#and guess what! just because I’m smart does not erase my need for help! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wincore · 3 years

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atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of.

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low.

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours.

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget.

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore.

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume.

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type.

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises. If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts.

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself.

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask.

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it.

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it.

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily.

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year.

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately.

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one.

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt.

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover.

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours.

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth.

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words.

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table.

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad.

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back.

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing.

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters.

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs.

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.”

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can.

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off.

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating.

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know.

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young.

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling.

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung.

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses.

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention.

Inviting him somewhere.

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure.

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more.

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter?

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him.

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.”

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.”

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.”

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts.

You’re disappointing.

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose.

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps.

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask.

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you.

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue.

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.”

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you.

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families.

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe.

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard.

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them.

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out.

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure.

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up.

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt.

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart.

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it.

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him.

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak.

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time.

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional.

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love.

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved.

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding.

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either.

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple.

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action.

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t.

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days.

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.”

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by.

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers.

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever.

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout.

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!”

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?”

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this.

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose.

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond.

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—”

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder.

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him.

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too.

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again.

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling.

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you.

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care.

“Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there.

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally.

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer.

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand.

2K notes · View notes

atinydise · 3 years

Text

Ateez reacting to their s/o acting sexy, but being cute or unnatural instead

❦ Genre: Fluff, a little bit suggestive.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 3K4.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

HONGJOONG

Your boyfriend went to the supermarket to find some snacks. He was producing since 7AM without a break. When you joined him, you practically begged him for to rest a bit. So now, you were alone in his big studio, wondering if you had been enough clear about the food you wanted. Bored and hungry, you looked around, trying to find at least a chewing-gum to stop your belly from growling crazily. When finally, a red paper sheet, caught your attention. It was not your type to read Hongjoong's stuff, but this one was titillating your curiosity.

When you made sure that you were completely alone, no camera around, you grabbed the paper. The moment, you realized the explicit lyrics on it, you couldn't help but to compare your shy actions with your boyfriend. Does he want you to act like this? But the real question was: could you do it?

When you heard footstep in the hallway, you put back down everything, and ran on the red couch. "I'm back babe." Said Hongjoong, smiling at you, not suspecting you at all. For you, it was a sign. The right moment to act. He would never expect this from you.

"Oh already! I missed you." You replied, biting your lip messily. Hongjoong raised a brow, not understanding what was going on in your head. "I left 10 minutes ago. Only." You stood up, trying to roll your hips as much as you could. "That's already too much." "Are you okay sweetheart? You look... different?" He asked when you back hugged him, pushing your chest right on his back. You roamed your hands on his abs to his belt. "I-I'm trying to make you feel good." The way your voice cracked and how your hands were tickling more than it should, Hongjoong turned around, trying to not laugh. "Y/N. Stop." He held your wrists. "I don't know why you are trying to do but it doesn't feel right." "I saw the lyrics on the red paper sheet." You said, without thinking twice about the consequences. "Oh." He paused. "Oh." He realized when he finally understood the situation. "Do you want me to be sexier with you?" "Babe that's just lyrics. Inspired by movies, music and you of course." He tried to reassure you. "Don't act sexily like this. Don't change anything, you are perfect. And you were cuter than hotter honestly." You could have been offended, but it felt like a compliment. "Okay." You pouted. "Let's eat before I end by being the meal." He teased you. You slapped his shoulder completely flustered. "Stop!" "I'm joking!" He laughed. "And you are sexy the most when you don't try to be." "Can we change the subject?" You rolled your eyes, looking for your meal. "I can't believe you tried to be sexier because of these lyrics." He busted in laughs, once again.

SEONGHWA

You've been a bit confused the last week. Seonghwa invited his friend one night. To not bother them, you stayed in the bedroom most of the time. You didn't complain, watching your favorite movie with Chinese food was all you needed. Just one time, you got out of the room to find something to drink. Before entering the living-room, where your boyfriend and his friends were, you heard one of them asking which type of girls Seonghwa was usually attracted to in high school. "Well... I can't really remember because I was mostly focused on practicing and studying." He replied. "Come on, you can’t remember your old taste?" Insisted one. "Hum... I was into sexy girls at that time. Like these ones who know what they're doing." He winked.

Since then, you couldn't stop to think about it. You were not really what we can say "sexy", just normal or cute most of the time.

Motivated to show Seonghwa what you were capable of, you asked advices to your friends and elaborated a complete plan. "Y/N! I'm here!" Greeted your boyfriend, locking the door behind him. "Oh wow, it smells so good." Seonghwa walked in the kitchen, curious to see what you were cooking. Gently, he pecked your cheek before asking: "Lasagnas? Are we celebrating something?" "I don't know... I just wanted to eat this." You started. "Or I would eat you instead." Seonghwa chocked with his saliva, not expecting you to say something like this. Proud of this reaction, you winked. Even though you tried to act the sexiest possible, it had the opposite effect. When you saw the light smile on his face, you were wondering if you should go to the next level. Not thinking twice, you dipped your finger in the tomato sauce before licking it, suggestively, in front of your boyfriend. "You cute." Whispered Seonghwa, patting the top of your head. "Cute?!" You repeated, confused. "Yeah?" "I was trying to be sexy!" You put your hands on your hips. "Yeah, but the sauce dripping off your chin makes you look cuter than sexy." He smiled, before heading to the bathroom. "Shit." You mumbled, wiping the sauce nervously. "If you act like this because of what I've said 2 weeks ago... stop thinking about it. I was a simple teenager." He yelled from the other room. "So, you are not really into sexy girls?" You yelled back. "No. I'm into you idiot." He replied, before closing the door. You smirked happily. "Well... that's everything I needed to know."

YUNHO

The whole day, you acted suggestively with your boyfriend. He noticed and counted how many times you bit your lip or whispered casual talks right in his ear. Of course, he was affected by your action, he was a simple man. But most of the time, he found you cute. Like right now, you were at the theater and your hand was resting on his thigh the entire time. The only times you were removing it, was when you rushed to plunge your hand on the popcorn pack just to touch his hand. Yunho tried several times to suppress the laugh coming from his throat. He ignored if you were doing this on purpose or just because your period week was coming. "Should we go to our favorite restaurant after the movie?" You suggested, whispering right in his ear, hand on his chest. Yunho glanced at you, trying to perceive the reason of your actions, but nothing, not the usual lust sparkles in your eyes when you are on your period. "Sure, if you are still hungry after this giant pot of popcorn." He smiled. "I'll be. But I have other plans for the dessert." You winked before turning your face to the giant screen. Your boyfriend couldn't leave his eyes from you, wondering where this sudden libido was coming from. After the movie, you walked 15 minutes until the restaurant. Inside of you, you were trying to know how you could prove him that you were the sexiest girl ever. Just before finishing the main meal, you decided to attack again. As he was resuming how went his last week, you slowly passed your foot on his legs, trying to excite him as possible. The only thing you didn't know was that you were kicking him more than anything. Yunho spotted too, the flustered look on your face. You were focusing on your mission. "Babe." A laugh escaped from his lips. "You are hitting me." "Huh?! I'm sorry!" You put your foot down, worried. "It's okay," he giggled. "But what's got into you?" "Oh, so you noticed." You hid your face behind your hands, completely ashamed. "You are really asking me if I noticed that you almost jumped on me as if I was the last hamburger in the fridge?" He held your hand on the table. "I'm just trying to add spiciness to our relationship." You sighed. "We don't need that Y/N. We are all fine and I won't get bored." He tried to reassure you. "Really?" Yunho nodded, trying to comfort you. "Okay then." You smiled. "So... we are all good now?" "Yeah." "Good." He rubbed his thumb on your hand. "But can you remove your foot in the middle of my legs now?" "Oops. Habits." You shrugged.

YEOSANG

You really thought that Wooyoung recommendation was just another action movie. Until the main actress started to make out or act suggestively with everyone, she was close to. Of course, you had no problem with that. It just made you wonder if you could act like this with Yeosang. You were not officially in a relationship, yet, but you were acting like one. At the next hot scene, you glanced at him. His eyes were glued to the TV screen, looking every actress' moves. For sure, he liked what he was watching to. Maybe you should give it a try. You had nothing to lose except your ego. But what if he laughs so much that you become insecure?

Yeosang looked at you weirdly when you slapped your forehead to erase these stupid thoughts. "You... okay?" "Yeah! I just need something to drink." You threw the blanket off and almost ran to the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle of water but didn't find any clean glasses on the cupboard. Was it a sign? You stared at the bottle and guessed if you could do something with. "Did you find water? I think that's all we have left." Said Yeosang.

"It's my time to shine, you thought."

You walked back to the living-room, bottle in the hand. "It's pretty hot here no?" You faced yourself with your free hand before tugging on the collar of your shirt. "I'm okay, but you can open the window, I don't mind." Not adding anything else, you opened the bottle and sipped into it. When you made sure Yeosang was looking, you poured 'accidentally' water on you, especially down on your chest. "The hell Y/N!" Gasped Yeosang, grabbing a pack of tissue. "Argh sorry! I'm so messy." You pouted, grabbing a tissue to wipe your chest. Yeosang stopped on his track. "Am I dreaming, or you are trying to act like her?" He pointed at the TV screen. You rolled your eyes. He was too smart. "I failed right?" "Completely." He smiled. "But nice try, that was cute." "I wasn't trying to be 'cute'." You air quoted, sitting down on the couch. "You need to practice, to be at my level of sexiness." He added proudly. "Shut up Kang Yeosang." "Sure. Cutie." He laughed.

SAN

"Hello bonobos!" You greeted the whole group when you entered the practice-room. "For the 1601st time Y/N-" Started Wooyoung. "We are not bonobos." You said at the same time. "I know Woo. I'm just teasing you because I know you hate that." "San, get your girl before I say something I regret." "Babe stop teasing him or he's going to explode." Giggled San. "That's why it's fun." "What are you doing here by the way? I thought I was the one supposed to come over?" "I wanted to practice a bit. With you." You said removing your jacket. Honestly, you wanted to see how your boyfriend would react if you dance sexily in front of him. To not be too suspicious, you wore a simple sweatpants but choose a really light and short croc-top. "So, what we are practicing today?" You asked, ignoring San's stare on you. "Thanxxx." He replied, brow narrowed. "Okay, let's go." You smiled, completely confident. You positioned on the side, behind the whole group to not bother them. When the music started, you tried your best to exaggerate every facial expression, every move, every body roll to get your boyfriend's attention. You caught him looking at you, times to times, but he didn't say a thing, too professional for that. For the breakdown part, you were freestyling as Hongjoong and Mingi while they are rapping. You tried to match San's facial expression, but it seemed so unnatural for you that you were tripping and wincing messily. The whole scene caused San to bust in laughter. Everybody looked at him. "Sorry." He apologized, hands covering his mouth. "But Y/N, you are too cute behind." You raised a brow. "You are trying so hard to be sexy, but it feels not right." He continued. A bit mad, you rolled your eyes and sat on the chair next to you. Still giggling a bit, San walked to you. "Don't be mad." He kneeled in front of you. "You wanted to surprise me? It's a success." "But I did it wrong." "Don't try to act like someone you are not." He held your hands. "But you do it all the time!" You sighed. "I just wanted to prove you that I can be sexy too." "I was impressed! Your dancing skills are really good now. And with the 'cutie' side, it was the cherry on top." You hide your face on the crock of his neck, "oh please... what a shame."

MINGI

"Candles ok. Music ok. Champagne ok." You checked all the things on your list. You made sure everything was ready for your night with Mingi. One last time, you checked at your reflection on the mirror. You applied a last layer of this red lipstick making sure it made your lips more desirous and kissable. "Y/N! You there?" Shout out your giant boyfriend. "Why is this so dark?" "I'm in the bedroom love!" "Are you sleeping already?" He asked, walking to the room. When he spotted the atmosphere in the bedroom, he stayed quiet. Ignoring how to react. "Is someone dead?" You raised a brow, how he could compare this atmosphere to funerals? "I know how stressed you were this week, so I wanted to help you out." You slid his jacket off him. "Oh my!- Your hands are so cold!" He complained. "Then remove your clothes by yourself and lay on the bed. On the stomach." "What are you planning?" "I'm just trying to help you. Lay down!" "Okay okay." Mingi removed his shirt and laid down on his bed, lazily. At the same time, you were trying to warm up your hands a bit. "And now?" He asked, trying his bed to not fall asleep. "I'm going to give you a massage idiot." You rolled your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you sat on his butt and started to spread oil on his entire back. "Y/N it's cold!" He complained again. "And you are scaring me." "Just stay still!" You replied, trying to not lose your temper. "I'll start." Slowly and gently, you passed your hands on his pale back. But when you pressed his shoulders, he gasped in pain. "You are the worse masseur ever." "Stop moving!" "I can't when you are almost breaking me in half!" "I'm just trying to massage you!" Not thinking twice of your actions, you grabbed the candle next to you. "It might be a little bit hot," you whispered. You delicately poured few drops of wax on Mingi's back. "Does it-" Your boyfriend yelped in pain, beneath you. You fell on the bed when he turned around to remove the hot feeling on his skin. "THE FUCK Y/N! IT BURNS!" "I just saw it on a sexy movie! The man seemed to like it!" You freaked out. "In a sadomasochist movie?!" He shouted, rushing to the bathroom. "I'm so so so sorry!" You rubbed your hands nervously. "You crazy!" "I wanted to surprise you!" "By what? Ripping my skin off?!" Well, seems like your romantic and sexy night was ruined. Don't believe what you see in movies guys.

WOOYOUNG

"Babe, are you sure about that?" Asked Wooyoung, sitting on this chair in the middle of the room. "Yeah!" You replied setting your sexiest playlist. "You never done this before! You don't need to do it now." "If your ex could do it then I can." Wooyoung stayed quiet. He couldn't change your mind anyway. Yeosang accidentally mentioned that he ran to Wooyoung and his ex-girlfriend stripping for him a year ago. You immediately challenged yourself. If she had the nerves to do it, no reason that you don't, right? "Are you ready?" You put your phone down, 'Careless Whisper' playing the background. Wooyoung puffed, not believing your chose this song over a thousand ones, more appropriate. "What?" You mumbled. "Nothing, just go ahead." He tried to go back on his usual poker face. Finally finding the braveness to start, you walked sexily toward Wooyoung. Even though, you tried to look confident, you couldn't make an eye-contact. Your boyfriend noticed your shyness. It caused his heart to melt for you even more than before. You stood up, in front of him, starting to sway your hips from side to side. The moves were pretty good, but it felt unnatural for him. He could see that you were trying your best. Your tongue tugged out of your mouth sometimes, because of the effort. When you judged that it was time for you to remove your shirt, your hands started to shake a little bit on your hips. Wooyoung started to feel a kind of horniness until your top stayed stuck around your head, causing you to tug on the side. Your boyfriend laughed so hard at the scene. His dolphin laugh making you shy and ashamed of your performance. "Can you help me please! One of my earrings is stuck too!" "This is terrible Y/N!" He laughed, putting your top down. "I can do it." "Do it when you'll be ready to." He pecked your cheek. "It's okay. No rush." "Wooyoung sat back on the chair, not breaking the eye contact. "What?" He raised a brow. "I can do it." You repeated, lifting your top once again. He was taken aback by your new tentative, but it didn't fail to make him laugh again. It was really a cute scene to see. "Stop you are being too cute! I can't handle it!" He wiped his eyes, arms around his abs to seduce the slight pain.

JONGHO

Your room was a mess. Clothes spread out on the floor, hanging messily in the wardrobe and few of them were falling off the chair. Why? Because Jongho can't stop mentioning that you are "cute". There's nothing bad about that. It's just that you wanted to be something else than cute.

You tried a ‘nerdy’ look, but it was a complete failure. With those glasses and the bang, he was comparing you to a shy uniform high school girl.

Useless to say that you changed your look the next day. And for what? A ‘tomboy look’. You thought that this one would work, but the beanie and the large cargo pants caused you to look tinier. It was a failure, again. So, these last days, you thought about a sexy look. You felt like this option was finally the one which will succeed. For the occasion, you pickled a black leather skirt and a revealing top. For sure, he will spot your nipples and this white see-through shirt. "Y/N! Have you seen my-" he paused, looking right at you. "phone..." You smiled proudly, satisfied by the expression on his face. "Probably under a pillow in the living-room." You replied as nothing happened. To continue this way, you placed your hair out of your neck. Exposing your skin. His favorite part on your body. "You should look there, instead of standing there, staring at me like a fish looking for water." "Sorry but... I just can't get over the fact that-" he gulped. You smirked, waiting for him to finally admit that you could be something else than 'cute'. "So adorable! He giggled. "Are you kidding me?!" You said, completely done. "How can I be cute this outfit? Especially this skirt! If I bend over, you can clearly see my butt!" "Have you seen how cute your butt is?" He giggled. "Looking cute isn't a bad thing." "But right now, I wanted to look sexy! Like the hotter I've ever been!" You pointed at your chest. Jongho's face softened. He needed to admit that you looked hot with this outfit. But you couldn't help, but to be adorable. It was just how he sees your face every day. "I can't. I just want to pinch your cheek and to drown you by a thousand of kisses." He shrugged. "Okay, I give up." You rolled your eyes, grabbing your pajama on the bed. "Oh please... don't be mad!" He chuckled following you. "Don't talk to me." You said before slamming the bathroom's door, in front of him. "Cutie!" He yelled to tease you. "I hate you!" "I'm kidding." He paused. Before adding, "cutie." "Choi Jongho!"

#ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez kpop #ateez x you #ateez x atiny #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez cute #ateez reaction #ateez reader insert #ateez requests

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vbee-miya · 3 years

Text

✧︎How To Shift✧︎

disclaimer : before I start explaining anything you have to know that everyone’s shifting experiences and adventures are UNIQUE and different for what you will / you have experienced.

part i || currently on || part iii

➺︎ How I prepare for a successful shift

Background knowledge : before I successfully shifted I did some prior research to what shifting was. I made sure that it was something I would feel comfortable doing. Though at that time I didn’t really care for whatever shifting was. TikTok made it blow up, but it’s not the best source of information. Rather I went through articles back in 2015 actually and shifting realities have been a thing. So with this knowledge I thought I would put it to the test to see if it was actually real or not. First time I did it it was no good. I just ended up falling into a deep *lucid dream.

* note - lucid dreaming is when the dreamer is aware that they are dreaming and is able to gain control over the dream, the dream narrative, and the environment. the thing people confused about shifting with lucid dreaming is because both feel vivid and real. Mind you this, that was also me. But in my opinion what separates lucid dreaming to shifting is that the reality doesn’t change. In lucid dreams the reality stays the same as the current reality that’s why usually when you wake up you didn’t wake up in the same place/position as when you started. As for shifting your body stays stil and it’s only your consciousness that is moving around. if you watch naruto think of Ino Yamanaka. She’s able to move her consciousness into a different body than hers almost resembling a ‘different reality’ and while she does this Shikamaru Nara or Chiji Akimichi have to make sure that the body not only gets harmed but is moved. So that the consciousness can have an easy pathway to go back to the ‘original vessel.’

Making sure you have a proper environment : lucid dreaming wasn’t just one thing that caused me to fail in the shifting process, but it was also because I didn’t have the right environment to do so. I’m Filipino and in most traditional Filipino households. They’re loud. Shifting requires medication and focus. And I’m the type to not be able to focus in such loud areas. So making sure that you have a comfortable safe place to prepare for you shift is ideal.

Experimenting with different methods : remember when I said that everyone has different shifting experiences? I meant that in actual terms. there’s at least over 5+ ways/methods to shift. and I tried five of them and I only one felt comfortable to my liking. Which was the raven method. In much simpler terms it’s where you make sure your in one spot and you make sure that your limbs aren’t touching each other so almost like a star fish laying down. It’s silly, but there’s ways to not make it look so pathetic looking I guess. But as I was stating earlier there’s many ways/methods. And YouTube has plenty of them explain different process in much better ways.

Getting into the mindset : yes before I shifted I had no faith or motivation to push myself to shift. that’s one of the reasons why I wasn’t able to shift well. because I’d keep giving in. I really just didn’t care. However when I found out about affirmations and scripting I hated the idea of doing it because I wanted to shift just like that without the need to keep scripting. But I tried it and around the second maybe third week of doing this alongside the scripting it also didn’t work. So then I found out about subliminals. I figured using a meditation audio would help and it made the process go smoothly, but at the cost that the process of me shifting and getting into my consciousness would take a really long time since I’m not really spiritual. So accessing my deep inner consciousness was hell. Another thing that helps is when you say you affirmations when you do decide to meditate and such. Affirmations or messages like “I will be safe, I will have a safe shift, I can shift.”

Short story on how I shifted : To make a long story short eventually I tied the raven method, 30 minute meditation audio, then a certain subliminal audio over 10 minutes long in queued (so I wouldn’t have to have any problems of getting out of my meditation phase), and saying the affirmations and manifestations at the back back of my head I was slowly able to feel myself falling deeper into my consciousness, but it’s funny because I didn’t feel like I was going to fall asleep. Eventually the deeper I went the atmosphere around me started shifting slightly. I wanted to open my eyes but I knew that’ll eff things up so I waited. I kept getting deeper and deeper as the reality and atmosphere around me started to change. My head felt like it was getting clear my body temperature was actually heating up which apparently isn’t something that’s too rare to experience when first starting to shit. Anyways so going back to the first post/point can’t quite remember when I said this, but when starting to shifting you want at least some confirmation that you’ve shifted so in my case it was that I’d feel mist like drips on me. And I did. Next thing I knew I was walking through the gym doors my vision was hazy and I saw Shinsuke Kita in front of me and I low-key have ptsd from him.

The “importance” of scripting for beginners : i was arrogant enough to think that I wouldn’t need to script, but turns out I did. It helps a lot actually. Um to summarize what I want to say if you just shift willingly with out any prior knowledge of what you’d do. You’ll end up like me in my first shift to HxH. Something will go wrong and it’s not like a lucid dream where you can erase that. The bodies and such in that shift will know that such thing happened. Of course as the shifter you have the power to change that once you come back to your cr script that such thing never happened then shift back to your dr. Scripting is also important for just mentally reminding yourself why your there. So as I got used to the process of shifting I was able to shift without using the subliminals/meditation audio and I was able to reduce my affirmations by what I wanted to ensure happens during the shift. Rather then saying like oh “I’m the manager for Inarizaki high”or “I’m a smart student and school is easy.” Like as I continued to shift I didn’t need to say things like that. It was more of like “in this shift, this time I have to remember I have to talk to so and so.”

Anyways that’s kind of all I have to say about shifting. I hope this helps some people for more clarifications and such you can always ask google. 🧍🏻‍♀️ but ask me as a last resort because if not I’d probably end up confusing you more. Have a lovely rest of the day 💜

#shifting #how to shift

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supercorpkid · 3 years

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This is why you should never trust an Imp – Part 3.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2255.

“So, Kara knows.” Brainy says after you finish telling him your story.

“She hasn’t received any verbal confirmation, but yes.” You close your eyes thinking about how you might have ruined everything. “Should I expect to be stuck here forever?”

“According to my calculations…” Brainy says and you snap your eyes open to look at him. “There’s a high probability of my calculations being inaccurate.”

“What are you saying?”

“Look. The fifth dimension is unrelated to the sheer fabric of the regular dimensional space-time.” Brainy is about to open his mouth again and you interrupt him.

“So, you can’t do any correct calculation because Mxytopelek powers don’t respect the rules from our dimension.” You add and he looks at you perplexed, like he didn’t expect you at all to have understood that. “Luthor’s brain.” You explain yourself and he agrees with his head. “So, what do I do now?”

“I…” He looks at you and clasps his hands together. “Don’t know.”

“Great.” You give him a forced smile. “If we have no idea of what will happen next, can I please, please tell my moms the truth?”

“There’s no way to know the outcome of this, but you are aware of that.” He says and you agree. “I would say, do what’s best for you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re already flying back to the penthouse catching both of them off guard.

“Ok. Listen, I might be tearing the fabric of spacetime, but, well. Here goes nothing.” Kara turns back at you with a smile on her face. Lena has her eyebrows furrowed. “How do I explain it?” You take a deep breath. “Lena figured out how to combine both of your DNA’s so you two could have a daughter. Then I was born, like fifteen years ago. Or seventeen, I’m not sure.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lena is completely in disbelief, but Kara doesn’t seem at all shocked. You were right, she knew it.

“Let her finish, love.” Kara asks and you agree.

“Kara, she’s saying she is our daughter, I think I’d remember if I had a daughter.”

“Right, well, remember that hypothetical question about time travel?” Lena shakes her head agreeing and Kara looks back at her, confused. “Yeah, well, it’s not really hypothetical. Cause, you see, I met this imp from the fifth dimension…”

“Mxyztplk!” Kara yells and you agree with your head.

“He said he would show me my future, and I got curious about what I was going to choose. You know, powers or science or robotics (I’m really good at that), and I wanted to see if you guys would be happy with my decision, but I guess he tricked me…”

“He does that a lot.” Kara adds, trying to make your story more believable to Lena.

“I should’ve known better. I am really stupid.” You look down ashamed and Kara goes to you and holds your chin.

“You are not. He’s an evil prankster, and you could never have guessed what would happen.” She makes you look at her and you smile at her.

“Yeah, well. There are a few possibilities of why no one remembers me. Y’know, different reality, memory wiping, maybe this is all a dream. Brainy have considered the options, but since the fifth dimension doesn’t oblige by the same rules from our dimension, there’s no way of knowing for sure, so if he doesn’t come, I might get stuck here forever, and if this is true then I needed you to know who I really am.”

“You’re our daughter.” Kara says with the biggest smile on her face and you smile at the realization that she’s happy about your existence.

“Ok, wait.” Lena stands up and walks to where you are both standing. She seems to analyze you for a second. “Why do you look so much like Kara?”

“Kryptonian DNA is actually dominant, and since the two chromosomes involved didn’t share similar sequences, if you had decided to combine them, it would probably have damaged the cells, producing genetic abnormalities. Since you couldn’t combine them, you chose to use Kara’s DNA so I could have powers.” You say and Lena’s eyes grow bigger. Kara is smiling next to her. “You know, the usual.”

“At least she has your brain.” Kara says looking very excited.

“Yeah, she used her DNA for that part. Anyway, I would love to tell you guys more, but if I’m being honest, I’m still hungry. You think maybe I can eat some more, momma?” You look at Kara and she smiles from ear to ear.

“You hear that, Lena? I’m a momma.” Kara says making her way to the kitchen and grabbing a few things she can cook. “So, you eat like a Kryptonian.”

“Like half a Kryptonian, which is already way more than any normal person.” You are almost going to the counter when you go back to Lena, who’s still pretty shocked at your existence. “Mom, are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fi… Wait, why am I mom and she is momma?” Lena still looks very confused, but she’s leaning into this.

“You guys taught me my first words, so I’m guessing you two chose that before?” You sit on the other side of the counter and Kara puts a plate of waffles in front of you. You start eating immediately. “Or, I don’t know. Kara looks this adorable all the time and I caught her vibe?”

“I look adorable!” It’s Lena’s defense and you go back to her, so you can hug her. She doesn’t hug you back, but also doesn’t pull away.

“Of course you’re adorable, mom.” You smile at her and Kara agrees with her head. “Maybe I call you mom ‘cause you’re the one who carried me for 9 months and so I had to make up something else for Kara?”

“I like that explanation better.” Lena smiles and Kara chuckles.

“And I like the other one.”

You go back to eating and they stay on the other side of the counter whispering to each other, you laugh at that.

“Hey, um, just so you guys know, I have super hearing.” You say and they both look back at you. Lena sighs and Kara laughs like it was really stupid of her.

“Well, as much as I want to get to know you, and I love the fact that I have a daughter…” Lena says turning back to you. “You have to go back to your own timeline. Or reality. Or even get out of your dream state.”

“Wait. Why?” Kara looks at her and pouts. “If she was erased from our timeline then I guess is ok, but what if she’s from another reality? What if she’s not our kid, and she leaves and… I won’t be a momma anymore.”

“She makes a good point.” You say looking at them. Lena looks at you and then back at Kara.

“Kara, you’ve been a momma for half an hour.” Lena crosses her arms. “I get why you want her to stay, and I want it too, but don’t you think that if she’s from another dimension her real momma is missing her?”

“Oh yeah, that’s a better point.” You agree with your head, and Kara looks back at you like you’re not helping.

“But, but…” She goes to you and holds your face with both hands. “Just look at her, Lena, she is so adorable, and cute, and beautiful.”

“Kara, she looks just like you when you were younger.” Lena rolls her eyes, and you smile squished between Kara’s hands.

“EXACTLY!” She yells excitedly. “Please, let’s keep her.”

“Honey, she’s not a dog.”

“Lena, she’s our daughter!”

“Ok, wait. We don’t know that. There’s like a 50% chance she is not!”

“That means there is a 50% chance she is! I like those odds!”

“Kara!”

“Can I just say something?” You raise your hand and they look at you. Kara finally let go of your face and you smile at her. “Mxytopolik said he’ll come tomorrow to pick me up, so… Maybe we should wait and see if he’s keeping his word?”

“I doubt that.” Kara says and you look at her.

“This will give us more time before mom invents a time machine or something.” You raise your eyebrows a couple of times and she smiles, looking back at Lena.

“I say we wait!” She holds you sideways. “Let’s go flying together! I’ve always wanted a kid to fly with me.”

“I’m a teen, but ok.”

You had a fun day flying around National City with Kara, and eating all the pastries you could. You showed her the house you all live in, and even stopped a robbery with her. At lunch, Kara dropped you off at L Corp, so you could spend some time with Lena, while she went to work at CatCo. Lena didn’t have much time for you, but you two still talked about science and your inventions in her free time. It was great, which only made you miss your timeline/reality more.

It’s been fun hanging with your moms, even if they have no idea of who you are. You never thought that telling them the silliest things of your routine will make them so excited. Kara almost peed herself when you told her that you fought Mister Freeze and won, and Lena’s face lit up when you told her that you have your own lab at L Corp and that you two often work together. You didn’t know these things made them so happy.

At night you went back to the penthouse with Lena. Kara was so excited about the next day, she had it all planned out. It was very disappointing when you told her that Mxytoplolik would probably come to pick you up. But as the night went by, you realized he had absolutely double crossed you again.

“He’s not coming!” You say walking from one side to the other. “He’ll leave me here! Stranded in the future!”

“Did you guys set up a time?” Kara asks and you go back to her.

“No, we didn’t set up a time! Who sets up a time with an imp?” You cross your arms and Lena takes a deep breath.

“It’s ok, we can figure something out. You’re smart like me, we will think of something.” Lena says being the voice of reason like always.

“What?” You cross your arms. “We don’t even know if I’m still in my timeline, or in a different reality, we don’t even know if this whole thing is actually real. We literally know shit about this.”

“Language!” Kara makes a hard face at you and you soften your features.

“You definitely sound like my Kara.” You sit back in the chair in front of them. “I’m sorry, I’m just afraid. If you’re not my moms, then the real ones are probably so desperate right now.” You hold your necklace in your hand and a tear falls from your eye.

“Hey.” Kara goes to you and squeezes your knee, reassuringly. “We will figure this out. I promise you.” You shake your head agreeing and she looks at your hand squeezing something. “What’s that?”

“Oh, um, it’s the necklace grandma Alura gave it to you.” You show it to her. And Kara’s eyes pop out right away. “I didn’t take it! You gave it to me when I turned 13!”

“Except, my necklace is right here.” Kara stands up, getting the necklace out of her shirt and you furrow your brows.

“There aren’t two necklaces in your timeline, right?” Lena already knows the answer, but she wants you to get there too.

“I’m not in my timeline.” You say completing Lena’s thoughts and she shakes her head agreeing.

“See! Now we know, so we just have to, um, figure out how to create a portal to your dimension.” Lena says trying to look confident and you agree with your head.

“You can call the Flash! He can help with that, he is always-”

“Who’s the Flash?” Kara asks and your face drops.

“Well, if the necklace wasn’t proof enough.” You’re sad again. You can’t stay where you are. Your moms are probably worried sick knowing that you’re gone. How are you even going to explain yourself to them?

Actually, that’s not what you’re worried about. You’re worried about never seeing them again. Kara and Lena from this reality are amazing, and they sound just like your moms, but now that you know you’re not with your real moms, it’s not enough. You need your Kara and your Lena.

“Hey, we don’t need the Flash, we can do it. Me and you, kid, we can do it.” Lena goes to you. She kneels before you, and pulls you in for a hug. “I promise you, I’ll do whatever it takes to send you back to your moms, ok?”

“Thank you.” You hold her tight, and it doesn’t take long until Kara joins the hug.

“We’ll figure this out.” Kara says with her chin on top of your head. “I’m just really sorry you’re not my daughter.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too. You deserve a kid so adorable, and cute, and beautiful like me.” You all laugh, and Kara kisses the top of your head.

“Come on, smart-ass. Let’s figure out how to create a portal.” Lena is the first one to let go, and you stand up right after. “Let’s get you home.”

You smile to yourself. They might not be your moms, but you already love them dearly.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #kara x lena #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #kara x reader #lena x reader #supercorp daughter #reader insert

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Medicate

Thomas decides to try anxiety medication, working together with Virgil to find the one that works

AO3

….

I myself am on anxiety medication, and it is so helpful. I kinda hate the "Thomas takes medication and it hurts Virgil" trope, because that's not what the medication is meant to do, and if it does hurt you, then it's either the wrong dose or the wrong medication. This is mostly based off my own experiences trying to find the one that works.

….

“Hey.” He says, popping onto his place on the stairs, eyebrow raised as he looks around and sees no one else, just Thomas. “Sup?” He asks, nervousness creeping into him at Thomas's silence.

“I… wanted to talk to you about something. But I don’t want you to freak out and run away. I won’t do this if you don’t want me to.” Thomas says seriously, and his heart is racing now as he forces a deep breath in.

“Ok. Ok. Whatever it is, I won’t run, ok? Just… tell me now and explain after, otherwise, well, anxiety.” Thomas takes a deep breath, nodding once to steel himself.

“I want to start anxiety medication.” Static roars in his ears. He’s been too much, of course he has, and now Thomas is going to get rid of him just like he always should have.

“il. Virgil. Breathe. In for four… hold for seven… out for eight.” He slowly gets ahold of himself, following Thomas's voice out and back to reality until he blinks and his vision clears.

“sorry. I… whatever it was, I’m sorry." His voice is a whisper, but Thomas hears, coming closer and kneeling at the base of the stairs.

“no. It’s not like that, Virgil. I’ve been researching a lot. This isn’t to get rid of you. It won’t get rid of you. I want it to help. The both of us." He uncurls slightly, reassured at Thomas’s vehemence, curiosity peeking through. Thomas sees this and continues at his small nod.

“You work so hard, Virgil. And I appreciate it, I do. But we both know you go overboard sometimes. I’m not blaming you, I know you can’t help it, that we, can’t help it. But that isn’t healthy. Not being able to sleep, not being able to eat, heart racing and stomach churning constantly, isn’t healthy.” He nods again. He knows this. He can’t stop how he is, but he knows his habits are unhealthy. “That's what the meds are for. Not to get rid of you, not to impair your purpose, just… just to take the edge off. To give you space to breathe. To just… be. Help us relax, help us not overblow things, and if it is doing more than that, if it is hurting you, then it isn’t doing its job right, ok? If we do this, I need you on board. If you feel wrong or bad or sick, then either the dose or the med isn’t right for us, and we’ll try something else. The goal is not to get rid of you, Virg. It’s to help you.”

He’s silent for a moment, taking it all in, processing the information, before taking a deep breath, pushing back his hair.

“ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah. Ok. A few years ago I woulda laughed in your face, but I… I trust you, Thomas. Yeah, I’m freaked out and scared half to death but that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? I’m scared and guarded and overwhelmed all the time. I’m so… tired.” He bites his lip, looking down, feeling the tension thrumming in his shoulders, the slightly too fast beat of his heart, how even now his mind is screaming danger, and feels the weight of the world atop him. “I’m tired Thomas. So if you think this will help, ok. Let’s try it.”

“Thank you, virg. For hearing me out. I’m proud of you.” He hides his smile by rolling his eyes, looking up at Thomas.

“yeah, well, don’t go soft on me now, Thomas.” A small salute, and he's gone, leaving Thomas chuckling to himself on the staircase.

…

He pops into the living room with little fanfare, flopping onto the couch with a low sigh, faceplanting into the cushions. He can hear the scratch of Princey’s pencil against paper, Logan turning pages in a book, Patton humming softly to himself, but his hair prickles.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” He says, voice muffled by the cushion, but still loud enough they all hear.

“You’re not even looking at us! How do you know we’re staring?” Roman asks, and he rolls his eyes, flipping over so his head is against the arm rest, hugging a pillow to his stomach.

“Logan reads faster than that, he was barely turning pages. Patton only hums like that when he’s nervous and trying to pretend he’s not focused on the thing that he is focused on, and you kept stopping writing every few seconds before picking up again, erasing whatever you just wrote.” Roman gapes at him, Logan adjusts his glasses and Patton whispers ‘wow’.

“You got all that from listening?” Princey squeaks and he smirks.

“Amazing what you notice when you shut your mouth, Princey.” Roman splutters, making him laugh, Logan shaking his head fondly.

“so kiddo… how’d it go?” Patton asks softly, slipping onto the end of the couch, and Virgil looks up at him in surprise.

“You knew?”

“We did. Thomas approached all of us first, so we would be prepared to help, whatever the outcome of the conversation was. Based on your demeanor, I would assume it went well?” Logan asks, and he sighs, sitting up, hugging the pillow closer.

“Y’know, usually I’m not a fan of people talking behind my back, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He comments, smiling slightly as Patton slides across the couch, sitting so their sides are touching.

“We get it, doom and gloom, how did it go?” Roman asks, throwing up his hands in faux exasperation.

“good, I guess. We talked, and I’m still… anxious, obviously, about it, about what could go wrong, but Thomas said that if it affects me… badly… he’ll stop. That it isn’t supposed to get rid of me, so we’re gonna try.”

“Thomas is correct. The medication is not supposed to impair you, rather it is supposed to help you better distinguish what is urgent and what is not. If it is doing anything other than that, it is not only harming you, but harming Thomas as well. I will be making daily observations, about your mood, physical state, mental state, sleep and food intake, to help monitor the effects of the medication and make sure that it is not causing you harm.”

“Oh Logan. You do care.” He snarks playfully, catching Logan’s stifled smile.

“Of course he does. We all do, Virg. We’ll all be keeping an eye out, ok?” Roman, soft and serious as he catches his eye.

“thanks, princey.” Patton simply shifts closer, waiting for his nodded permission before resting his head on his shoulder in silent support.

…

The first medication goes poorly.

Things are fine, at first. It takes two to three weeks to kick in, after all, though Virgil starts noticing changes by the end of week one.

He feels strange. Odd. Off. Sometimes, the world seems to tilt under his feet, and he finds himself losing his balance, stumbling over his own feet, running into doors and walls, misjudging their distance. He writes it off as a result of not getting enough sleep, which is true. He’s sleeping less than normal, almost not at all, going through episodes of heightened energy before crashing.

The crux of it all is when he’s been awake for five days straight, unable to turn off his mind, twitchy and sure that Thomas is being watched, being followed. He jumps at a hand on his shoulder, heart speeding, already on the edge of panic, eyeshadow dark and breathing rapid.

“Virgil. We need to speak to Thomas.” His heart rate spikes further, and he pushes Logan away, shaking his head, hands shaking.

“No. no, no, no. I can’t, I’m busy, they’re watching, I can’t go out there or they’ll see. They can’t see.”

“I promise nothing will happen to you. They can’t get you if I’m there. I will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he nods. Logan is smart, Logan can outsmart them, trick them, maybe he can get them to go away.

“Thomas. This one isn’t working.” Logan states as they rise up. He is pressed against the wall, eyes darting wildly, breathing erratic and wrong, pressure building in his chest. Thomas looks up at him, eyes wide, and he stumbles back further.

“Virgil?” He shakes his head, panic taking over him. Because that isn’t Thomas. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows, that isn’t Thomas, someone has taken Thomas and replaced him, this isn’t his host, his friend, and Thomas is in danger, and he didn’t notice and how could he fail like this, fail Thomas, like this?

Then the world goes black.

…

They take a month. The medication needs to get out of Thomas’s system, and he needs to wean himself off it. He is paranoid and stressed and when it finally stops, he sleeps for nearly three days straight. During it all, the others take turns staying with him, never leaving him alone, constantly talking him down from his ever present fear and panic, wiping himself out with panic attacks day after day. It’s the worst experience of his entire life.

…

“Hey.” He appears of his own accord on the stairs, Thomas looking up from the couch, concern in his eyes. He hadn’t appeared since he’d passed out, though the others had, to give Thomas updates. He’d admitted he hadn’t been feeling quite right either, but hadn’t really noticed how bad he himself was getting until Virgil.

“Virgil, are you ok? I’m so sorry, I-“ He holds up a hand, gathering his thoughts and stopping Thomas’s rambling.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault. We knew there was a chance it wasn’t gonna go well. Stuff like this, doesn’t usually work on the first try. But I think… I think we should try again.” Thomas blinks in surprise, looking at him carefully, trying to asses his words.

“You do? I thought you’d be entirely against it now.” He shrugs, looking away.

“Sure, that one didn’t go well, to say the least, but… I don’t want that to stop you. Stop us. It’ll still help, once we find the right one.” Thomas smiles softly, nodding.

“ok. Ok, let’s do it. I’ll set up another appointment.”

…

He doesn’t notice the changes, this time.

They are gradual. Slow.

He finds the ever present tension leaking out of his shoulders.

He finds it easier to breath. His chest feels lighter, open, not tight and taut and suffocating.

He doesn’t panic, when the waiter asks Thomas to order. When a stranger bumps into Thomas on the street. When he fumbles over his words on a phone call.

He’s sleeping. He finds himself drifting farther and farther from his usual 3am bedtime and noon wake up, until he’s forgoing his usual tumblr scrolling, phone set aside by ten. The first time he wakes up at nine, well rested and light, is when he realizes that this… this is working.

He cries that day. He sits on the couch and cries, letting Patton pull him close and hold him, letting himself lean into the touch, and for once it doesn’t feel too much, it feels nice and good, and he cries harder as Patton shushes him, rubbing his back.

“you ok, kiddo?” Patton asks, when his cries die down into sniffles, slipping off Patton’s lap, but not going far, letting the fatherly side keep an arm around his shoulders, gently rubbing circles with his thumb.

“I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to feel like that, all the time. I didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to be afraid all the time. I… I just…” He swipes at his eyes, letting out a shuddering sigh.

“it’s ok, Virg. I’m just glad it helps. I’m so glad you’re doing better, I’m so glad this is working. You’re sleeping more. You’re smiling more. You’re laughing, Virgil, and it just makes me so, so, so, happy. You don’t look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore. You don’t slouch as much, you’re more confident, you’re more open to touch, you come to us when you’re worked up, you’re not constantly second guessing yourself, and it’s beautiful, Virgil. It’s beautiful, to watch you grow like this. To watch you be able to let go of some of that.” He stares at Patton, mind spinning out, because he’d noticed some of that, but not all of it.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“You aren’t supposed to. It’s not changing who you are, Virg. It’s just… letting you be who you are without all of the fear. It’s slow and steady progress. And I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”

He buries his face against Patton’s side, laughing and crying all at once, because he loves this feeling, loves feeling like this, loves… loves himself.

For the first time ever, he isn’t afraid.

And Patton is right.

It’s beautiful.

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quillsareswords · 4 years

Text

HAPPY OCTOBER FIRST!

Damian Wayne

Takes place under my Crooked Grin arc.

Prompt List • Masterlist (in bio)

It's one thirty in the morning. It's dark, cold, and damp out. Of course it rained all day, he thinks. Fitting that he wouldn't have known, seeing as he'd spent the last twelve or so hours in the sewers, following you around.

While you'd spent the first four or five hours holding idle conversation, waving flashlights around in search of a pile of bones, you both got tired of the rotten stench and unspeakable filth rising past the ankles of the rubber boots you'd been smart enough to wear.

After getting lost for about an hour and a half, he wound up trudging across a parking lot behind you under an overcast sky and a full moon.

The red sign shone bright through lower Gotham's signature smog. CVS. He doesn't come here unless he's desperate for something, but the way your body moves robotically, he'd guess you frequent it.

You halt at the glass windows, making dead eye contact with the scrawny teenage boy standing boredly behind the cash register. He's staring right back, squinting.

Your hand hits the handle and the sliding of a mechanical lock fills the air. Damian looks from the boy to you, then back to the boy. Your eyes narrow. "Jerry, if you don't open this door I will annihilate your whole family," you warn, voice level, edges of your voice fogging a little spot on the glass. There's a pause where nothing happens. "I know where you live, Jerry."

The lock slides again. You shove the door open and stomp inside, your ever helpful boyfriend on your heels in hopes if escaping the cold for a little bit.

Faces void of emotion, you and the cashier begin what appears to be a routine conversation.

"Looks cold out there," he grumbles, resting his chin on a fist. "Maybe you should get an umbrella."

You sigh. "I tell you every single time we do this, I don't need umbrellas, I have charms."

"I have to meet a quota on umbrellas this season. What about your friend?" He stops for a moment, eyeing Damian like he's looking for something. "What's his deal?"

"Nothing, he's just a partner, and he doesn't need an umbrella either. Where's the banishing stuff?"

He points his thumb toward the back of the store. "Isle seven."

"Wait here," you tell Damian. You've noticed the goosebumps crawling up his neck, and the heater is blowing straight down on him at the moment.

He nods, and you start on your way down isle four.

A moment runs by, and then, "So how do you know (Y/N)?"

Damian blinks. "How do you?"

The boy shrugs. This is too casual for Damian to overlook. "She came in a few months ago covered in blood asking for candles and kerosene. She gave me handful of cash if I erased the security footage and didn't tell anybody. Then she came in the next week wanting more candles and some other stuff."

Damian expects him to continue, because this isn't exactly a recount of his school day, but he doesn't. "And?"

Jerry shrugs. "And I'm always bored, and it makes me, like, a supernatural sidekick, or something."

"No it doesn't, Jerry," you cut in from across the store.

"Why does she say your name like that?"

Jerry rolls his eyes. "It's not my name. My name is Ross, I don't know why she calls me Jerry."

Damian quirks an eyebrow.

You pop out from behind the edge of isle one, dropping an armload of tiny white candles, two canisters of table salt, a box of matches, and a tin of tinders. "And a thing of kerosene." You're already thumbing through your wallet.

"We're out." He makes a face. "You smell horrible."

"I know Jerry. I need a flammable liquid."

"We have nail polish remover. And nail polish."

Your shoulders slump and you hang your head for a moment. Then you spin around and head for the opposite side of the store.

"How did you meet again?" Ross asks, ringing things up with a handheld laser.

Damian looks over his shoulder to see if you're giving him a notion not to answer. You're nowhere to be found, hidden by the end isles while you scour the cosmetics.

"We're old friends," he decides, crossing his arms.

"Don't help often?"

"Only sometimes."

Ross nods.

You return, and dump six bottles of nail polish remover onto the counter. "Stop prying, Jerry." You hold out a wad of cash.

"But if I'm going to be your kickass apprentice, shouldn't I know all your contacts?"

"You're not my apprentice, Jerry."

"Not yet," he admits, dropping bottles of remover into a new bag. "That's later, after you go through a life changing event that cripples you or something. Then you need me, but you have to train me, which brings us closer."

You heave a sigh, face still barren of emotion, aside from the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. "Never gonna happen."

He peers around your shoulder to Damian. "One day," he mouths.

"No."

"Your total is $37.97."

"I don't care, just keep the cash," you mutter, looping your fingers through the bags. "See you next week, Jerry."

"See you next week, Master."

You snort, handing one crinkling bag to Damian.

"Back to the sewer?"

"Yep."

"It's going to be a long month, isn't it?"

"Yep."

#damian wayne blurb #damian wayne headcannon #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #crooked grin

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arthurtristankingsmen · 3 years

Text

More and longer theory chatter with @flash-the-geist with guest stars who popped in. This one is longer since it’s theorizing but turned into something Flash affectionately named the ‘Esprestissimo AU’ which I am keeping because I love it so much.

Most of this mainly features Duet thoughts and then shenanigans ! The most I did was add a missing thing in my own comments for clarification or that my brain skipped over when typing it before, or where I adjust the order of the messages for cohesiveness

please enjoy jdjd

flaaaash — Today at 4:35 AM

hmmm what if the note-taker is Duet, taking notes about "Solo"? that implies they're two different people

Arthur — Today at 4:36 AM

that's what i was thinking-- that the ‘He’ in the note is reverb, and this note is in reference to reverb, but also a comment on Solo, and the Duet 'wrote' this character profile as like-- a case file if they're in charge of the organization

so duet is like 'solo' claims she still needs to study him for research in a note on the file he's taking on reverb or something like that

flaaaash — Today at 4:37 AM

this might be my deep, unfortunate familiarity with bureaucracy talking, but- if the person in charge is also the one taking notes, it's a very small organization

Arthur — Today at 4:37 AM

oh yeah

i imagined it was tiny personally

tempo seems on the smaller side so if it's all based there, i was imagining it was relatively small

flaaaash — Today at 4:38 AM

not international then, perhaps

adkjfakjf oooh now I want to make a little card for Flash

Arthur — Today at 4:39 AM

yeah no-- at least since the name tempo of the town following the motif like seemingly implies it's based in/related to the town since if follows the reference style

or that's my thinking anyways?

flaaaash — Today at 4:39 AM

very true

imagine if Tempo is just Like That and the rest of the world is totally normal

Arthur — Today at 4:40 AM

i personally think vivi didn't grow up in tempo now more tho-- because i think if she did and there is an organization, they woulda gotten wind of her and she probably would've been recruited since she's smart and clearly into that kind of thing

and if she was in the org and knew what she was doing, i don't know if she would've gone to the cave if she was at all in the Know

flaaaash — Today at 4:40 AM

or they would have tried to study Mystery?

Arthur — Today at 4:41 AM

that too!!

even if they brought her in just because of mystery i imagine they would've brought her in

flaaaash — Today at 4:41 AM

maybe that's what the "her research into "REDACTED" is referring to. Research into mystery?

it all does seem to come back to him

Arthur — Today at 4:42 AM

or maybe she's relatively new to tempo still, and duet gave her a job because they intended to bring her in at some point but hadn't yet

like there were steps to take and like-- the cave happened before things could get fully underway

i mean at my job i applied in like-- march, and i didn't get an interview until may, and then i didn't get any training until november, and then i didn't get brought in to learn the job until december. so it'd be easy to imagine that if there was a reason, bringing her in could be a slow process

flaaaash — Today at 4:43 AM

that might also explain why there were all these "go back" signs in the cave

clearly someone with English language skills put the signage there

Arthur — Today at 4:43 AM

that too! it definitely felt like it was to warn off people and keep them from tresspassing

but the gang were kids and also ghost don't haunt the places that aren't super scary and dangerous! so of course they gotta go in!

flaaaash — Today at 4:45 AM

maybe they weren't expecting someone like Vivi at all

she was a wild card that popped up and threw a spanner in the works accidentally

Arthur — Today at 4:45 AM

yeah!

i can imagine her just coming in and completely bamboozling everyone

duet is like 'okay we'll get her in on this but we'll take some time to sort everything and judge where she's at skill wise since we have time and it's not like she can get into any danger with all our protective me--oh no'

flaaaash — Today at 4:48 AM

that calls Duet's motivation into question a lil bc - there's at least a significant amount of time between Lewis dying and them finding him again

since their search is reasonably extensive and Arthur's had time to heal up. So why didn't Duet do anything during this time?

Arthur — Today at 4:50 AM

hmmmm--- well we know it's been less than a year since the cave happened at least, and i think the way Ben talked about it sounded like it was a relatively short time table of only a few months, so maybe they wanted to give them recovery time or they weren't sure how to broach it-- i'm not sure. maybe the comic will give some kind of insight hopefully if the case is that vivi came in like that

i feel like it'd be interesting and make more sense given what she has available magic wise and mystery-wise if she wasn't in town until much later in life to explain why she wouldn’t already be working with the organization. but i'm still like hmm

because you do have a point that there would be a fair bit of inaction, unless for some reason vivi's memory issues or something was a problem or something happens in the prequel to explain or hint

tho now that brings into question if duet knows Lewis is dead, how are things not being managed better

i mean i've had arthur say in the past and i've said once or twice that like-- i think arthur was already working with prosthetics. so he could've had an arm mostly built and just had to make a more functioning one so that could've been fast. so hopefully maybe the prequel comic is set a bit before and might explain duet helping or something in a way that could make sense of it?

especially given he did make galaham's wheels already and such. he might've already built one but needed to make a new one set up for him

flaaaash — Today at 4:54 AM

I'm fairly sure people would at least know he's missing

I guess it's possible that the 'memory magic' thing that makes Vivi forget - it could affect everyone except Arthur and Mystery?

Arthur — Today at 4:56 AM

that's possible--

we have only seen mystery and arthur in the world seeming to know what's going on, so we don't know who knows what. just that vivi doesn't know lewis

but maybe nobody else does either to some degree

flaaaash — Today at 4:56 AM

Arthur being possessed at the time, and Mystery being a magical being himself. We don't have any evidence that anyone else remembers Lewis, although he seems to still be in pictures

Arthur — Today at 4:57 AM

people did seem confused arthur was freaking out in the store in the comic and like

idk. if i knew he lost his best friend i'd be more sympathetic/not look at him like he was crazy. I’d assume something set him off but probably feel bad for him if i knew what happened in the last year?

because i would imagine mental health is in the toilet after going on a trip and losing a friend even if he was only 'missing'

and the way arthur mentioned lewis and when vivi forgets he's just like 'nevermind'. if no one really remembers Lewis, then maybe giving up trying to explain is because he’s used to no one knowing who he means

flaaaash — Today at 4:58 AM

yea h

Arthur — Today at 4:58 AM

what if arthur only remembers lewis? (and mystery does)

Don't forget to take your meds ❤ — Today at 4:58 AM

In fairness most people would be confused if they saw someone having a panic attack in public, no matter how much was known about the person

flaaaash — Today at 4:58 AM

also if Lewis looked like himself for a moment just before dropping Arthur - does that mean Lance saw him?

or did he only see skele-version and thus didn't recognize him as Lewis

Arthur — Today at 4:58 AM

hmmmmm--- i lean to skele vision. he turned back pretty quick iirc

flaaaash — Today at 4:59 AM

I'm torn between analysing between a storyteller perspective and an in-world perspective

Arthur — Today at 5:01 AM

por que no los dos?

also

hmmm-- i think given people were like 'what's up with that guy', it seemed either not knowing what was going on with him or what it could stem from, but if lewis disappeared in a small town i feel like a lot of the details would've spread. so they might assume it had to do with that instead-- so it feels like maybe most people don't know

which seems strange in a smaller community because stuff gets around

flaaaash — Today at 5:01 AM

especially since the Peppers own a restaurant

Arthur — Today at 5:01 AM

yeah-- in a small town place a restuarant is usually a social hub of sorts

so if lewis disppeared i'm sure people would talk given he was a waiter and thus kind of a face for the restaurant

flaaaash — Today at 5:02 AM

also if they think he's missing and not dead, his family would be looking for him too. which means missing persons pics and all that

Arthur — Today at 5:02 AM

yeah and we didn’t see any. and some people not knowing or visitors i could get, but everyone seemed surprised by arthur freaking out, and if they knew lewis was missing and lewis and arthur were friends, it feels odd to like-- none of them to even look sympathetic

i would imagine if they knew lewis was gone they'd assume arthur would be more emotionally reactive than usual-- unless they have no idea that something is going on with arthur because you know-- lewis is erased jdjd

i mean the reason we know vivi doesn't remember is because her eyes glowed as lewis got phased out of the photo

but who knows maybe him being phased out was in general and that just meant she was affected too. everyone gets amnesia

flaaaash — Today at 5:03 AM

also slightly cracky theory but - if they ended up accidentally in the research facility during Ghost, that would explain why Vivi found a fully-stocked fridge alkja;gl

Arthur — Today at 5:04 AM

DSJDDLJSDLFJDSJL

that would be hilarious

lewis is his own scp in his tantrum mansion

they just keep an eye on the lot

flaaaash — Today at 5:05 AM

well what else are they gonna do with him??? xD

Arthur — Today at 5:05 AM

dslsdjdsfljdsfd

''welp no one knows who this guy is soooooo manor in the middle of nowhere time'

flaaaash — Today at 5:06 AM

"so the waiter turned into a vengeful spirit?" "oh uhhhh ok put him in a box i guess until we figure something out?"

ok theory- Duet knows Lewis is dead, but is trying to figure out a way to help/break the memory magic on Vivi, and that's why he's in the mansion/cave for a while before Ghost?

Arthur — Today at 5:06 AM

i like it! i think them knowing and approaching arthur in the comic and using 'rancid vibes' as an excuse would make sense

flaaaash — Today at 5:07 AM

"so that Vivi person wandered in again somehow and now the vengeful waiter ghost is loose?" "for fuck's sake you had ONE JOB-"

Arthur — Today at 5:07 AM

they know what's actually going on but they kinda act like everyone else while also getting arthur something that might help him in that book that i think will be important in the plot of the prequel

DL;G;HDGSAL;HKGSDHL;DGS

flash you have the biggest brain

flaaaash — Today at 5:08 AM

,kadjgalgkj

"also there was this killer tree-" "I do not care about the tree, one problem at a time"

Poor Duet is having A Week

but the mental image of them trying to avoid Arthur and Vivi investigating, while trying to find ??? and re-capture him while shoving Lewis in a box is hilarious, and then they run into Shiromori and just throw their hands in the air like "can u not????". And then Murder Mystery shows up and they just quit

Arthur — Today at 5:10 AM

dlaajldkljjdl;dldjlfkfd

duet is just like

on their tenth cup of coffee

Don't forget to take your meds ❤ — Today at 5:10 AM

Arthur: Those are rookie numbers

Arthur — Today at 5:11 AM

they see murder mystery and go back inside the shop like 'can you add like 5 espresso shots to this'

flaaaash — Today at 5:11 AM

explains why they're like "Arthur pls your vibes. Do you KNOW what I've been dealing with"

Arthur — Today at 5:11 AM

asdl;;dfslhsdahg;as;dghkghsdllhsgd

flaaaash — Today at 5:11 AM

"five extra shots and a red bull chaser please-"

Arthur — Today at 5:12 AM

(also just still crosses my fingers for medium/spiritually-sensitive!arthur to be canon but if not it will live on in my fannon)

dsldjllssfdf

they just start shoving coffee grounds directly into their mouth

flaaaash — Today at 5:12 AM

this series has a lot of antagonists

akjdalgj just crunching beans down whole

Arthur — Today at 5:13 AM

i need-- to draw duet

looking tired with a coffee

flaaaash — Today at 5:14 AM

Duet with a giant cup of coffee, staring at Murder Mystery with a deadpan stare and going "Absolutely not, I forbid it, there is not enough coffee in the WORLD."

Arthur — Today at 5:14 AM

flash and will if i share this chatter on tumblr would you be okay with it ? or would u rather i block out names if i do

i feel like some of this is hilarious and people need to experience it

flaaaash — Today at 5:14 AM

akdflaf no go for it

I will out myself as a sham of a storyboarder

Arthur — Today at 5:15 AM

duet is that gif of the ghost busters lady going 'mmm nope not today, room full of nightmares'

and turning and walking away

duet is doing their best and needs a nap

tired as Arthur

flaaaash — Today at 5:15 AM

Duet walking around the corner to see the gang facing down Murder Mystery: swivels on one foot and goes right back the way they came

Arthur — Today at 5:15 AM

ldjldljd EXACTLY

Don't forget to take your meds ❤ — Today at 5:16 AM

Heheheheh

Arthur — Today at 5:16 AM

like look at this person

look at their eyebags

they are Tired

they have deal with this bullshittery

they have sass to provide

but they also are Tired and done with this shit

flaaaash — Today at 5:16 AM

I want Duet and Arthur playing a game of caffeine chicken

Marshy — Today at 5:16 AM

Huge massive sigh as they see the whole bullshit situation go down and turns around to go back to the bookshop

flaaaash — Today at 5:16 AM

just lined up at the cafe bar, espresso shots in rows down the counter as they lock eyes-

who shall win- the CAFFEINE-OFF?

Arthur — Today at 5:17 AM

flash

pls if you right that i will pay you money

or maybe art

Marshy — Today at 5:17 AM

It's me I'll win

flaaaash — Today at 5:17 AM

SLFKJLKGS

Arthur — Today at 5:17 AM

dlasd;sdgkd;djslj;dags

i'm rooting for you take those nerds OUT

flaaaash — Today at 5:18 AM

"Duet gives him a look of Supreme Weariness and Nopery. Arthur counters with a double eye-roll of Resignation and Angst. In the true synchronicity of the Absolutely Done, they each take an espresso shot and slam it down."

Arthur — Today at 5:20 AM

djdasd;ds;lsda;ldj;lkdsl;jkdsj;lkasljkdjlkdg

they clink the little cups together first before taking their respective shots

flaaaash — Today at 5:21 AM

they do the thing where they turn it upside down to prove it's empty

by the fifth they're trying to outcompete each other with anecdotes

by the tenth they've moved onto toasting each other

Arthur — Today at 5:21 AM

Bonding!

Don't forget to take your meds ❤ — Today at 5:22 AM

The anecdotes get concerningly similar to each others

flaaaash — Today at 5:22 AM

by the twelfth, Arthur begins weeping. Duet pats him in solidarity and knocks the next shot clean off the counter due to caffeine-induced twitching

Arthur — Today at 5:22 AM

DSGLAHGLDGHDGHAAHDSGDG

EXCELLENT

want them to be friends now

flaaaash — Today at 5:23 AM

by the thirteenth, the barista stages an intervention and starts giving them decaf

by this point, they don't notice

Arthur — Today at 5:23 AM

asdlaadjsdsajd

thank you they owe you their life

they could taste the difference if they weren't vibrating into the 28the dimension atm

flaaaash — Today at 5:24 AM

after the fifteenth shot, the counter is clear and they're both full of sympathetic outrage for the other's plight. They sprint from the cafe, steamroll right over Shiromori, and punt the colours right out of Murder Mystery in a fit of industrial-strength caffeinated indignance.

Don't forget to take your meds ❤ — Today at 5:24 AM

Hahahaha

Arthur — Today at 5:25 AM

h;lsadlf;dsldj;fsljl;dfsajdfsa

flaaaash — Today at 5:25 AM

The newly Monochromatic Mystery has to then help Vivi contain the pair before they wipe all paranormal activity off the face of Tempo.

Arthur — Today at 5:25 AM

that's how the fifth video ends

flaaaash — Today at 5:25 AM

Lewis narrowly escapes by hiding in a box. THE END

Arthur — Today at 5:25 AM

dsal;gsdhldgsa;dgsdgs;hldgs;lhdsa

beautiful thank u flash

i owe you my life

flaaaash — Today at 5:25 AM

you're welcome it's my magnum opus

Arthur — Today at 5:26 AM

A+ story telling

i'm including it in the post

flaaaash — Today at 5:26 AM

ALKJGAGK

it's okay I don't have a reputation to ruin xD

Arthur — Today at 5:26 AM

dlasdl;dhsgldgdgs

this is a callout for flash being the funniest person alive--

or undead

flaaaash — Today at 5:27 AM

dead-

sfkjga

Arthur — Today at 5:27 AM

djdjdjdj

i thought about it and corrected myself xDD

flaaaash — Today at 5:30 AM

ok I have no idea if anyone will get this pun, but I dub this the Esprestissimo AU

Arthur — Today at 5:36 AM

djalsd;ldsjdsjldf

i LOVE THAT

music puns but espressos EXTRA ESPRESSOLY

flaaaash — Today at 5:49 AM

#headcanon #msa headcanon discussion #tristan rambles #flashthegeist #IT WAS SO MUCH FUN #duet #arthur #vivi #long post #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls #my original stuff

23 notes · View notes

pink-imagines · 4 years

Text

match making

request: hi!! ur works r my life at the moment *~* and i wanted to ask and request a fic or hcs of the class 1A trying to set up Shouta with UA Teacher!S/O without knowing that they’re already secretly married to each other but kept it private bc of pro hero stuff uwu,, what would the children’s reactions to having a momzawa omg😭 (thank u if u ever do this 🥺💗wish u goodluck on everything and keep smiling!!)

a/n: i hope i did your request justice!!

warnings: none

masterlist

requesting rules

The whole week you had been feeling watched, as if someone was following you around. It only happened at UA, where you worked as a teacher, and mostly when you were around your husband, Shota. Of course you had tried to tell him this but he brushed it off as you were probably just feeling people looking at you, UA was safe afterall. You knew that he told you this to not only reassure you but himself too. Even so, you couldn’t shake the feeling so you had to figure out what was happening. This is how you found out that a few students from Shota’s class, class 1A were spying on you.

You were making coffee in the teachers lounge when you saw pink fluffy hair disappear from the window of the door into the room. It wasn’t a big window so you couldn’t see the entire person, but that didn’t stop you from knowing who it was. You took your sweet time drinking your cup of coffee and of course talking to the other teachers in the room, spending a bit more time around your husband. You had your suspisions, you just had to figure out if it was true. When you eventually did go out the door you only took a few steps before stopping, making sure that you heard the door close behind you. “You kids really shouldn’t spy on your teachers.”, you said and turned around to meet the students in 1A. They apologiesed prefusily, making you break your “tough teacher” act and start laughing. Your students looked at you with confusion in their eyes. “It’s fine, tell me what you’ve been doing spying on me instead of apologiesing.”, you grinned. “We’re kind of playing matchmakers.”, Ashido explained. “Really now?”, you were amused to say the least, “Have you found a match for me then?” “We’ve seen you talk to Mr. Aizawa a lot, so we were thinking that he liked you-”, Denki started but was quickly stopped by Uraraka who slapped his arm gently. “Don’t tell her!”, she hissed. Was it mean to play around with them? Yes, but you hadn’t had this fun in a while. “What? He’s even been walking her home! It should be obvious enough for her...”, Denki brushed over the spot, where Uraraka had hit him, with his hand. “I have been noticing that actually...”, you nodded, “... I’ll give you permission to keep playing your matchmaking game, if I may ask why you started doing it?” “Mr. Aizawa just seems lonely, so we thought we should match him up with someone.”, Kirishima said confidently and shrugged. “You can’t talk like that about your teacher!”, Uraraka scolded again. “Alright then, good luck.”, you chuckled and walked away as they kept bickering. At least they didn’t match your husband with somebody else.

The next day when you were getting dressed Shota walked up beind you. “You’re in a good mood.”, he commented and gave you a kiss on the cheek. “I guess it’s just a good day.”, you grinned and looked up at him. “Hmm... I have a feeling you’re up to something...”, he said tiredly and drank the rest of his coffee, “... don’t get me involved in it.” “I’ll try.”, you giggled.

Most people didn’t know you were married, it wasn’t something you told everyone. You barely wore your wedding ring or engagement ring since your line of work could make you loose them. It wasn’t a smart idea to announce to the world that two pro heroes were married anyways, because that could lead to some sort of blackmailing or even kidnapping. You were fine with staying silent about it though, you didn’t need Shota to proclaim his love for you to the world to understand that he loved you... but messing around with your students is something that you simply had to do.

In the middle of the day you heard some other teachers saying that a few papers had to be delivered to Shota’s classroom, where he was currently holding a lecture with 1A, and of course you took this opportunity to screw around a bit. When you reached the classroom you knocked before walking in. You put on a bright smile and showed Shota the papers in your hands. “They just wanted to bring these over to you.”, you said and handed over the papers. “Thank you.”, he gave you a soft smile. When he took the papers his hands lingered a second longer on your hands than they should have. Obviously everyone who had been spying on the two of you noticed this interaction, and you heard a few whispers. “Sorry for disturbing your lectures.”, you bowed quickly before giving them a smile aswell, “I’ll be seeing you in a few hours then, hope everyone has done their homework!”, with that you walked out, knowing fully well that Shota was looking at you when you walked out. Your plan had worked flawlessly.

After you last lecture of the day, with class 1A, a few students walked up to you. “Any questions about today’s lesson?”, you asked as you started erasing what was on the board. “... we just wanted to know if you knew where Mr. Aizawa are.”, they snickered amoungst themselves. “Why would I know that?”, you asked as if you didn’t know his entire schedule by heart. “Well, we thought since you usually walk home together-” “Oh, right. He’s probably in the teacher’s lounge. But if there’s anything you need to ask and you can’t find him I’ll be around until a bit later. I’m helping out at extra studies, which I hope you know where it is.”, you explained calmly. “Thank you, miss!”, they said goodbye before hurrying out the door.

As you were walking towards the classroom, where you’d be helping a few students, you got a call from Shota. “Hello, love!”, you said happily as you answered. “You don’t happen to know why my students have been asking about you all day?”, he sighed, “They’re outside the lounge now too.” “No, I have no idea.”, you lied. “Are you lying..?”, he asked since it was probably evident in your voice that you were. “Why would I?”, you giggled, “I have to get to my class now, you should go take care of your students. Bye!” “Y/N, wait-”, you hung up before he could say anything else.

When your class was over you walked out to the entrance to the school and waited for Shota there. He came eventually, followed by a train of students whom all tried to hide as soon as they saw that you were there. “Had a good day?”, you asked innocently as he walked up to you. “I told you not to get me involved in your little game.”, he sighed, but still had a smile on his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”, you smiled playfully and looked over his shoulder, “Does your students always follow you around?” “They think that I have a crush on you...”, he sighed, “... and they won’t listen to me when I try to explain.” “You don’t have a crush on me?”, you tilted your head to the side and grinned. “Y/N...”, he said in a warning tone. “I’m sorry.”, you laughed, “They wanted to play matchmaker, and thought we were such a wonderful pair.” “So that’s why they’ve been bothering me.”, he looked back at his students but you quickly turned him back around to face you. “To be fair, I never told them that we weren’t already dating... I just told them they’re allowed to play their game.”, you shrugged. “You’re really trying to make my life even more hard than it has to be.”, he sighed. “I’m trying to make it more fun.”, you corrected him, “Let’s go home and I’ll give you a massage.” “Sounds great.”, he nodded and gave you a kiss on the cheek. You heard gasps around the corner and looked towards the 1A students. Some were in shock, some were celebrating and some of them were paying each other bet money.

The next day you decided to for once wear your wedding ring, it was supposed to be a calm day for you after all, and since the 1A students saw what happened yesterday then it probably wouldn’t be a big deal. That’s what you thought, at least.

At the end of the day you waited outside Shota’s classroom so that you could walk home together. When the students started walking out they waved at you, and you waved back with your left hand since you were holding a few books in the other. Of course you didn’t take note to some of their shocked faces as they saw your ring, you were just trying to get to Shota. When all the students were gone you waltzed right in to your favorite teacher at UA. He gave you a warm smile, as well as he could seeing as he was extremely tired. “Ready to walk home?”, you asked. “Yeah, just let me gather up my stuff.”, he muttered out. You heard shuffling and whispers outside the classroom door but didn’t think much of it. Instead you happily walked out the door beside Shota, but were stopped by the students of 1A. “What’s up? Got questions about the test next week?”, Shota asked tiredly. “No... we actually just wanted to say sorry to Mrs. Y/L/N.”, you raised your eyebrows in surprise at their apology, “We didn’t realize that you were married, and it probably put you in an uncomfortable situation.” “It’s fine!”, you assured them, “I didn’t mind it!” “And Mr. Aizawa, you shouldn’t act like you do to a lady that’s married.”, Kirishima added, though the others tried to stop him, “It’s not manly.” “Excuse me?”, Shota’s brow twitched in annoyance, “She’s my wife.” You broke out in laughter at their shocked faces as the students stared at Shota with a hint of fear in their eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry...”, you said as you tried your best to calm down, “I thought you would’ve realized from yesterday!” “You should’ve just told them immediately, then we wouldn’t have to deal with this stupid problem.”, Shota pinched the bridge of his nose. “C’mon, darling... I was just playing around a bit.”, you grinned, “I am sorry though.”, you turned to the students, “I should’ve made it more clear.” “No, no, no! We shouldn’t have assumed! We’re sorry!” “Let’s go home...”, Shota sighed and started walking. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, okay?”, you said before hurrying after your husband, “Don’t forget the homework!”

The following weeks you experienced the fastest change you’ve ever seen. Suddenly you were like a second mentor for class 1A, and whenever they had a problem with Shota they went to you. It was very sweet, even if Shota was now a bit more annoyed with the situation... but it did make you think about something.

You were walking around your home, just looking at things for no appearant reason. When you got to the livingroom you saw Shota sitting on the couch with a book that he was using to cover his eyes from the light rather than reading it. You kept looking around, which clearly disrupted Shota’s attempt at resting. “Are you looking for something, sweetheart?”, he put the book down on the table next to him so that he could look at you. “No... I was just thinking about something.”, you said in a spaced out tone. “Wanna tell me about it then?” You walked around to sit down on the couch next to him, still looking around. Shota took a sip of his, probably room tempatured coffee, and you took a long look at him. “Do you want kids?”, you asked, making Shota spit out his coffee.

364 notes · View notes

popurikat · 3 years

Note

Ruin Teresa Agnes career. Aka: the Teresa analysis. Take all the time you need >:3

Okay I’m saying this right off the bat in case someone who stans this character misses the point above, but well I hate Teresa Agnes’ character in the maze series, both movie and book. However, in my analysis I will try to explain why her character misses the mark both as a villain and as a sympathetic character. So, to analyze her in depth, I’m putting this into parts under the read below. HEADS UP! As of now this analysis will exclude Death Cure Novel review as I have not finished that one, though it will mention one major spoiler I have been informed of from that book that I need to add for the sake of her character; other than that I will be discussing the other three novels before it (yes that is including the prequel Fever code) and the three movies from the series in broad ideas as I am not about to scavenge for quotes like I did in my last long post… well at least not as many.

Part 1: Teresa the master manipulator

No matter which way you look at it, Teresa has a way to bend others to her will, whether we blame WCKD for teaching her so well; or she used it as a means of survival, the idea still stands. Though she is extremely skilled in combat, especially at using spears and knives, Teresa’s biggest skill is her silver tongue, she can lie her way out of anything. Most evident is her betrayal in Scorch when she has such a good poker face that she not only convinces group B that Thomas is the problem they have to eradicate to get WCKD’s good side, but she also doesn’t hesitate to maim Thomas to the point of threatening to kill him: “Get in the room or I’ll hit you again. I swear I’ll keep doing it till you pass out or bleed to death” (Ch. 51). /sarcasm/ Charming ain’t she? /end of sarcasm/ The thing about lying though is that sometimes it backfires, for instance in the case of Group B, Harriet and Sonya hear Thomas out on why they shouldn’t kill him like Teresa asked, and when they listen and observe him they realize that Teresa is the worst and side with him; which in turn makes Teresa have to take drastic measures which involve getting Thomas alone with her to finish her duties to WCKD. Anyways, she even goes as far as to cement her betrayal by kissing Aris and crushing Thomas’ feelings by saying they were never a thing; she does this mind you without so much as breaking this character she builds up even though later she tries to say she still cares for Thomas. She is so convincing that Thomas has stated that: “Thomas had never heard such arrogance from her. She was either a really good actress or had started going crazy. Gained a split personality or two” (Ch. 45, Scorch). So yes, Teresa is too good at lying to the point I can say she can align as a Pathological Liar because she’s deceptive, goal-oriented in order to get HER way meaning she will not tolerate anyone interfering with her methods, she disregards the feelings of everyone around her, and she is constantly tweaking her excuses to adjust to the situations at hand. She is so good at lying she oozes self confidence when elaborating her defense by staring directly at the person she is talking to, unblinking, and will lash out in defense if someone calls her out on any inconsistencies.

Mind you this isn’t the first instance we get at how well she turns the story to her favor. In Fever Code, she is the one to help put the Gladers in the maze and erase Thomas’ memories, which transfers in Maze Runner with how she openly gaslights everyone by pretending she doesn’t remember much about WCKD’s doings even though her memories are the only ones implied to be in tact based on that email she wrote in Fever Code: “I’ve just said my goodbye to Thomas, and he’s now in the Glade, safe and sound. Tomorrow, it will be my turn. Dr. Paige has asked me to send a final note to everyone, sharing my thoughts. I’m more than happy to do so. I feel good about the plan to leave my and Aris’s memories intact. You need someone in each group with whom you can communicate and plan during the phases of the Trials”(FC epilogue) and also based on this specific tid bit in Maze Runner where she slips she knows more than she lets on: “Though I guess a Griever can’t squeeze through this window, so I’ll be happy, right?” The mention of Grievers surprised him -- he didn’t remember talking about them to her yet. ‘Teresa are you sure you’ve forgotten everything?”(Ch.37, pg.246). Griever knowledge in general for Teresa in Maze seems to be code talk for “I am here to cause trouble, I kept my memories'' because during the sequence with the fiasco with the invasion of the species in Group A’s field, Teresa casually wakes up after the event’s commotion subsides earning Newt’s suspicion that maybe the map fire was not done on accident. Anyways, in keeping things down low and having an advantage in memory recollection, she ensures Thomas and co. don’t recall events correctly unless it's vital to her mission. And yes, Teresa will use violence and anger if necessary; she is perfectly fine with murder...”So we’re just going to kill them all? [...] They’ll die anyway [...] No, Tom, It’s be tough now or everyone dies later”(Ch. 47, Fever Code). Or even this small aside on her stance on death overall: “This is kind of fun,’ Teresa whispered to Thomas. ‘Walking along with my new friend.’ He looked at her in bemused disbelief. ‘Really? You drop that bombshell about kids dying and now you act like it’s no big deal? You’re so weird.’ He tried to make a joke out of it to hide just how horrified he’s been by her second question” (Ch. 9, pg. 55, FC). And she has killed, mind you, yes they were cranks, but they are still humanly conscious. Thomas in comparison shows pity about the fact that they were still human, Teresa didn’t bat an eye. And now, you might say “Hey Popuri, you know, she’s just willing to kill if it means saving everyone else right?” to which I go, sure she’s stated that if it means saving the rest it doesn’t matter if thousands or so die. However, she is also clear that she only cares about Thomas’ survival in specific, no one else; which immediately gets falsified by her “lie” in Scorch, thus she will kill anyone if need be no matter how close they are. What I’m saying is that not even Teresa has a clear path in why she manipulates everyone when she can so easily be convinced to make elaborate murder scenarios at the snap of WCKD’s fingers. She claims it's to save her “crush” but will not hesitate to shed his blood and drag him across the desert.

She claims it's to help WCKD, that WCKD is good, but she has bore witness time and time again that the facility makes countless errors and knows there's no REAL cure available … and Teresa is a smart kid, so why continue believing a hopeless façade? Because she's desperate to cling to some hope? No. Teresa doesn’t do the whole hope thing, she's convinced WCKD is good period, there's nothing else. So, even if there is no evidence anymore she will fight tooth and nail for something she herself is trapped in because no one will want to be there for the girl who treated her only connections as poorly as WCKD treated her. Therefore, is it because she can’t help it then? I can only imagine that's the case. She’s willingly this puppet for WCKD, she could’ve escaped them any time she liked like Thomas and co. did, but she prefers to stay on the burning train even if it means her own demise because she refuses to admit any of her actions were wrong, the truth will NOT set her free because she cannot confront it.

Moving forward, I wanna delve more into the whole telepathy dealio she specifically shares with Thomas and we actually never really learn if she can talk to others as she evades the question when it does arrive in book. The only certain thing is that if you have a chip, you can talk using your mind. Now this would be a fine plot device, but in the hands of someone who wants to control your every move and thought, well....”Thomas, this is Teresa. He was going crazy. He was actually going crazy. It was the oldest and most common symptom -- hearing voices in your head. ‘Uh...’, he said aloud. Is this working? Is this working? The last words landed between his eyes like a thunderbolt. The pain knocked his legs out from under him and he collapsed onto the floor. Never had the world felt so fluid beneath him, as if nothing solid existed, no form, no substance“ (Ch.20 , pg. 112, FC). So first things first, Thomas hates it when he gets a mind message, he feels extreme pain when someone tries it, this is recurrent throughout the series. He has told her a few times not to contact him through that method, but it's their little secret and besides, if he told anyone who would believe him? “Teresa shrugged. ‘You didn’t tell anyone, did you? They’d think we’re crazy“(Ch.36, Maze Runner). So we have a situation where Teresa has a huge way of overpowering Thomas, she can send images to his head without his consent and yell into his mind even if it means it hurts him. And the kicker? She doesn’t teach him how to use it on purpose. And when he tries to contact her? Well depending on her mood she can either be flirty or... well this: “Teresa? A pause. Teresa? A longer pause. Teresa! He shouted it mentally, his whole body tensing with effort. Teresa! Where are you? Please answer me! Why aren’t you trying to contact me? Ter- /GET OUT OF MY HEAD!/ The words exploded inside his mind, so vivid and so strangely audible within his skull that he felt lances of pain behind his eyes and in his ears. He sat up in bed, then stood. It was her. It was definitely her. Teresa? He pressed the first two fingers of both hands against his temples. Teresa? /WHOEVER YOU ARE , GET OUT OF MY SHUCK HEAD!/ Thomas stumbled backward until he sat down once again on the bed. His eyes were closed as he concentrated. Teresa, what are you talking about? It’s me. Thomas. Where are you? /SHUT UP!/ It was her, he had no doubt, but her mental voice was full of fear and anger /JUST SHUT UP! I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! LEAVE ME ALONE!/ But, Thomas began completely at a loss [...] /LEAVE ME ALONE, OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND CUT YOUR THROAT. I SWEAR IT. “ (Ch.8, FC). *sarcasm* ah yes, nothing says true love like a death threat that actually comes to near fruition later in that same book and pretending to not know that person only to later, upon meeting Thomas acting like a sobbing mess, kiss him and disappear...she sure knew him then huh? *end of sarcasm* Having a power imbalance in a relationship is, you know, not good, especially when you’re making it so you gaslight the person anytime they know something you don’t want them to or to have control over the situation. Teresa does this OFTEN. To the point that it makes Thomas so emotionally attached to her he finds it hard to admit he doesn’t need her, even when he’s been badly hurt.

Part 2: Your past does not excuse your bad actions in the present. Period.

Now let me clear something up, PAST ABUSE does not CONDONE you to HURT OTHERS in turn, let alone allows you to use it as an excuse to justify wrong actions. I am aware Teresa, aka Deedee, was abandoned due to an outbreak of the flare at an early age; had her name changed, was confined to a room with Thomas as her only friend who was the same age as her, and openly manipulated by adults to believe WCKD is good. But you know who else goes through the same treatment? LITERALLY EVERY KID EXPOSED TO THIS EXPERIMENT! AND THEY DON’T THREATEN EACH OTHER IF THEY DON’T GET THEIR WAY OR KILL EACH OTHER. And this is not said in order to justify that everyone with the same experiences will have the same reactions, I understand stressors and trauma affect everyone differently and acknowledge everyone needs a different support system. But like, for peeps sake, Thomas who is Teresa’s exact foil as a narrative play to show that they are more alike than they realize which is the flimsiest proof to grab at as to why they need each other to an extent; literally has the exact same story cut and paste from her and he has more empathy and compassion to those around him, than Teresa ever shows. WHY? If the idea is to show Teresa has hardened from her own experiences, she should in theory act more like Brenda, a renegade civilian that isn’t soft for anyone except the boy who will save her. I know in my explanation I compare Thomas and Teresa a lot, but it's hard not to when Teresa, though having Aris as another buddy who is also in on the whole WCKD scheme, still decides to CLING to Thomas to be her saving grace. And the thing is, even if she only ever trusted Thomas in this whole experiment, then why not confide in him or tell him what is happening? She doesn’t LISTEN to anything he says to her in turn. YES, Teresa knows more about the situation as a whole, YES she is capable of doing things by herself, but she never trusts anyone. You’d think she would be more open to talking to the kids her age or be the quiet type because she knows what will happen to them all if they don’t comply; but no, I can’t even describe her personality other than stoic one moment and complete chaos in the next, and she does that switch VERY often. But sure, she prefers to skew half truths and put everyone in danger because ….WCKD? She’s supposed to be the intellectual one and she doesn’t know how to spread her capabilities, no wonder Brenda is introduced in the second book.

It's also incomprehensible to me why she feels it necessary to follow WCKD in general when she was the first to know of all their evil doings? “They were at the door when Teresa stopped and asked Dr. Leavitt a question. Two, actually. And it was enough to change the man’s demeanor completely. ‘What’s a swipe trigger? And is it true that seven kids died during the implant surgeries?’ The questions stunned Thomas. He turned to look at Teresa as the doctor fumbled for an answer. ‘How...’ the man began, then stopped, realizing at the same moment what Thomas did: Teresa had stumbled on something major. Something true”(Ch. 9, pg.54, FC). You’d think she would have the maturity to one up WCKD and knock them from the inside out to save the one she “loves'' but she doesn’t, instead she abides by the facility...even when knowing they are the ones who made the Flare in the first place. Call me naïve, but wouldn’t it make sense that if she wants to help stop the Flare than it would be in her best interest to hold Ava at an inch of her life (and Ratman) until she fesses up how to reverse the Flare, only to then realize oops there never was a possibility for a cure ~, but in knowing this finally be rid of the one thing holding her back? Again, someone can argue that hey, she thinks the people who made it HAVE to eventually find the termination and either way what possible choice does she have when her own manipulators control her? But remember, in the end it's always been a huge experiment to eliminate the human populace, and that's motive enough to rebel and/or snap at the hand that feeds when it's gone too far. EVERYONE has a breaking point mentally and physically, THOMAS BREAKS DOWN SEVERAL TIMES IN THE SPAN OF THE SERIES BECAUSE HE CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF THE EXPERIMENTS AND THE REASON TO CONTINUE SURVIVING ONLY ON WCKDS TERMS. And it drives me insane that Teresa would openly keep the Gladers from knowing about their procedures when she has known the longest from everyone else! Oh? You want evidence that Teresa keeps her memories intact and lies about ever losing them, sure! Here, have a morsel: “Teresa..., he started to say, but then stumbled a void. He had no idea how to respond. Did you....did you already know this stuff? /I’ve heard rumors./ And you never told me? He was stunned. How could she have known this and never said anything? She was his best friend. The first person he went to with everything. /I just don’t see the point. Yes, we have reason to hate these people. But how is dwelling on the past going to help anybody? The solution is what matters./ Thomas had never been so blindsided in his life.../I’m really tired, Tom. Can we talk about it tomorrow?/ She was gone from his mind before he could respond [...] The next day Teresa refused to talk about it, emphasizing that she’d rather focus on the future than the past Dr. Paige also blew it off, saying that those decisions had been made well before her time. it was almost like they were both determined to forget” (Ch. 43, pg. 239, FC). TALK ABOUT BECOMING THE ONE THING THAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO OVERCOME. Like goodness sake, Teresa was part of the prep and launch of putting each Glader into the Maze and she never doubted it, never fussed over how this was bad. The excuse of “this is for their own good, my own good, and the world’s” can only go so far when you are in an environment that is full of violence and trauma, you expect me to not believe Teresa just never broke down and truly analyzed how she can use her lies to one up her own abusers? She’s supposed to be this “empowering” female character and she can’t even get THAT right.

Part 3: How come the films did it better?

The film actually humanizes her a lot more and makes her motives at least justifiable in a fit of protecting the one you love. I know a lot of people dislike her character in the movies because it's more frail and sympathetic, but it was a very good way to justify her motives and plan out her actions from point A to point B. What do I mean by that? Let's take a look. Film Teresa enters the Maze without the ability to communicate to Thomas through telepathy, she still has her memories and she is still in close contact with WCKD, that much is still the same. Her motive though is to get everyone out of the maze and into stage 2 where the facility can round up the ones who have been viewed to be immune through the Maze Trials. So far so good, but pretty on par with the book right? Well, here is where it differs for the best. On the last act of Scorch, Teresa tells Thomas WITH SENTIMENT, no more lies and no more hiding that she contacted WCKD because it was needed to keep Thomas alive and well. WOW, notice how she doesn’t emotionally manipulate him and her innocent nature of trusting the scientists of her world to cure everyone actually leads her to be more sympathetic and relatable to the audience? In Death Cure, she doesn’t expect Thomas or ANYONE to forgive her for her actions and in fact takes her actions at face value. This Teresa is more understanding of the phrase “You can change, but those you’ve wronged have no obligation to forgive you” than book Teresa ever will. To the point that when she finds Thomas in the city and has bore witness to the startling realization that there indeed could be no cure cause her patient flares back up; of which is intentionally a little girl to reflect without showing that she can relate to the Flare stripping away her childhood, she then betrays WCKD by allowing the Gladers to infiltrate the facility, thus redeeming her when she dies in the explosion. Thus, making her in the film's eyes an anti-hero. As Skquill once told me, “Film teresa really did want to create a better future, and wanted to help people and that's what I like about film teresa. It didn't work. It literally blew up in her face. But, she tried, and she saved Thomas in the end.”

The only reason I don’t like Teresa even in the film is because she is kind of a wet blanket there, barely expresses any emotion beyond stoic token girl that cries sometimes, and she could’ve saved herself the whole betrayal arc if she just learned to better communicate her intentions instead of sobbing pathetically every time no one wants anything to do with her for her ill doings.Not to mention she still maintains her personality to a degree from the book (just call her diet Teresa really) because once both enter the sequence in Scorch where they ran out of pawns to move around they claim that they did what they had to do and they wouldn’t change a thing, they’d do it again if they could. It is only when both are at death’s door with no other choice that they give in some noble sacrifice at a chance for redemption, which is well too little too late. And in the opposing corner of knowing some people blame Thomas for not just allowing himself to be experimented on since the beginning, my rebuttal to be fair is that Teresa just again, sucked at explaining herself and the intentions of WCKD until it was deserving of a literal showdown bloodbath that evidently Tommy boy had to take defense to and threaten his life if anyone else died due to miscommunications. ALSO, IT'S HIS OWN BODY, HE CAN DO WHAT HE WANTS WITH IT INSTEAD OF HAVING OTHERS DICTATE WHAT HE NEEDS TO DO.

BUT ANYWAYS, book Teresa in comparison has even less characterization, I am sorry to say. SHE'S BARELY IN SCORCH AS IS, only coming out toward the climax because before that she is crying and kissing Thomas before going MIA for 45 chapters. Ouch. And when she does appear? She purposefully causes trouble that leads to essentially no where, we could’ve gotten to the safe haven way sooner without her interference.

Part 4: Is Book Teresa a good female character?

The simple answer? No.

The slightly longer answer? Even if I were to place her as the villain of the story she’s...not that good? Mostly because again, she acts as a puppet for a rich, governmental organization that basically implants how she should think and act. YET, somehow she is still smart, brave, lethal, and *ahem* UNBELIEVABLY BEAUTIFUL WITH HER LONG HAIR THAT IS BASICALLY DESCRIBED THE EXACT SAME WAY AS BRENDA’S, WHO FYI IS THE SLIGHTLY BETTER FEMALE LEAD THAT STILL CAN’T HOLD A COIN TO SONYA OR HARRIET (the background characters) THOUGH. I also need to say plainly, she has no gradual growth, she remains by her ideals and thinks she's right constantly in all but one book...which is one book too late and thus made meaningless. By no means is Teresa a mary sue, yet she still manages to be a stereotype in Maze Runner: “If you’re going to decipher a hidden code from a complex set of different mazes, I’m pretty sure you’ll need a girl’s brain running the show”(ch.43); then again going most of the book in Scorch missing, and then unceremoniously gets crushed by a boulder in Death Cure as her final hurrah for all the bs she caused isn’t really a means to become a memorable character. This is the female supportive character I’m supposed to relate to and or praise for her dastardly, cunning intellect? If I were looking for a strong female with various flaws and a tragic end I would saunter over to Hunger Games’ Katniss instead. Teresa fails as a character the moment that her sole purpose is to be so emotionally/physically attached to Thomas that her whole character gets washed down the gutter so badly that Kill Order had to be made to justify her actions through a tragic backstory. In no way or form was I able to entertain this character as a favorite because she is everything I don’t want to be or befriend, and even as again, a “villain” she doesn’t exactly do much as the real masterminds are Ava and her cronies who MADE the disease and the trials. Even going as far as calling her an anti-hero feels off because none of her actions deliberately affect the plot or progress of our main character’s story. But that's kind of the thing with D*shner’s characterization of females overall? They’re either brutish or simply there. I don’t think any of them even pass the Bechdel Test.

Final thoughts:

I don’t like Teresa, I would personally fight her in a Denny’s parking lot at 3am if I could. I recall saying multiple times how she should just “shut up” as I read Maze and Scorch because most of her quotes are not memorable nor important. But in no way do I blame the character for the angst and tragedy of the novels overall. D*shner just...doesn’t seem to know how to make honest character growth and a decent plot, thus, in turn the story and its leads suffer tremendously as the narrative gets stretched out. (me yelling in the distance about how Crank Palace was made for clout). HOWEVER, In no way should my analysis stop people from finding Teresa as interesting or “cool”, I actually ENCOURAGE anyone that stans her to explain why to me because I personally don’t understand why beyond thinking “I just think she's chaotically evil and her treachery is fun to witness”. COOL IF THAT'S THE REASON OR EVEN IF YOU RE-WROTE HER TO BE BETTER! I just personally don't find her presence necessary for plot progression or as a love interest in general. It in fact sucks that she gets essentially replaced by Brenda almost as soon as the opportunity arises. In turn though, for others who don’t like her either as much as me, feel free to add onto this post any other “Teresa sucks and here's why” moments as I know there's a lot of moments out there to quote or paraphrase. Thanks for reading~

#Maze Runner #Maze Runner Series #Rant #Character dislike #I don't like Teresa #asks #Skquill #Long post

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