#for some stupid reason i have a fear of people hating my writing i post so i'll just create a secret blog problem solved
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COLLEGESLUTS.COM — IDEA 686 | HHJ
Part one of the CSC series. You can find this series’ masterpost here. This can be read as a stand-alone, but you may have questions that will be answered in future installations. Keep in mind this is the intro.
There are three things you hate more than anything: 1. Your english Lit. professor, 2. Frat parties, and last but most definitely not least, 3. CollegeSluts.com and their founders. There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything: 1. College, 2. Back alley blowjobs, and 3. The frustrating desire to fuck you silly.
PAIRING: hyunjin x f!reader
GENRE: enemies to lovers; smut; crack; angst; college au
WC: 17k…. fear me! (also broke my record!!)
WARNINGS: reader is going through it and will continue to go through it. there’s no development for them at all in this installment i apologize (😭) reader calls skz sex-crazed demons, she’s very confused but not irrational, there’s not many warnings besides for the smut— profanity, alcohol consumption, mentions of alcoholism, annoying characters, insanely inexperienced reader, bet making, one-sided hatred, hyunjin wants to figure you out & thank god for that otherwise this series wouldn’t exist, sexual tension bottled up as hate bc yn is stupid. virgin/corruption kink, loss of virginity, overstimulation, dirty talking, unprotected sex…, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, teasing, breast play, and i think that’s it…
A/N: hi angels, i finished this in three days somehow and even though i didn’t plan on this being my post for 400, we hit it recently so this is it! and it’s fitting since a lot of people are waiting for this series <3 I hope you enjoy the first installment, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, my ask box, or in a reblog! & lmk if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic or my permanent one which is linked below! i hate writing the introduction to a fic and if you feel like this entire one-shot is pointless i promise it’s not 😭 there’s a lot of drama to come soon but i had to establish some things first!
i managed to make a playlist for this series! please enjoy 👩🏾💻
mlist; taglist; navi; | ⇦ previous | next ⇨
There are three things you hate more than anything.
Your english lit. professor
Frat parties
last, but most definitely not least, collegesluts. com and it’s founders.
It’s the literal bane of your existence, the reason why it’s so hard for you to sleep at night, and the one thing that makes your skin itch even more than the fuzzy sweaters your grandma knits every winter season.
Maybe if the creator of the site wasn’t such a douchebag, and maybe if the site users weren’t even worse, you wouldn’t abhor it as much as you did. But that’s a lot of maybes— ones that create a reality much different than your own and don’t make you feel much better.
You were first introduced to the hellsite in your second year of college— only made a year before. After you found out, age twenty hanging high over your head and no longer a fresh face in the school system, you’d tried and failed to get it shut down. Multiple times.
Happy, carefree people, would just ignore its existence— get on with their life, allow people to be college sluts in peace, but you couldn’t do that. Only you saw it for what it was, right? A sex site for college-goers to ruin their lives before it even started. Everyone else was too blissed out, a hand shoved in their pants every night as they watched their classmates fuck each other without fail. Only you could really see—
“Hello, can you hear!?”
Your eyebrows furrow at the voice behind you and your shoulders tighten when a finger pokes harshly at your skin.
“What?” You groan, rubbing the section of your arm that was unjustly abused. “Can you just be nice like a normal person?”
“Well, you’re an asshole so why would I be nice to you?”
“Fuck off Seungmin. What do you want?”
The only thing that betrays the fact that he heard you at all is the laugh that echoes behind you. Your chest tightens in response, and you fold your arms over your chest.
Kim Seungmin. A close fourth on your list of things you hate more than anything else. He was one of the users on the-site-that-must-not-be-named. A platinum member actually, a fact that always made your skin burn even in the coldest of weather. He was even friends with the site creators, and you wouldn’t doubt he had a hand in making it completely. He’d never been shy in supporting his use of the site, because nowadays regular cam sites were somehow uncool. He even had shirts with the college sluts logo in big, bold, letters. He was a part of one of the things you couldn’t stand. A big part of it even, but you ignored all that so you could call him your best— and one of your only— friends.
Kim Seungmin is first on the things you love, and that automatically removes him from the list of things you hate. When an arm slings itself across your shoulders you barely react, simply steering you both in the direction of your first class. It’s too early to deal with your best friend, and especially his toothy remarks and sarcasm, but you don’t say so and simply allow him to talk your ear off while you concern yourself with more important things.
Things like Hwang Hyunjin and Christopher Bang. The admins of College Sluts and the cause of the twitch in your brow. Sometimes the amount of hatred you felt for the two amazed you. To others, they were college boys— hotter than most, smart, talented, promiscuous. They had a good personality, a future, and were people a lot of other people got along with (and their other friends but you won’t get into that lest you pop a vessel).
To you, it’s agree to disagree. In short, they’ve got everyone totally fooled. Only sex-crazed low lifes actually managed to create a porn site. It’s one thing to think of it, sprawled around their dorm rooms knocked off their ass and barely sober, but it’s another thing to actually do it— work hard on it, execute such ideas— it’s completely baffling to you. How can no one see how perverted that is? You don’t even know what to call it, but the fire that erupts in your gut is enough to tell you that it’s bad.
There’s a bunch of girls and guys crowding around them, laughing and hugging and touching. Touching as if they were in the privacy of their home and not outside where others could see. It makes your chest heat up, and makes weird maggots swallow up your stomach, leaving a tingly feeling in its wake. You hate it. They’re demons. Sex-crazed demons.
“God, I’m starting to think you’re like anti-sex or something.”
You grunt.
“Literally we’re just walking by and you look like you’re contemplating murder.”
You hum.
“Jesus,” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head before waving over at his friends. More like his sinner acquaintances. Don’t get it wrong, you’re not overly religious or particularly shameful— despite how you might seem— but it’s something about that entire group (Seungmin sometimes included) that makes you feel like breaking something. Choking something? Crying? Screaming? You’re not sure anymore.
When you catch Hyunjin’s eye he smirks and you frown. Just the sight of him is enough to make your head hurt and your knees weak. At least, that makes sense to you. The rest of the student body? Not so much.
You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and tear your gaze away from him. Your building isn’t much farther and if you squint really hard you can pretend you don’t see Hyunjin approaching from the corner of your eye. It’s a hot day and when he sidles up to you, shoulders almost touching, it gets much hotter.
“Hey,” he greets, slapping palms with Seungmin and holding one down low for you. Your hand hesitates, almost greeting him in return before you slap his arm and send a glare his way.
“Bye,” you grit, turning your head away from him and grabbing at Seungmin’s arm. “I have somewhere to be.”
“Loosen up!” He calls, his long legs easily catching up to your fast pace. “I just wanted to say hi to my favorite girl.”
Your breath stutters the tiniest bit but you ignore it, not bothering to grant that remark an answer. Hyunjin is flirty. Too flirty. Stupid flirty. The kind of flirty that gets girls like you all riled up even when you’re supposed to be hating him, even when you’re supposed to curse the very ground he walks on, and it just makes the dreadful maggots in your system start up their annoying fluttering.
Seungmin doesn’t say anything, even when your grip on his arm tightens at a painful rate. You will your heart to stop beating so damn hard and for your entire body to stop reacting so easily to him. You don’t even know him so why does he hold so much influence over you? Someone like him? Someone who spends their time and their intelligence on a haphazard college porn site? No. No way.
“What do you want, Hyunjin?”
The devil with the long brown hair, and soft cheeks, and cute dimples takes the chance to lean close to your ear, making sure you hear whatever it is he has to say.
“Don’t be too mad at me, bug. I just wanted to tell you that you look gorgeous today.” Hyunjin pats your cheek, smiling before he leans away, turning back the way he came.
“See you later.”
And that’s that. The sex demon comes to set your cheeks ablaze and leaves once he’s done, letting you deal with your muddled feelings on your own. Once you start walking again, ignoring the stare boring into your cheeks and the confusing pounding of your heart, there’s only three words on your mind.
Fuck Hwang Hyunjin.
There are three things Hyunjin hates more than anything:
1. College
2. Back alley blowjobs
3. The frustratingly clear desire he has to fuck you silly.
Hyunjin isn’t sure when he realized it exactly. He doesn’t even know why he reacts to you so strongly. If you were anyone else he probably wouldn’t give you a second glance. He’s sure of it. Maybe it’s the desire to want something you can’t have, or the fact that you aren’t groveling at his feet.
It’s not like Hyunjin has any idea of why exactly you’re so hellbent on hating his guts, nor does he really care all that much. So you don’t like College Sluts, that’s your right as is anyone else’s, but it’s not like he’s shoving the damn shit in your face. He minds his business, manages his porn site, and does it all with a smile on his face. You, though? It’s a miracle he’s seen you smile once. And that was when he wasn’t paying attention and knocked into someone carrying a full tray of food.
Chan laughs at him all the time and so does Minho, wondering if he has some weird kink for wanting people who clearly don’t want him back, but more and more he’s thinking that isn’t the case. He’s always been bold, always been a bit flirty even when he wasn’t trying, and he knows he’s easy on the eyes. It’s not a secret, but your reaction to him isn’t one of disdain or clear attraction, but rather confusion, and that confuses him.
He flips the mic in his hands, switching between cradling it and flinging it every which way. The speakers of the karaoke system effectively drag him from his thoughts as the music gets louder and Jisung spins Felix around on their makeshift stage. Whoops and hollers echo from around them, the rest of their friends cheering at the performance in front of them. Hyunjin can’t bring himself to laugh even as a smile threatens to take hold of his features.
“Yo, what’s up with you?” Jisung plops down beside him, slinging an arm around Hyunjin's shoulders as puffs of breath leave his lips. “You’ve been sitting here brooding. What’s going on?”
“I don’t brood,” Hyunjin argues, though he maneuvers his body so he can tell Jisung exactly what has him brooding. “It’s just— I’m still thinking about Y/n.”
“Bro.”
“It doesn’t seem weird to you?”
“Weird that she’s just not interested? This is a new low, Hyunjin. Not everyone is gonna be attracted to you—”
“I know, but that’s not what I’m saying. Doesn’t her whole attitude towards us seem a bit excessive? All over a website.”
“It’s not your typical website.”
“Sung, it’s probably one of the safest porn sites out there because of how exclusive it is. No one but students here can get on it.”
“Does she know that?”
“That’s my point,” Hyunjin sighs, running a hand through his hair before starting again. “If she doesn’t even know the full details of the site, how can she possibly hate it? Hate us?”
Jisung pauses, looking back towards the stage. It’s true that all eight of them have thought about this at least once. They know there’s people who hate the website, who steer clear of it in all instances, but none who have made petitions and gone to the superintendent requesting an audience about it. No one who’s actively been so hateful to them specifically, refusing to look in their direction unless it’s to send a glare their way.
“Maybe there's another reason?” Jisung offers, sending Hyunjin a sideways glance. “I mean, maybe she just hates porn.”
Hyunjin snorts at that. How can anyone hate porn?
“You’re laughing but I’m dead serious. Has she ever even had a partner?”
“How the fuck would I know?”
“You think about her 24/7. I wouldn't be surprised if you knew what she ate for breakfast.”
“Not fucking funny.”
Jisung barks out a laugh, falling over into Hyunjin’s space. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over it soon.”
Hyunjin isn’t so sure but he nods anyway, allowing Jisung to go back to the stage for the next song. Hyunjin knocks back his drink, throat constricting barely at the bitter taste. He doesn’t care. He really doesn’t, but there’s something weird about your behavior and he’s more than determined to figure it out. Maybe he needs to just mind his business but fuck that, he thinks, no one is gonna hate him for no reason. Maybe he’s a little too riled up at that, maybe Jisung is right and this is a new low. Maybe he just really can’t deal with rejection well. Maybe.
Minho’s screeching into the mic does it’s hardest to ruin Hyunjin’s night, but the way the rest of his friends tackle him and attempt to steal the mic just makes him laugh, leaving a warm feeling in his chest. This is all he needs— his friends and a good drink to put a smile on his face. And the college porn site he worked very hard on, of course.
The group only gets through a few more songs before they decide to leave, deciding to ignore the fact that some of them have classes in six hours or that they’ll be nursing a bad headache for the entirety of it. Hyunjin is one of them. He laughs along with his friends as they walk, and he watches them from where he stands in the back.
Jisung has his phone out and is making a concerned face, typing furiously on the device. Either they’re having technical issues or his girlfriend is getting on his ass once again. Minho has an arm slung around his shoulders, laughing at whatever it is he’s typing and whoever it is that’s typing back. Next to them Felix and Jeongin have joined hands and Felix swings them back and forth, giggling as he does. Jeongin pretends he doesn’t like it, like usual, but Hyunjin notices the hint of a smile on his face. He always notices.
Chan and Changbin are quiet on either side of him, walking in the tranquil quiet that’s always rare for their group. It feels incomplete— Hyunjin wishes Seungmin could’ve come. He doesn’t know how the boy manages to be friends with the creators of the CSC and also be friends with its #1 hater. Maybe he’s selling secrets, telling you everything about the site, all its loopholes and glitches. Maybe he’s working against them now, coming up with a plan to shut them down once and for all, though Hyunjin doesn’t know if that’s possible.
Right after those thoughts trickle into his mind, he thinks about Seungmin wearing the handmade “merch” for the site, and doesn’t entertain them any longer. It would be ridiculous— even for him— to think that someone who repped college sluts like it was their brand would ever work even harder to tear it away.
The knot in his throat that’s been squeezing at his airways since earlier that night relaxes just a little. He’s never actually said this to anyone, but just as much as he thinks about why you hate him, he thinks about whether Seungmin will hate him too; about if he’ll lose a friend due to reasons he’s not even sure of. As much as he thinks about why you hate him so badly, he thinks about why he doesn’t hate you right back. He wonders why he— instead of wanting nothing to do with you— wants to know everything about you. Why he wants to understand you when you’ve made no effort to understand him, or worse, made up your own mind about who he is without even attempting to entertain the idea that maybe you’re wrong.
Hyunjin has lived his whole life suffering from other people's ideas of him, from their expectations that they held with no prior consultation with him, from the perfect picture of him in their minds that didn’t correlate with the real Hyunjin. He’s had his fair share of wondering, thinking, wanting. And it’s disappointing to see how even after all this time, since childhood, nothing has changed. He’s always wanted what he’s not allowed to have, but it’s not for lack of trying.
They don’t arrive at their frat house quick enough. As soon as the door opens into the building Hyunjin feels like falling asleep on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’s also not sure what last happened on that couch. Between spilled drinks and sex that was too rushed to even make it to a bedroom he’d rather take his chances on an actual bed. Chan doesn’t bother to turn the lights on when he comes in, and the seven of them shuffle around each other, spilling into the living room or into the kitchen to grab drinks and snacks as if they didn’t just come back from eating.
Hyunjin knows he’s been distant all night but he can’t be bothered to care as he sends a quick good night his friends’ way and makes his way upstairs. The house holds eight other boys besides them and he’s surprised none of them are downstairs or hanging around even at the late hour. Though, Hyunjin reasons, most of them have girlfriends and the few others that don’t are seniors and probably pull all-nighters in the library or some shit.
Hyunjin doesn’t want to think about that. The year only started back up again a few months ago, he doesn’t need to be thinking about work anymore than he already does. He makes a good living even without a real job, so he’s taking shit day by day. It’s not like anyone else is much different. Most of his seniors are cramming because they were so carefree. Hyunjin doesn’t think about the implications of that either.
The softness of his bed is long overdue and his body sinks into the plush bedding. He strips off his shirt and pants, not bothering to make his way to a shower or put pajamas on or do anything really. He has five hours before he needs to wake back up and this is nothing if not a power nap that won’t help him get through any lectures the next day. Or, later that day rather.
Hyunjin doesn’t concern himself with that though, because there’s only one thing that’s on his mind when he falls asleep and when he wakes up, and that’s what he’s going to say to you tomorrow morning in the first class of the day.
The first thing you manage to think of when you wake up is how best you’re going to ignore Hyunjin today. You’ve been brainstorming, wondering which response will humble him the best, maybe make him speechless for long enough that you can get away. If only those getaways could last forever, you sigh, pulling a fitted tee over your head. It’s low-cut, makes your cleavage pop just a little bit more, and you add a necklace for that exact reason.
You’re not the sex-crazed demon that the CSC most definitely are, but you do like a little attention every now and again even if you don’t get that much action. Or any, really, and you’re just fine with that. It’s one of the reasons why you don’t like the CSC. There’s no reason to sexify everything, and that’s exactly what they do. People can get by just fine without it.
Just fine? Seungmin would probably jab, but he’s not here right now and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You are just fine, but the mention of the-site-that-must-not-be-named just fills your stomach with stones and ignites your nerves like nothing else does. To you, that’s more than enough proof that it’s the CSC’s fault— not yours.
Anyway, today is the day you have to see Hyunjin bright and early, which always manages to set your day off to a bad start. No one should have to deal with him at this time of day, or any time of day, and you pity the ones that do. Seeing Chan isn’t rare, but he doesn’t talk to you like Hyunjin does. He stares every now and again, gives you a lazy smirk, and is generally sexy as much as it pains you to admit it, but he doesn’t bother you. Though you know he probably talks about you. His stares are too knowing, way too insightful even when you don’t really know each other.
The rest of the boys you’ve talked to on a few occasions. They aren’t as insufferable, but they are associated with Hyunjin and Chan and are, in fact, involved in the upkeep of the-site-that-must-not-be-named. To you, that’s more than enough reason to at the least dislike them. You don’t hold soft spots for any of them, except maybe Felix who seems way too sweet to be a sex demon, but then again, it’s always the nice ones.
Besides, it doesn’t matter what they say to you or don’t say, or if they look at you or not, or if they even know you exist. It really doesn’t matter. You shake the thoughts from your head vigorously, ashamed at the fact that you spent the first hour of your morning on them. It’s unbecoming of you. It’s good to remind yourself not to actively concern yourself with any of them, and simply fight for the site’s demolition like you’ve been doing.
Seungmin says you have no life, but Seungmin also wears T-shirts with cartoonish, glittery pink boobs and the site’s name in glittery cursive letters. You don’t think Seungmin should have an opinion.
The last time you attempted to do anything about the site was roughly two months ago, a month after school started back. You took your time to settle in, fall into a routine, and get your work and classes in order before resuming your mission. It was arduous, brainstorming and juggling school work, but it was your responsibility since no one else would work hard enough.
A quick shuffle through any of your things would tell people you were a perfectionist— articulate in your placement of items and the way you did things. Even taking the time to plan certain outings to a T, determined to make sure everything goes well. It’s not a secret how obsessive you get over things and how uncomfortable or incomplete you feel when things don’t go your way, when you have to follow someone else’s idea of how things should work. It’s the reason why most people don’t get along with you because to them you’re too controlling, too compulsive and dominating.
When you were a child that fact had bothered you. It was confusing— that was just your nature, and you wouldn’t have survived your childhood without it based on the way your parents lived. When kids would shun you, treat you like something sticky at the bottom of their shoe, it hurt your young heart. You felt apologetic simply for acting the way you always felt like you should act, for doing the things that left you satisfied after. Now, in college, no one demands classmates to get along, no one can shun you in the cafeteria and force you to eat in the library. If they don’t like you it’s fine with you, frankly it doesn’t matter. You have one goal and one goal only, and once that’s over with you can move on.
When you step out of your dorm the sun is blinding, shining down with unforgiving rays of light. All you can do is squint, tilt your head down a little and wish you had a hat. The walk to the Art’s building is long, but feels longer with how warm it is. The heat shimmies its way under your clothes and into your skin, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.
The scenery on the walk there is always breathtaking though, the pavement that makes up the pathway to the building is closed in by blades of grass that have been cut and trimmed to perfection. Rocks make up the border between them— large smooth stones that vary in size but are more or less the same oval shape. There’s an entire garden full of all types of flowers, Gardenias, Lilies, Irises, Tulips, and even some you can’t name. At the entrance of the building there are bright lights that illuminate at least 25 feet in front of it at night, and wide hedges that have been designed to look like swans, their necks curved in a way that if they were moved next to each other they’d be forming a heart. White flowers grow inside the hedges serving to make the entire scene look more beautiful, and as much as you hate walking there, the view is unmatched.
The Art building has always been your safe haven, Art in general being your home away from home. It took a long time for you to feel comfortable studying it— always caught up in the what if. What if you can’t make a living from it? What if you end up not liking it as you grow older? What if it’s not a sustainable career? Questions that still plague you often, and stop you from putting as much of your heart in it as you’d wish. These classes are somewhat self-indulgent. A way for you to escape from the hectic mess that is your life, away from the stress of work, from the anxiety of what comes next, and from the infuriating instances that continue without your control— away from the things you can’t control so you can run to things you can. So imagine your horror when you found out Hwang Hyunjin was in the same class as you. At the same time. Doing the same thing.
It felt like your escape wasn’t yours anymore, and that the stress from your day followed you everywhere you went. It wasn’t enough for Hyunjin to pester you often— he had to be everywhere you were too.
You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, setting your shoulders and regain the poise you take pride in– carrying yourself with the confidence you wish you had. It doesn’t take long for you to make your way to the entrance of the building, as you walk, having been kissed by the scorching light of the sun and brushed against by dewy blades of grass. It feels surreal and staggering to be outside alone so early in the morning, yet peaceful, for you know that it will be long before you get this chance again.
“Bug!”
Oh no. no no no. You walk faster, hoping to make it inside before Hyunjin can catch up to you. Hyunjin is never this early. He either comes right on time or late to the frustration of your teachers and peers although no one would ever say it to his face. You can hear his feet against the pavement louder and louder as he comes closer to you, catching up just when you take the first step up the stairs to the entrance.
“You didn’t hear me, bug?”
“Stop calling me bug.”
“Sorry, bug,” Hyunjin laughs, putting a heavy arm over your shoulders and bringing you closer.
You roll your eyes so hard it feels like they’re gonna stick. Maybe they should so you don’t ever have to see Hyunjin again. Maybe he’d think you look scary like that, your eyes rolled up forever. Maybe then he’d leave you alone.
Hyunjin is annoying. He always acts like you’re his friend, but you know it’s fake because why would he want to be friends with you, someone who hates everything he works hard on and hates him as well to an extent. It seems overly fake and forced to you, so you don’t ever entertain it. The last thing you need is to fall for it and then be made out to look like an idiot when he eventually embarrasses you.
“It’s too early.”
“It’s never too early, pretty.”
“It’s always too early to be dealing with you,” You groan, wrenching his arm away from where it laid over your shoulders. “Why are you talking to me?”
“Why not?” Hyunjin asks, seemingly unaffected by your attitude towards him. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised up to his chin in a shrug. “I like talking to you.”
You snort, looking up at him with eyebrows raised, “You like talking to me, the one person— possibly in this world— who absolutely hates you, and barely spares you the time of day?” You ask, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’m sure this is the longest we’ve ever had a conversation, but nice try.” You squeeze his cheeks, hard, and when he swats your hand away you can’t help the giggle that you let out. If his cheeks felt like dough under your fingers you’re choosing to ignore that, wiping a hand on your jeans with way more intensity than needed.
“But see,” Hyunjin starts again, “We’re having a conversation right now and neither of us wanna choke each other.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m barely resisting the urge to punt your head like a baseball.”
It’s silent for a moment before you both burst out into a fit of giggles. Hyunjin braces himself against his knees as he laughs, his hair falling over his face as he does, and you’re not much better— staggering where you stand to laugh with him. It only takes a few seconds for you both to calm down, and slowly the reality of what happened catches up to you.
“Do you even punt baseballs?” Hyunjin snorts, and you just laugh harder.
“I don’t know, Hyunjin, if you haven’t noticed I’m at the arts building not sports.” You wheeze, fighting through another laugh. “Now I’m just imagining your head flying over the gardens.”
Hyunjin lets out another chuckle but shivers a bit at the thought. He waits for you to calm down, your giggles turning into small huffs. A hint of a smile still remains on your cheeks, and the sun shines down so strongly on your features it feels like he’s seeing an angel— like divinity right in front of his eyes. When you straighten up, he can see every movement. The way you position your bag upright, the way a bit of your gums poke out from your lips. Your lips, soft, glossy, and look the most perfect in a smile. He can see the way your eyebrows lose the tension from your laughing fit, the way the crinkle of your eyes lessen as your face relaxes. He can see everything, so he can also see when your lips fall back into a firm line, when your eyebrows go back to that angry stance they always hold when you’re around him. The way your shoulders stiffen, and the grip on your bag tightens. He can see everything, and he reminds himself the only time you laugh is when he’s the butt of the joke.
“I’m going to class,” You murmur, walking the rest of the way up the stairs and into the building without looking back or waiting for him to respond. Though Hyunjin wonders what he would’ve even said.
I’ll come with you.
We can sit together.
No, you both can’t do anything together, and more and more Hyunjin wonders why he even wants to.
“You were laughing with Hwang Hyunjin? The sex demon??” Your friend hisses from next to you, stringing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You?”
“Yes, me, Jieun.” You huff. “I can barely believe it either. What did he do to me? I hate him, I can’t show weakness by laughing around him.”
“Honey,” Jieun laughs, leaning towards you, “You can laugh. Honestly the fact that you ran away after is hilarious.”
“I didn’t run away.”
“You ran away.”
“I didn’t run.”
Jieun settles on you with a heavy stare, face slack, and you roll your eyes. “Fine, I walked away.”
“I don’t know how either of you take each other seriously.”
“I don’t take him seriously.”
“Yeah you do, babe. You refuse to laugh around him. That’s very serious.”
You snort.
“And the fact that he gives you the time of day when this is the dumbest feud possible… I just don’t understand it.”
“It’s not dumb.” You sputter, smoothing your hand over the glossy wooden desk of the classroom. “It’s…” You trail off, staring into the large windows at the side of the room. You cock your head and lean forward, jaw slack when the sex demon himself waves outside. “Oh what a stalker.” You growl, throwing up the middle finger in his direction. “He’s got his little posse following him too.”
When Jieun makes to wave back you smack the back of her head and groan when she gives you an affronted look.
“What was that for?” Jieun exclaims, bringing a hand up to rub against the back of her head.
“Don’t fraternize with the enemy,” You hiss, folding your arms over your chest and staring back at your professor.
“Are you gonna explain the feud—”
“No.”
In your opinion, class doesn’t end quickly enough. You split with Jieun at the entrance, the both of you going in opposite directions, and attempt to reorder your frazzled mind. So you laughed. A lot of people laugh at people they hate. Plus, he laughed too— so why should you be overthinking it? You’ve laughed before, in situations you weren’t supposed to, and this is no different. Now you just need to make sure it never happens again. You nod to yourself as you walk, pulling out your phone to make sure Seungmin is already at the meeting spot.
The sun is still just as ruthless as it was earlier, but a light breeze grazes your skin and rustles the trees along the sidewalk and in the field in front of you. There’s a bunch of picnic tables, some occupied and some of them not. There’s groups of friends sitting under trees, some couples, some of them alone; reading or completing assignments in the nice weather. You spot Seungmin a few tables down, a brown sweater over a collared shirt and cute glasses perched upon his nose.
You take your time walking to the table, letting your skin soak in the warmth and tranquil peace of nature. When Seungmin spots you he shuffles over, giving you some space to sit next to him and you do, mumbling a small hey before knocking your head against the table.
“You’re going to a party with me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Seungmin… Hi, how are you? How was your day? No, I’m not.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“Well, unless you’re going to drag me, no I’m not.”
“I just might,” Seungmin sighs, “Why are you so difficult?”
“Difficult? You’re the one being difficult. I don’t want to go and you’re telling me it’s not a choice.”
“Because it’s not.”
You let out a groan, a long torturous one that has people turning their head to a straight faced Seungmin and you who’s head is still knocked against the table. When people think it’s stopped it starts all over again, a guttural groan filled with displeasure and frustration that loosens your chest when it’s done.
“Are you done?”
“Leave me alone.”
“It’s on Saturday. I can pick you up.” Seungmin says instead of arguing.
“Today’s Thursday.” You whine, just stopping yourself from letting out another groan— one that wouldn’t ever stop for as long as you have to deal with Kim Seungmin and his annoying, snarky, bossy self.
“…. I’m aware.” Seungmin says, and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s making a face like and so what?
“I can’t stand you, I hope you know that. No type of warning, no preparation… I don’t party. I need at least two weeks to mentally prepare myself and another two weeks to get an outfit.”
“Damn.” Seungmin says, but he rubs a hand against your back, lightly pushing you to lift your head from the table. “Listen, I’ll help you. And it’s being thrown by people I know so you don’t have to worry. I don’t think many people throw college parties a month in advance but I’ll keep that in mind.”
All you can do is nod, waiting patiently as Seungmin finishes whatever assignment he’s working on. You’ve already completed the ones you have, the pro of not having much else to do and being on top of things always. Everyday you both meet up here, either at a table or under one of the trees and talk. Read, finish assignments, or even eat snacks. There have been some times where you meet there and then go somewhere else together, rarely off campus but it happens, and you get something to eat or go on a mini adventure. It’s the highlight of your day and you’re sure it is for Seungmin too, but you’d never admit that to each other. You don’t have to, though, because you’re both always on the same wavelength especially when it counts the most.
Though now he’s given you something else to worry about, that being this sudden party. It’s no doubt being held by a frat house, and you have an inkling which house it is. You haven’t asked, trying not to pop the bubble of secureness that surrounds you. You can go to a party being held by the CSC. You can, and you will, and if it isn’t being held by them then that’s even better. You try to convince yourself you really don’t care at all, but the thought remains. Can you really enjoy yourself at a party being held by them? You don’t know why it bothers you so much or why you feel so uncomfortable having a good time around them, but you just keep repeating the same thing to yourself over and over. It doesn’t matter.
“Jieun told me what happened this morning.”
“Of course she did.” You sigh, staring ahead at the group of squirrels running up a tree. The people under it startle when leaves start to fall over their heads. “We just left each other, how did she find the time to text you all that?”
“She called me,” Seungmin cackles, braces on full display as he scribbles furiously into his notebook. “Every story I hear about you and Hyunjin is against my will.”
“Every interaction between me and Hyunjin is against my will,” You counter, shifting so that you face him. “What did she say?”
“That you laughed with him and it embarrassed you. That you’re confused about your feelings towards him.”
“So are you two my therapists now? I’m not confused. I don’t like the things he does— I don’t like his carefree attitude, how he has no problem talking to me like we’re friends. I don’t like- No, I hate the fact that so many people fucking praise him because he created some crude porn site.”
Your heart rate picks up, your hand gripping at your jeans as a poor attempt to conceal your growing frustration. “I don’t like the fact that no one else sees what’s wrong with it. We shouldn’t have a fucking porn site for college students? I don’t think we should know what we all look like under our clothes and I’m tired of everyone acting like I'm the crazy one. He’s the perverted one, the weird one. Who the fuck thinks of something like that? It’s not just him, it’s all of them.”
Seungmin ponders your words, the grip on his pen tightening ever so slightly. “Hyunjin is a good guy. All of them are, and if that’s how you feel then why do you talk to me? I use the site, I'm their friend, I’ve helped them out when making it. Aren’t I weird and perverted too?”
You sigh, “Seungmin…”
“Help me understand. Because if you can stand to be around me, then why can’t you be around them? Or try.”
“It isn’t the same and you know it. It’s easy to ignore it when it’s you. That’s them. They are the CSC to me. A reminder of everything I hate, what I want to get rid of.”
“But why the hell does it matter? People want to use the site and that’s why they do. No one is fucking forcing it.”
“You guys just don’t understand it. None of you do. It’s like you’re blinded by it or something.”
“We’re grown adults, Y/N,” Seungmin growls, “We don’t need you to be a guardian fucking angel.”
“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy, just because all you fucking care about is sex or some college sluts, like can you actually be that shallow?”
“Why is it so hard for you to see reason? Do you see how angry you’re getting at me for asking a simple question? You asked me what Jieun said and I told you.” Seungmin spits, shutting his book with a slam.
“Stop asking me about that site. Stop making me seem like some confused hateful person just because you’re too dense to understand where I’m coming from. I’m not confused, I know exactly how I feel. I try not to bring it up because you like the damn thing so much, and you can’t seem to hold the same courtesy for me.” You stand from the seat, settling a dark glare at Seungmin’s angered form.
“Fuck your friends, fuck that site. Stop talking about me like I need guidance.”
You’re not irrational. You’re not. You have every right to be angry. Seungmin is your friend. Jieun is your friend. They’re supposed to be there for you, not gang up on you. You feel alone, so alone in everything you fight for, in everything you aim to conquer— as if the things you stand for don’t matter. It reminds you of middle school all over again, of high school— having people look at you like you were something from another planet. Someone people had always failed to understand. It’s lonely. You’re not irrational.
You didn’t blow up. You’re not angry. You’re frustrated, yes, but you don’t blow up. You don’t get mad. You aren’t irrational. Anyone else in your position would feel the same, right? Anyone else would be upset because it feels like your friends always take the side of the people you despise more than anyone else. Why aren’t they on your side? Why don’t they believe you? Why don’t they understand? It makes you feel stupid. It makes you feel like you have no right to feel the way you do. It’s lonely.
You’ve never been irrational. You’ve always had a good grip on your feelings. Always. And when it feels like the grip loosens it’s always the cause of something relating to the CSC. It’s proof that it’s what the root of your problems is. It’s proof that the CSC needs to be gone so you can finally go back to normal. So you don’t feel like the odd one out. So you don’t have to feel so upset. Because you’re not irrational. You have every right to feel this way. You don’t get mad. You’re not angry. You don’t blow up.
You control everything, you control your actions, your emotions, and you make sure to hold control over your environment— of how things play out for every second of your life. This feels like it’s running out of control. That the CSC brings havoc in your life no matter what— even when you try to ignore it, it comes running back to fuck you over even further. You’re not irrational. You’re not confused. You don’t get mad. You don’t. You don’t blow up. You control everything.
The sun hides right when you need it. You pretend tears don’t blur your vision, you pretend that the suddenly gloomy environment doesn’t affect you the way it does. You pretend that the once comforting breeze doesn’t feel sharp against your exposed skin. You pretend because when things run out of control that’s all you can do. Pretend you’ve got it handled, pretend that you still have a grip on things, pretend that you understand. You’re not irrational. You have every right to feel this way.
You never argue with Seungmin. Playful bickering from time to time or you two being rude to each other but always playfully. You’ve never cursed at him so maliciously, spoken to him like he was someone random, as if he wasn’t your best friend. You’ve never done those things— but you do when the CSC is involved. You never get pissed at Jieun, even when she’s annoying, even when she acts like the only thing important in life is the new boy she’s talking to— You don’t get mad. You’re not mad now, but you’re something. Something fiery, and everything always goes back to the CSC. You’re not irrational. You’re just the only one who understands.
Right when you see the blurry form of your dorm building it gets blocked by a large body and you slam right into its chest. You can barely see in front of you and you know your face is screwed up into the worst form imaginable, tears falling with no control. Without your control.
“Sorry, excuse me,” You laugh wetly, sidestepping whoever is blocking your way and running up the steps to your dorm. The sooner you fall into your bed and cry this out, the sooner you can forget about it. The sooner you can apologize and move past this weird limbo of feelings. It feels like purgatory, stuck in the in between, not sure which direction you’ll end up going in. It’s full of unsureness, of frustration. It feels like a loss of control. It angers you, makes you feel like nothing is going right.
But you don’t get angry. You’re not irrational. You don’t get mad. You pretend, because that’s all you can do.
Hyunjin is confused.
The last thing he expected to see this morning was you laughing, but now, he realizes the last thing he ever expected to see was you crying. Eyes glossy with tears, a nose rubbed raw, face screwed up into something pitiful.
Hyunjin doesn’t know a lot of things. He doesn’t expect a lot of things, but most of all he doesn’t know how to continue after seeing it. He doesn’t expect to care so much, not after the way you’ve regarded him. After the way you’ve both regarded each other. He doesn’t know why he can’t walk away and say nothing when he knows he should. If he brings it up you’ll get defensive, be embarrassed, be angry. He shouldn’t say anything.
He keeps walking, frowning slightly at the gloomy clouds. It was so sunny less than an hour ago. Things change so quickly, it doesn’t make any sense. He thinks back to earlier that morning, the light that shone on your face with every laugh you let out. He thinks back to just a few seconds ago. How dark shadows fell over your face as tears ran down your cheeks.
The walk is more automatic than anything else. He doesn’t take the time to stare at the scenery, he doesn’t look at the people around him. He barely sees the ground in front of him as he walks, his mind not registering what’s right in front of his face. He’s too caught up in you. Like usual, wondering why you do the things you do, why you feel the way you feel, wanting to understand. What did he do? What can he do to make you feel better? How can he make you hate him any less? He wants to understand, he wants to listen, to talk to you, to be near you. It confuses him.
His phone vibrates, pulling him from his thoughts. It’s chan, texting about the party on Saturday, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He’s so tired, tired of running around for parties, tired of attending to the site, tired of waking up early for classes. He just wants a second to sit down and relax, to not worry about you ruining the one thing he’s worked hard for, to not worry about what class he’s flunking, about what party he’s expected to attend, to not worry about why you were crying in the middle of the afternoon. He just wants a moment to collect his thoughts and free his mind.
HJ: I got it
BC: alr cool, put it in the cabinet with the lock, you know how Hyunjoon gets
HJ: Fuck, is it that bad?
BC: he’s an alcoholic bud, it’s that bad.
Hyunjin laughs a little, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He wonders if Seungmin told you about the party yet and grimaces, wondering if that’s the reason why you were crying. If it is, he’s not sure who needs to get a grip. You, for hating him so bad, or him for continuing to try and get you not to. It takes a lot of effort for him to continue the power walk back to the frat, but he arrives sooner than later, stuffing the bag of drinks inside the cabinet and locking it shut. He thinks it’s a bit ridiculous that they have to lock the alcohol up as if they have small kids running around, and also wonders the effectiveness when Hyunjoon lives in a frat house and is an adult who can buy his own alcohol.
It’s Thursday afternoon but he finds that he’s not as excited for a party as he should be. Usually, he’d be bouncing on his heels, counting down the hours for it to start, and realizing he’s so caught up in everything else going around he doesn’t feel that normal excitement that he so often does. He makes sure to fix that, shaking the unnecessary thoughts from his head, pushing responsibilities to later. He has a party to prepare for and he's gonna act like it.
The rest of the boys don’t get back till later— they’d given Hyunjin the responsibility of buying cups and drinks and shitty snacks while they went off somewhere else. Hyunjin can’t keep track of what they do especially if he’s not joining, so he focuses on doing what he’s supposed to in order to make this the best party of the year so far. His frat has always held the record of best parties— has always held their winnings in high regard as well, and he’ll be damned if he gets the cold shoulder if he’s the reason the party isn’t as good as it should be. Most of all, he’s thinking about what he’s gonna do during it.
Hyunjin is not shy on having sex— never has been, never will be, and more often than not he’s having it. Sure, that may be expected since he made a literal porn site, but Jisung also had a hand in it and he has a girlfriend. Felix doesn’t have one-night stands often, nor does Seungmin. It’s different for all of them.
He knows there’s a few girls that have been actively trying to get in his pants, knows that he’s been trying to get into theirs, but he can only hope he can focus on them for long enough to do so without thinking about you. If you come, he knows that there’s no chance he’ll think of anything else, and he’ll probably spend the entire night just getting you to laugh again. To get you to explain to him why. why why why. It’s confusing, but he pretends it doesn’t matter.
Thursday comes and goes too quickly, and Friday does as well. The day isn’t over yet, it��s only the afternoon, but the implications of that make you anxious. Make your nerves ignite far more than they should.
Seungmin didn’t answer your calls for the rest of that Thursday. Didn’t read or respond to a single text until you decided to leave him alone. Jieun called, but you didn’t answer. You think the way you felt towards her is the way Seungmin felt towards you. Maybe something worse, so you gave him space and took some for yourself, a moment to really think about what made you react the way you did. You don’t think you’re in the wrong, you still don’t think you could’ve reacted any other way and you’re not sure what that says about you.
You take another bite of your sandwich as you walk down the street from the Art store, your phone cradled in your other hand and a drink poking out from the opening in your bag. It’s hard to mentally prepare for things that you don’t know anything about. You don’t know where the party is, who’s hosting it, how long you’re expected to stay. Thought that’s if you’re even still going. You want to take Seungmin’s silence as an answer that no, you aren’t, but you also don’t want to assume that and then he shows up at your door and you’re not ready.
You don’t want to go, not at all, but if it made Seungmin happy then you would. If he didn’t come to pick you up you briefly entertained finding your own way to the party and cornering him, forcing him to hear your apology before leaving and soaking your pillow with tears. But you don’t know where the party is. You also briefly entertained the idea of calling Jieun and asking her, but you’re not interested in the lecture that would come from that. You still don’t appreciate her words about you to Seungmin and the implication of them. Seungmin is your friend, you can tell him what happened all by yourself. You don't need Jieun to play messenger.
You swallow the last of your lunch and throw the wrapper in the nearest trash can. You want to start a new painting, one that can unleash the frustrations of your life as it is right now, and you can only do that by getting some new supplies. You save up constantly for this exact reason— for the ability to buy whatever your heart desires whenever it desires it. You dip your toes into whatever interests you, and all concepts of Art satisfies you more than anything. Writing whatever you desire, taking pictures of the things you find beautiful, painting whatever you want— it gives you the control that fuels you more than anything else.
The art shop by your university is quaint, always quiet and never very full, yet always filled with high quality supplies and fully stocked. You’ve made friends with the old lady who owns it and her daughter, constantly going there just to buy something in order to catch up with them on whatever has happened since your last visit. They’re like the mother and sister you never had, people who feel more like family than your own. It’s partly for that reason that you’ve made the trek there, hoping to get some advice for the things you’ve been feeling before going to the party that’s undoubtedly being held by the one group of people you despise.
The bells above the door jingle when you step in, and you let the smell of paint, chalk, crayons, pens, and faint air freshener soothe you. It’s just as cluttered as it’s always been— stacks upon stacks of sketchbooks and canvases on one side situated next to the easels and small desks. The paints have a section of their own, oil, watercolor, acrylic, matte, and more— on the opposite side there’s pens and crayons, colored pencils, oil pastels, and sharpeners of all shapes and sizes.
The walls are covered in paint as if before bringing in all the items they’d had fun splattering the walls in color. It’s messy, unruly, cluttered, and barely organized— so it doesn’t make sense to you why it comforts you so much. When you see a small form hobble out from behind a stack of books a smile forms unbiddenly on your face, and the small old lady smiles back.
“I missed you, dear,” She scolds, wrapping you up in a hug. “It’s been too long since you’ve come to visit.”
“I know, I’ve just been busy Ms. Yang. I missed you.” You sigh, rubbing your nose in the soft fabric of her sweater. She smells like paint and flowers— she smells like home.
“Sam will be here soon, she’d love to see you.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice. I need to talk to her too.”
“I can tell, child. You look stressed.” She sighs, shuffling behind the counter and sitting on one of the other seats behind it. “Get what you’re looking for,” She says waving a hand dismissively towards you.” I won’t make you explain it twice.”
You huff lightheartedly, making your way over to the canvases and picking one of medium proportions. You’re still not sure what it is you want to paint, but you know whatever you’re feeling is strong enough that you grab Oil paint, needing something rich and vibrant and something sharper to contrast the muddled and cloudy image of your mind.
It’s before long that you settle on a brand you normally buy, and the set of bells signal someone’s arrival into the shop. You turn your head, expecting to see Sam and her long curly hair, beautiful in its volume and her tawny brown skin, but instead you’re greeted with the sight of straight brown hair, swept behind the ears of a tall man, a mole under his eye and the reason for all your problems. You don’t know why you react the way you do, but with your items cradled in your hand you sprint behind a large stack of sketchbooks and hold your breath, staring with wide eyes at the cans of paint at your feet.
What the fuck is Hwang Hyunjin doing at your shop? This is your safe place— your safe haven. A part of you curses the ground he walks on, hopes that the store is too messy and cluttered for his liking, prays that he proves he’s as shallow as the company he keeps and that he leaves and doesn’t come back. Another part of you hates yourself for being so ridiculous. For letting your personal feelings about him delve so far that you’d think something like that. Sam and Mrs.Yang deserve the business, deserve the money, deserve the customers. You shouldn’t hope for anything different— but it still amazes you how he never fails to intrude on the things you hold dear. To intrude on the things you want to keep to yourself.
You don’t move from the spot you’re in. It could’ve been ten minutes, an hour, even, or maybe it was only thirty seconds, but you only peek out when you hear Sam’s voice ring through the shop. You survey the room, stepping out from your hiding spot when you confirm that Hyunjin is nowhere to be found. Though, you don’t think you could’ve hid regardless by the way Sam calls your name.
“Hi, Sammy,” You smile, coming up to pull her into a hug. She grips you tightly, her kinky hair tickling your cheek and her clothes smelling faintly of vanilla and roses. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, hun,” Sam smiles, albeit a little sadly as she looks over your face. “What’s wrong?”
“Hey, don’t leave a poor old lady out,” Mrs. Yang huffs, “Come over here and tell us both about it.”
Without even saying anything they’ve already cheered you up, your steps feeling lighter as you make your way behind the counter and sit on one of the three seats. You sit between them both, their eyes set patiently but concerningly on you.
“I don’t know, really,” You start, and then, you tell them. About your argument with Seungmin, about how lonely it is feeling like you’re the only one feeling this way, about how much the site angers you— how it makes you feel. You tell them about Hyunjin, about how he doesn’t stop bothering you no matter how much you make it obvious you don’t want his company. How much that frustrates you, as well, and about how the lack of control over the entire situation, and over the CSC’s place in your life makes you uncomfortable, and about how the CSC itself makes you feel things you’ve never felt before and how much that scares you. You can barely describe the way it does, and who else can you blame besides its creators.
When you’re done it feels like you’ve vented a lifelong event, it makes a heavy weight lift itself off your shoulders and the heavy silence that remains doesn’t feel like judging, but rather them trying to understand— soaking up the meaning of every word you said in an attempt to place themselves in your shoes.
“I think,” Sam starts, “That your cluelessness about your feelings towards the site in general turns into anger, and the fact that the boy,”
“Hyunjin”, You offer.
“Yes, I think his attempts at speaking to you only worsen it somehow, like you’re being cornered by this weird feeling that you don’t understand and it makes you even angrier.”
“You said your friend is a part of it?” Mrs.Yang interjects, a wrinkly hand kneading your shoulder.
“Yeah,” You murmur, “He’s good friends with the group and he loves the website.”
“That probably doesn’t help then,” She continues, “If you’re surrounded by people who know what they like or enjoy something you don’t like or don’t understand, of course you’re going to feel angry. You feel like the odd one out.”
“I think more than anything you need to figure out if it’s really anger you’re feeling, and if the only reason why you hate this website is not because of its purpose but because of your lack of control over it.” Sam finishes.
“I can’t say I agree with it either,” Mrs.Yang grunts, “It’s not something I think college students need to be worrying about. Things like that stick with you, but it’s their choice to indulge in it, Y/n, you can’t control that.”
You sigh. You guess so, but you still feel like you need to get rid of it. You’ve been slacking, not paying attention to it as much as you should because of all the chaos it’s creating. It’s been a while since you’ve done a petition or made a list of ideas as an attempt to shut it down, but for now it seems like enough to just hate it. They can’t change your mind. Not Seungmin, not Sam, not Jieun, not Mrs.Yang, not Chan or Changbin or Minho— not any of them, and especially not Hyunjin. You just want to be hateful in peace and you don’t know why you don’t seem to be allowed to do that.
You leave the shop feeling lighter, but also like you didn’t actually get any good advice. Sure they validated your feelings, but that’s it. You’ve been trying to figure out your feelings. You know why you’re frustrated, and even though it felt good to be validated it also felt like a waste. You hold the bag of art supplies closer to you as you walk. The sun is setting, painting the sky reds, and oranges, and purples— and you think maybe you’ll paint that. To represent the end of the turmoil that surrounds you, as something hopeful.
You relish in the soft slope of your shoulders, in the relaxation you so rarely feel nowadays, and walk briskly to your dorm so you can fall into your bed and try to forget about the fact that there’s a party you’re supposed to be at tomorrow.
And as if the thought brought it on, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out quicker than you’d ever admit and a relieved smile pulls on your lips when you see it’s from Seungmin.
pup: be ready by 9
you: ok!!!!!
you: i miss you
There’s no more responses but you don’t let that dampen your mood. He still wants you to go with him and that says enough. You do feel terrible about the way you acted— the way you’ve been acting— but you know it’s justified. You’re not irrational. Not at all.
If you collapse at the foot of your bed, art supplies sitting on the floor by your feet, and a paper by your head titled #686, no one has to know.
This Saturday has not been a day of relaxation for you. You didn’t have any plans, though instead of enjoying the peace you so rarely received, the day consisted of you running around your room with a frazzled energy following behind like a ghost. At first you contemplated showing up in a sweater and jeans; no makeup, no jewelry, just you and a lazy fit— but realized that would only bring you even more stares than if you dressed as slutily as possible.
It’s with a black leather mini skirt and a black, lacy, low cut long sleeve tucked inside that you finally allow yourself to relax. You’re probably dressed way too flashily for a college party, but you can’t entertain any thoughts like that or you’ll spend the next three hours obsessing over it— and that’s three hours that you don’t have. Knee length boots stare at you from the door and it’s with a sigh that you walk to the door and put them on.
There’s more reasons to be nervous than just the party, between the inevitable walk with Seungmin to the encounter you’re most definitely going to have with the CSC and all of its users, you’re out of your element. There’s not enough deep breaths to make you calm down, there’s no method available to help clear your mind. Your heart races much more than should be healthy. It feels like hell, even, and all you can do is let this plethora of nerves run its course.
When your phone buzzes with Seungmin’s ‘I’m outside’ text, it almost feels like your heart stops. Fuck, Seungmin’s gonna ask who you’re all dressed up for, gonna ask why you’re so nervous. Why are you all dressed up? Why are you even going? It’s too much, too much of not knowing, not understanding, not feeling right. What will it take to get you to feel right? Like in freshman year when your biggest worry was whether or not you were passing your classes, now it feels like that's a lifetime ago. Like you’ve encountered way too much to even consider anything like that— not that you need to worry about it anyway. It was supposed to be a carefree year for you. You’re always on top of your responsibilities, always prepared, and nothing ever changed that until you went on that site for the first and last time.
You stop, relax your shoulders, take a deep breath that’s otherwise pointless, and step out the door. You curse the day you ever went on that website. It’s why everything is all messed up now, but you rid those thoughts from your mind. You’re determined to have fun tonight no matter what, and no matter who’s there.
Seungmin waits at the door, A button-down hanging off his shoulders and jeans. His hair is combed back and he’s ditched the glasses.
“Hey.” It comes out meeker than you’d like, a little too timid for what your relationship with Seungmin is.
“Hey,” he smiles, the braces you love so much on full display. Your best friend is beautiful, and it’s with a pang to your chest, it’s with seeing him now— so welcoming and so normal with you— that a small part of you realizes maybe you have been being irrational. Maybe you have been acting too strongly, but then you remind yourself that you’ve never been irrational. Never.
“So I’m guessing we’re going to the CSC’s dorm?”
“You’ll fit right in,” Seungmin laughs, starting to walk. You struggle to catch up to him; it’s been so long since you last wore heels that it’s hard to get used to. You don’t grace his comment with an answer, simply relishing in the soft nightly breeze and the shine of the moon. The stars glitter from above you, light years away yet so visible. So sure of their stance in life. You don’t think stars blow up at their best friends, or feel confused, or feel lonely.
You arrive at the party all too soon. From a block away you could see people drunk, staggering in the same direction, and from down the street you could hear the bass of the music, but the warning signs weren’t nearly enough to prepare you for the actual sight of it. It’s like the typical house parties you’d see on TV, but louder and more nerve-wracking. People hang out in front, the music loud enough for them to enjoy even from outside the building. Lights flash from behind the window, an array of purples, greens, reds, and blues. You can see people's shadows from behind the curtains over the front windows, and you feel like you’re about to throw up.
“Oh god,” You mumble, taking a few shaky steps inside. You can't do this. You’re gonna freak out and embarrass yourself. You can almost feel the anxiety seeping from your pores, and the word no repeats over and over in your head like a mantra.
No no no no no.
You can’t do this, but you do it anyway. Stepping inside the party is a feat in itself, and you can’t tell if your hands are shaking from the strong bass of the music or because of pure anxiety. The music knocks into your body so strongly that your knees buckle, barely able to hold you upright. At any moment you feel like you might collapse.
You can’t do it but you do it anyway, taking one step and then another, and when the door closes behind you, you resist the urge to turn back and run away. The party is full of people— so full that it’s impossible to walk anywhere without bumping into someone, and despite your best efforts you do get stares. Whether it’s because of what you’re wearing or if it’s because it’s you at a party being held by the CSC… you’re not entirely sure. You don’t think it makes a difference. You try to ignore it, act unbothered, and it must work because after a while they look away, murmuring something or the other about what you’re doing there.
Seungmin drags you away from the door and to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and cabinets like it’s his home. You take in the somewhat chill vibe of the kitchen compared to everywhere else. It’s not nearly as full, but there are couples at opposite ends acting as if it isn’t a place where food is kept.
You take a few deep breaths, reassure yourself that you can do this, and even if you can’t you’ll do it anyway. Seungmin doesn’t say anything, just pours you something sweet and fruity in a red cup and hands it over with a raise of his eyebrows. You drink it way too quickly and you know you’re gonna regret it later, but you need the effect it’ll bring. The faux calmness that’ll help you get through the night. Though with how full the party is you think that you won’t be able to see the hosts anytime soon if at all, and that’s enough to bring your heart to a stuttering stop before it resumes its beating in a much more slow paced manner. You’re still not calm, but you’re doing your best.
“Try to relax,” Seungmin chides, his gaze heavy where it bores into you. “Everything will be just fine.”
You nod, taking a more calculated sip of your drink this time. You let the music relax you instead of startle you— focusing on the beats and the melody— on the lyrics, instead of the volume and how it makes your body tremble. You can do this.
When you finally feel like you’re able to relax, Seungmin parts from you, saying there’s some people he has to see. You’re an adult, so you can handle being alone for a few minutes. Eventually, though, the few minutes turn into something longer. You wonder if maybe Seungmin is still upset with you— you didn’t speak much about it on the walk like you thought you would. Honestly, it was mostly silence, and you didn’t think much of it before but you are now. You hold your drink close to your chest, dubbing it your life line for the night.
You last all of thirty minutes before you feel like you’re getting too hot— the building only gets even more stuffy as more people arrive, all of you packaged like a can of sardines. You take the fleeting burst of confidence to leave the kitchen and go to the backyard, hoping that it’ll be a bit more peaceful (as peaceful as possible considering the music blasting), and allow the fresh air to graze your skin like a soft blanket. You sit down on one of the benches in the backyard, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. What will it take to feel at peace? Maybe there’s nothing you can do. And it’s with these thoughts that you do exactly what you shouldn’t do at a party, wallowing in self pity and confusion. You’re so caught up in these thoughts that you don’t notice when someone else joins you.
“Hey, bug.”
Your head whips up faster than what’s comfortable, and you barely hide the wince that struggles to leave your lips. Hyunjin speaks again before you can respond.
“Don’t leave, alright. Please?” He asks, sitting down beside you and smoothing his hands over his pants. “Can we talk?”
“About?”
“About us? About you? I’m tired of running in circles and I want to know why you hate me— the CSC so much.”
You’re silent for a moment, contemplating, thinking. You should get up, leave the backyard and this party altogether. You should ignore whatever it is Hyunjin has to say because he’s the reason for all this, right? Why is he always pretending he doesn’t know; acting like he wants to get to know you? Acting like it really matters how you feel. Everyone wants to understand, everyone wants to know why, but you don’t even know— but you’ll never admit it outright. You’ll never say the one thing that’s been your driven principle for the past year is something you’re unsure about. All you know is that it’s bad, that it’s made you feel ways that were foreign to you, and in order to regain control you need to get rid of it. No matter how anyone else feels about it, no matter who gets upset with you along the way. You need to do it.
Your voice is soft, but not meek. For once, you’re gonna get this entire experience off your chest. “When I first went on the site in the beginning of freshman year I was curious,” You start, glancing at Hyunjin and feeling the tightness in your chest return when you realize he’s already looking at you. “At first, I was curious, and then I was confused. I clicked on a few videos— I scrolled for a while— and I started to get this weird feeling. The more I watched the videos, the more I scrolled through pictures and posts, the feeling got stronger.”
You feel so stupid, but you continue. If Hyunjin makes fun of you he’s just proving your assumptions correct. “I’d never felt that way before and honestly, it kinda scared me, and it was annoying that I didn’t understand it. I didn’t do anything after that. I ignored how fast my heart was beating, how my body was reacting, and never went on that site again. Slowly, that confusion turned into anger— it’s not normal. The way I felt wasn’t normal, and that’s why I think that site needs to get shut down.”
“Bug…” Hyunjin laughs a little and you want to be offended, but you can tell it’s more shock than amusement. “Bug have you ever had sex? Or.. touched yourself at all?”
Your mouth opens and closes comically, but Hyunjin is patient, waiting and watching carefully for you to speak. “Is that what’s important?” You finally say, your eyebrows furrowed and you’re ready to defend yourself if need be. “No, I haven’t.”
“God, bug this is…” Hyunjin squints at you, “I think you were aroused.”
You splutter, feeling your heart rate spike in embarrassment. “What!? No. No.”
“That weird feeling? That heat in your gut,” Hyunjin says, and to punctuate he lays a large, warm, hand over your stomach. “You were horny.” This time, Hyunjin’s laugh is one of amusement, but you're too distracted by how big his hand is, splayed over your stomach and so warm it feels like it’s burning through your clothes.
“Hyunjin, the feeling— no, it doesn’t make sense.”
“Bug, if you’ve never ever been aroused before somehow, of course it felt weird. Holy shit.”
You don’t say anything, but Hyunjin continues before you can get a grip on your thoughts.
“I can’t believe this is the reason why you’ve hated us for so long, I honestly can’t believe it.”
“Hyunjin… that feeling wasn’t pleasurable. Control is pleasurable. I didn’t have a grip on anything that day and barely regained it on the days following. You can’t convince me that getting rid of the CSC won’t bring back a sense of normalcy. You can’t, and even if you’re right, I think that morally, the site is still wrong, and I’m not going to stop trying to shut it down.”
“There’s so much about the CSC you don’t know about, and there’s so much more to pleasure than control.” Hyunjin sighs, clearly more at ease now that he realizes you’re just confused. You don’t know, really, why you hate them. That’s clear. You’re stubborn though, he can tell, and even if this idea he has works— he’s not sure you’ll stop until you get what you want.
Earlier that day the CSC received an email from the dean, threatening that they’ll start looking into all that their site entails because of how often you keep badgering them about it. It’s starting to create a murmur between staff, and they’re growing increasingly frustrated. All that means to Hyunjin is you’re finally breaking through their resolve, running them down enough for them to consider shutting it down or supervising more intensely. Hyunjin can’t have that. None of them can. When Hyunjin approached you tonight he expected to have to beg— to have to plead with you to stop meddling. The site is bigger than you know, more important than some college stupidity. It rakes in a lot of cash, and he can’t have such petty reasoning stop that flow.
Hyunjin’s voice is husky as he continues and his words send an undeniable shiver down your spine “I can show you that the site, and sex by association aren’t bad at all. Mentally, you’re confused and physically, you’re pent up. We can’t have that can we, pretty girl?”
“No, we can’t.”
Wait. What? Yes, we can. Yes you can. You’ve been doing just fine right? You don’t need Hyunjin’s help. He’s not gonna change your mind because your mind doesn’t need changing.
“You can try to shut us down, but at the same time let us help you.”
“Us?” You murmur, attempting to understand what exactly is happening.
“All of us, the CSC can help you figure out what you’re feeling, right? We can help you decide what to do.”
“…You can help me?”
Hyunjin hums, removing his hand from your waist and trailing his finger along the skin just above the hem of your shirt. His fingers dip over your cleavage, tug at your necklace, up and up until your chin is in his hand, and he turns you to face him as his lips brush your cheek. “I want to see who will succeed first, so let me show you that there’s more to pleasure than control.”
He can help you. Out of all the people who ask you why, who say they want to understand but don’t try, he’s the one who’s offering a solution. As annoying as he’s always been to you, as much as he’s always embodied something you hate— the person who’s embedded such foreign feelings in your mind— he wants to help you. He wants to try, and he’s not telling you to stop your goal either. He’s not telling you it’s stupid, he’s not getting angry. He doesn’t make you feel irrational. You’re not irrational. You have a goal and it’s one you’re gonna complete, but… it doesn’t hurt to try, right? And if you succeed, if you shut them down and Hyunjin fails— if the CSC fails you’ll win. You’ll win and prove that you were right all along.
“Go easy on me.”
“Of course, bug.”
You keep your eyes downcast in embarrassment as Hyunjin whispers against your skin, his fingers gently turning your chin up and over to the point of focus. His lips. Pouty, sinfully crimson, curving upwards so surely, like they themselves know their effect on people. They look so soft, so wet. You want to feel them, and it’s as if Hyunjin’s read your mind because his lips are on yours before you can even blink.
“You just kissed me,” Your voice is airy, breathless, and usually you’d be embarrassed.
“Can I do it again?”
There’s a simmering, boiling tension both of you have been ignoring but you’ve lost the will to care about hating Hyunjin or Chan or the CSC. Momentarily, you’ve lost the will to feel much at all but a burning desire to take away any negative emotion you feel. You’re sick of it, sick of feeling confused. Last night you’d dealt with it by crying your eyes out, before that you’d dealt with it by having a screaming match with your best friend, and now you’re ready to look for something to fix it. This just might be the best way to start.
“Not outside.” You whisper, your hands clutching the fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt with such an intensity you’re afraid it’ll rip off then and there.
The trip inside and upstairs is a blur. You’re sure if anyone saw you they stared, wondering what you two were doing together, wondering what you were going upstairs for. It’s a blur, nothing is clear but what you’re going to do at this moment, and with Hwang Hyunjin of all people. Of what you’re going to do in the future, with the CSC of all people, what you’re gonna do to them— what you’re gonna allow them to do to you— that’s the only thing on the forefront of your mind. Not about who’s watching, not about who wants to know. It’s about you. You’re the one in control, you’re the one who gets to decide. You’re the one who needs to know.
Warm. You feel warm all over, pressed against Hyunjin with his thighs spreading yours open, warm in his tight embrace. Your hands are clutching at his clothes, at his arms— It’s so hot, yet somehow the constant cool air of the room makes you shiver.
“W-what do I do?”
Hyunjin chuckles, his voice the softest you’ve ever heard it. “You don’t have to do anything, pretty. Let me handle it.”
Letting Hyunjin handle anything doesn’t sound like a very good idea to you in any instance, but in this case you let him. You’re otherwise clueless in this area and frankly, if you want his help you’re going to have to accept it when it’s given. His mouth lands back on yours, a certain kind of desire running through the kiss. His hands are all over you. Trying to grab at every inch he can, and you try your best to kiss him back with equal intensity— to move your lips against his with the same fervor.
Your heart kicks up an irritating notch when Hyunjin slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold. And if Hyunjin had imagined this during late nights, cock shamelessly fisted in his hand as he dreamt of you pushing your panties to the side for him to enter your tight hole, no one has to know.
“Look at me, pretty,” Hyunjin growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with a foreign intensity. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a small burst of confidence, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for another kiss. It’s a little awkward with your inexperience, all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. His lips feel like heaven and you want them everywhere, want to kiss him forever. You want to sink his soft groans into your skin, keep the taste of him on your tongue for the rest of your days as he licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into blissful dizziness.
"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," Hyunjin teases, pressing your thighs farther apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again. "I don’t think you really hate me, bug.”
Your breath hitches when his hands move to your skirt, slipping under the hem and holding the fabric tightly. God, you feel so bare. Like Hyunjin is looking at you from the inside out. When he pulls your skirt down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, his warmth. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Hyunjin lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold. You’re so sensitive. So, so sensitive.
His hands grip your waist tightly and his lips trail upwards, the bridge of his nose pushing your shirt up until it’s so high your breasts threaten to fall, smothering Hyunjin’s face underneath them. You shiver at the thought, those sinful lips pressing kisses against the skin of your breasts; what would it feel like? Would it feel like this? This feeling that you’re still so unfamiliar with?
"Pretty girls deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Hyunjin starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. You didn’t know you could make sounds like that. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Did you come to impress someone tonight?” Hyunjin murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.
You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Hyunjin’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the bedding at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.
“You okay?” He whispers, and you nod.
“Yes.”
It’s breathless. It’s not you. It’s not the person who wanted nothing to do with Hyunjin only a day ago, but you want answers. You want clarity. And right now, you want this.
Hyunjin wastes no time after your confirmation, his fingers slipping under your panties and ghosting over your skin. He lets out a harsh breath at the feeling where you’re otherwise silent, trusting that he knows what to do. When a rush of cool air blows over you though, your legs close instinctively, and Hyunjin hums, “Stay with me, bug.”
“I’m here,” You respond, slowly spreading your legs back wide and allowing him to pull your underwear down until they’re hanging off ur ankle, your arousal sticks to the fabric, but with a flick of his wrist they’re gone. They’re gone. Oh god. You’re really doing this. You take a deep breath, and when a warm hand comes to cradle your cheek you lean into the warmth. It’s okay. You’re okay.
Soft lips press against your skin, tainting the unmarked flesh with bites and bruises. He paints your neck purple and blue, fingers ghosting between your thighs, tracing and playing with the obvious wetness coating your arousal. His mouth travels upwards, pressing against your own as he claims your lips in a devouring kiss. Everything is on fire, hot and burning as lust begins to entirely consume you for the first time.
A small moan slips past your lips as he dips a finger into your slick, warm cunt, and you clench around the digit almost immediately as instinct. The cool air and your nerves make your thighs tremble, but it doesn’t seem to affect Hyunjin— not at all— if the way he keeps eye contact with you while he fingers you slowly is any indicator. Painfully slow. You don’t know if this is to help you or torture you, and you can’t help the way your thighs tense under his ministrations.
The man before you reaches his other hand towards the hem of your top to pinch the edge of it between an index finger and thumb, and pulls the cloth away from your skin.
His eyes bore into yours: “This okay?”
“Fuck, the more you ask me the more nervous I get.”
“Okay, okay. I don’t wanna make you nervous.”
“Just… be nice to me, Hyunjin. Okay?”
Hyunjin smiles, and you exhale, relaxing into Hyunjin’s sheets and letting his musky cologne consume your senses as his touch roams everywhere else.
And then finally— yet all too quickly— the shirt is tugged away from your breasts and they fall freely as Hyunjin eagerly leans closer. His nose presses against one of your hardened nipples, and you watch his pupils dilate quicker than you thought was possible. He’s barely holding back the urge to fuck you dumb, and the finger that still thrusts slowly into your cunt stutters in its movements.
Look at you. His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly let his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it— looking all innocent— being all innocent but acting like you’re not. Like you’re so sure. You’re confused, god, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Hyunjin’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at your through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.
He dipped his head down, holding your breast in his large hand and rubbing over your nipples with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. Your hands automatically perched themselves on his shoulders, and he grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.
“Oh, god,” You moan, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slight. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.
He groans, cock stiffening more than it already had. At this rate he was probably going to cum in his pants untouched, but he held himself back. He wanted to do this right— show you all that pleasure could be. He moved his mouth from your nipple to slip lower, down lower and lower still until he came face to face with your arousal.
“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”
“Oh- oh Hyunjin help me, please,” You pleaded, his shoulders too far to grip onto; your hands instead finding his hair, running your fingers through and pulling when he nosed at your clit, groaning heartily when your wetness clinged to his skin.
It’s with a lick to your clit that you wail, your thighs threatening to close, and they would have if Hyunjin’s hands hadn’t reached out to force them down, pushing further and sticking his face into your arousal with more fervor, licking and sucking with such vigor that it felt as if he was trying to devour you. Your thighs trembled with every movement of his tongue, poking and prodding at every inch of your cunt, his nose dug against your clit and for a moment it felt like you were seeing stars. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth letting out uncontrollable moans.
You didn’t think it’d feel this good. But, you remind yourself, control feels better. You can’t let him change that— he won’t change that.
The obscene sounds that came from his actions should’ve embarrassed you, but nothing like that came to mind. Hyunjin was relentless, and you couldn’t even think of anything more than the feeling of his hair between your fingers and his tongue slurping at your cunt.
You tried to quiet your moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your arousal made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. So filthy. He was wild yet careful. But what did you know? All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you didn’t know anything could feel this good.
Besides control, of course. And you assume, the eradication of the CSC would, also.
Suddenly, your stomach tenses, your body locking up, and you quickly cream all over his tongue, shaky moans slipping through your pretty lips. Your thighs shook from the aftershock, trying to come down from this feeling. Afterwards, Hyunjin’s actions felt too harsh. He didn’t change pace at all, but it felt like your body was going to arch its way into oblivion. Unable to ignore the sensitivity of your body any longer, you pushed against his head until he stopped, attempting to catch your breath.
“You okay?”
You hum, begging the beating of your heart to soften, though as soon as it finally did you looked back at Hyunjin and saw his pants sliding down his legs. His toned, muscular legs, and it started its harsh beating once again. That wasn’t it? Of course, that’s wasn’t it, but fuck. You don’t know if you can handle anything more.
The headboard of his bed knocks against the wall as he climbs back up on the bed, moving his body closer this time and instead of only his chest hovering over you, this time his legs cage you in, one on either side, as your heart pounds itself into oblivion.
One hand supported his weight on the pillow by your head while the other was preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stared down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groaned. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever Hyunjin would come bother you. It intensifies when Hyunjin wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging the bedding from under you and you yelp.
He rubs the tip of his cock against your twitching folds, teasing actions feeling more like torture before he finally sinks in. Slowly, deliberately, but you still tense. It’s scary, having something stick itself inside of you.
“Relax,” Hyunjin murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Stay with me.”
You do your best, forcing your body to relax, as he sinks deeper and deeper still. Hyunjin grunts softly when you clench down on him, and he sighs as you blink dazedly up at him.
Pretty eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Hyunjin watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his sweat slicken forehead, and he sinks back into your slick walls with another languid roll of his hips.
“Fuck you’re so tight, baby.”
You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Hyunjin’s chest expands with a shaky breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your virgin cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper than his playful one. Tonight you’re seeing a whole new side of him— a new persona. This isn’t the annoying Hwang Hyunjin who bothers you and calls you ‘bug’, this is the Hwang Hyunjin everyone else knows. The one you hadn’t met yet.
“Oh, please don’t stop— be nice to me,” You babble, your hands grabbing at whatever you can— his shoulders, his back, his hair; and that’s all it takes before he suddenly takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher as your pussy squelches, wet and messy while your arousal smears along your thighs and the sheets.
Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Hyunjin moans—every twitch and squeeze of your pussy leaving him breathless. “Come on, baby,” He pleads, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and Hyunjin’s groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all Hyunjin. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.
He grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with each thrust. “That’s it, pretty,” he grunts, “Taking me so well, fuck. So greedy for me.” And again, you feel that strange feeling before tensing up, your body convulsing and arching up as Hyunjin’s thrusts grow more frantic— harsher and harsher as he groans gutturally in your ear with one last thrust long and deep, and when something shoots deep inside, you shiver one last time before your body sinks into the mattress and Hyunjin’s weight cases you in.
You feel boneless, lethargic with your movement. You feel when Hyunjin gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwater back on. You hear it when he sighs, something light and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. You can’t do much more than sigh, but it seems like enough for him— like that was the exact answer he was looking for. You succumb to blissful sleep right before the door shuts behind Hyunjin.
“Hear me out,” Hyunjin sighs, a lazy smile on his features even still. You’re no joke even if you might not know it yet. “I think it could really work.”
“You want us to convince Y/n to what? Leave us alone or..?” Jeongin says, leaning against the table in the kitchen.
The party has long been over, there’s a mess everywhere but it’s empty except for the eight boys and you knocked out in Hyunjin’s bed. Jisung sits sprawled on the couch, head twisted ever so slightly to betray that he’s listening to the conversation, Jeongin leans against the table and Chan has his arms folded where he leans against the wall serving as the entrance between the kitchen and the living room.
Minho downs a bottle of water by the sink, and Changbin leans against the fridge, leveling Hyunjin with an intense look. Felix and Seungmin sit on the couch opposite Jisung where they have a full view of everything and everyone.
“She barely even knows what porn is, so I said I could convince her the site isn’t that bad— and is something she could grow to like, if not love.” Hyunjin explains, his eyebrows raising in wait for the retaliation that’s sure to come.
“Why should we?” Minho asks, with a swallow, “If she doesn’t like it, honestly what does it matter.” Heads nod in agreement.
“Listen, they’re starting to consider whatever the fuck she’s selling them at those little meetings, and I got an email about investigation if this keeps up. If we fail to change her mind, we can at least distract her enough for the heat to lessen a little.”
Chan nods, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” He shrugs, looking over at everyone in the kitchen. “We change her mind, then we got one less problem to deal with.”
“And if we don't?” Changbin asks, tilting his head at both Hyunjin and Chan. “And if this is just a waste of time?”
“It isn’t,” Hyunjin assures, “Trust me.”
The rest of them don’t argue, but Hyunjin feels Seungmin’s gaze boring into him from the couch, feels his questions burning at the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out, so he leaves before they can succeed.
“We can talk about it more later, but I think it’ll work. It’s a good deed, and I know how much you guys love those.” Some scoffs and laughs fill the room, but Hyunjin is already halfway up the stairs, a plan forming in his mind and a pleasant smile growing on his face.
a note from iris: this chapter was late because of that long ass smut scene so i hope it was enjoyable and that this wasn’t 17k worth of a snoozefest 😭 i’m sorry it’s late!! so sorry but it’s still friday even if it’s 11 pm <3<3 not beta read not nothin so pls.. spare me.. and i hope you liked it !!!
not-so-mini taglist (there’s so many of y’all !!???): @chrisbahng @seonghwatoothless @bubblelixie @199719932000 @imsuchasimp00 @hyu-hl @oddinaryfelix @raspbinniecreme @fa3body @kittykatkrissa @andreaswrld @hattorihaechan @lachinitaaaaa @j-0ne25 @bangchanbabygirlx @ni-sh @green-orangeade @sincerely-skz @exclusivej3ss @elizalabs3 @lili-kims-blog @curiousgworge @midsoulz @sawadabegum @reighlee-greaves @lotus-dly @blcar @impossiblewritingrebel @yourhwngness @idek-at-this-point-lol @multihoe-net @hyun-bun @hwan-g @ughbehavior @rindomo @awesomelycoolworld @springdeity @todolyn @meowminhosblog @hyunelixies @emotionalwreckkk-blog @seungschacco @avyskai @cvfechan @jeyelleohe @vvsmydiamonds127 @chriscentric @simpforpunzngl @be-a-spacequeen @svintsandghosts @myjisung @hanjiesgf
*** if your tag didn’t work make sure your blog is visible! if i somehow missed you when tagging i offer a sincere apology <3
#hyunjin scenarios#skz smut#skz scenarios#stray kids x reader#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x female reader#hyunjin smut#hyunjin angst#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin imagines#skz x reader
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Hi everyone.
As you all know, I’m usually not the kind of person to address these things publicly, but there is a situation going on that leaves me with no choice but to speak up about it. I‘m deeply sorry for disrupting the peace that I tried to maintain on my blog by bringing unnecessary and childish drama on here and I hope that I will only have to speak up about it once. Writing this down already makes me feel so stupid, but I just can’t keep ignoring this, hoping it will eventually get better, when I know it won’t unless I share my side of the story.
Last week it was bought to my attention that @teyamshuman had updated her blog to make it look extremely similar to mine. And I’m not just talking about a few similarities by taking inspiration, I’m talking about a direct copy of my layout, navigation, masterlist, guidelines and even my about me post.
I’ve put them side by side as demonstration:
While I tried to think of it as a compliment, it still bothered me to see someone else basically copying me and all the hard work I’ve put into creating my blog and my layout, which is why I decided to reach out to her. I tried to approach this as respectfully as possible, even asked my friends for advice because I didn’t want to come across as rude or entitled and explained my feelings about this to her.
Here are our conversations:
While she agreed to change it up, it took her almost a day and barely any changes were made. I had to explain to her again and in detail what exactly was bothering me, but I continued to be respectful and kind. A day later there were still some major similarities on her blog, and I was honestly running out of patience. I still didn’t want to make a big deal out of this so I simply decided to block her for my own peace of mind and also because I didn’t feel like checking her blog every other day to check if she had changed anything or maybe even copied me again —which is a valid fear and I’m fully standing behind my own feelings and won’t apologize for them.
Only then did @teyamshuman change her blog theme enough that there was barely any resemblance to mine. She then decided to reach out to my friends and sent some of her moots to try and talk to me / ask if I can unblock her / telling me she wants to talk and apologize, etc. I choose to ignore this because my decision was already made and I was honestly annoyed by the fact that she only made those changes on her blog after I decided to block her.
Now to the main reason why I am even making this post.
After this, the following days my inbox kept filling itself with weird, rude and straight up hateful asks that were seemingly coming out of nowhere. I got suspicious but thought nothing of it, since I don’t take bullying to heart, especially not by someone hiding behind the anon button. It was then bought to my attention that @teyamshuman, who had by then blocked me as well so I couldn’t see her posts myself, published several asks of stories about me being rude and straight up toxic to others. Some of these asks even included the names of my close friends that had absolutely nothing to do with this whole situation. In her responses to these asks it seemed like she was agreeing to everything that was shared about me, some of these asks also contained misinformations and descriptions of situations that were completely out of context. This all reached a point where suddenly people were bragging to her about reporting my blog and simply stating that they now hate me after whatever she had told them about me.
The asks she responded to:
Unfortunately that is not all.
Apparently, @teyamshuman has at some point decided to stop sharing these asks, yet that didn’t change what was already done. I tried to be the bigger person in this and just continue to ignore her, especially since she told these people to leave me be, but my inbox still fills itself with hateful asks, even death threats and people straight up asking me if I’m the blog everyone is talking about / if I am "that toxic writer."
These are just some of the asks I’ve received, because I’ve immediately deleted most of them when they first started coming in. Sadly there are more and more coming every day.
While everyone is free to have their own opinion and I, by all means, can’t and won’t force anyone to like me, seeing these things about myself really hurt. I‘m trying so hard to be nice and respectful on here, even if I don’t get the same treatment in return, and I simply choose to ignore so many things that are being said to me and the way I’m treated by some people, yet the one time I decided to speak up for myself and address something that made me uncomfortable, this is the outcome.
What genuinely confuses me up to this point is that this whole situation has taken a turn where I feel like I did something wrong, when all I did was try to protect my peace and express my feelings after someone made me uncomfortable. It was never my intention to come across as rude or passive aggressive while doing so.
Now with that being said, I hope everyone is now able to see this from my point of view and make their own opinion about it. I also hope that the people behind these asks will reflect themselves and realize that what they’re doing is not okay.
Lastly I want to remind you all that this will continue to stay a safe place for everyone and I’m not trying to cause drama over something so silly, something that could’ve been handled so much better, so please don’t send any hate, threats or rude messages to anyone involved in this. This post isn’t meant as an attack against anyone, it’s meant to protect myself and bring peace.
Thank you.
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do you really think the reason Imogen doesnt get as much meta as Caleb (who got every little detail discussed with thousands of notes!) is because people are afraid of a reaction, when its so obviously sexism?
The same reason she doesn't get the exact number of notes as Caleb? No. There's multiple reasons. I'm sure some is misogyny. Some is probably audience size for the respective campaigns, and some is simply accumulation over time - a post about Caleb from 2019 has had 5 years to gather notes.
But also. Are you fucking stupid. You literally showed up because of my tags to be kind of a dick in my inbox. I and multiple people who committed the grave sin of *checks notes* interacting with me were sent hate messages for hours on a Saturday night because I hinted in the tags that I kind of liked Fearne and Ashton as a ship while not being terribly into Imogen and Laudna, and some absolutely deranged loser decided this was an appropriate response. I was called out by someone who had made a blog specifically to block me when I responded to a reblog from someone else on a post I had made stating that Gelvaan was almost certainly not homophobic in canon and that treating Imogen's psychic powers as a metaphor for queerness has a lot of really unfortunate implications. And this hasn't even touched on that one person whose entire raison d'etre appears to be harassing every single person who doesn't think Imogen, Laudna, and their relationship is perfect; and who specifically made multiple alts to harass me. Like, the "It's Obviously Misogyny" people are genuinely putting more effort into being a dick to me than in writing meta about Imogen. You might be one of them.
I talk to many of my mutuals, some of whom really like Imogen, and yes, people do decide "you know, this could be interpreted by someone as too critical, and I don't feel like dealing with the heat" and keep that meta to the DMs or don't share it at all.
You know that post that Matt liked on Twitter that people have been, let's not mince words, jacking themselves off about ever since? If you actually try to say something with substance and evidence about how Imogen has Liliana's fear (the fear that meant that when Imogen begged her mother to leave the Vanguard, Liliana turned her own daughter down, claiming to need to stay with other children) or Delilah's love (which made her cruel, ruthless, and ultimately all-but doomed her) or Ludinus's desire for power (led him to commit endless atrocities) but resists these things in her desire to be a good person - and frankly, I think painting her with the same brush as Delilah or Ludinus isn't even true but I would love to dig into her similarities to Liliana - some asshole who smugly reblogs that post every time someone says "not to be controversial I think Imogen sometimes says things that could maybe be hurtful to other people I think" will throw a full temper tantrum and might send them an incoherent anon calling them a little hypocrite.
It's also fascinating because a lot of the tantrum-havers who will defend Imogen of even the most anodyne "perhaps this is not the most positive trait" and who will cite harassment Marisha received 7 years ago as a reason to not breathe a word of criticism about Laudna - and many of these people joined the fandom about 2 years ago if not sooner - will do this at the very people who have been supporting Keyleth since Campaign 1 was still airing. I mean, seniority doesn't mean anything but if you're lecturing people about something you weren't there for and they were? Clown behavior. Oh and a lot of those people doing the lecturing? Don't really like Keyleth very much, because she does things like "be angry" and "support Orym" and "have a measured viewpoint that doesn't match theirs" and "pretty clearly, along with Allura, who they also barely ever talk about, is directing Bells Hells along a specific path of that pesky moon plot because contrary to a weirdly widespread belief this is the moon plot campaign and not the baking cookies in a cottage campaign."
I mean, half these people forget about Fearne much of the time. The only NPCs I see many of them even talk about are the Vanguard generals and occasionally Abbadina when she's convenient for an argument. Not a damn word for Orlana or Birdie or Dancer or Weva or Rashinna, and they mostly treated Deanna, Prism, and Deni$e as nothing more than implements to shove Imogen and Laudna together but man do they have mountains to say about Bor'Dor. Hell, go to the blog of someone who whines about the way people treat Imogen and look through their meta, if they have it, and the vast majority of the time it's about Ashton and Orym and Ludinus and then they spend the rest of the time complaining about how The Big Mean Fandom is So Mean to Girls but they sure don't have much to say either because turns out if you can't say anything even remotely critical of a female character, it's really hard to write anything, and that's assuming they actually care about writing about female characters instead of just being an asshole, which as stated above is, in my mind, in doubt.
If you have ever spent a single second harassing actual living women online because you didn't like their thoughts on a pretend woman you are, at least in this specific scenario, easily the shittier person. Personally I am confident in my feminist bona fides through, you know, real world activism and how I interact with and support women and feminist causes socially, professionally, financially, and politically in my actual life, but yeah even I sometimes say "you know, I have thoughts about this thing regarding Imogen...but I've had a rough week and I don't feel like having one of the fandom tar pits on my ass" so I'll send my thoughts to a few friends and then idk, write about something else. And I'm pretty thick-skinned (this is the other problem with this strategy; you filter out the more measured and kind and sensitive people first and you're left only with people like me). A lot of people have flat-out given up writing about Imogen (or Laudna, much of the time) because they don't feel like dealing with backlash over some really mild statements. And because you send kind of dickish anons I suspect that it's more likely that you might be part of the problem than part of the solution. So no, it's not the only reason, but it's absolutely a significant one. Congratulations. You played yourself.
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Hello
I guess I wasn't clear enough on the third version, so here's
Version 4
Introductions are stupid.
Hi. My name is Chris. I'm 35. I live in a small-town of about 2000 people in the center of the state of Wisconsin. It is not even close to as glamorous as it sounds. I've lived in quite a few other places though, but I guess it's true that we always go home.
I work as a kitchen manager/EC. I've been working in the kitchen on and off for most of my working life. My first job was a cashier at a certain fast food pizza place that makes rectangle pizzas. That aren't good, but the breadsticks always kicked ass.
I am a massive music fan (it's playing right now) and when I tell you I listen to all music, believe me when I say all music. My main daily playlist is always growing and includes everything from iwrestledabearonce to Katy Perry (listen to her unplugged album. Kissed a Girl as a jazz type thing is beautiful) to Atmosphere to Miley Cyrus to Alan Jackson to Dying Fetus. My favorite band is Descendents with Amigo The Devil and Frank Turner coming very very close to that coveted spot.
I am a major horror fan, and I don't think I own a single t-shirt that isn't somehow horror related. I'm a sucker for the 80's slashers. I've seen every Friday the 13th movie enough times that if you ever watch them with me, I will annoy you by quoting the lines throughout the whole movie.
I am Bipolar. Type 1.
I am a raging cynic.
I am an addict in (long-term) recovery.
I am sober.
I write more than any sane person does, but I never once claimed to be sane.
I write because if I don't, my head will explode. You can think this a metaphor all you want.
I do not write for anyone's approval, not even my own. I do this because it's a safe form of release that it's ok to be addicted to. If you have constructive criticism, I'll gladly take it because let's face it, I'm pretty bad at this whole thing. If you're just going to tell me I suck, in however many words, well, I don't need you to tell me that. Dick.
I don't follow any rules or guidelines in what I write. So I call it lawless poetry even though half of it doesn't even fit poetry. Most of it is stream of conciseness built around a line or phrase I came up with during the day. I do this every single night. It's my ritual before bed. I journal (which is also posted in a blog) and then I work on my phrases and lines. I've been called garbage at this, but to those who can't give me a reason (other then you don't like it)if you can't back up your reason for being an art critic, your opinion means jack to me. Besides, anyone who claims to be an art critic is a narcissistic jackass. Art is subjective. Not just "I don't like it." Tell me why you don't like it. Tell me it's repetitive. I need to stop. Or I'll rant and moan about why I hate armchair critics for way too long.
So what will you find on my tiny drop in the ocean of the internet? You will see bad poetry, and an awful lot of it to be honest. You'll find random drops of fiction or a story I happen to be working on and want some form of opinion on it. I post at least once a day, but can post up to ten or fifteen times a day. And most of it is just your average mundane sad boy bad poetry. And if you see how much I do post, think of how much stuff I have laying around that never gets touched. I have boxes of notebooks, napkins and matchbooks with lines I thought we're clever.
So since I write so much, what the hell is it exactly that I write about. That's easy.
The Girl With Ocean Blue Eyes*, Kid*,The Broken Mirror Girl*, My Junkie Angel*, California Love*, An Ex Band-Mate, love, lost lovers, hopelessness, isolation, drug addiction, alcoholism, depression, forgotten acquaintances, mental illnesses, rage, hate, rejection, joy, insignificant moments, slices of life, laughter, beauty, self and self-reflection, self-hate, art, other writers, panic, infatuations, obsession, therapy, group homes, rehab, jail, grace, nature, loss, hope, fear, grief, anguish, philosophy, anarchism, nihilism, religion, god, the devil, ugliness, politics, serial killers, cults, suicide, death, destruction, chaos, music, validation, closure, memory, enemies, friends, rock bottom, sex, violence, rock and roll, sin, self-exploration, bipolar disorder, schizoaffecive disorder, pain, self-destruction much more.
Consider this line right here your trigger warning. Please see above to see my chosen subjects, and it should be clear that I will write something that can bring up some feelings.
I make music as well for another creative outlet. No, I don't churn out songs like I do the written word, but I love my music and if you would like to tell me how much I suck at it here's the links:
https://www.reverbnation.com/crmsnmth
If I come off as extremely depressed in my work, please know that I am fine. I'm good. Ok? Ok.
There, now you know the barest of my bare bones. You want to know anything else, just ask. I'm always happy for the fifteen second interaction. And I always try to interact with those who interact with me, but I am not one to talk first.
If you follow me, know that I will most likely follow you back. Unless your space is empty, a bot, porn.
*Not their real names.
#writing#introduction#introductory post#blog intro#intro post#pinned post#pinned intro#introduction post#hello#hi#my writing#about myself
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The hazbin hatedom is getting out of hand for me it's really cringe. Your thoughts
I have mixed opinions on this. So beforehand, I am going to say that this is a longer post from me, and I appreciate the anonymous message! <3 I will be talking about this specific question, as well as my interpretation, thoughts, and overall feelings on this matter. Please feel free to reblog, like, and comment your opinions and keep it civil. I want to have a friendly discussion, no matter how brash I seem: this is brutal honesty coming from my heart.
For those who have ZERO clue: Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are dark "comedy" shows for an adult audience, created by Vivienne "Vivziepop" Medrano, originally airing on YouTube. Helluva Boss is currently in its second season, while we have yet to find out anything else on Hazbin Hotel, as it is now a part of A24 and BentoBox. They center on the same setting, Hell, but have two different plot lines.
Hazbin Hotel is redemption focused, led by Princess Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer. She wants to help the sinners in Hell become good and go up to heaven to avoid the yearly Exterminartion, aka a Purge. Helluva Boss, however, is about a murdering business called I.M.P., with Blitz, Millie, Moxxie, and Loona, going up to Earth with a grimoire that is provided by Stolas of the Ars Goetia, a prince. So here we go, into the Depths and reasoning of this post: the Hatedom. So lo and behold, my answer below.
On one hand, yes. The Hazbin Hatedom is a bit over the top. Yes, people are assholes. However, the Vivziepop stans who don't want to admit their precious senpai Vivziepop has done some pretty fucked up shit in the past. The hate can be unnecessary, but you know what else can be unnecessary? The toxic stans. I follow #vivziepop for certain analysis portrayals and criticism, or just general news. Sometimes people are tiresome. This is no exception.
I am falling out of the fandom because it can be toxic. I enjoy most of the characters, but other than that? Helluva Boss's current writing is NOT good. At all. The latest episode irked me to no end. I'm unimpressed with Seeing Stars. I am not very happy that they are forcing Stolitz down our throats as an "uwu pwease wove us" type of bullshit ship. I would much rather prefer Blitz and Stolas to be friends. I wished Stolas had his pilot personality and not the "uwu im a gay, tragic prince with a shitty wife, feel bad for me" bird we know in the series.
Moxxie in the latest episode is bitchy. He got on my nerves and was pissed at Millie being happy. This girl deserves more screentime (and I'm glad she got some of it) but seriously...Millie is always there for Moxxie, and Moxxie needs to reciprocate.
They made Stella seem stupid, when in reality, and if written properly, she can be a cunning and calculating villain with her brother. We've yet to see how Octavia and Stella interact, but I'm unsure.
I have definitely tried to keep my mouth shut as much as I could on this matter, because when I finally openly admit how I feel, it's not a pretty thing, especially with something that I'm so passionate about. Animation takes time, writing takes time, scripting, acting, everything takes so much time, and this is wasted potential. We can have so much better than just a fan-ficcy type rom-com, dark humor, sexual humor schtick. It's getting annoying, and I fear the worst when it comes to Hazbin Hotel.
Criticism is welcome here! Let me know what I left out. I'm willing to hear other opinions, so long as they're nice. If anons start flooding my inbox and getting mad, anons are off. Anon is a privilege, not a right.
#y'all this is the first time i really sat down to contemplate this#vivziepop#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#helluva boss critical#hazbin hotel critical#vivziepop critical#critisism#original post
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04 | potential, promises, and plotting
hogwarts au
pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader
genre: fluff, slice of life
word count: 5.1k
warnings: none that i can think of :]
summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu.
includes: red velvet's yeri, ateez's yeosang, san, wooyoung and jongho; viviz's sinb; txt's yeonjun; loona's olivia; le sserafim's yunjin; dreamcatcher's gahyeon
status: ongoing
a/n: back to post once in a blue moon :D theres quite a few people in this one huh O_O
masterlist | chapter 3 | chapter 5
The Dark Arts assignment felt like a fluke.
Well, it was a fluke.
You wouldn’t have gotten the grade that you got without the help of Tzuyu.
After that assignment, they seemed to keep piling on top. Playing Quidditch seemed to be up for debate again. Though you know somewhere deep in your mind you were playing this year. Still, you couldn’t catch a break from your studies.
Often, you found yourself in the secluded corner of the library, the place had become yours. If you weren’t hunched up over a textbook there, you were in the Great Hall. Always scribbling away on parchment, writing and rewriting your notes. Transfiguration theory made no sense at all.
Professor Lee’s words from earlier in the day returned to you.
She asked you to stay behind after class much like the many times she had before. You readied yourself for a scolding. A lecture about how you could do better, how your grades were slipping, and how you aren’t achieving your full potential.
You never understood what she saw in you.
“What are you doing?” Professor Lee asked, her eyes not lifting away from the book in front of her.
“I don’t understand—”
“I asked what are you doing in my class?”
Your heart stopped beating.
“I don’t know, Professor. I'm not sure as well... I don’t know what I’m doing in your class. I don’t know how I passed and I definitely don't know how—” you stopped your rambling. You should’ve put this together sooner. How could you be so stupid? “Did my parents—?”
Finally, Professor Lee looked at you.
"No." Her gaze was scathing.
She held your stare. A lifetime seemed to pass. You don’t if you should be relieved or terrified of this revelation.
It seemed unreal.
There was no way you were in this class without your parents pulling some—
“You are more than aware of my standards. Especially to enter my N.E.W.Ts class,” Lee straightened as she watched you freeze in real-time. Then her gaze softened, only ever so slightly. “The only reason you are in my class is because of your merit. You have potential.”
What potential is she going on about?
“Nothing else,” Professor Lee paused, her eyes steely as she finished. “And no one else.”
“I understand,” you didn’t attempt to repeat what you say every year. You really did understand, you couldn’t let her down. You didn't want to let her down. Changes meant the most these next two years. So, you will work hard this year, and unlock whatever potential she sees in you.
“Now, get out. You’re wasting my class time,” and she was back.
With a salute, you let in the quiet first years who had lined up outside. You didn’t catch the little boy waving at you.
The conversation kept playing in your mind. It brought a new sense of motivation you fear you’ve never felt… at least not for anything apart from Quidditch. It also brought up an immense amount of stress. You were playing this year, you were studying hard this year. Will you be able to win the cup again? Will you be able to pass next year? Only weeks passed and already your control was slipping. You hated that feeling with every fibre of your being.
Every sound in the hall seemed to unnerve you, clawing and climbing its way up your back until you couldn’t even hear your own ragged breathing. Couldn’t notice that you were grinding your teeth, jaw locked and aching. Worst of all, you didn’t realise your grip had pushed the quill in and torn the parchment. A gaping hole where words should be. You were so tightly wound up, all the tension caught in the back of your neck.
Which is why when someone tapped your shoulder, you sneered much like a rabid dog. “What?”
The regret was immediate when you saw familiar glassy eyes staring back. The apology is ready on your lips but...
What was his name again?
“Minwoo just wanted to say hello. You missed us by the Transfiguration class,” the diligent girl from the feast! What was her name? She was quick to step in front of Minwoo, completely blocking him from your view. That strikes you as odd, you couldn’t place why. “He was wondering about joining Quidditch, we both were… I’m Jooyeon, by the way.”
Busted by an eleven-year-old. This had to be a new low for you.
“Right, sorry for that. I’ve been so busy with assignments and it just didn't—never mind, that doesn’t matter!” you said sheepishly and pushed aside your parchment and turned to face them. When Minwoo didn’t look up, you sighed. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, Minwoo. I shouldn’t have done that, please forgive me.”
Finally, the boy looked up from behind Jooyeon’s shoulder. Were those tears in his eyes?
“Listen, are you—” you started but then caught yourself. From Jooyeon’s protective stance to Minwoo’s tears, you surmised this wasn’t about you. Something else was at play here. You just didn’t have enough information… yet. You dropped the line of question and put on the best smile you could muster. “What do you want to know about Quidditch?”
“We want to try out.”
Quidditch season was finally beginning. Eunbi pushed back tryouts in favour of her studies. Though, you knew she was plotting something. Especially with open positions. You don’t know what that meant for you, but you trusted her.
When you arrived on the field, most of your teammates were already there, geared up and gathering equipment. Eunbi stood to the side, frowning at the piece of parchment in her hand. In front of her were the potential recruits, they were thrumming with anxiety. It was easy to discern what years they were from their little groups and behaviour.
Minwoo and Jooyeon stood to the far left. Separated even from the other gawking first years who would no doubt be rejected. First years rarely made substitutes, let alone the team. But you understood their enthusiasm, you had been in the same place a few years back. In fact, a large number of second and third years weren’t going to be happy with Eunbi’s decisions either.
A smile graced your face as you patted your pockets with your free hand to find something.
“Good to see you two here,” you sidled up to Minwoo and he nearly shot a meter into the air. Why is this kid so jumpy around you? That will have to be amended. You smiled at his friend and said, “Hello Jooyeon.”
“Weird,” you muttered and leaned forward to catch Minwoo’s frog before it could leap away from him. “You’re supposed to eat these, not let them get away.”
Excited wouldn’t be the word you’d use. Minwoo couldn’t seem to look you in the eyes. Even worse, he kept glancing back at the crowd of Slytherins, shaking a bit.
Sighing, you began, “I understand if you’re nervous, it’s only natural. That’s why I brought you guys something.”
At that, both of them looked up at you, eyes shining.
“How do we feel about chocolate frogs?” you asked, as you fetched two from your pockets and handed one to each.
“I saw these on the train,” Minwoo smiled, finally. It relieved you. “Thank you!”
“I want to know who you got, open them, go on!” You folded your arms as their nervousness seemed to dissipate.
“Headmistress Boa,” Jooyeon said, reading the card while holding the frog in one hand.
“I got her too!” Minwoo said as he giggled at the frog jumping up his arm.
“Weird,” you muttered and leaned forward to catch Minwoo’s frog before it could leap away from him. “You’re supposed to eat these, not let them get away.”
“But it’s alive—”
“We’re about to start,” Yeri shouted with a clap. That was your cue to leave.
“We good?” you raised your fist to Minwoo.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Minwoo grinned and bumped your fist. “Thanks again for the chocolates.”
You aimed your fist at Jooyeon and she reciprocated as well. With a proud nod, you sauntered over to your team.
Yeonjun quickly made his way to your side and bumped his shoulder into yours. Smiling, you glanced around. This team carried you through many wins throughout the last two years. You were a precise, well-oiled machine led by Eunbi. What you lacked, your teammates covered with their strengths. The only missing spot was your Keeper, who graduated last year.
Plus, next year Eunbi will graduate. Followed right after by you, Yeri, San, and Yeonjun which leaves Olivia to fend alone. The thought was mortifying. You understood why talks of a new captain and tryouts seemed so important.
Eunbi scanned the crowd in front of her and nodded. “Quidditch is not easy. It’s brutal.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the familiar start. A spiel you have heard so many times you could probably announce it yourself.
“Without proper practice and dedication, you’ll be living in the Hospital Wing,” you couldn't help but snicker as you rolled your left wrist. Beside you, Yeonjun grabbed his right shoulder and sighed. Everyone landed in the wing at least once and that was being generous. “Forget positions, they don’t matter. What’s important is flight, speed and endurance.”
Gasps already erupted at Eunbi’s dismissal of the roles in the team. The next part should be fun.
“Five minutes,” Eunbi held up her palm. “That’s how much time I want you flying laps around the field and at the fastest speed you can manage—”
Now, the juniors seemed to pale as the senior students only groaned. This was nothing. They’d endure much worse in a proper game, a grim thought but it was true.
“—I need you to push yourselves. Those who don’t fly as soon as I say start, who fall behind, and who fail to complete all five minutes will be instantly cut.” Eunbi was merciless. “Line up! First years at the front, and each year following right behind.”
You smirked at how quickly your juniors fell into lines. Your teammates and senior students strolled up behind them. Olivia was up ahead, glaring holes into other fourth year students. Some sixth years lined up just ahead of you. It was hard not to follow in Olivia’s footsteps and glare holes into a familiar mop of hair. Fortunately, Yeonjun and Yeri’s bickering brought you back to the present.
Your line consisted of the pair and San. You didn’t have to interject to know that this race would earn you some money. San shook his head as he lowered himself on his Nimbus, already at an advantage. When you glanced at him, his usual easy-going smile was nowhere to be found.
The second Eunbi yelled the four of you were in the air. It was too easy.
San was speeding through the crowd of students, deftly avoiding any stragglers and leading the lap. The things you would do to get a hand on that broom of his. You didn’t need to look back to know that some juniors struggled with the initial take-off. Yeonjun soon followed San, quick to catch up with him. Yeri, however, had seemed to completely give up on the bet and joined you, instead. She zig-zagged through the crowd as if it were a leisurely flight and not an ordered task.
One look at her and you knew what was in her mind. Shaking your head, you steered beneath the crowd. With a grin, you completely flipped yourself around as Yeri mirrored you. You began rotating and increasing your speed. If strings were attached to your brooms, it would look like a helix. This is what happens when you don’t do your regular midnight flights. Eunbi was going to chew you out for this stunt but it meant all the same when you caught Yeri’s laughter against the wind.
Dizzy, you righted yourself just as someone zoomed past you.
Olivia.
She passed Yeonjun and San just as another person flashed by you. They caught up easily to your youngest Chaser, her ponytail just as black as Olivia’s.
Not having the heart to jostle Olivia when she was determined, you joined your friends. All four of you watched Olivia and her rival keep trying to one-up each other, even though it was futile. They were matched in skill. You assumed it was the fourth year she was glaring at.
Unsurprisingly, Olivia and the fourth year were the first to land when the five minutes were over. Both of them were panting and shaking, yet still managed to glare daggers at each other. Eunbi squinted at the two of them as you landed easily beside her.
That was not the case for a lot of students.
Completing the exercise was one thing but landing afterwards was another task altogether. Some landings were disastrous, the fatigue and nausea couldn’t have helped. And those who did manage to land somewhat decently, instantly crumpled to the ground from vertigo. Eunbi scrutinised them unflinchingly before considering her parchment.
You searched for Minwoo and Jooyeon only to find them both sitting on the ground. Jooyeon was in much better shape than Minwoo, they landed safely and that was all that mattered. It was hard not to miss the way Hyukwoo stood proudly when you scanned the crowd. He didn’t seem fazed at all. The idea of playing by his side made you nauseous.
It couldn’t be helped though.
Your teammates and previous substitutes were called up. Hyukwoo threw a smirk at you and your hands twitched.
Some new faces were called. Huh Yunjin. That was the name of the fourth year that competed with Olivia.
However, the majority was rejected. Granted, as Eunbi mentioned, some people would be instantly cut and cut they were.
“That is all,” Eunbi said with no hint of remorse.
“That’s all? We’re done already?” Someone in the back whined and you bristled. “We just flew around the field, that doesn’t measure our skill. Plus, we had to use these stupid school brooms.”
The silent but agreeing crowd parted for a girl. Possibly a first year, definitely a pureblood. The school broom frayed and splintered, landed with a whimper when she threw it at Eunbi’s feet. The sight was familiar.
Eunbi only stared at the broom, not saying a word. You were about to speak up when she inhaled deeply.
“You’re right, the school brooms suck.” The girl’s head perked up to hear the Captain agreeing with her. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not a good enough excuse.”
You couldn’t help but glance at Hyukwoo, only to find he was already staring at you. His expression was unreadable.
Eunbi called your name, followed by Yeonjun and Yeri. As if controlled by puppet strings, the three of you stepped forward at the same time, heads held high.
“These three became substitutes in their first year with those ‘stupid’ school brooms.”
“So did Eunbi,” Yeri said with a smirk before you could. Even her smile didn’t reduce the tense atmosphere.
“It’s not a good enough excuse,” Eunbi repeated. “Try next year with your own broom then.”
The student scowled, ready to whine but her friends dragged her away. With that, the others began to leave as well. Eunbi began shouting orders but you quickly excused yourself to catch up with Minwoo and Jooyeon.
“Sorry, you guys didn’t make the team.”
“It wasn’t realistic anyway,” Jooyeon shrugged but Minwoo’s disappointment was clear on his face. He stared at the pureblood girl who was yelling at her friends as she walked out. He then turned to you, disappointment morphed into caution as he said the next four words.
“Are you a pureblood?”
Jooyeon shot him a look, clearly startled by his question. Every interaction with this kid only seemed to confuse you more.
“Um, yeah,” there was no better way to put it.
“So you’re a full wizard?”
Jooyeon hissed his name and you stood there, perplexed.
“Full wizard? Minwoo, you’re a wizard too,” you said, indignant at the claim. Then it clicked. “Hold on, did someone say—!”
“Yes, but both your parents are wizards, right?” You couldn’t help but bristle at the mention of your parents. “You’re a full wizard? Both my parents are muggles so I’m a—”
“Listen, that doesn’t matter,” that was a blatant lie but you had to stop him. Jooyeon had the same idea as she nudged his side. Minwoo was unbothered by his friend and unconvinced by you. “At least, not anymore.”
That wasn’t a lie… but it wasn’t the truth either.
You had to tackle this delicately.
“You’re here at Hogwarts, yeah?” you asked and waited for an answer.
“Yes.”
"Did a wand choose you?"
"Yes."
“Can you do magic?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re a wizard, simple,” comfort didn’t come easy, you barely believed yourself. There was a strange tension in your voice but it was difficult to ignore the implication of Minwoo’s words. “Minwoo—both of you—if someone is bothering you, you come let me know, alright? Promise me that!”
For some reason, you guessed who would be putting these thoughts into these kids. Harassing first years had to be a whole new low, even for him.
When Minwoo didn’t answer, Jooyeon did. “We will, we promise. Thank you!”
She raised her fist and your lips twitched up at the action. You bumped yours with hers before moving it in front of Minwoo. Both you and Jooyeon waited with bated breath. Minwoo left but not before brushing his fist against yours and mumbling goodbye.
Jooyeon grumbled an apology on his behalf before running after Minwoo.
Are you a pureblood? So you’re a full wizard?
This was not how you wanted tryouts to go. For the most part, you were out of it, fortunately not enough for Eunbi to notice. Granted, she had her hands full.
You could only think about Minwoo.
Eunbi, in the time you'd spent with first years, had split up the recruits into small groups. There were also workshops so every new member could get a feel of each role. Everyone was assigned their usual roles except for Yeonjun and Oliivia. The former took up the Keeper’s role while the latter shadowed Eunbi, the pair conversing seriously.
You walked over to the chest where the Bludger rattled in its cage, Yeri sidled up as you sighed.
“You alright?” she asked, motioning to the recruits assigned to the two of you.
“Yeah, I'm fine—no,” you changed when you caught Yeri’s stare, “I’ll tell you later.”
She nodded, dropping the topic altogether before speaking to the new teammates. You recognized one of them quickly, yet you forgot her name already.
“Huh Yunjin,” Yeri whispered beside you as you picked your bat, sarcasm dripping with every word. “Olivia’s best friend.”
“Do you know why?”
“Jealousy. Possible threat. Youngest privileges lost,” Yeri stopped to look at you. “Do you want me to keep listing more reasons? Or… ?”
You rolled your eyes at your friend and rounded up the pair, gesturing at them to take off into the air.
“They’re fourth years, what did you expect?” Yeri yelled after you, no shame in admitting what she was whispering about.
Shaking your head, you began to explain the basics of your role. Though you’re sure they were already well aware of that, so you made sure to emphasize just how dangerous being a Beater could be. Right on time, a resounding crack echoed through the field.
The act was involuntary, muscle memory alone carried the task for you. The Bludger zoomed past the two recruits and with another resounding crack was sent back straight for Yeri. Flawless aim and deadly strength. You couldn’t help but smirk at yourself.
The new students looked terrified, to say the least, but they were poised to whack the Bludger. When Yeri sent the ball back, it lacked its usual vigour, her hit purposely pulled back. Yunjin took the initiative putting herself in the ball's way before taking a swing.
She managed to hit the ball back in Yeri’s general direction with quite a bit of strength, she showed promise. However, she did slightly stumble to the side of her broom, almost losing balance but she was quick to catch herself. Yunjin turned to you with a proud smile, awaiting praise. You couldn’t deny her that.
“Well done, that was a good shot,” she straightened as you turned to the other recruit. “Your turn.”
The colour seemed to have completely drained from the kid’s face. If he wasn’t already terrified about facing a Bludger, the fact that Yunjin had managed to hit it almost perfectly couldn't help. Trusting your gut, you readied yourself in case something went south.
A thunderous crack filled the stadium, his strength was paramount.
Now if only he hadn’t smacked the Bludger backwards. Heading straight for the stands.
You swore enough to lose a solid amount of points from your house. Good thing you were ready because you were flying at a speed you normally saved for your games. Your best friend has the same idea because Yeri was right by your side in a second.
Ignoring the shrieks from the audience, the pair of you managed to surpass the Bludger with just enough space to spare. Without sharing a glance, you raised your batting hand and striked the Bludger. So had Yeri.
With double the power of notorious Beaters, the Bludger soared high above the field and over the other end of the audience. Yeri only grumbled before speeding away after the ball. Leaving you to deal with the students whose lives you put at risk.
When you turned, the first person you see is Chou Tzuyu.
Like a magnet, your gaze seemed to land on her first. Her steely stare renders you speechless for a moment. Her knuckles were white from clutching a textbook you didn’t recognise. You wondered whether the pages were cutting into her skin.
“Listen, I’m so sorry, Tzuyu,” you may have joked about how you were always apologising to her if someone hadn’t interrupted you by clearing their throat. Aggressively.
Finally, you noticed the three other people seated next to Tzuyu. You couldn’t put names on two of them, one of which was clutching their heart as they whispered to the girl next to them. Her eyes were in crescents as she let out a chuckle, blushing to her ears. But, you did recognise Yeosang, Wooyoung’s best bud!
Or so that's what Wooyoung claimed. You’ve never heard Yeosang confirm it. For that very reason, you doubted the Ravenclaw had a glowing impression of you.
“Yeosang, buddy—”
“No.” He stood up, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he dragged the Hufflepuff next to him. They whined and made quite a scene as they were pulled away, the girl beside Tzuyu only giggled at their antics. You didn’t miss the wink they sent her before turning your attention back to Tzuyu.
Her eyes were glassy as she stared. You’ve seen her smile, you know how she can light up a room. Yet, she managed to place such a cruel unfeeling mask over herself.
“I really am sorry,” you said as the girl, having come down from giggles, shook her head. “Try-outs can be… rough.”
You turned to Tzuyu again, hoping you salvaged something of your friendship. Not even, just merely the beginning of it. Her features were still steely, which wasn't good. When her friend’s hand came to rest atop hers, she softened. That was incorrect, her eyes didn't soften, she just lost her glare.
“This is Gahyeon,” Tzuyu said, sentence clipped. “My friend.”
Gahyeon smiled widely, extending her hand. Before you could even say your name she did it for you.
“I know who you are,” Tzuyu shot her a strange glare but Gahyeon ignored it, unfazed by Tzuyu’s behaviour. “We’re all good, we knew you and Yeri had it covered. Hope the rest goes better than this!”
With a sad smile, you lowered your head again to apologize. You glimpsed at Tzuyu. Her features were still clouded with distaste, and maybe curiosity, but shifted to her aloof self as soon as she noticed you staring. Bidding them an awkward farewell, you turned to fly back to the third year.
Yunjin was to a side, her prideful demeanour nowhere to be found because she knew what was coming. The third year at fault was shaking on his broom but that didn’t deter you.
With more vitriol than necessary, you said, “You better be good at some other position because you’re not a Beater!” He tried to say something but you were quick. “There’s no point if you’re all strength, you could’ve hurt someone—”
Yeri's voice came from somewhere to your side, but you decided to continue, baseless anger slipping past tightly shut gates. But your best friend placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back, forcing you to face her.
The look on her face said everything you needed to hear. You can’t berate a kid for something they can’t control and no one was hurt… Tzuyu wasn’t hurt.
“Get the next pair,” Yeri ordered and all you could do was nod. As you flew down, you could hear Yeri console the third year who was reeling from your words.
Apart from that incident, practice went quite smoothly. The tasks were easy enough to follow, you and Yeri made sure to inform the recruits to consider aim and strength before swinging the bat wildly. Although, you didn’t allow room for anything to go wrong. Especially with the feeling of someone watching your back.
After discussing with her teammates, Eunbi assigned substitute positions to the recruits. Though, everyone anticipated who would be the lucky person to fill up the Keeper position. Hyukwoo seemed all too smug, no doubt expecting the position to be his. Which is why it was all the more satisfying to see his expression sour when Yunjin was picked.
Introductory ice-breakers. Short warm-up. Flight exercises. Two hours seemed to pass by in a blur before Eunbi decided it was time to play a few mock games.
It was supposed to be harmless but everyone seemed to take it seriously. That was understandable under Eunbi’s unyielding watch.
The intensity increased tenfold when the captain herself joined, taking her position as the Seeker. The small crowd lounging around the stadium cheered and it almost felt like a real game. Though, you and Yeri were grinning ear to ear, exhilarated just to play together again.
Once the match ended, Eunbi asked everyone to relax but not before reminding the team to meet at the changing rooms later. Some of the younger recruits were not so eager to do nothing, they began rounding up equipment for the arriving Hufflepuff team.
Eunbi was long gone and you waved away your friend's call to play catch in the air. Instead, you finally took the time to do what you loved; fly unperturbed. You missed the feeling of the winter chills crawling up your sleeves, cooling down the sweat on your forehead. Soon your mindless rounds came to a slow drive, almost floating in place, suspended in the air as you smiled at no one in particular. To even have considered not playing this year was a fool’s thought.
A blur hurtled past before turning to stop in front of you. The shiver that ran down your spine was difficult to shake off.
“So it’s real then?” Wooyoung’s voice squeaked at the end. You hoped he wasn’t insinuating what you think he was. “You and Chou Tzuyu?”
“What are you on about… ” the question died on your lips when Wooyoung looked to his left and you followed his gaze.
Not even a few meters away, Tzuyu was seated exactly where you’d left her an hour ago. Her friend, Gahyeon, if you remember correctly, was reading the prefect's textbook. Tzuyu’s attention, however, was completely on you.
Apparently, in your daze, you had been flying near her. And in return, she’d been watching you.
Fortunately, your best friend had immaculate timing.
But none of the decorum.
Yeri saved you from the paralysing staring concert by crashing right into you.
Being the professional that she is, Yeri pivoted at the right moment, parking herself beside Wooyoung. You weren’t so graceful. The groan you emitted was ugly and pained, but at least you didn’t topple off your broom and plummet to your death. The most you experienced was disorientation from the blood rushing to your head. Oh, and the insurmountable amount of embarrassment. Why was Tzuyu looking at you?
Blinking away the white spots, you scowled at your so-called friends who cackled at your misery. “Was that necessary?”
“Wouldn’t have been if you hurried instead of ogling Hufflepuffs,” Yeri offered an unapologetic smile. She was right, none of your teammates were anywhere to be seen on the field.
“And it wasn’t even me?” Wooyoung pouted, his voice pitched higher. Both you and Yeri groaned at that. “I’m heartbroken.”
“Alright, we’re done here,” you said as you turned away from Wooyoung’s unbearable expression.
“No, don’t leave me—” Wooyoung groaned instead of finishing the sentence. No doubt, Yeri shoved him too.
“Good luck with practice, Woo,” you called out as you descended. Yeri was quick to pass you, shaking her head with a smile as she did.
You didn’t leave the field without sparing one last glance at Chou Tzuyu.
Her eyes had never left you.
“We’re focusing on scoring this year,” Eunbi said just as you entered the changing rooms. “This means Beaters, I need you to prioritize Chaser’s protection over mine.”
You hadn’t even gotten the chance to seat yourself before you were shooting up.
“What?” you squawked along with Yeri. The team was quick to follow with their outcries.
Being a Seeker was no walk in the park. The title alone was an automatic target on your back. It didn’t help that there was a running joke of a guaranteed win if Eunbi was eliminated first. Of course, that has never happened. Eliminating Eunbi that is. Not with you carelessly taking Bludgers for her with your head instead of your bat. All ten fingers and ten toes wouldn’t be enough to count how many fouls you and Yeri have intercepted. It was only natural that one of the Beaters was always floating around Eunbi.
So to ask for no protection seems ill-advised.
Undeterred, Eunbi continued.
“This is especially important for our opening game with Gryffindor. Jongho did a damn good job of blocking most of our goals last year,” Olivia scowled at the mention of the Keeper. He hadn’t let her score a single goal. “Focusing on scoring means not only prioritizing our Chasers, but the opposing team’s Chasers as well. If you can keep the Bludgers and their Beaters concentrated on them, then I will be fine.”
“That’s a big if.” Yeri stated, not necessarily rejecting Eunbi’s unconventional strategy.
“You are more than capable of pulling it off. I just need you to do it,” Eunbi said, her eyes glossing over the entire team. “All of you.”
any feedback is much appreciated.
a/n: i feel like this fic is more about studying and sports than tzuyu HKSDFGJKDS like i know it seems like a slow burn, but the original draft didn't even have romance in it HJFKSDGF (i still don't know what type of relationship these two will have) it was me messing around and just dragging shit around for fun so we'll see how this one goes. as for sport, idc for it and if the stuff i say makes no sense, you've come this far i'm sure you can suspend your disbelief just a bit more :D anyways,,,see you next month-ish ? maybe ? who knows ? hope everyone is doing well and have a good day/night !
taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @tatliegilim
send an ask to be added !
#mishaps gone right#mala's collection#sanccharine#tzuyu x reader#twice x reader#twice fluff#tzuyu fluff#jype twice#twice imagines#tzuyu imagines
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burnin for you pt two | stranger things ; g.emerson
A/N ; So uh... I swear, this is not the chapter I intended to write when I sat down earlier but... I really wanted to give Gareth a moment or two to shine. And I personally feel like he definitely gets mean/mouthy and has anger issues, hates to see people being picked on. So... I guess this chapter stemmed from that. So if you wanna see a grumpy drummer get protective over a 'princess' type.. That is this.
ALSO OMG Y'ALL HAVE ME CRYING RN HAPPY TEARS BC LIKE... i did not think anybody would even look at this when I posted it. The fact that people did and they actually seemed to want to see more, like.. fuck, I'm blown away. emotions, man. Thank you thank you thank you so much you don't know how much it means to me. The feedback and stuff really does help and you don't know how much it inspires me.
Pairing ; Gareth Emerson x Sweet!girly!rich reader.
Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ;
pt one - two - three - four found by clicking since tumblr can't be trusted to show my shit in the tags and it's hit or miss..
set in season four but none of the unholy terrors of the upside down will be happening here. eddie will not be dying. huuuuge note here. Gareth's actions within stem from my own personal headcanons about him having anger issues. And being v.v protective -especially when he's close to someone. Reader, i'll remind you is sweet!girly!rich fem reader. With soooo much insecurity, i s2g. There are reasons for this that are hinted at -will be hinted at. This is gonna be a bit of a slow burn with heaps of sexual tension starting from the next chapter, most likely. Not an intense slow burn but it's not racing towards the finish line either. A jog. that's what this is.
Tag List ; @musichealsscars @aries-arcade @allelitesmut @hcloangcls @krys-orion @rampagewriting --absolutely ignore if you prefer bb and @scoobiessnacks are the only ones I have to tag bc they're on my taglist. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger things, please let me know or add yourself -> here.
Warnings ; the jocks. they are the warning. there is a confrontation. There is a fight. There is the teeniest mention of blood/injury. There is a v.v. insecure reader. more internal pining on both sides but no real... romantic type stuff... yet.
Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (pls.. pls... send me things) but they're limited to headcanon asks + filth/fluff alphabet letters -> send me things.
I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.
“You.” your nose wrinkles with disgust as you tilt your head slightly and shield your eyes from harsh sunshine above. Mason Allen is standing there, but he’s not alone. No, he’s got two of his idiot friends with him because apparently, stupidity and being an actual creep are spreading diseases. You swallow hard as the three of them step closer. Surrounding you.
“Relax.” Mason’s voice is quiet. His eyes drag over you longer than necessary. Long enough that you pass over from discomfort to real fear. He steps closer to you. Gently guides your chin up to make you look at him and he’s giving you that plastic fake grin when he does it and you just feel so sick… You shove his hand away with disgust and this only makes him step even closer. There’s an angry gleam in his eyes. It’s scary as hell.
“I’ll scream…” you trail off, eyes darting around yet again and finding no one, “ I bite.” you mumble quietly.
And you will. You do. But you’re hoping to fuck that whatever this is, it doesn’t come to that.
Your stomach does a lazy flip.
“You’ve been hanging all over that fuckin little freak like a bitch in heat since you got here. It’s disgusting. I just wanna know what he has that I don’t, sweetheart.”
You rub the bridge of your nose. Now there’s annoyance mixing in with your fear and neither of those are emotions you handle well at all. They both tend to make you mouthy as all hell. And this is not a good time for that to crop up.
This could go very,very badly if you get mouthy.
Before you even have a second to stop and think about it, your eyes are scanning the parking lot a third time, searching for anybody who looks even a little familiar, a little safe.
You’re mainly hoping to find Gareth but you’re pretty sure he was gone the second the bell rang. He doesn’t usually hang around after school for no reason. Except on Hellfire night and that wasn’t tonight. And given that you don’t know for sure what he drives just yet, you can’t tell if you’re right or not.
“C’mon, doll. Answer the guy. We’re just curious. Y’know Carver beat his ass once, right? Last year, actually.” Mason rubs his chin thoughtfully, gazing at you. That stupid fucking pervy gleam in his eyes the entire time. “You really want a pussy like that, doll?”
Carver. That prick. The one who gave you an entire ten minute lecture on those ‘satanists and their fucking cult’. The one who seems to be something of a wannabe cult leader himself. He pretends to be one of those white knight types but there’s something about him that just makes you a little afraid of the guy. The only jock that you’ve met lately that you’re not afraid of at all is the kid Lucas, you babysit for his mother regularly.
But then you stop and think about it, you’re afraid of a lot of things. Insecure as hell.
“Why would you want that when you can have this, hm?” Mason gestures to yourself. And you’re trying so,so hard to bite your tongue, to keep the sarcasm in check so this doesn’t go off the rails somehow.
“ He’s not an asshole who likes to gang up on somebody and scare the living shit out of them, for starters?” you list it off. But you’re in full blown panic mode, so naturally, you don’t stop there. Between the anger and the fear, your mouth is about to land you in serious shit.
Or so you think.
“You’ve been with him almost two weeks. You gotta be gettin tired of the freaks by now. How do you know you don’t like me, hm? You never really gave yourself a chance. You were under him from the word go.”
“Better him than you.” you mumble.
“What the fuck did you just say?” he asks, clenching his fist.
“You’re ugly,deaf and stupid? Damn. Somebody really pissed in your gene pool, didn’t they?” you retort and somehow, while you’re feeling feisty enough to do it, you shove him out of your way and you’re running.
Your only goal is to put as much distance as you can between you and Mason Allen. In the process of running away, you collide with Gareth, who was coming around the side of the building from the shop class on the back side.
“You know I’m right, buddy. You know it, Gare.” Jeff insists. He catches sight of you in a full on blind run and he’s about to nudge Gareth. “Case in point… Do you really think she’d keep seeking you out if she didn’t like you at least a little?”
“We both know what’s going to happen.” Gareth insists, still totally unaware of you, approaching at break-neck speed. He’s looking down at writing covered sneakers. “Just leave it alone, damn it.” he snaps calmly.
“Yeah, I know what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna keep being weird around her til she just leaves you alone. Look, she’s not exactly the most confident… Kinda like somebody else I know.”
And then, it happens.
Gareth glances up to look around, see if he can spot you in the parking lot anywhere and he sees you alright, you’re running straight for him, full-throttle like you’ve got the hounds of hell right behind you.
You collide with him and before he can brace himself and keep you upright, you’re on top of him and his back is against the ground. And he bites back a groan because this is… Not going to help him and the situation he’s in with his little dumb crush on you and he knows it. The way you fell straddling his hips is going to haunt his memory for a long time. Even after you’ve come to your senses and abandoned him and the guys for a chance to be popular.
“C’mon. Run, now.” you’re stumbling over your words as you scramble to pull yourself off of him and trying to pull him off the ground too. Gareth is looking at you with a brow raised, taking in the way you were just running like your life depended on it, the widened panic deer-in-the headlights look on your face, all of it. And he just knows.
Somewhere at the bottom of it all, Mason Allen is involved. The guy’s been sniffing around since your first day. Popping up. Watching you. It’s creepy as hell, it never fails to piss Gareth off and his rants and tangents since this all began and Mason developed his odd fixation on you are nothing short of legendary. It’s just a matter of time until no amount of telling himself this is not his business won’t be enough anymore.
Gareth has been diligently telling himself that this is not his problem and sooner or later, you will wind up among the popular kids and hell, you might even date Mason at some point, pretty girls always go for his type, don’t they?
But seeing you so freaked out. The shake he felt as it raced through your body when you ran into him, nearly knocked him down just now, it starts to sink in.
You’re actually terrified of the guy. Of a lot of people in general, come to think of it. You disguise it with disdain, disgust and sarcasm but the fact remains.
And the anger he’s been telling himself he doesn’t have a right to feel because you’re not his girl, that all comes rushing to the surface real quick.
When this happens, he pretty much decides to hell with running. If the guy scares you this fucking bad, maybe it’s time to put a stop to the him.
Drumsticks and Gareth’s notebooks are shoved at Jeff in haste. “Keep her over here, alright?”
“Gare, wait. There’s fucking three of them, idiot.” Jeff tries to reason but Gareth isn’t listening. He’s probably hit that black out level, the one where he’s not thinking, he’s just angry.
“Keep her over here.” his voice is deathly calm when he turns around to look back at Jeff.
It hasn’t been this calm since way back in sixth grade, right before he completely messed Jason Carver’s face up. What’s surprising is that everyone seems to have forgotten just how scary an angry Gareth Emerson can actually be since then. He’s calmed down a lot since. He tries so hard to avoid fights. Even to a point where he just let Jason beat him up last year.
Jeff sees you about to make a run for it and go after Gareth but he swings his arm out in front of you. “Oh hell no. You’re not going back over there, alright?”
His tone is firm. You swallow hard and nod.
Eddie makes his way out of the back of the school and as soon as he sees what’s about to go down, he rubs his hand over his face. When he spots Dustin, he whistles to signal him over.
“There’s three of ‘em. Me and Jeff need to go help Gare, alright? Gare told Jeff to keep her,” he glances at you, “over here. You’re gonna do that, alright, Henderson?”
“O-okay.” Dustin nods, a little worried because he doesn’t know what the hell is going on. His gaze settles on you and you’re biting the edge of your thumb, you look freaked out. “What happened?”
“Stupid fuckin Mason. Again. I… I collided into Gareth and tried to get him to run but he stormed over there.”
Dustin grins to himself.
The way Gareth protests to anyone who will listen in Hellfire about the two of you not being a thing, this is only proving everyone else right.
“I need to go over there. This is my fault. And like.. He’s the only friend I..” you’re upset, you’re scared and you’re disgusted with yourself because this is completely your fault. There is no mistake. You’re about to lose the only friend you really have, all because you were too pathetic to stand up for yourself.
,, This is precisely why no one ever stick around.” the thought comes and it doesn’t help. Not a bit.
“It’s not your fault. I mean if you were egging it on, I’d say I agree but you’re not. Also, he’s not your only friend, okay? I’m your friend too.” Dustin answers quietly.
“It is my fault. If I would have just been brave enough to deck the guy in the first place..” you glance over just in time to see Gareth put his entire body into Mason’s which sends him sprawling back and doesn’t stop Gareth. Not even a little.
Gareth is straddling him now, he’s got him pinned. “You’re gonna leave her alone… Right, Mason?” he asks, snarling the words as he holds onto the front of the other guy’s shirt. Mason is about to flip him but Gareth uses the fact that he’s actually got muscular legs and more strength in them than anyone really seems to realize to his advantage and he grips Mason’s sides, keeping him from flipping them. “You’re always talkin about us… You guys are the creeps. Not us.” he spits when he says it. “Pickin on somebody who can’t do anything because that’s so manly, right?” he lets go of Mason’s shirt and lets him hit the dirt of the schoolyard.
Jeff and Eddie went over to help out, but so far, Gareth has kept the upper hand. Ducking punches thrown, coming up with his own harder ones, a stray punch or two landing with him but he doesn’t seem to notice.
They’re shocked because the last time Gareth got this angry was all the way back in middle school and it took years for any of the jocks to even consider pissing him off again. Some of them who haven’t forgotten the whole thing still keep a pretty wide berth when it comes to Gareth.
Two of Mason’s buddies act as if they’re going to go help and triple team Gareth but Jeff and Eddie grab hold of them and hold them off with a smirk. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, hm?” Jeff asks, smirking at the one he’s got hold of. Eddie chuckles. “No, no no.. Three on one, that’s not fair, right? You’re gonna stay right here, buddy.” he tells the one he’s grabbed and holding back. “This is gonna happen, bud. Just accept it.”
Gareth happens to look up just as you come running over to try and stop it from getting out of hand and this is what kind of calms him down a little and brings him back to reality. The angry haze begins to clear out and he pulls himself up off of Mason, wiping the back of his hand across his bloodied mouth. “Don’t even look her way again.” is the last thing he tells Mason Allen and Mason waves his hands defensively when he doesn’t answer quick enough and Gareth looks like he’s going to punch him one more time because of it. “Okay, alright. Fuck. I won’t even look at her.” he insists, but at this point it’s as if he’s pleading more than anything, there’s a slight shake to the jock’s voice that has Eddie snickering and Jeff chuckling quietly with amusement.
With the potential that the fight was seen, the jocks scatter away, retreating to the gym. Gareth’s taking deep breaths to calm down. “Dude, you want your emergency inhaler?” Jeff asks when he sees Gareth trying to catch his breath. “Just to be safe, man. I’ll go get it.”
“Yeah.” Gareth answers, panting, digging down into his jeans. He tosses the keys in Jeff’s general direction and Jeff bends down to scoop them up then he takes off towards the truck Gareth drives. You make your way over, wincing and grimacing as you catch sight of the busted lip and the bruise on his cheek.
And you’re conflicted because seeing him get that angry was scary, but on the other hand, if you’d been braver, if you’d stood up for yourself to begin with back around the third day when Mason made this a pattern, it wouldn’t have happened.
You’re worried about him. He could have gotten seriously injured if things had gone just a little differently.
“You didn’t have to do that.” you mumble softly. “I should’ve.. I should’ve done something.”
Gareth shrugs. He really doesn’t say anything. Neither do you.
But you have to do something. You untie the pink silk scarf tied into your ponytail and you step up to him cautiously, holding it out. You wince and you gingerly press the fabric against his mouth. It’s not ice, but it’ll get some of the blood off.
“Dustin?” you motion the younger boy over.
“Yeah?”
You nod to your own bag discarded on the lawn because it was too heavy and you needed to run fast and get the hell out of dodge minutes ago. “There’s a dollar in the pocket. Go get me something cold out of the vending machine, please?”
“On it.” Dustin makes his way over to the dropped bag and picks it up, finding the money. Then he takes off for the gym.
Gareth’s breathing is back to normal and he’s calming down, but he’s kind of thrown for a loop because you didn’t see everything you just saw and run like hell. Or decide that maybe giving in and just hanging out with them was the better idea.
As it sinks in for him, he’s staring up at you.
“I can go if you want.” you mumble quietly, your stomach twisting as you say it.
This has to be too much for him. It has to be.
“No. It’s fine.” he mutters quietly.
You nod. Dustin comes running back over with a cold drink and you hold it against Gareth’s lip. “You shouldn’t have done that. I..I should have done something about it myself.”
“Do what, exactly? He would’ve had his friends waiting. That’s how those assholes operate.” Gareth answers quietly. Hissing at the cold against the heat in his busted lip. Trying to cringe away a little because of it, only to have you step a little closer, just enough that he’s slightly towered over you and your body’s just barely grazing his. The cotton candy scent of your perfume gives him something to focus on and he breathes in and out slowly.
“I know, just..” you take a deep breath. “It’s my fault.”
“But it’s not. You didn’t ask the guy to be a fucking creep.” Gareth states quietly.
You shrug. But you don’t say anything because you don’t know what to say. You only know what you feel and you feel like this is all your fault somehow.
“He didn’t… do anything, right?” Gareth asks, tensing up.
“No, no. No. I ran.” you reassure him. You back the cold drink away from his mouth and grimace, shaking your head.
“Good.” he takes a deep breath or two, relieved. Wincing because his lip is throbbing and he feels like shit after the adrenaline has started to wear down. He’s eyeing the aluminum can in your hand and you pop the tab, holding it out to him. “H-here.”
When he takes it, his fingers brush your hand and for the millionth time, it feels like someone’s just dragged a live wire over him. He takes a sip of the drink and holds it out to you.
You don’t realize how big this is yet. Gareth’s not the one who shares everything easily. The fact that he’s sharing a Dr. Pepper with you right now is definitely a bigger deal than he makes it seem or that you even realize it is just yet.
“Did you drive here?” he asks quietly. You shake your head. “Uh uh. Walked.”
“Do you uh… Do you want a ride home?” he asks quietly.
You nod. If he takes you home, you can at least get him cleaned up a little better.
“Yeah. Only if you don’t mind and it’s no trouble, though.” you stumble over your words. You’re relieved because you know at least two of the jocks happen to live out near the same area as you and you always see them driving past when you’re walking.
Gareth steps closer because something else is starting to sink in. You’re never outright asking for anything nor will you say yes to anything without tacking on “Only if I’m not bothering you” or some variation of it at the end. And he’s starting to realize that really, really bothers him too. Makes him want to find anybody who ever made you feel like you have to make yourself small or whatever it is you’re trying to do and show them how it feels.
And he realizes finally that he can’t just continue on keeping you at an arms length. And he really doesn’t want to, either. Even if all he ever gets is friendship, it’s better than nothing, right?
He decides then and there that yes… yes, it is.
“Hey, Emerson.. We’re going ahead to Grants. Just come by when you get her home.” Jeff calls out and as says it, he nudges Eddie. “Doesn’t have a crush on her my ass, right?”
Eddie laughs, nodding. “Cmon. I gotta stop by Reefer’s on the way.”
– ( an hour later )
“You’re sure this is okay… Right?” you ask him for the third time and Gareth chuckles quietly as he nods. He brings the truck to a stop behind Eddie’s van at the curb of Grant’s house. You’d cleaned out his lip and fussed over the bruise. More than once during the amount of time he was in the house you live in, he got the feeling that you were alone there a lot.
When he asked you about it, you told him your parents were always away with your dad’s work. You acted like it wasn’t a big deal at all but he could tell it bothered you. So, he’d asked again if you wanted to come with him and watch the band practice in Grant’s basement. He’d had to really convince you that it would be fine, that he wasn’t angry about everything that happened in the schoolyard, that no one was, but he managed to and you’d agreed to come back with him.
After changing of course. And if he thought the little soft sundresses in their varying pastel hues were something of a distraction, he had not prepared himself at all for the sight of you in a pair of shorts and a soft pink sweater that hung off of one shoulder with the sleeves hanging over your hands slightly.
Because he’d damn near forgotten to breathe when he saw you.
Your hair was out of it’s usual ponytail and bow and it was loose, a little wild.
He was still trying to decide which way he liked you better.
Distracted as hell and nearly turned down the wrong damn street when he got to the part of town Grant lived in just because you were sitting in his passenger seat.
“I’m telling you, it’s fine. C’mon.” he chuckles quietly and you nod. He gets out and makes his way around to help you out of the truck. The two of you make your way into Grant’s basement via the door on the side of the house and Grant’s immediate response is to grin and high five him and say that he wished he hadn’t missed the whole fight.
Gareth shrugs it off.
Eddie smirks and nods to you. “Decided to come with you finally?”
“Yeah.” he answered, glancing back at you where you’re sitting on an old sofa in the corner. He drags his hand through soft,curly hair and shuffles his feet. “Don’t start shit.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Gare.” Eddie laughs, giving the shorter boy a friendly shove. “C’mon. Let’s play.” he tells the others as he picks up his guitar. You watch as Gareth takes a seat on his stool behind his old drum kit. Scooting forward on the sofa a little more as they cue up a song you haven’t ever heard before, but it’s a little catchy.
You’re bouncing your foot with the music and smiling.
You feel a little more relaxed for once. Hopeful.
Maybe if nothing else, you can finally make friends again…
But there’s that nagging doubt in your mind too… What if you push him away too somehow? What if he’s not what you’ve got yourself thinking he is and the same shit that happened to you before, in your old school, happens again?
All you can do is see where everything goes. Carefully.
#gareth emerson#gareth the great#gareth emerson imagine#gareth emerson fanfiction#gareth emerson fanfic#gareth emerson x reader#gareth emerson x fem!reader#gareth emerson x fem!reader imagine#gareth emerson x fem!reader fanfiction#// all i can say is.. i uh.. have no clue where this came from + say that this is my own personal interpretation of the character so... yep#// fight#// jocks being jerks#// jocks being creeps#// protective!gareth#// goddamn it my boy deserved his moment to shine so here we are.
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🔥 ??
This ask game
On a completely unrelated note
Anyone on marauders TikTok at this point I simply do not trust. I don’t like your vibe. Your existence irritates me and I can’t wait for life to knock u off your high horse a bit. Not like a lot, but enough to make you bearable to share the planet with.
People have taken the marauders fandom way too far and way too seriously and I think it should all just burn down.
Erase it all. Give it 5 years to cool off.
Also snape is not that bad?? Yall are fucking CRAZY in your hating him but hyping up Barty. Crazy. Insane. “He bullied children” well your guy tortured Frank and Alice longbottom and fucking killed people for the sake of blood purity. Therefore I challenge you to come up with a legitimate excuse and not some random fictional morale code?? Like why is that the line. Why is that your reason. “He bullied children” for gods sake do you hear yourself??
At least be creative jfc.
I think there’s a lot of nuance to Snapes story, especially with aspects of class, privilege, gender (being a white male vulnerable to extremist ideology due to upbringing and life experiences)
ALSO ITS FICTION
It’s fucking fiction. I say where the story is interesting because it’s MY blog.
Anyways this will probably be my last ever marauders post so I’m going out with a bang.
The reason there’s so many male fics is because creating characters from just a name is hard and not really in the nature of fanfiction and the only marauders era fleshed out characters are Sirius black and Remus Lupin because they’re the only ones in the Harry Potter books.
Like what yall have done creating depth in all these side characters is truly phenomenal but ohmygod the way you attack people so quickly for just writing m/m ships in this space where the only canon fleshed out characters are the men is INSANE. Thats literally what brought them here. You’re the weird one. And be weirder!’ Be weirder enough to write the W/W fanfiction with those little one fact character skeletons. I support you this is the place for that!! Stop being mean to other people and show some initiative or I will fucking fire you. With actual flames.
ALSO let people make fan films, don’t let people make fan films. Maybe it’s a scam, maybe it’s being written by criminals from their prison cells. Maybe it’s just people out here trying to do a group project like this is school. Stop. Caring. It’s none of your business.
I have never cared for cosplay, you do you boo but it’s not my thing. I do think it’s fucked up when you treat them like the character though and mess with their lives as human beings. Maybe try being normal, or pursuing a career in becoming a shitty therapist because you seem to care a whole lot about other peoples business.
Read fics because you like the summery or because you found it at 2 am in a comment section or ao3s page. Dont read fics because it’s “the it fic” right now. That’s bordering way too close to fast fashion trends and that is not allowed here. You are breaking the non-capitalist rules of our weird nerd hub.
You are not going to like the hyped up TikTok book.
Let that philosophy apply here.
Also This is not a book. It is a fanfic. Treat it like someone brought home made cookies to your doorstep. If you bite it and spit it in their face because you forgot to tell them you had a nut allergy or you wanted brownies instead it is your bad. You should have asked about the nuts, and you should say THANK YOU YOU MADE ME COOKIES.
Anyways goodbye forever marauders fandom it was fun I love all you silly little characters. I made lifelong friends, I laughed I cried I puked in my mouth a little (—meg from supernatural) but mostly you made me realize how fucking stupid it all is and fear for our future as a civilization.
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Hello, I've been a big fan of your blog for at least three years now but I wanted to ask what you recommend to people thinking about posting their writing/art online?. I'm a poet and I really want to post my work online but I'm terrified for a number of reasons. Mainly, about not being able to grasp people's attention. (And my work being stolen/ reblogged w/ credit but yk). I love your work and would really like to get your opinion on this.
Hi there lovely!
Thanks so much for the ask, I'm genuinely honored to be sent an ask of this nature; I'll do my best to give you my thoughts on the subject. <3 (I got a little long-winded, I'm really passionate about this. tldr; sharing a piece of yourself in your writing is absolutely terrifying but you should do it anyway.)
When I first started posting my writing (7 years ago?!) in the Sherlock fandom, I was so afraid that people were going to be mean. Literally the only way I could start posting was by telling myself that if everyone hated it, I could just delete it and pretend it had never happened. And I was terrified when I started posting drarry stuff on this blog and I told myself that if even 10 people liked it, that would be enough (I couldn't have imagined how many people would engage with this blog and my fics). Over 350 stories (ranging from 50-100k words) later, I still regularly get nervous about posting things.
I don't know how to get people not to steal other peoples' work. I don't know how to stop ai bots from consuming writing/art and popping out soulless shit because of what it consumed. There are no answers that I can give you on this front.
And if I'm being honest, I don't have the foggiest clue how to grasp peoples' attention. The follows this blog gets and the posts that get attention continue to be a mystery to me; I can't ever guess which things will gain traction and which stories will go dark (and sometimes I get pissy about it- my fic on AO3 with the most kudos is a stupid 1k story that I wrote in 30 minutes while stories that I've spent literal years writing do half as well, but I digress). And there are stories that I see other people writing that I'm obsessed with- their prose, their imagery, their crafting- that don't receive anywhere near as much love as they should and I can't understand that either. It often seems like there is no rhyme or reason to what "does well" and what doesn't.
Which is why I can't let myself get caught up in which stories are well received and which aren't. For me, writing and sharing things can't be about what will get the most reach because I can't base the story's worth (or my own worth) off of that or I'd never post anything at all. Don't get me wrong, I love for my fics to receive kudos/likes, comments, and reblogs- it's a euphoric high. But in the end writing has been about giving myself permission to be free to be an entire person without the constraints I put on myself day in and day out. It's been about putting into words all of my darkness, my fears, my failings, my desires, my wants and needs along with all of my beauty, and strength, and joy, and hope. It's been putting my heart down on a page and believing that the response I receive is less important than the process of self discovery. Over and over, I've written myself the life I want to have; I've written the type of partner I want to have, the type of partner I want to be; I've written about healing and self discovery. Writing for me has been a way to fall in love with myself over and over again, to heal woundedness, to offer myself some hope, some comfort, a dose of encouragement and bravery, a little bit of tenderness when it was scarce.
Reading fanfiction when I was in my early twenties saved my life. I'm not saying this to be dramatic, it is actually true. Reading fanfiction saved me from an abusive relationship and helped to keep me from going back. Reading fanfiction taught me what it meant to be loved well and it changed my standards for myself forever. Part of my desire to pour back into this community stems from that. If there is even one person whose life can be touched in that way, who can realize how lovable they are, who can see how they deserve to be treated and loved, my time was well spent.
I'm not saying that has to be your reason for sharing the gift of yourself. We all write and create for different reasons. But I do believe that all humans were made to create and we were all made to share ourselves in what we make. Share your words for you. Share them as an act of rebellion. Share them as an act of war or change. Share them as a way to express the deepest emotions of your being. Share them because they are a part of your own soul. Share them as an act of self-love and a way of honoring the unrepeatable, beautiful person that you are. Whatever your reason for sharing your words, make it a reason that is about you. You deserve to be seen and loved, to be known in a way that can only happen when you give yourself permission to be vulnerable. There are, in my humble opinion, few things that bare your soul the way that sharing something you've created does. Love yourself enough to give yourself away.
#i hope this helps!#you're beautiful#share your story#create#asks#writer ramblings#c rambles#i love writing
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oh my god ya'll are so fucking people to people who don't like horror. it's great if you enjoy it but some of us just get scared too easily so we can't enjoy in the same way! there's no reason to write paragraphs upon paragraphs about how we're judgmental and don't appreciate the genre and are making "asses out of ourselves" just because some of us have a lower threshold for fear than you!
I specifically said it's okay if you don't like horror movies and I could not care less if you personally do not like them, especially if it's for reasons like this. What I WAS objecting to was people being belligerent, ignorant assholes over subjects they know nothing about. I used horror as an example because it was what I was dealing with (guy getting on my case for being part of the "lowest common denominator of weirdos" for liking fake movies about ghosts and monsters), but it absolutely applies to ANY subject where people have to deal with cruel and ignorant remarks directed at them for a profession*, hobby or general interest.
(*I'm talking about people being snobby to minimum wage retail workers or, idk, telling librarians that all they do is "read books all day" or something, not being a cop or designing military weapons or whatever)
Anyone who's owned a pet bug or gotten into specific music scenes or have a niche interest in, idk, doll collecting or something, have come up against people who know nothing but act like they know everything for the specific purpose of being mean to someone for no reason. This is not the same thing as having actual criticism or just not liking something because it doesn't fit within your interests or preferences. There are much more malevolent manifestations of this in, say, people who deny climate change and say climate scientists are lying/don't know what they're talking about because "the weather is normal where I live".
I don't care about superheroes, I think the MCU is a blight, but I'm not walking around being a jackass to people with encyclopedic knowledge of comic books and personal investment in these characters! I'm not making asspulls about half-remembered badly-received story arcs or pointing at Rob Liefeld to make the claim that all superheroes suck and you're stupid for liking them! Why? Because I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, and though I'm not particularly interested in learning much more, that doesn't give me the high ground to mouth off at people who know this stuff better than I ever will. In fact, a whole ton of the notes on that post are people discussing their similar experiences with mindsets like this, but in different genres/media/topic/etc!
like I'm sorry but if you read the "paragraphs and paragraphs" of what I wrote, but missed this part:
If you’re just not interested in horror, or if you dislike certain subgenres of horror, then that’s fine, you’re not obligated to like anything at all. but smugly announcing that you don’t like horror because you dislike a handful of VERY specific non-universal tropes is just as stupid as saying that you hate comedy because you don’t like adam sandler movies.
Then maybe you can go back and read it again, this time trying not to get offended over the fact that there are people out there more knowledgeable than you on subjects you aren't even interested in.
"I don't like horror because I get scared easily" that's cool!
"I don't like horror because everyone who likes horror is a regressive freak and a danger to society because i saw one that i didnt like in 2006" is not!
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I've started picking at a new world with new characters. Due to moving twice in about two weeks (once from Kansas to [omitted], then from sewage shithole apartment to normal apartment), things have been hectic and I haven't been able to talk about anything.
I have posted two short practice stories about Hervey and Algernon (with Ray in one of them). Both of them involve spanking punishments between littles and their caregivers.
Horror Movie Night
Excerpt:
“Daddy, please. I don’t want a…” Such a stupid word, “spanking”. I can’t ever say it out loud. Thinking it is enough to make me queasy.
He grasps my hips in his fingers and glances up at me with soft, caring eyes. “If you didn’t want one, why did break my rules, knowing I’d give you one when I found out? And I always find out, sweet pea.”
“It’s a stupid rule.”
“No, it’s a rule put in place so you sleep well, because horror movies give you nightmares and make you skittish for days—sometimes weeks! I know you haven’t forgotten that. You’re not allowed to watch them unless I’ve checked the content and we view them together. Maybe if you were better at distinguishing fiction from reality, this wouldn’t be such a problem and we wouldn’t need a rule about what you consume.”
Summoning Circle
Excerpt:
“Am I going to have to start spanking you two just to get answers?”
Ray is the one who breaks down and swivels around, eyes full of tears as he rushes through his answer. “It wasn’t a summoning! It was communication.” He sounds so proud of his use of a big word. “Hervey said we could talk to nice ghosts if we used pretty-scented candles.”
“That is not how that works, kiddo.”
“It isn’t?” Ray glances over at Hervey, who slips down further onto the couch.
“No, it isn’t. The candles aren’t important—the spirits within the vicinity are, and you can’t guarantee they’ll all be nice.”
I hate having to admit that ghosts are real. This fascination Hervey has with them could put him in serious danger if he makes contact with a vicious spirit.
One of the biggest rules I grew up with was never to mess around with the supernatural, because it could mean accidentally bringing unruly spirits into a home. There are other ways it can backfire as well. Some people are forced to move because their current residence is filled with malicious ghosts.
~*~
I'm still working out a lot of the details. I have some pairs and even a polycule, but I'm still developing characters and the world.
The gist is that Hervey - along with quite a few people who identify as littles - have a fascination with the supernatural. I won't spoil why, just that it's kind of important. Not all littles are like this, but... Yeah. There is a reason.
One that no one quite understands yet.
Ray does tend to go along with whatever Hervey does, though, because his own fascination is overriden by his fear. :')
Doris is their designated driver for checking out creepy places. She's a trans girl in a polycule with two mommies, and she's "older" in that she can drive and work a lot better than Hervey (who has a part-time job) and Ray (who can't work at all).
I consider them more "middles" than "littles" in cases like Doris and Hervey, but still... that's just because their related ages are a little older.
This universe has a lot of littles and caregivers who tend to congregate in their own communities.
...Which means I get to write a lot of public spankings hahahaha I love fiction >:)
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that post about 'shaming queer ships' neatly avoids the fact of the matter that the drivers of MLM ships online aren't MLM but women and that even queer women are capable of fetishism and no you can't use the 'canon str8 ships suck' excuse when this bs most often involves erasing canon interracial ships to prop up white men, not even trying to improve m/w ships, and most tellingly ignoring or minimizing WLW in canon and fanon. that's not even talking about the rampant biphobia.
I appreciate that you're upset but I feel as though you're putting words in my mouth. Plenty of MLM and NWLNW people ship Byler. It's not fetishizing queer men to ship Byler and as a queer woman, I'm not going to apologize for liking the relationship. I'm a fan of childhood friends to lovers as a trope which is the main reason why I ship Byler, not because I'm creepy about gay guys. It's not even my favourite ship in the show, it's just one that is very frequently criticized so I was defending it.
I'm sure there are plenty of people who ship m/m ships in a weird fetishizing manner but it's a huge generalisation to say that people pushing Byler are all women with a fetish for gay guys. The reason I didn't talk about this issue is because it's an issue separate from the post I was making which was about hate on queer ships. When I mentioned people being accused of fetishizing gay men for shipping m/m ships, I was talking about people getting told that for no reason. As I said, it's an issue that women have this weird view of gay guys but I never said that it wasn't.
I also didn't say that canon straight ships suck. I'm a big Jopper shipper and I have spoken about several times how much I love Lumax. I have never erased interracial relationships to pop up white men either, considering there is only one interfacial relationship in Stranger Things and I ship it. But even so, it's not erasing interracial relationships to ship Elmax as you can still think two characters would be cute together even if one of them is dating someone of the opposite race.
Again, I never said m/w relationships shouldn't be improved. If there's a bad relationship on the show then they should absolutely write it better. But just because I'd rather Mike be with Will does not mean that I think m/w relationships should never be improved. I just personally don't know how they'd fix Mike and Eleven's relationship. It would be very tricky to do writing wise as they've made it seem like Mike isn't interested in Eleven at all. Who knows maybe they'll pull a miracle and I'll end up shipping them but I really really doubt that. M/w ships should be written well but if it looks like a relationship is ending that's not bad writing, it's the plot.
I also don't know where I minimised WLW? I'm a lesbian myself. My favourite ship in Stranger Things is Ronance and I talk about it a lot on my account. I absolutely love sapphic ships and I've watched pretty much every show under the sun with sapphic characters and relationships in it. Before I joined the ST fandom, I made posts about Buffy, Haunting of Bly Manor, Fear Street and other shows and the posts were mostly about sapphic ships. Some of the examples I gave on hate on queer ships applied to queer men but that's because m/m ships get specific types of complaints like about toxic masculinity that don't apply to WLW. I would never minimize WLW in canon (I mean Robin is my favourite character) and I don't know where you got that from my posts?
And in terms of rampant biphobia, again, I really don't see where I was biphobic? The only time I mentioned bisexuality in that post was saying that just because a guy dates girls doesn't mean he can't date guys which is the opposite of biphobic. Maybe it's about how I said I doubt Mike loves Eleven but that's not because I'm biphobic, it's because of the fact he can't say I love you to her.
Again, if I said something stupid then I'll accept that but I don't really see what I did wrong here? I got a criticism earlier about how I said that we're treating straight men's fear to be seen as gay as valid when a fear to be seen as gay is valid which I made a follow up post about and realized my mistake. But in this case, you're just making up things I said and getting annoyed at them.
And I just think it's a smidge ironic that I made a post about how people try to make it problematic to ship things like Byler only to be told I'm problematic and fetishizing queer men. Thanks for the ask anyways, anon.
#stranger things#stranger things four#byler#st4#stranger things analysis#will byers#robin buckley#byeler#ronance#elmax#lumax#jopper
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End of the year kick, week one
What Are You So Afraid Of?
Fear, in general, is a good thing. It keeps you from doing a lot of stupid stuff. Fear of injury stops you from jumping off the roof. Fear of being poisoned stops you from eating random mysterious berries.
Unfortunately fear also stops a lot of us from writing. Fear is making writing this post really really hard actually.
But, what is there to be afraid of when it comes to sitting at a keyboard and tapping some letters into a document? What is it really that we’re all so afraid of?
See, here’s the thing about fears. Often we are told that our fears are irrational. In fact the definition of a phobia is an irrational fear.
But most people's fears, even if they manifest in you doing somewhat irrational things, do have a rational basis.
My personal phobia is of centipedes. And I disagree with the idea that being afraid of those horrible many legged creatures is in any way irrational. Centipedes are poisonous. A bite can cause tremendous pain. Thus it’s logical to be afraid of it. Is jumping and cowering if I see one on TV rational? No, of course not. But I think most people would agree that it’s reasonable, especially if they know the particular origins of my fears. That’s something most people can grasp when it comes to that sort of thing. Something bad that happened to you in the past will naturally color the way you interact with that thing in the future.
When it comes to writing, things get a lot more fuzzy. Why are so many people afraid of writing? It’s not like Scrivener has fangs and likes to hide in the boots you left beside the back door.
And writers often aren’t very good at parsing out what they’re actually afraid of. Overwhelmingly people say a variation of “I’m afraid I’ll write something bad.”
And I, like a smartass, usually say. “So? It doesn’t matter.”
Which… is true (if not particularly kind!) Nothing terrible will happen to you if you write something bad! But all the upbeat encouraging slogans in the world like: It’s better to write something bad than not write at all! and Great is the enemy of good, and good is the enemy of finished! They all dodge the point really.
Because fear is for a reason. Fear exists to keep us safe. To stop us doing something dangerous, something deadly. And for writers who are too afraid to write, or too afraid to finish what they write, it’s as real as centipedes or tigers.
So my question is… what are you really afraid of? What is actually stopping you from finishing that novel, or fic, or short story, or blog post.
It’s not pleasant to dig through the darker fears of your psyche. But I find it helps to get down there, grab that stubborn burr of a fear, and drag it into the light so you can see what a sad shriveled raisin it actually is.
Ironically my biggest writing fear is writing blog posts. Yes, that’s what I’m doing right now. (I volunteered to write posts for this challenge without thinking that through very well.)
But anyway! Why am I so afraid of writing advice blog posts? My knee-jerk is to say that my brain just doesn’t compute like that. That fiction is intrinsically different to non-fiction. But that’s just excuses. Digging deeper, I start remembering stuff. I’m afraid of writing something bad, yes. But why? What does my hind-brain actually fear will happen to me? And so I remember. The worst criticism I’ve gotten on my writing in the past is when I talked about my writing process. That’s what I’m really afraid of. People reading my posts and telling me I’m stupid, or wrong, or even deciding I’m a bad writer because I do it wrong. Because over the years some people have done that.
And honestly… thinking about that? I hate it. Why am I letting some assholes from years ago dictate how I live my writing life? Why am I allowing them to have any power over me?
Of course just knowing that doesn’t immediately fix how anxious I get about posting a blog post. But it gives my rational brain logic weapons to fight that anxiety.
And I don’t know if most, or even some of you will be able to sift out similar experiences that have built up your fears. But figuring out what I’m actually afraid of has helped me immensely.
Over the next two months we’re planning posts to talk about how to deal with particular fears. But for now? Here’s your homework. Pick a writing project you’d love to get finished. Do a little thinking about exactly what you’re so afraid of. Is it because it feels special and important? Or is it judgment from others that you’re afraid of? Or perhaps you just think you’ll be wasting time. Dig down into why you feel that way. Journal about it, message a friend, or talk about it in your writing group. Shine a spotlight and show it up for the flimsy obstacle that it is.
And then sit down and add some words to your writing project.
MareeB @mareebrittenford
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A path of self-destruction
So I’ve seen that 14th March is Write Your Story day. Sounds neat, though I have no ideas for fiction to write about right now. But I have a personal story. I wanted to write about it for quite some time, because for some weird reason I feel more comfortable writing about some psychological stuff in English. It seems easier - and safer. Here might be no people that know me personally. And with a small audience it also feels... like I am in a small circle of silent respectful strangers, telling my story without a chilling fear of being interrupted or shunned. Or being avoided.
People don’t like sad body horror stories.
It’s an act of self-preservation for sure, our mind tries to protect us from horrible things, as it tries to be a protective parent guarding its kid. I understand it. It’s not like I tell the whole story to everyone, firstly it would take a long time, secondly - I don’t like making people upset. If people around me, who like me, are getting upset only by mentioning a miniscule part of stuff, why should I force them to listen the rest?
But sometimes... I need to tell it.
Heh. And how should I begin?
“There once was a girl with a loving family. She had both parents, a mother and a father. But strangely the girl was growing up strongly relating to fatherless kids her age. She was growing up waiting for her father’s death”
An intriguing kind of start, I hope.
The thing is it’s quite hard for me to tell you about only this part of my forming years, because right after high school there were also several traumatic circumstances I lived with, and stories about my dad and the coup, and the civil war, and severe trust issues, and loosing a feel of basic safety, and a crushing feeling of being a hated outsider in my own country are heavily intertwined. But... I doubt my writing abilities to tell you everything in one post. Maybe next time. I’ll mention those situations briefly, just keep in mind that... well, it was all happening at the same time.
So.
“She was a shy girl, whimsy and timid, a kind that usually becomes some sort of an artist. Five years might be not the best age to learn about death, but this realization came to her quite early. We all gonna die, she realizied, and nothing will stop it. She cried and ran to the kitchen to her mom, looking for comfort, but mom couldn’t say anything to console her. “It happens in many years!”, she tried to tell her crying daughter. She wasn’t expecting this conversation so soon”
I don’t know how others get this awarness of their own mortality. I simply haven’t asked, actually. I got mine after watching Conan the Barbarian and The Fifth Element movies. Oh, and add Princess Mononoke to this soup. And many 80s and 90s scince fiction and action movies, that were by far not kid-friendly! Yeah... my mom admits she and my dad were stupid to show me these movies before elementary school, but now I can tell young gen-Ziers that in my time we were much tougher kids!.. Well, come on, don’t give away all the credits to Don Bluth, a Grand Child Traumatizer, an old Total Recall was a blast! :D
My mom also thinks that there were too many familiar people who died through my forming years, both relatives and friends. I don’t know, maybe she is right. My grandpa was buried at the day of my 14th birthday, a year before two family friends died, a year after there were grand-grandma and three family friends, and many more...
14 years old. Yeah. I remember, it was a first time when I thought: “My dad will probably die because of a stroke. His face gets so red when he is screaming in anger”. 2008 year, hello, House M.D., teaching me new words.
“A girl was told by her dad that she had a happy childhood, a roof above her head, a food on her table and some money. Often told. Constantly told. It was true, but was there a need to repeat it? He needed to. He also told her he can clearly see she doesn’t value anything he gave her. That she doesn’t respect him. He demanded love. He believed there were all the ingredients for happiness. He was telling it but he rarely talked to her. They lived in one appartment yet she felt they were a little closer than strangers”
My dad was a complicated man to say the least. He was a large man with a strong physique, a wide chest yet narrow shoulders. His features were rounded: a round face, a big nose, plump lips, bushy eyebrows, even his black beard was making him feel rounder. My whole childhood I was told I was a female copy of him. He was a man leaving a grand impression about him, a succesful man, loved by his friends, relatives and wife... and strangely enough he was also an absent father.
For some reason I still can vividly remember his dark yellow teeth, black on the edges, and a brown tongue behind them. He drank a very strong black tea, 2 to 4 teabags at the same time in a large cup. The stains after such tea was impossible to wash away. Oh, and I just have to mention the amount of smoking he had. Pack after pack. Some fathers quit smoking when they get kids. My father was smoking even when I, being an infant, was sleeping near him in my mom’s embrace. I never smoked myself. Never ever.
The smell of cigarettes was everywhere. It was on the furniture, on my clothing, on my hair. The smell was so strong sometimes my teachers in school were asking if somebody recently smoked, although I was a whole day away from home. The smoke turned wallpapers in my dad’s room yellow; a lamp, a table, a computer and bookshelves had a very distinct greasy feel about them because of resin and dust. Maybe only whiskey and vodka bottles were cleaner. They were changing often.
My mom was worried about him. She called it “a path of self-destruction”.
And he still had a leg in those years.
It was 2011, I was still 16, soon turning 17, when I heard about the second type diabetes. I didn’t understand how it workes, but the most shocking news were: “They are going to amputate your father’s big toe”. Oh man, it’s so silly now how scared I was.
It’s just a toe.
What’s weird to me to remember that from this and several years later I was fixated on the topic of amputation. It was a repeating theme in my sketches... though it weren’t legs. It were hands. A crying mermaid with amputated hands. A cheerful alien with stumps instead of her arms, with clunky prosthesises made of thin metal tubes. A monster bleeding out with a chopped arm. Zombies falling apart. Decaying robots. A blood. A torn skin. Scars. Bare bones. And crying. Lots of crying characters. It was my weird way of coping.
So the doctors kept slicing his foot until there were no toes on it.
I thought he was powerful. I thought he could hurt me, though not physically. He never beated me, no. Though I was so stressed I believed my scared mom, that he could kicked us out of the house.
Bones in my dad’s foot were destructing, because he was refusing to change his lifestyle, even at cost of his own health.
I was 19. It still is a gentle age for a girl. I needed a feeling of safety... and yes, I had it at home. While also being afraid of my dad’s rage, if he knew about my sexuality.
Even if he was already in a wheelchair without a leg.
And then the coup in 2014 happened. I lived several districts away from it. For me it was one of the most traumatising events. It was brutal. I was afraid I could be killed just while walking with my dog. The world I’ve lived before was burning alive in front of my eyes. People were drunk of inpunishability. A feeling of safety was lost for many years.
The only thing in her terrified words might be true that he could turn our lives into emotional torture. Oh, he was very good at making you feel like a trash. Like the lowest of the low. Like a pathetic piece of a garbage.
My father was afraid of death and uncertainty. Numbing himself with alcohol he was able to push through those fears and take care of me and my mom. The truth is... he was a weak man, too. Instead of trying to discipline himself so diabetes would stop devouring his body, the bloodvessels in his brain, his eyes, his legs, his kidneys, my father just... stayed on the path of self-destruction.
No cries would convince him to change so he could stay longer with his loving family.
No foul wound would stop him.
I was 21. I remember that night, when he returned from the hospital. He seriously was at the death’s door. Before his return I’ve cried for several hours feeling guilt that I was angry at him, being horrified that I might loose him. When he returned, I thought about all the inspirational movies I’ve watched, you know, that kind: “After near death experience our protagonist will find a will power to change his life!”. I loved such kind of movies.
I wanted them to be truth.
I’ve heard my mom starting to weep when she walked out of my dad’s room, yellow of nicotine. I walked into his room and saw him... smoking and pouring a glass. He wanted to relax. As if nothing has happened. As if me and my mom hadn’t cried our eyes out for him.
It was the first time I’ve screamed at him in rage. I was afraid of my dad for those last years, I was always meek and passive around him because he would easily suppres me. But I was enraged at that moment. How dare he smoke after everything. How dare he drink after what doctors told us: “You can start mourning”, because his kidneys were clearly failing. And he was surprised, of course. He started laughing at me. “Look at you! You can be like that?”. I remember his dark yellow teeth glistening in the light of a table lamp. He was laughing in self-defense.
“Hey, look at her!” - he called my mom, rolling his wheelchair to the bathroom door. He kept laughing, almost hysterically, as we both could clearly hear my mom hopelessly crying in the shower.
I felt so much disdain, and anger, and sadness, but most of all - the horror of understanding. Dad was still laughing. My outburst had no other way to leave my chest but to shout at the top of my lungs right in my father’s face: “I wish you would die already!”
He stopped laughing.
I ran to the kitchen and burst into tears sitting on the floor, as that new realization weakened my knees.
There was no hope.
It was not an inspirational movie. It was not a fairytale. It was not a story about taking control over your life and trying to save it.
It was a story about unstoppable relentless self-destruction. No matter how many bones would crumble, how much flesh would be cut away, how further blind he would become.
It was despair. Soul-crushing despair. In the chaotic world after the coup, during the civil war, where it still felt safer beside my half-blind father with no leg on the wheelchair, than far from him... there were no hope that he would live long enough to even see me graduating from university.
About two more times he was also near death. Diabetes killed his kidneys.
“There once was a boy in a body of a big grown man. Both of his parents died of cancer. His lighthearted yet timid father faded away, turned into a skeleton covered with skin. His narcissistic mother, who looked like a giant jellyfish on her deathbed, died right after her son scolded her for tormenting a nurse. The boy was so lonely and sad no one around him could bring him comfort. Even the sight of sauce that his mother cooked him in the past could brought him into tears. It reminded him how harsh he was with her right before she died. He didn’t say goodbye. Or that he loved her”
I haven’t told my father a proper goodbye either.
I was abroad trying to date a girl that was clearly not a good match for me. I was looking for comfort and haven’t find any. My mother hasn’t told me anything before I returned home. She thought I was happy and didn’t wanted to ruin that trip for me. For several days she was forcing a smile for me during videocalls.
It was cerebral edema. He died at night, delirious and screaming, shouting us to run away, so the infamous nazi gang from my country wouldn’t catch us. She told me when I’ve returned home and at first I haven’t any words to say or any tears to cry.
The 6th January of 2017 was the date of his death.
He kept slowly dying over the next couple of years.
People were confused how I could be so stoic at the funeral. I don’t know myself. I just felt hollow. My mom though was falling apart, overventilating as she tried not to cry while seeing her husband in the coffin. She asked my cousin to slap her across the face so she would no lose consciousness - and yeap, it was me who slaped her, as my cousin was too shocked by such request. I felt that me being calm and stable helped my mom more than anything. I supported her. I gave her comfort. The world was crushing for her without him.
While I was thinking... that, strangely enough, my world continued to exist.
I’ve cried for my father’s death several times, but the death itself wasn’t happening. And when it finally happened, there were not many tears left. Though I still feel the ache in my heart for him. He was so lonely. He had such a big responsibility on his shoulders, he continued to work even in the hospital bed so he could provide us. He tried to protect us from the evil of the world around us even at his last moments.
I respect it tremendously, dad.
I’ve looked into my old drawings I have on my PC. My gosh. So many crying people. I haven’t realized before, how many tears were shed without actual tears, but through my artwork.
It’s such a pity we couldn’t became closer.
Eh.
It’s been six years.
I suppose I can say I’m no longer a person I used to be. I hope so. I was such a coward.
It’s 3 am on my clock, I’ve been writing for five hours in one sit, gosh darn it. Perhaps I really needed it.
And I feel better.
Despite everything happened between us, I still love you.
#my writing#writeblr#writing#family drama#diabetes#amputation#death#father's death#sad memories#writers on tumblr#pencil#pencil sketch#drawing#pencil drawing#my post#my art#arainmorn's art
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