wisdom and excess of pride, decides to split his kingdom apart to give to his daughters, favouring his murderous, double crossing progeny, and condemning his only actually filial daughter to death. He loses his kingdom, his mind, and his beloved daughter, all because of his own stupidity.

This brings us to:

Part Two: Peripeteia

This reversal of fortunes is called peripeteia. It is the moment where the entire plot shifts, and the hero’s fortunes go from good to bad. Think of it like one of those magic eye puzzles, where you stare at the image until a 3D shark appears, except you realise the shark was always there, you just couldn't ever see it, waiting for you, hungry, deadly, always lurking just behind that delightful pattern of random blue squiggles.

Each tragic hero has their own moment of peripeteia in SVSSS, sometimes several:

Shen Qingqiu

In the original PIDW, SQQ’s peripeteia presumably occurs when he finds out that Bingge didn’t perish in the Abyss but has actually been training hard to come and pay him back. There’s really not much I’m interested in saying here - as a villain, OG!SQQ is cut and dry, and the audience doesn’t really feel any pity or fear for him. As Shen Yuan often mentions, what the audience feels when they see OG!SQQ is bloodlust and sick satisfaction. There is also the trial at Huan Hua Palace, which I will talk about in Shen Yuan’s section.

Shen Yuan (SQQ 2.0)

One of SY’s most poggers moment of peripeteia is the glorious, terrifying section between hearing Binghe for the first time after the Abyss moment, and getting shoved into the Water Prison.

“Behind him, a low and soft voice came: “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu’s neck felt stiff as he slowly turned his head. Luo Binghe’s face was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

The scariest thing about it was that the expression on his face was not cold at all. His smile wasn’t sharp like a knife. Rather, it showed a kind of bone-deep gentleness and amiability.”

This is the moment of true horror for Shen Yuan, because he knows what happens next: the plot unfurls before him, inevitable and painful, and he knows that death awaits him at Luo Binghe's hands (lol). Compare it with the bone deep certainty with which he faces his own downfall during the sham of a trial later in the chapter (I’ve bolded the important part):

“In the original work, Qiu Haitang’s appearance signified only one thing: Shen Qingqiu’s complete fall from grace. [...] Shen Qingqiu’s heart streamed with tears. Great Master… I know you’re doing this for my own good, but I’ll actually suffer if she speaks her words clearly. This truly is the saying “not frightened of doing a shameful deed, just afraid the ghost (consequences) will come knocking”!”

After the peripeteia is usually the denouement where the plot wraps up and the threads are all tied together leaving no loose ends, but because this tragedy isn’t Shen Yuan’s but the former Shen Jiu’s, it’s impossible to finish.

Shen Yuan cannot provide the meaningful answers that the narrative demands because 1) he doesn’t have any memory of doing anything, and 2) he wasn’t the person who did them. Narratively, he cannot follow the same path as the former SQQ because he lacks the same fatal flaw: cruelty.

This is why Binghe doesn’t kill him - because he loves him, rather than despises him. And this is why Shen Yuan has to sacrifice himself and die for Luo Binghe in order to save him from Xin Mo: because the narrative demands that denouement follows peripeteia, and SQQ’s fate is in the hands of the narrative.

(Side note: I believe that this literal death also represents the death of OG!SQQ's tragic arc. The body that committed all those crimes must die to satisfy the narrative. SQQ must die, like burning down a forest, so that new growth can sprout from the ashes. After this, Shen Yuan's story has more room to develop instead.)

It must happen to show Bingmei that SQQ loves him too. And this brings us to Bingmei.

Bingmei

Bingmei has two succinct moments of utter downfall. The first is a literal fall - his flaw, his demonic heritage, leads his beloved shizun to throw him down into the Abyss. From his point of view, SQQ is punishing him simply for the status of his birth. He rapidly goes from being loved and cherished unconditionally, to being the victim of an assassination attempt.

He realises that he is totally unlovable: that for the crimes of his species that he never had a hand in, he must pay the price as well: that his shizun is so righteous that no matter what love there was between them, if SQQ sees a demon, he will kill it. Even if that demon is Bingmei.

The second moment is when SQQ dies for him. Again, from his point of view, he was chasing after a man who was struggling to see him as a human being. Shen Qingqiu’s death makes Bingmei realise that he has been completely misunderstanding his shizun: that SQQ would literally die for him, the ultimate act of self sacrifice from love: that SQQ loved him despite his demon heritage.

Much like King Lear holding the corpse of his daughter and wailing in sheer grief and pain because he did this, he caused this, Bingmei gets to hold his shizun's cold body and cry his eyes out and know that it was his fault. (Kind of.)

(Yes, I’m bringing Shakespeare into this, no I am not justifying myself)

Maybe I'm a bit sadistic, but that scene slaps. Let me show you a comparison of scenes so you get the picture.

Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; EDGAR, Captain, and others following

KING LEAR

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so

That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!

I know when one is dead, and when one lives;

She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,

Why, then she lives.

[...]

KING LEAR

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,

And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,

Never, never, never, never, never!

Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.

Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,

Look there, look there!

Dies

Versus this scene in SVSSS:

Luo Binghe turned a deaf ear to everything else, greatly agitated and at a loss of what to do. He was still holding Shen Qingqiu’s body, which was rapidly cooling down. It seemed like he wanted to call for him loudly and forcefully shake him awake, yet he didn’t dare to, as if he was afraid of being scolded. He said slowly, “Shizun?”

[...]

Luo Binghe involuntarily held Shen Qingqiu closer.

He said in a small voice, “I was wrong, Shizun, I really… know that I was wrong.

“I… I didn’t want to kill you…”

PAIN. SO MUCH BEAUTIFUL PAIN. Yes, I know Shakespeare isn’t Athenian, but he was inspired by the good old stuff and he also knew how to write a perfect tragedy on his own terms. Anyway. I’ll find more Greek examples later.

This post was a bit all over the place, but I hope it has been fun to read. Part Two will be coming At Some Point, Who Knows When. This is a bit messy and unedited, but hey, I’m not getting paid or graded, so you can eat any typos or errors. Unless you’re here to talk to me about Chinese tragedy, in which case, please pull up a seat, let me get you a drink, make yourself at home.

ps: if you want to retweet this, here is the promo tweet!

#svsss #scum villain #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #greek tragedy #hello followers this account has been silent for a long time but today i bring you whatever this is #long post #i am gonna cross post more art here from my twitter i think #you guys really like my shitposts on here

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yangrdn · 3 years

Text

cough cough

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader, non-superhero AU

a/n: this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge! i loved writing sick!peter, it was v v cute. also, whilst writing this i'm sick, also a cold and my throat hurt until three days a go for three weeks straight. writing this was basically me wanting to have a peter to look after me, so i put him in my position. feedback is really appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this <3

ps: i put the prompt at the end bc i assumed it'd spoil a little of the story if i put it at the start. so if you want to know the prompt first, just scroll down.

summary: peter gets a sore throat.

w/c: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter

my m.list

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there are a lot of things peter’s good at. he nails every test that is thrown at him. if you asked him a question about physics, he’d give you the right answer right away. basically, peter’s smart. like, really smart. now, there’s always that one thing he is not smart enough for and needs your help for.

taking care of his body.

with that, he could get all the help possible, and would still fail. may already tried her best, telling him to zip his jacket when going out and it’s raining. or you’d tell him how he should’ve stayed at home instead of riding his bike to your apartment right after taking a shower. he had worn only a shirt and a pair of jeans, saying it was hot and that the sun was out.

you, on the other hand, were just pissed your boyfriend had risked getting sick again, because you know you’ll have to take care of him. not because may told you to, nope. peter just didn't let anyone come near him when sick, besides you. although it does make you question whether he does it because he wants you close, even when he feels like melting because of his fever, or that he wants you to get sick, too.

and now, here you are. walking to peter’s flat after may called you and informed you about your “over dramatic” boyfriend. he was asking for you the whole day, and wouldn't let her sit down for even a minute, she said to you on the phone after you agreed to come over. you feel bad for her. She was up everyday, working her ass off, only to come home to Peter complaining about his pain. Taking care of him so she could at least get a day off from a whining Peter was the least you can do right now.

You knock on the door twice and start taking off your shoes. It wasn’t raining, but you don’t want to enter the flat with dirty shoes and leave more work when you leave. May opens the door, a tired smile across her face and a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she notices it’s you standing there.

“Hi, May,” you smile at her and give her a side hug, already peeking behind her and seeing two empty boxes of tissues. You frown and pull back as you enter the room.

“He won’t shut up about his throat. His voice is nearly gone, so he won’t be able to talk that much,” she informs you and closes the door behind you as you make your way to Peter’s room. You nod and turn around.

“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he gets enough sleep anyways,” you tell her. May silently thanks you with two thumbs up as she walks slowly to her room, closing the door quietly.

You knock on Peter’s door softly, not wanting to barg in if he’s doing something or wake him up. When you get no response, you open the door and step in. The room is dark, the only light coming in from the sun shines shining through the blinds. On Peter’s desk, books are piled up and you assume those are all for his missing assignments. A pout forms on your lips as you realize he’ll need to do all his missing work for school once he feels better. You make a mental note to help him as you roll up the blinds, only enough to illuminate the room more. When your eyes cast on the brown haired boy laid on the bed, the pout is quickly replaced by a soft smile.

Peter’s laying on his bed, blanket draped over his body and only covering his hips and left leg, soft snores leaving his lips. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his chest glistening with sweat. Your eyes widen as you walk closer to him, placing your palm on his forehead. A quiet gasp leaves your lips once you feel how hot his forehead is. He stirs awake slowly, only moving his head away from your palm and whining. You try to stifle a laugh and make the thin blue blanket cover at least half his body. His eyes open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the new light.

“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face behind his hands. Peter’s head is spinning, his eyes only adding more pain when he opens them. You sit on the bed, making sure not to touch him and hand him the glass of water on his nightstand. After revealing his face, he sits up slowly and takes the glass. Drowning it in slow and painful gulps, Peter lets out a hiss after setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

Now that he’s fully awake, you take a second to examine his sick state. His cheeks are rosy, you can basically see that the poor boy is burning up. His head is leaned back against the cool wall and his eyes squeezed shut due to his headache.

“I’m in so fucking much pain,” he whines and opens one eye, squinting and looking at you. You sigh, taking note of the crack in his voice. May wasn’t lying when she said he had a hard time talking.

“May told me. Did you eat today?” He frowns and shuts his eyes again.

“No, I- I-,” he stops talking and coughs, hissing as he feels more pain in his throat. You take the water bottle next to him and quickly fill up the glass again, handing it to him. After another painful gulp, he continues.

“May made me soup, but I didn’t finish it,” he croaks out. You purse your lips and nod.

“You lay back down. I’ll get you some painkillers, make you tea and then come back here, ok?” He nods and opens his mouth.

“Ah, ah ah, no talking for you. I see the pain you’re in right now. I’d tell you I told you so when you came over, wet and only with a t-shirt, but then you’d start arguing.” With that, you leave his room and make sure to leave the door open behind you, enough to hear Peter in case he calls for you. You make your way to the open kitchen and take out the water heater, a bag of camomile tea from the cabinet and let the water boil. While it’s boiling, you search through the other cabinets for painkillers, until you find a packet of Ibuprofen. After checking and making sure it’s not past its expiration date and that Peter’s old enough to take it, you place it on the counter and take out a teacup, throwing the tea bag in and waiting for the water to end. After a minute, you slowly fill the cup, careful not to burn yourself. You take the painkillers, turn around and walk back to Peter, balancing the full tea cup in your left hand as you softly blow in it. It should be hot, but not too hot for Peter to burn himself when drinking.

You shove the door open with your foot and step in, placing the cup on Peter’s nightstand. He was already waiting for you, glass filled with water in hand and eyes narrowed at the door.

“Take these,” you whisper, handing him the painkillers and sitting on the side of his bed, only close enough for your thigh to be touching his hip. He plops a pill in his mouth, gulping it down and shaking his head.

“I can’t even swallow pills,” he groans. You lift your hand up, caressing the side of his face with your palm. A content sigh leaves his lips as you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. Pecking his lips softly, you ask.

“Do you want to sleep? I can close the blinds again and-” He shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “Can we watch a movie?” He whispers. You nod and help him move to the side on his bed. He takes the blanket with him, lifting it up and patting the empty side next to him.

You shake your head. “You’ll lay on me. I don’t want to put my whole body on you.”

“What,” A soft laugh escapes your lips. “I’m always the one laying on you. Let me take care of you,” Peter’s about to complain, but you’re already comfortably on the bed and patting your lap.

“Next time you-” You shush him, pulling the blanket over the two of you and grab the laptop sitting on his nightstand. He chooses a movie and places the laptop in front of you two.

“You’re lucky we have no school tomorrow. Else you’d be drowning in work,” you whisper into his hair. He sighs and glances at the pile of sheets and books on his desk.

“Already happening.” You giggle at his statement and turn your eyes back to the movie playing.

Midst watching the movie, Peter fell asleep on your lap and started snoring. A small smile displays on your face, watching your boyfriend lay comfortably with you and feel safe. You start running your hand through his hair as he stirs in his sleep, face squished against your stomach.

When he wakes up, he starts groaning and raising his head to look at you. You grin at him and peck his lips.

“Sleep good?” He shakes his head and lets it fall back on your stomach, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering it and letting out a content sigh.

“I’m still in pain, but I guess it’ll get better later,” he says, his voice muffled. You nod and purse your lips, thinking.

“Wait, Peter.” He frowns at your worried tone and looks up at you again.

“Didn’t we buy those tickets for the concert tomorrow?” You nod to his desk. His head turns to the side you’re looking at, eyes widening and staring back at you.

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck I’m-” he starts and lowers his gaze to your lap,” I’m sorry we can’t go to the concert tomorrow because of me. I know how much you like-” You quickly shut him up by cupping his face in your hands, pouting and shaking your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe. You’re sick and I want to take care of you. We can repeat this another time,” you say gently, staring into his eyes as the frown on his face deepens.

“But you always said how excited you were for this” he protests.

“I am, yeah, but I’d rather stay at home with you than going there alone and letting my boyfriend here. Or worse, dragging you with me,” you tell him. You see the corners of his lips pick up and feel your own eyes lit up as he tries to hide his smile.

“You don’t want me to go!” A dramatic gasp leaves your mouth and you throw your head back.

“What- no! I just- I like it when…” he trails off and leaves you silent. You stare back at him, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “I said that I just want to spend time with you and I’m kind of happy you’re staying here,” he whispers.

You grin and pull his face closer to yours, noses almost touching.

“You’re so in love with me,” He rolls his eyes and pushes you back, not before kissing the palm of your hand. “Yeah yeah I am. Am I not allowed to?”

You smirk and drape your arm over him as he shuffles closer to you.

A week later, Peter’s still sick. Or at least, that’s what aunt May told you. He didn’t leave his bed for hours and you slowly started to worry whether to take him to the doctors or not. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes from hours of studying and doing assignments that were already due last week. Why would he stay up at night, if he was sick? It’s what made you think whether he’s really faking it. He wouldn’t fake being sick and stay up the whole night, right?

“Y/N, did Peter tell you when he’ll come back?” Your head snaps up to the teacher talking to you, frowning and shaking your head.

“He didn’t. He’s been really sick for a little more than a week now, I don’t think he’ll come back this week yet.” The teacher nods and carries on with the class, taking a pen and starting to write something into a brown book.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn around, being greeted with Ned’s worried expression.

“You sure he’s alright? He didn’t text me either,” he checks.

“He did throw up like three times last week,” you trail off, thinking about how your boyfriend called you three times from Tuesday to Wednesday, telling you he threw up and asking if you could come over.

“I’ll go to his later anyways, should I tell him to talk to you?” Ned only nods, lowering his eyes back to the paper in front of him and starting to write down his answers quickly.

You knock on Peter’s door after May let you in. She was in a hurry, talking about having a job interview in twenty minutes and being late as she left you in the living room, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

There’s a faint “yeah” when you open the door, looking through the crack into his room and staring at the figure hunched up under blankets. Your eyes soften as you step into the room, closing the door silently. The blinds are up, different from the other day. His room also looks cleaner. He must’ve cleaned up the pile of clothes that was there last week and tidied his desk. You frown as you look at his bed. Yesterday he told you his head hurt too much and that he felt dizzy when standing up. Must’ve been May, probably, you shrug and walk closer to his bed, sitting down at the end of it.

“Hey,” His voice startles you. There isn’t a crack in it anymore and his eyes don’t squint as much at the bright lighting in his room as they did the last time you were here. You hum and lean back on your arms.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Pretty good.” He peaks up from under the blanket, smiling at you. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said and starts coughing. You frown and sit up straight, arm stretched out ready to grab the glass of water next to him.

“Uh, compared to last week. Yes, pretty good compared to last week,” he adds quickly and hides back under the blanket. You giggle and shuffle closer to his form, running your hand through his locks under the blanket and earning a sigh from him. He likes it when you touch him, whether it’s hugging, running your hand through his hair, or when you’d cling into his biceps as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly. There is always physical touch between the two of you.

“Do you want to drink something? I’ll go make you another tea,” you propose and stand up, leaving his bed. He nods and smiles at you. You leave the room and walk into the kitchen. This time, you close the door to his room completely. He’s feeling much better than last week, but also acting suspicious. Peter wouldn’t skip school and act sick. It 's not like him. Like, at all. Right?

The door to his room is closed, so the first thing Peter decides to do when you leave is jump out the bed and walk to his desk, taking his phone and getting back into his comfortable bed. He makes sure you can't hear any frantic steps or movements.

After you left Peter's room the first night he asked you to stay, he started to like the attention you were giving him. It's not that you don't pay attention to your boyfriend. In fact, Peter may be in the center of your attention and you his. You two make sure to show each other the love you feel and that you care.

It's just that with your busy schedules and upcoming exams, spending time together wasn't your top priority anymore. He misses the days when you'd go to Delmar's with him after school, instead of instantly leaving because of an essay that was due that same week. So he decided to do what he does, in his opinion, best. Lie. Act sick.

He did feel bad when he first started coughing every time May was around and she worried for him, but at some point he realized staying at home a little longer wasn’t that bad and he could use some time away from school. Although he could’ve just told May he was in pressure and wanted to stay home for a couple of days, he’d rather use this option.

Peter suits himself in his bed and turns on the phone, already flooded by texts from Mj and Ned telling him the homework they got for today and texts from Ned asking where he was at, and why he stays home for this long. He stifles a laugh at the memes Ned sent into the group chat and glances to the door at the muffled steps he heard. When he’s sure there isn’t anyone close to his room, he returns his eyes to the screen of his phone.

You’re on the other side of the door, side of your face pressed against the door and holding in your breath to not get noticed. You heard a laugh when you were in the kitchen. You left Peter laying in his bed, he was too dizzy to get up and grab his phone. You raise a brow and lean closer to the door, daring to press down the doorknob and silently stepping in, halting in the open doorway with your hand on your hip and an expectant expression.

Peter is sitting up on his bed, covers long forgotten on the end of it and phone in hand. He’s laughing at something playing on his screen, not noticing you standing in the room yet. You click your tongue, pursing your lips and waiting for your presence to be noticed. When your boyfriend throws his head back, letting out another loud laugh, you decide to let him know you’re there.

“oh, ok. so i see you’re better?” you quirk a brow, smirking. his eyes widen and his head snaps to you, watching you through plate-wide eyes. he sucks in a breath and puts his lip in a thin line.

“uhm, you’re back?” he croaks out. a nervous giggle leaves his lips and he shrugs with a smile plastered on his face, biting his bottom lip. “i- i feel better,” you roll your eyes and place the cup of tea on his desk, making him frown.

“you didn’t really think i’d place it next to you? i see you’re better, go get it yourself.” he opens his mouth, only to shut it again. it was true, he looks and feels much better than last week. and peter knows he’s back to his healthy state, he just kept it from you. which is why he’s shocked at first, then frowns and groans.

“come on! yes i feel better, but can you give me the cup?” he asks. you shake your head, balancing your weight on one leg, jutting your hip out. oh, peter knows that look on your face. you’re not happy. not utterly disappointed, but you don’t seem the happiest either.

“no way you made me and may care for you for a whole week straight, when you didn’t feel sick!” you throw your hands up in the air, letting out an annoyed huff. he whines at you in a clearly irritated state and juts out his lip, trying to look as sad as possible.

“no, don’t pull that face on me. i’m pissed off,” you mutter as you walk to him, sitting down on his bed with your back to his figure. “please? i’m sorry i lied,” he starts. you frown, turning around.

“why did you, in the first place. you now have much more work to do. oh, and have fun explaining may why you lied about being sick. she stayed up with you at night, hell, i went to sleep at three for you! peter, we had school at seven!” you cry out.

the boy on the bed with you just shrugs, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“i guess i liked the attention i got.” you huff and take a glance at him. when he stays serious, you turn your whole body to him. “you liked the attention i gave you?” you ask in disbelief. he slowly nods.

“do i not give you attention?” you worry. he quickly shakes his head, arms out to reach for your hands. “no! you do, it’s just, with school and everything,...” he trails off. you nod and squeeze his hand, demanding for him to look up at your face.

“i know we don’t spend as much time together as we used to, anymore. but peter, you know i’m in so much pressure because of school! besides, don’t you have to focus on school, too? and may also told you you should look for an internship because you didn’t get one last year,” you reason. he lets go off your hand, clearly not amused.

“i told her i don’t want one. what will it do?” “uh, look good on your college applications?” you say, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. he chuckles.

“besides that. i’ll find one, i just want to spend time with you for now,” he says softly as he scoots closer to your warm body. you put your arms around him, laying your head on his placed on your chest.

“i do too, pete. but i promise that in,” you stop and cran your neck to look behind you at the calender he’s got hung on the wall, “in five weeks we’ll be able to cuddle and watch movies like we did before again. now, we need to focus on school and you on your missed assignments,” you sigh. you feel him tense under you.

“what?! five weeks!” you smirk against his hair and squeeze him tighter.

“i was joking! two actually. but, until then, you’re stuck with me anyway studying so it won’t be that big of a problem if i stay away from you for one day,” you laugh and kiss his temple. he nuzzles into your chest, inhaling in your sent and sighing. “as long as we spend that time together, i don’t care how long it is until we finish all exams,” he whispers against you.

Prompt: Non-Superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed, because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick". Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.

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