drunk focus


5:11 / 3:10 How to get turned on by girls if you are gay? I get drunk and try to focus on what is attractive about the girl. Works for me. 

A Breach of Trust: Chapter 13

(Act 1: Chapter 1-9 )

(Act 2: Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 15.5 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18)

(Act 3 Chapter 19+)

When Reigen finally threw open the doctor office’s door, frantic and frazzled and 42 minutes late, he was certain he’d walked into the wrong room.

Colorful was the first thing to come to mind, between the wallpaper and the rug and the toys scattered across it. Blocky cartoon animals rung the wall, each a solid unnatural unapologetic color: pink tiger followed by orange monkey followed by green giraffe. The rug matched in vibrancy, stark geometric patterns stained across it like paint spatter. Camouflaged among the pinks and blues and greens were the toys: one abacus-like contraption of twirling wires and movable pieces, two simplistic puzzles where single pieces belonged distinctly to each of the six gouges in their surfaces, a single plastic truck gunked at the wheels with paint chipped along all sides from years of use.

Reigen looked up, and registered the three distinct sets of moms and children spread around the waiting room, each parent varying degrees of visibly exhausted. The left-most mom sat rocking a snotty and red-cheeked baby on her knee. The right-most spoke quietly and tersely on the phone while her son probed her iPad. The brother-sister pair in the center eyed the abacus toy on the rug with furtive, eager glances to their mom and back.

Reigen would have eased the door shut with a quiet, embarrassed apology for his mistake. He didn’t, once he noticed the married couple tucked away in the wooden chairs in the corner. Recognition registered like surprise in Reigen’s mind—he hardly recognized them—and it was Jun who caught his eye. She flagged him over.

He stepped carefully across the colored rug, lest he step on some well-disguised toy strewn somewhere. He kept his steps high, and relaxed only once he’d made it to the open seat beside Tetsuo. He took it, attention divided between Tetsuo and the kids, who filled him with sort of a confused wonder–the brother-sister pair had now scrambled to the abacus toy, eyes alight, and were spinning its plastic pieces.

“Dr. Wong is a pediatrician,” Jun said, following Reigen’s eyes and guessing at his silent confusion.

Keep reading

idol// sehun

(n.) a person or thing that is greatly admired, loved, or revered.

Originally posted by royalyeol

pairing: sehun x reader

genre: hella angst, hella fluff

words: 10k+

summary: you were never good at describing things. but sehun was like a manual, except his manual was in a different language and half the pieces were missing.

A/N: YO GUYS SHOW SOME LUV FOR THIS FIC XO p.s. if this fic sounds familiar its because i deleted it and reuploaded on a new account :) QUICK DISCLAIMER: very brief mentioning of suicide and all opinions made are not my own so yeah, enjoy :)

The smell of congestion and late-night fumes proved an ironically refreshing change from the suffocating warmth left behind the glass doors.

A deafening sound of mainstream music had now been reduced to a soothing muffle and it was only when you leaned against the balcony railing that you could finally breathe, without being offered a drink every three minutes.

You love the city. Despite the constant honking from taxi drivers who overcharge, and the soaring buildings that hold white collar workers running on empty fuel and energy drinks, it was always enough to drum up a fascination of how your thoughts sizzle out, leaving nothing but quiet in a midst of chaos and carbon fumes.

It was a calming change from your current situation. A dull ache made worse from a stupid kid kicking your seat on the plane from New York made it all the more desirable to crawl into bed and forget about this stupid party. Or what Yeona would call ‘a party of opportunities’.

Business was never your speciality. Even if it was embellished with Korean idols sporting elegant clothing amongst overpriced drinks, mingling with the elite like it was merely second nature. You didn’t know how Yeona did it.

You also didn’t know how they did it. Because it was easy to miss the glimpse of sleep-deprived eyes made more prominent under certain lighting, the enrapturing smile of an idol enough to fool anyone into thinking they were the symbol of modern day perfection. It hadn’t taken you long to realise that the finer details mattered, and that it was easy to miss something seemingly unimportant.

“I heard that 1 in 5 people commit suicide by jumping.“

You jolt slightly, whipping your head towards the noise that disrupted the constant audio of nocturnal rush hour. Hawaiian print is the first thing you’re welcomed with, or more so unwelcomed with because the clash of colours is too much, too vibrant, too happy for a guy whose opening lines were about suicide.

“Excuse me?“ Your mind is unable to catch up with the quick change of situation but it strikes a comical streak because the strangers lips turn upwards, amused at the phased expression you were involuntarily sporting.

“It’s just a fact. I’m not insinuating that you’re suicidal or anything. I mean, if you are then that fact was completely uncalled for and I apologise.”

A hint of discomfort is present towards the end of his sentence as he makes his way over, seeming hesitant in case you reached out and slapped him for making assumptions about a stranger.

“I’m not suicidal.” You shoot back, half weary and half confused at the fact that you were speaking to someone who could’ve been a psychopath that snuck past security. Maybe it wasn’t smart leaving Yeona’s side.

“That’s always good to hear.” He nods, his eyes scanning the people below whom were probably too drunk on nightlife to focus on the beauty of Seoul.

Envy tugs at you slightly, the silence floating between you and the stranger makes the idea of joining the people below more appealing, knowing they were free to grab a cab home, roam any area of the city they wished or head into a concession store to buy blisters because you’re sure that your feet are begging you to do the same.

You are both silent for several moments.

“So, I’m guessing you’re not a fan of parties?” He asks, and it was then that you were able to get a good look at the strangers face, hoping your eyes didn’t linger for too long before turning towards the view again.

A few layers of concealer combined with the sharp eyeliner slashed across his eyes aided the steady progression into what appeared to be a young girls fantasy. Finer details really did matter.

“You guessed correctly.” You mumble, still hesitant towards him because the scenario is too strange, too random. Sehun nods and continues.

”What’s your name?” he asks, rubbing his eye and somehow managing not to disturb the display of eyeliner.

“Why do you want to know?” You question, remembering your mother’s warnings about modern day kidnapping and ‘stranger danger’.

You can hear her voice in your head and it makes you fight back a smile.

He grins amusingly, his head dropping slightly at the defensive display. “Has anyone told you you’re really conversational?”

It didn’t take a genius to sense the underlying sarcasm but you thought it best to just click your tongue and answer his question. A conversation never killed anybody, anyway.


“Where are you from, Y/N?” He continued.

It’s strange hearing a stranger say your name the first time, the way it rolls of their tongue in a way that’s different to any other saying your name. You wonder what his name is.

“Is this 21 questions? Jesus, do I not look Korean to you?” His invasive persona irks you, maybe it was because the silence you were revelling in had now been disturbed by a boy too bold for his own good. Either way, Sehun is still expecting an answer.

”You have an accent and I’m curious.” He responds simply, resting his chin on his propped-up hand.

“America. I got here yesterday.”

“Did your parents disown you?” Genuine curiosity laces his voice and the idea of your parents disowning you makes you laugh in a morbid, pathological kind of way. Come to think of it, you hadn’t called them yet. You’d do that later.

“Not that I know of. I’m here visiting a friend. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

He hums. “Your Korean’s good.”


“A little broken though.”

A scoff escapes your lips and you shake your head at the turn of events. Less than two minutes ago, you were complaining about that stupid kid on the plane and now here you were, having your Korean critiqued on by a man whose shirt was brighter than the interior chandeliers you’d fought to get away from.

“Yep. Okay. Probably should’ve seen that one coming. So whose decision was the hair colour. Yours or your managers?” You start, already knowing that the vibrant orange was a visual concept drafted by his management, a daring statement likely to draw up both hungry fans and press, each eager to witness his next move- if he even knew what the ‘next move’ was.

Two nights in Seoul teaches you a lot of things.

“How’d you guess?” His eyes narrow, humoured at the fact that you had been able to read him like a manual, except his manual was in a different language and some of the pieces were missing.

“Not everyone wears Hawaiian print in late autumn. And you look too young to be a manager so it was a lucky guess.” You shrug, watching him pull out a white stick from a box of cigarettes he’d dug out from his pocket.

You wonder what smoking tastes like, what the fascination is and whether Sehun’s allowed to be doing that. It isn’t something you see an idol doing in the pictures, anyway.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. So, do you know who I am?” He asks, no element of knowingness in a voice that many would die to hear.


And it was true. You didn’t know who he was, but something told you ought to have because it isn’t every day idols are told to sport what looks like a shirt belonging to a pensioner enjoying his remaining years in the coastal breeze whilst he sips on a fruit smoothie.

“You really are a fake Korean.” he laughs, inhaling a deep drag before breathing out white smoke which blends into the night air that was only slightly polluted.

“Let’s hope that changes then.” You say, not missing his lingering stare on the groups of people below who could laugh as loud as they wanted, be as crazy as they wanted because the city would never judge them, never narrow their eyes and tell them to collect themselves. Up here is a different story.

The muffled laughter from indoors is now louder, reminding you both of what was waiting behind the doors and it seems to awaken something in the man because he clears his throat and stands straighter, the cigarette that had only once touched his lips once now being flicked off the balcony.

“Well it was nice talking to you Y/N. Oh, and you should get some plasters. You look like you can barely stand.” He finishes with a small smirk, bowing slightly before brushing past you and making his way towards the doors that separated another world. A noisy world.


The orange haired guy turns on his heels just before pulling the door open, the music still a muffle.

“Did you know one cigarette takes away 11 minutes from your life?” You call. The motive behind blurting out that fact was unknown, but the flash of his thin fingers and tired eyes makes you question what it was that made him seek comfort in something that was slowly killing him.

“Really?” he glances at his watch before continuing.

“Well these 11 minutes have been pretty enjoyable for me so thank you for the memories, Y/N.” He finishes, bowing his head before turning again.

“So you’re not gonna tell me your name?” You question at last, a small part of you offended either at the lack of information he’d revealed about himself or the fact that he’d cut the encounter short, you weren’t sure. 

Either way, the autumn coldness is more prominent now and the thought of going back inside is becoming all the more appealing.

He smiles.

“It’s Sehun. But you probably would’ve googled that.” He remarks, a small wave being thrown your way before he slips through the doors and disappears as quickly as he’d appeared. The doors swallow him whole, yanking him back into a world laced with idolism and allure.

Now alone with only your thoughts and about a thousand other pedestrians below who had no clue that some of the biggest names in the industry were right above their heads, you were left to think.

”See you Sehun.”

Oh sehun is a force of nature. Whilst many 15-year olds dream of getting video games for their birthday, Sehun was being groomed for stardom at a time where his body was still changing and his voice had the tendency to crack. But all this had washed over by the time he’d reached 23 and the world of desire and sexuality had become a norm he was taught to upkeep. Through his music and overall aesthetic, Sehun has become an emblem of youth and a symbol of fantasy that young girls can dote on between classes and study periods.

But Sehun is a fleeting trend. Sehun knows that he is a brand with an expiry date, ready to be thrown out with the rest once he turns 30 because the signs of aging can no longer be covered by concealer or eyeliner. Sehun knows that his stint is merely temporary, that when the clothing racks are wheeled out and the cameras stop rolling, all that will be left is Oh Sehun, an unloved boy whose tired of being used.

Sehun is like a puzzle, except everyone was stealing the pieces and leaving nothing but an empty slate. An empty, unsolvable slate.

 You couldn’t pinpoint how long it had been since you arrived in Seoul, but the relentless calls from your parents whom fussed over whether you were eating properly was enough to suggest it had been a while.

What held you here was also something you couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps it was the spirit, perhaps it was an essence of home that America didn’t offer. Either way, your love is growing with every sunrise; something which is currently being blocked by Yeona.

“Do you do anything apart from work and sleep?” She questions, the hand on her hip making her resemble that of a motherly figure. Maybe she is a motherly figure. Although she’s a year younger, there is something in her character that possesses a nurturing instinct, a concept you are sometimes grateful for because Seoul is an intimidating place and it doesn’t take much for someone to get lost within the labyrinth they call a city.

“I know if you don’t leave now, you’re gonna be late for work.” You remark, feeling slightly sorry for your friend who always seems to be in a rush, something a lot of people are in these days.

“Enough of the sass, girl. I have enough of that at work.” And a small laugh bubbles up at the thought of Yeona bossing about young trainees, already drunk on the idea of fame.

The TV is currently stationed on a random music channel, the faces of up-and-coming youngsters adorning the screen in eccentric hairstyles that they probably don’t even like. ‘It will fit the brand’ was something they were probably telling themselves, reciting it in the mirror every day because if they said it enough times, maybe they would start to believe it.

It was the flash of orange that awakens your attention, and you turn your eyes back to the screen only to see Sehun standing there with a lazy smile as an interviewer asks him about what rituals he carries out when on tour.

“Oh Sehun. How I’d love to have his bank account right now.” Yeona wonders, leaning against the couch and slipping on her shoes but you are too focused on his response to acknowledge Yeona’s presence.

“You know him?” You ask, a little too quickly. Your eyes are still on the TV.

It’s strange seeing him through a screen. He doesn’t appear uncomfortable at the fact that the microphone is a little too close to his mouth, or the fact that the woman is asking him about what he does in his personal time.

He seems fine, completely undisturbed.

“We had a meeting with him last week. Though he seemed much more interested in what was going on outside the conference room.” Her eyes are still on the TV but the thought of him appearing bored in a business meeting makes the corners of your lips turn up slightly.

“What’s with the interest?” she asks, having a sixth sense for whenever there’s something more to a fleeting question.

“Just met him at that party you took me to a couple months ago. He seemed cool.” You explain, hoping to keep it as brief as possible.

“Ah.” She starts. “Well I have a promotion gathering next week. BigHit, I believe. You should come.”

”I have work on that-”

“That wasn’t a request.” She finishes, standing up and walking towards the door, the clicking of her heels followed by a quick ‘goodbye’ soon falling to silence after the door shuts. The room is now quiet despite the sound of a new song that was said to be a ‘chart topper’, making it difficult to process the fact that you could possibly Sehun again.

Maybe you could ask him what he’s been up to. Maybe you could ask if he still wears hawaiian print. Maybe he wouldn’t even fucking remember you.

You throw the remote onto the coffee table and crawl back into bed because it’s too early and too cold to start worrying.

“At least look like you’re having a good time.”

An overwhelming aroma of champagne mixed with Givenchy cologne was enough to make you stiffen in discomfort. You begrudgingly listen to Yeona’s advice and plaster on a smile more artificial than the decorative flowers, fingers fiddling with a wine glass that has been placed in your hands because everyone seems to know their purpose, and all you seem to know is that the decor costs more than your yearly salary.

It hadn’t taken long for Yeona to get pulled aside by various partners, leaving you with no option but to weave through the mingling crowds, careful not to bump into anyone in fears that you might disrupt their carefully constructed ensembles.

It was easier said than done, mostly because you’re a fresh face and any source of new meat is enough to arise interest; in a place where the only cameras idols must live up to are the eyes of intrigued managers or CEO personals on the hunt for the next best thing.

No orange can be seen amidst the crowd and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t sigh at the thought of Sehun not being here tonight. Probably getting bloated on nicotine.

“What about nicotine?“

You tend to think out loud.

“Jesu-Sehun? Do you always sneak up on people like that?” You scold, your mind once again running to keep up with Sehun’s presence that popped up at the times you least expected.

“Sometimes. If I’m bored. How are you?” He asks, his orange hair has grown and it brushes against his forehead more. He looks younger but the glass of bourbon in his hands says otherwise.

The only thing different about him is the suit h’s wearing, the sheer material exuding a form of elegance which compliments his surroundings and makes you realise that the price tag costs more than your half of the monthly rent.

But the chandeliers do catch something. His smile is forced, his back is no longer slouched but more upright and he doesn’t rub his eyes for fears of smudging his makeup. 

The colour of his hair has also faded.

So maybe he is different.

”I should be asking you that. You look like you’ve been busy.”

What you really want to say lies somewhere between ‘you look fucking tired’ and ‘when was the last time you slept?’. But it’s too direct, too personal. And that’s the thing with unspoken words, they disappear without any evidence of them being even a thought.

“Do I? Well I’ve started taking Yoga lessons. Maybe that’s it.” He guesses, and in that moment, you smile slightly because the image of Sehun in tight leggings, surrounded by young mothers seeking a break from their domesticated home lives makes you chuckle inside.

“Isn’t Yoga supposed to relax you?” You question, tasting the irony.

“Is it? Maybe Yoga’s not my thing then. So, are you here by yourself?” 

And it’s when Sehun says that that you realise he has a habit of changing subjects quickly. But then again, Sehun’s whole life is probably quick. Quick and complicated.

“With a friend. She works for a label, and don’t ask for the name because there’s too many to remember.” You explain, and he smiles because Sehun himself struggles to remember all the names, and when he meets people he doesn’t know, he laughs and just goes with it because that’s what Sehun’s been taught to do.

Just go with it.

“So you’re a plus one?” he asks.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” You reply. Is it a bad thing?

“It will be after the fifth time at one of these things. They get boring after a while.”

“You seem to be hanging on alright.” You comment.

He waits a moment before replying.

“We all have a boost.” He says, gesturing to the glass which makes the cubes of ice clink against each other. You frown slightly, because boosts should be in the form of a nap, or a smoothie. Maybe even an energy drink. Not a glass of brown liquid that burns your throat as it slides down.

“I didn’t know you were a bourbon guy.”

“Trust me. I didn’t either until tonight.” He laughs harshly and takes a gulp, knocking his head back slightly and you can imagine the warm sensation in his stomach that bourbon tends to have on people with a sweet tooth.

“So don’t you thin-”

His speech is cut short when another male taps him on the shoulder, and it’s as if the noises return to a normal level because what was once a world of ‘you’ and ‘me’ is now a world of ‘you, me and a hundred other people’.

The male mumbles something about a guest wanting to meet him before pulling Sehun away and into the crowd, his head constantly turning to look at you in case you disappear.

A soft laugh escapes at how he bumps into people; an apologetic look on his face. So you simply wave in understanding, catching the small grin on his face before he vanishes entirely, leaving you with no proof of his presence except the unfinished bourbon on the table.

Empty glasses of champagne are beginning to pile up and idols are making plans over future dinners and collaborations that will only ever be plans. Chaperones are being called and paparazzi are likely anticipating a quick snap of their favourites as they jump into black tinted cars where they’re free to rub their eyes and pull of the jewellery that is nothing but suffocating.

You swallow the last sip of your drink, wondering where Sehun has gone. Yeona is discussing the latest advancements of sound management but you zone out because you don’t know anything about the topic, so you excuse yourself and edge your way through suede jackets until you find a door that leads out onto a balcony.

The midnight skyline reminds you of the wallpapers on the library computers you used when you were younger although the smell of traffic and distant police sirens add to the authenticity of the view, but you take a deep breath and tut because you don’t have a jacket and your dress is too thin to protect you from the approaching winter cold.

“Y/N! Did you know the bar has every brand of alcohol ever made?”

Suit now dishevelled, the slight slur in Sehun’s voice is enough to suggest the obvious and the glass of brown liquor between his trembling fingers leaves little room for guessing.

”Sehun? Have you been out here the whole time” You call, taking long steps towards Sehun who is resting against a fire escape, the nub of cigarette between his finger dangerously close to burning his pale skin that was likely drenched from the freezing cold.

“Maybe I have. I like it here. The temperature makes it hard to think.” He utters, pumping his stomach full of tobacco with every brief drag; the sound of his short splutter making you wonder if his stomach could scream out, beg him to stop before it was too late.

You yank the cigarette out of his hand and step on it, the orange flame sizzling out just like Sehun’s willingness to even breathe.

“Why’d you do that for?”

You wonder how Sehun feels now, whether he chooses to stand on a balcony because it makes him feel detached from everything. Or whether it gives him a sense of control in a life where even his breakfast is decided for him.

Maybe he just likes the view, or the smell of pollution.

“How are you getting home?” You ask, ignoring his questions. Sehun rubs his eyes.

“I’m not going. I’m gonna live on this balcony forever with my flask so people like you can’t annoy me.” He retorts, taking a hasty sip of alcohol as demonstration. You sigh.

In Sehun’s head it would be a dream to live here. Away from everyone even though loneliness is what Sehun hated most.

“Get up. I’m driving you.” You announce, knowing that your conscience wouldn’t let you walk away after imaginary news stories pop into your head. Idol discovered dead in car crash.

Oh Sehun dies at age 23, fans are grief stricken.

“No. I’m an adult, I can make my own way home.”

You blink quickly.

“Take help when it’s given to you, Sehun. Now come on, you’ll catch a cold.” And you help him up, ignoring his protest because he’s too weak to even pull away, so Sehun allows himself to be guided down the stairs because he knows he will attract attention that would bite him in the ass tomorrow morning.

“You’re warm.” He slurs, his foot almost slipping against the metal stairs that’s slick with rain because Seoul never understood the memo about nice weather.

“And you’re freezing. Have you never heard of hypothermia?” You complain, shocked at his lack of care but then again, he didn’t seem like the type to care about a lot of things.

Sehun looks at you and grins. “You’re funny when you’re annoyed.”

“I’m glad I amuse you.” You mutter, relieved when you dump Sehun into the passenger seat of your car with a groan.

It was only when you were on the street and approaching 40 miles per hour that you feel a burning stare on you. You turn on the radio and clear your throat.

Sehun quickly turns his attention towards the building structures that watch, but don’t say. It was too quiet to say anything.

It took precisely 4 times for Sehun to coherently mumble out his address, inbetween the attempts are spent trying to keep Sehun awake because he’s too heavy to carry even though the diet plan keeps his body mass relatively normal.

“Glass pisses me off.” He mumbles, and its only when your eyes land on his house that you see what he’s talking about.

His house isn’t a home. A home is supposed to be warm, welcoming, safe. Although nothing short of wealthy, Sehun’s house was anything but a home, and the only thing that’s safe is the security cameras adorning every corner.

It isn’t long before you’re at his door and nudging him for the keys. “Come on Sehun, your managers will probably kill me if I leave you on the doorstep.”

“Fuck my managers. I’m gonna fire them all anyway.” He brags, leaning his head against the cold door because it’s the only thing that soothes his pounding head that will only grow worse by morning.

“Yep. Fuck them. Where are your keys Sehun?” You repeat, the only think you care about in that moment is putting him into bed so you can get into yours and rest your aching muscles after this strange night.

It doesn’t take long for Sehun to hand you the keys that has a small mickey mouse keyring attached. Despite circumstances, you smile a little before guiding Sehun through the halls, the only thing that stops you from getting lost is the small whines and gestures Sehun makes when reaching a specific door or hallway.

Sehun’s room is just as simple as the rest of the house. Palettes of neutral greys and blacks combined with a glass interior makes you wonder how Sehun sleeps in a room that feels, and looks, so cold.

But Sehun doesn’t have an issue because as soon as you lay him down onto the mattress, he’s practically half asleep. You slowly pull of his shoes and hope that your movements don’t wake him, but the small voice that emerges makes your eyes close. Sehun is a difficult drunk.

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

A sudden spark of intrigue holds nothing but curiosity for your act of kindness as you tuck his figure under the expensive sheets. This is what his girlfriend should be doing for him, not a random person he met at a party. Does he even have a girlfriend? There are no pictures to suggest so but then again, Sehun doesn’t look like the sentimental type.

An irrational thought about whether you’re the first girl to enter this room is swatted away, because that’s a personal thought and nothing between you and Sehun is personal. It’s public. Nothing secret.

There was nothing secret about why you drove him home when you hardly knew him. There was nothing secret about you wanting to make sure he was okay. Anyone would do the same so to answer his question of ‘why you were here’, you simply respond with a “Who else is gonna keep you out of trouble?”

Sehun thinks for a minute before speaking.

“I need to smoke.” He states, and pulls himself up but if it isn’t for you pushing him back against the pillow, Sehun would’ve gone outside and smoked another five cigarettes like they were m&ms, maybe ten if he was really in the mood. But you were there. So he needed to settle.

He’d smoke tomorrow.

“But I can’t sleep with all this shit on my face.” He mumbles, pointing to the makeup that is now half rubbed off, aiding the whole ‘wasted’ concept. Maybe this will make a good feature for next month’s Vogue edition.

Sehun mumbles something about his manager ‘killing him’ if his skin acts up and you don’t miss the hint of panic in his voice. There always seems to be something to worry about and seeing him spent on the bed with no energy to show, you wonder how he’ll function tomorrow. If he’ll function.

You reach for some baby wipes that have been left on the bedside table and gently push him down onto the mattress, brushing some of the hair away from his forehead but making sure your touch was quick and mechanical. Nothing lingering.

“Let me do it.” You murmur, pulling out a baby wipe and inching slightly closer so you can reach his face. A quick nod and a closing of the eyes is all that was needed before the cold material touches Sehun’s cheek.

His skin is smooth but you don’t dwell on it because dwelling means staying in the moment, and Sehun didn’t stay in the moment.

He was constantly moving, constantly trying to hide days of restless sleep and brutal rehearsal with concealer that is lifted with one swipe. Whether he likes it or not, Sehun is always two steps ahead yet his lungs are screaming for him to stop, take a break, drink some water. Relax.

“You do it nicely.” He hums, his body stilled under your touch and if it isn’t for the small noises of appreciation, you would’ve thought he’d fallen asleep.

But it isn’t as easy as that, because when the eyeliner is wiped away, you see him in his natural state. You see what he looks like when he wakes up in the morning and the only word that comes to your mind, despite the fiery orange hair, is gentle.

”You look pretty without makeup.”

Sehun is surprised but he won’t remember this in the morning, and maybe its best that way.

“Are you lying?” He whispers, keen not to disturb the silence because then maybe everything might stay exactly as it is. But the sun will rise soon and in place will come a new day, without her.

You frown slightly at Sehun, scrunching the wipe up and pulling the covers over his form. “I don’t lie, Sehun.”

Nothing more needs to be said and as quickly as you’d arrived, you stand up and go to the door. But Sehun calls your name quietly to which you turn around and wonder what’s on his mind.

“Thank you.”

You realise now that this might be the last time you see him, and that’s a weird thought. But you shake away the confusion with the fact that he’ll probably wake up and not remember any of this. So you smile lightly and wave.

“You’re welcome, Sehun. Get some sleep.”

You don’t know if he replies because you’re too busy scurrying down the dark corridors that are still foreign to you, and its only when you leave the house and slide into the comfort of your own car that you release a large breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding.


Sehun doesn’t know he ended up in bed that next morning. All he knows is that his head’s pounding and his phone has not stopped ringing for the past 5 minutes. He can already hear his manager scolding him for leaving the party abruptly last night but that’s not a priority right now. Because when he finds himself bending over the toilet seat and vomiting up what he couldn’t even remember eating, that’s when he feels disgusted with himself.

Or maybe it was just the smell of vomit-induced vodka that sticks to his sweaty skin.

Regardless, Sehun pukes until his throat is tired and the migraine returns. Speaking of migraines, Sehun sighs when he leans his head against the tiled walls, the cool plaque soothing his warm head. Warm. He remembers warmth. Hands? Flashes of last night return and he remembers a pair of warm hands.

Y/N’s warm hands.

Did she bring him home? Sehun looks in the mirror and sees a make-up free Sehun staring back at him. Y/N had brought him home. Y/N had put him in bed and saved him from embarrassing himself. She had seen everything and the thought makes Sehun retch once again.

But months pass and his drunk episode hasn’t surfaced in the media, almost as if it had never happened. Y/N hasn’t told anyone, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

If it wasn’t for that text message, you probably would’ve never met Sehun again.

If it wasn’t for that text message, you probably would’ve lived out the rest of your days in Seoul wondering whether he still sported orange hair or wore eccentric print.

Yet, the vibration that wakes you up at an ungodly hour in the morning has other plans.

[4:45AM] unknown: Is this Y/N?

[4:47AM] unknown: If not then this is very awkward

Somewhere between drowsiness and confusion lay your brain, a muddled web of thoughts that were pulled away from their slumber too quickly because now the bright light is beginning to irritate your sensitive eyes.

[4:48AM] you: who’s asking?

[4:48AM] unknown: the guy who likes to embarrass himself when he’s drunk

Oh my god.

It’s a wonder you manage to type out a message in the time you do after trying your best to silence your thoughts and type something that made grammatical sense.

[4:48AM] you: we’ve all been there don’t worry

[4:49AM] sehun: so you’re not gonna ask how i got your number?

[4:50AM] sehun: what if i was a stalker who just wanted to lure you in?

[4:50AM] you: i’m pretty much lured

[4:51AM] you: so how did you get my number?

[4:51AM] sehun: i found your friend and she gave it to me :)


[4:52] you: wow you really are a stalker

[4:52] you: so is there any reason you woke me up at 5 in the morning?

[4:52] sehun: shit did i wake you?

[4:52] you: no, i’m just texting in my sleep.

[4:53] sehun: sorry, i forgot about the time difference

[4:53] sehun: i’m in mexico for a show

[4:54] you: it’s okay. how’s it going?

[4:54] sehun: i’m homesick and it’s too hot.

[4:54] you: well that’s a little negative

[4:55] you: wanna talk?

[4:55] sehun: no no no i’ve prepared what i’m gonna say

[4:57] sehun: just wanted to say thank you

[4:57] sehun: for making sure i didn’t die that night

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at a memory that was over four months old, wondering what made him remember.

[4:59] you: what’s with the sudden thought?

A few minutes pass and you wonder what’s taking Sehun so long. Maybe he regrets texting you and is hitting himself with regret because now he has to endure a conversation he shouldn’t have even dug up. Your worries dissolve when the phone vibrates again.

[5:04] sehun: i don’t know

[5:05] sehun: can a guy not say thank you?

[5:05] sehun: you didn’t need to do any of that for me

You imagine Sehun getting all defensive when he’s put under a pressure and you smile at the thought. Your fingers start typing.

[5:05] you: i know sehun

[5:06] you: i wanted to

Several moments pass and the wait is gruelling. Like you’re having a pregnancy test. Not that you’ve ever had one before, but that’s what you imagine it to feel like.

[5:06] sehun: well i appreciate that

[5:08] sehun: so are you going with Yeona to the Mama’s?

You briefly remember Yeona mentioning it but you were probably too focused on a word trivia or the back of a cereal box to remember the details.

[5:08] you: probably

[5:09] sehun: will i see you there?

The corners of your lips twitch upwards because you find it hard to imagine Sehun asking this in real life, or sober in general.

[5:10] you: probably

[5:11] sehun: ok don’t sound too enthusiastic its cool

You laugh. It interrupts the silence so you quickly cover your mouth with your hand.

[5:11] you: will i see you there?

[5:11] sehun: do you wanna see me?

You let go of your phone and ponder for a moment. Maybe it’s the early hour that’s making you more volatile, or perhaps it’s the fact that he’s not in the room so you feel like you can say anything and nothing at the same time.

Regardless, it’s a weird feeling.

[5:11] you: maybe

[5:12] Sehun: good. i wanna see you too.

[5:12] you: good. i need to sleep now. you should too.

[5:13] Sehun: its 3 in the afternoon.

[5:13] you: take a nap then. goodnight. and wear sun cream.

[5:13] Sehun: will do, night Y/N

Your phone doesn’t vibrate again and your emotions are mixed. But that doesn’t stop you staring at the ceiling and fighting back a stupid smile because then you’ll definitely look like you like him, and that’s not the case. That’s not the case at all.

So you clear your throat and close your eyes, naive in thinking that sleep would ‘consume’ you because you lie there for what feels like 2 hours, annoyed at how things are never clear with him. Annoyed at how the sun is rising even though you aren’t ready for the obstacles of the day to hit you.

And annoyed at the fact that you hope Sehun will text you again.

Hope is a miraculous thing. Though draining to maintain, the constant wish of hoping that something happens and it actually becoming a reality is one of the most satisfying things life can offer.

Almost as satisfying as goodnight texts which Sehun has a strange fascination with. Every night, Sehun will ask what you’re doing, what you did that day, whether you’ve eaten. And though its near enough the same response every time, he still asks. You don’t know how you feel about that, though you don’t fight it.

In fact, you like it when Sehun texts you the small, mindless things.

Maybe it makes you feel like you know more about him, or maybe it’s just refreshing to see Sehun take an interest in someone that hates buses and trams because they’re confusing and busy.

Your guess is as good as anyone else’s.

Late October rain patters against the billboards which uses strategic colouring to advertise a new product that’s supposedly lifesaving, but was in actual fact an abuse to the visual senses. You wonder if many people died in road accidents because they were too distracted by billboards.

It isn’t long before the Mama’s begin and Yeona is tapping away on her phone, an issue backstage that had made its way onto the social sphere and you could only imagine the flustered stylists who search for extra safety pins as the idols panic about how there was only ten minutes remaining before the show aired.

“So how’s things with Sehun? Have you spoken to him?” She asks, meaning it to be a fleeting question but it leaves you stumped.

“Good. He’s a good friend.” And that was all your brain could muster up.

A good friend.

Sehun steps off stage with another award that means nothing to him. It’s a reflection of the label’s hard work, not his. He’s immediately greeted by stylists who quickly try to retouch the powder that has melted off under the intense light, strangers who pat him on the back and promise him a dinner because its ‘their treat’ and also his manager, whose likely to go home tonight and share the news with his wife and kids whom Sehun has never met because that would be unprofessional. And Sehun was always professional.

So he smiles and agrees.

‘Dinner sounds great.’

‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

‘An interview? You have to speak to my manager about that.’

It was the usual routine, like sifting through mail. Except the mail spoke back and asked him about what he’s planning to do after the award show. To which he responds with lies. Lies as smooth as his hair that has now been dyed back to black, a last-minute change from his stylist.

He can’t remember lying to Y/N about anything. Speaking of Y/N, where is she?

Sehun had won an award. He’d also dyed his hair black.

You wonder if he still gets nervous, making speeches that is. Hell, you were nervous even sitting there because everyone was sitting straight and smiling, whereas you spent the majority of the show shielding your eyes from the strobe lighting that probably looks great on TV, but gave you a headache in real life.

But the lights have now been unplugged by underpaid technicians, and idols are beginning to disperse because the afterparty is what they’re really looking forward to. You wonder if Sehun is going to an after party. You haven’t seen him yet and you want to congratulate him- for not messing up his speech, that is.

Your phone seems to have heard your request because it vibrates in your clammy hand.

[10:45] sehun: where are you i can’t see you

[10:45] you: aren’t you supposed to be mingling

[10:46] sehun: i wanna mingle with you

Your heart jumps a little but you continue.

[10:47] you: did you forget the cameras?

[10:48] sehun: i’ll find you later

[10:48] you: okay boss

Yeona doesn’t miss the small interaction with your phone, but she doesn’t say anything which you’re grateful for because it was too short to mean anything.

It doesn’t mean anything.

So when the arena empties, Yeona guides you backstage, where sweaty idols are bouncing on the balls of their feet because they’re too wrapped up in adrenaline to focus on their manager reading out the schedule for next week’s tour.

You wonder if its ‘later’ yet because the crowds seem to decrease with every high heel that’s been kicked off and swapped for comfy vans.

Its only when you’re regretting wearing the shoes you did because now your feet will hurt for a week that you hear your name being called. Yeona smiles and pretends to busy herself with a passing stylist.

And its only when your pulled into Sehun’s arms that you realise what’s happening. It’s an odd fit, but it feels familiar. He smells familiar too, a certain cologne that you don’t know the name of but inhale anyway.

You also realise that this is the first time you’ve hugged, and the thought makes you chuckle because Sehun looks untouchable but he feels warm, safe.

The irony.

“Congratulations. I’m pretty sure I heard panties dropping in the crowd when you won.” You add, your voice no longer muffled once you’re both standing in front of each other because it’s dangerous to linger when others are watching.

Your fingers are fidgeting and you don’t know whether it’s just the sheer excitement of not having seen Sehun in a while or the post-show adrenaline that might be contagious.

Either way, you’ve missed Sehun.

Luckily, Sehun doesn’t notice because he just laughs and rubs his eye. He has a habit of doing that.

You know, its weird hearing your sarcasm in real life. Don’t lose it, it’s funny.” He says. “So, how did I do?”

“Your Japanese greeting was a little broken.” You tease, referencing the time where he critiqued your Korean on that balcony that’s now just a distant memory.

Sehun seems to have realised too because his eyes widen and he laughs. “Okay, maybe I deserved that one. It’s gotten better though.”

You roll your eyes, trying to bite back a smile that Sehun has a tendency of bringing about.

“No but really, you did good. I’m proud.” You finish.

Sehun hears a little bit of commotion behind him, probably a fan who snuck past security. But he doesn’t turn, and instead finds himself repeating those two words that affected him more than it should’ve. I’m proud.

Sehun mumbles a small ‘thanks’ and scratches the back of his neck, the sudden praise making him stuck for wording. Sehun was never good with words.

“You dyed your hair.” You say simply. Sehun’s fingers run through the strands.

“You like? I think it looks more natural.” He teases, but there’s a small amount of truth in there somewhere because orange was never for him. Sehun thought it was too bold, too intense, a passing phase that his manager would get bored of soon. Speaking of managers, he hopes he can keep this colour for a while.

The relentless dye is starting to make the ends frazzle a little anyway.

You notice but don’t say anything. “Yeah, I think it does as well.” You agree, and you don’t miss his small smile because he realises it’s the first compliment you’ve paid him.

Little does he remember the fleeting ‘pretty’ that left your mouth the night he was too drunk to remember his own name. You don’t mention it, but maybe you’ll bring it up someday. The thought makes you smile.

“Let’s go somewhere.” He suggests.

“Like where?”

He thinks for a moment before replying.

“Your house.”

Sehun sees the look on your face and realises how it sounds. He lets out a sigh and facepalms.

“Not like that! You’ve got a filthy mind, Y/N” Sehun laughs, for real, and it’s the first time he’s really laughed in a while. He misses the feeling.

“What about the after party?” You ask, and Sehun scoffs at the thought of having to stand through another one of those events used by youngsters as an excuse to take aesthetic pictures with people they don’t like just so their feed looks ‘pleasing’.

“The alcohol’s shit. And half the people hate each other. Let’s just go to yours.” Sehun says, because he can’t be bothered to explain the details.

The idea of Sehun being in your house where you eat and sleep is strange and you debate on suggesting something else. But the thought fades when you find yourself being guided through clothing racks and storage boxes by Sehun.

You stand close, but not too close because you don’t want to give the wrong idea to others. Or to yourself.

And it’s not long until you’re both out of the venue and on the back alleys of Seoul, where orange street lights and overhead electrical wiring greets you with an industrial sigh.

It’s dark but your car is visible, the late-night silence cracked by your hushed giggles because Sehun has now broken into a full-on sprint.”You’re taking too long” He calls, his voice catching on the biting wind, a small echo bouncing off the graffitied walls tarnished by idealistic youth.

Sehun hasn’t broken the rules in a long time, but it doesn’t faze him. A bubbly sensation settles in his stomach and he welcomes the feeling. Sehun also welcomes the warmth that encloses him when they climb into the car, their breaths heavy with excitement.

Maybe if you close your eyes, you can pretend. Pretend that there’s no paparazzi waiting to get a snap of Sehun that will make the cover of next week’s magazine.

And maybe you can pretend that Sehun sees you as more than fleeting company because every hour that passes makes the thought of not knowing when you will see him next a little suffocating.

But your thoughts surrender under the purr of the engine, sky scrapers that never sleep beginning to crowd your vision. Water droplets race down the windows and it reduces the city life to a mere blur, but you don’t mind because you have a thing for rain.

Sehun rubs his head and you realise that perhaps he still hasn’t gotten used to the strobe lighting, even after all these years.

“There’s painkillers in the glove compartment.”

Sehun looks up slightly and laughs, because he doesn’t realise how readable his is. Or maybe it’s just that Y/N has deciphered the manual and senses these things.

Either way, he slips two painkillers into his mouth and washes them down with lukewarm water.

You don’t say anything else, and neither does Sehun. Nothing else needs to be said.

Silly, irrelevant thoughts pop into your head as the key slides into the door. You hadn’t tidied away the pile of books that littered the coffee table, and you were pretty sure that Yeona had left the wallpaper samples on the floor because she’s going through a strange design phase. Had she put away the dishes?

“So it’s not the biggest apartment but it does the job, and sorry for the mess. We don’t usually get visitors.” You ramble, but Sehun just smiles because hospitality is easily forgotten about these days, so it’s nice to see some people still remember.

I’s also nice when Y/N offers him house slippers. The gesture reminds him of his mother and her little habits, making him realise that he hasn’t spoken to her in a while. He’ll call her later, ask how she is.

Maybe he’ll visit if he has free time.

You hear Sehun whisper an ‘okay’ and you smile at his quiet response but decide not to comment.

Instead, you leave him to take in his surroundings because the smell of honey reminds you of the tea that Yeona’s colleague had gifted her. You make a cup for yourself, one for Sehun too because you remember him telling you about Mexican tea and how it was ‘life-changing’.

The tea isn’t Mexican, but maybe he’ll like it anyway.

Sehun smells honey and it makes him feel warm.

He sees Y/N making teas in the kitchen, and the sight of two mugs is a nice one.

Sehun has forgotten what a home feels like. His glass interior makes the bed cold, and it’s only when darkness falls that the emptiness becomes harder to disguise. He wonders how long it took for Y/N to read the books that crowd the shelves, worn with age. He imagines her feet dangling off the kitchen countertop, mouth slightly open as she soaks in the scratchy words on each page.

Sehun has been thinking about her a lot recently. It scares him more than it should.

In Sehun’s hand lies on a framed picture. It’s you in the prime of your adolescence. Though ‘prime’ isn’t the most suitable word to use because the braces on your teeth and acne on your skin is enough to remind you of the tumultuous rollercoaster you called ‘youth’. Sehun doesn’t seem to mind though, the smile on his face seems nostalgic, like the memories are all flooding back.

The very few he has, of course.

”Yeona has this infatuation with embarrassing me. Hence the picture.” You finish, handing him a steaming mug but Sehun’s focus is still on the picture.

“You looked cute, I would date you.” Sehun replies, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Your heart jumps so you start to ponder on what Sehun would’ve been like in high school.

You can’t imagine ever crossing paths.

You’re both too different, cut from different materials, different colours, nothing about you two resembling anything close to similar. Maybe you would’ve nodded to each other in acknowledgement in the hallway, or perhaps you would’ve shared a textbook in class, thanking the other when they turned the page. But that’s as far as your mind stretches.

The rest is empty and silent.

You tilt your head at him, half a smile on your lips before collapsing on the couch you spent so many comfy nights on. Sehun still stands near the framed photo in a stance you couldn’t mistake for slight awkwardness.

“You can sit down, I don’t bite” You smile.

Sehun quickly mumbles an ‘I know that’ before hastily sitting down because now he looks embarrassed and Sehun doesn’t like to look embarrassed.

You simply chuckle before taking a sip of the tea that soothes your dry throat.

Are your parents missing you yet?” Sehun asks, shifting slightly. 

“That’s a random question.” You reply, wondering what it was that sparked his interest.

Sehun smiles because he has a tendency of being nosy.

“Just wondering.” Sehun takes a sip of the tea. ”I know if I had a kid in a different continent, I’d be a little worried.”

The sun has set a long time ago but an aura of warmth still surrounds you. A slight buzz from the next-door neighbour’s television set seeps through the wall and invades the background noise of your small living room. It’s muffled. But it’s strangely comforting.

“They’re traditional.” You ponder. “So maybe they do- I don’t know. Does it make me a bad person if I say it hadn’t really crossed my mind?”

Sehun shakes his head. ”No, it’s good to live in the moment”.”

He internally laughs. It’s funny how people give advice they themselves don’t abide by.

“What about you?” You continue. “I’m sure your parents miss you.”

Sehun hesitates before asking. “You’d have to ask them. I’m never home.”

He still manages to smile and it makes your stomach twist. Sehun is just a boy who’s tired of being tired, yet, by some distant stroke of luck, he still manages to grip onto what he had before.

But through one glance, you see his fingers are trembling. Its subtle, and can easily be mistaken as a simple fidget but it makes you frown.

“Are you nervous, Sehun?” You question.

His eyebrows raise slightly. 

“Why do you say that?” He asks, oblivious.

“You’re fidgeting.” You point out simply.

Sehun plays with one of the rings on his fingers.

”Would it be bad if I said I was?” he says, and Sehun doesn’t look up.

You take hold of his hand and start playing with them absentmindedly. A warm jolt of electricity spreads through Sehun and it makes him feel safe.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he laces your fingers with yours.

“No.” You begin, shaking your head. “Why is showing what you feel a bad thing?”

Sehun smiles lightly. He doesn’t know the answer. And you can sense that, so you fill the void with something, anything your mind can conquer up.

“No one likes a robot, Sehun. It’s nice to be open. And people tend to get intimidated at my luxurious apartment, so I’m used to it. You gloat, but the condensed windows and coffee stained table disagree.

Sehun grins and in that moment, completely forgets that his manager is searching for him, asking the stylists where he went only to be responded with useless shrugs and confused looks. He should’ve been writhing in panic at the thought of breaking the rules and having to face him during morning call.

But he doesn’t. The writhing doesn’t occur. His limbs are taking a break and he doesn’t fight it. He likes it. He likes Y/N.

”Has anyone ever told you you’re very sarcastic? He muses.

You scoff.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s bad to dye your hair too many times?”

“They do actually, but it still happens.” Sehun chuckles, and you don’t know how to feel about that.

He’s not bitter. Nor does his voice carry any sharpness that suggests hatred, or spite. It’s almost as if he’s a machine, with built-in programming to stop any possibility of malfunctioning that would take time to repair, time being something that Sehun lacked a lot of these days.

“That’s not right.” You reply, quite abruptly.

And Sehun laughs, throws his head back in fact.

“Why are you laughing?” You question, not expecting an honest answer.

“Because your funny” He replies, laughter still lacing his voice until it dies down to a small, quiet chuckle.

He’s wearing that smile. The one his manager encourages him to use at fan meets because it will make the girls feel special. The one he’s probably nipped and altered until it became a trademark image used for variety shows because statistics claim it makes him look ‘more inviting’.

It’s the one that’s making you question whether his eyes are telling the truth, the one that strikes a chord of what tune? That, you had no clue.

Sehun sees the lack of amusement and pats your hair. “You worry too much about me. It’s a nice feeling.”

You shift slightly, crossing your arms. Sehun’s hand feels comforting and if things were different, you probably would’ve leaned into his touch. Perhaps sighed in bliss because you didn’t have to worry about where things stood, or whether there was a hidden message behind his quick glances that left what was supposed to be black and white, tinged with subtle splashes of grey.

“You’re very confusing, Sehun.”

Sehun places his mug onto the table and clears his throat.

”What makes you say that?” He muses.

“You’re hard to figure out.” You reply simply.

You and Sehun haven’t known each other long. It’s an uncanny combination, and yet it leaves you intrigued. Frustrated, in fact. A frustration that makes you grit your teeth when he allows you to step closer to him, only for him to take one step back.

The distance laughs, and it’s as crude as the sound of midnight rush hour as it seeps in through the window.

”No I’m not.”

“That’s exactly what a person who’s hard to figure out would say.” You fire back.

Sehun drops his head because he can’t help but smile. There’s a hint of truth in what Y/N says. He doesn’t admit it, though.

Doesn’t want her to give the satisfaction.

“You’d be surprised to know how comfortable I feel around you. So I hope the way you feel changes.” Sehun retorts. His mind seems to catch up with him but he doesn’t mind. For once, he waits for it.

Your stomach feels funny and you forget to breath. Sehun senses your surprise and it makes him feel warm. He always feels warm around Y/N.

“You’d also be surprised to find out the effect you’re having on me.” Sehun continues, tilting his head slightly.

Perhaps the AC has broken, or maybe it’s just the heat of Sehun’s gaze that has you regretting wearing such a thick material dress that Yeona persuaded you to wear.

Sehun has moved closer and the distance is mocking. It always is.

“And what would that be?” You finish, and your wavering voice is uneven.

“You. Feeling like home to me.” Sehun murmurs.

And his lips touch yours.

Sehun’s hesitant at first, ready to pull back. But the thrumming of your heart is too wild to ignore so your unsteady hands rest gently against his heated cheeks, instantly reminding you of that faraway night, another distant memory.

The constant whirring of the ceiling fan is too quiet to pull you back into reality, so you appreciate the soothing rhythm of Sehun’s lips that taste sweet and inviting for a little longer. He smiles into the kiss and presses himself closer to you because distance is his biggest enemy.

It’s only in that moment that the kiss grows in affinity, and the scent of Sehun drowns your senses in complete bliss. His hands rest on your waist and it makes you realise how lost you feel without them.

Yet you pull away, breathless. Dizzy on the idea of affection. Sehun’s lips are slightly glossed over when a hint of a smile makes itself present.

“Your lips taste like honey.” He hums.

Sehun leans back slightly and pulls you against him, both your breathing still enamoured with a slight sense of wavering. You can hear his heart beating wildly.

But his voice is so quiet that the universe doesn’t even hear, so you revel in these few undisturbed moments of silence that you don’t know when you’ll have next with him. Sehun might be unpredictable, but it’s one of the things you love most.

“I knew it was a good idea making that tea.” You mumble, a lazy smile on your face after Sehun leans his forehead against yours.

Sehun seems like the type who’s afraid to love. Perhaps it scares him. Sehun is the type to like things that are concrete, like the ocean. Something you can point to and know what it is. Maybe that’s why he struggles with love. He can’t touch it, know what it is or if it will stay.

Sehun can hold onto it and make sure it never changes.

So you’ll hold onto it for the both of you. Because what was once ‘you’ and ’him’ has somehow morphed into a strange, yet familiar ‘us’.

You like the sound of that. Us. It makes you excited for what’s to come.

- hope you enjoyed & requests are open :)

lying on the floor staring at the long cable cord that gives me cable tv like…….. modern au,, wouldbthe ghost man have cable? certainly satellite is right out, he’d never get service,, so isbthere just a really long extension cord running from the cable tv in the managers office down to the fifth cellar like???? subtly who?? the man’s gotta watch the PGA tour! needs that cable tv!

Better Together (Smut) Part One

Request: Heya hey can you do one where you and shawn are best friends but then sleep together its gets awkward after but then you both decide to try a relationship? (Lil smutty and fluffy?) haha ur stories are cute!!

Word Count: 2,466

A/N: Again a two part, because it became rather long. 

Better Together (Smut) Part One

“Cheers to you being home… for a while at least” I yelled, trying to out speak the noise in the bar. Shawn clucked at me, before raising his glass clinging it into mine.

“And our new apartment together” he hurried to say.

“And our friendship” I joined in, laughing.

“Best friend for ever, bitch” Shawn smiled at me.

Keep reading

Faith | 1

Originally posted by kimdaily

Chapters: [1] [2]

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 3,280

Genre: Smut, fluff, will probably be some angst, but will always end up with a happy ending because that’s just how I roll.  

Notes: It’s a little-known fact that both of my brothers are hardcore rappers. Like, they have mix tapes and go to rap battles and have fans lol. I was attending one of their battles today to show support when this idea came to me. 

You were a good sister.

You weren’t going to leave before your brother even got to the stage.

You MIGHT get kicked out before then though, you thought to yourself, glaring as another random hand smacked your ass as they walked past you. 

You decided it was time to find a seat, preferably against a wall, and scanned the venue. The place was absolutely packed; the smell of weed, sweat, and God knows what else overpowering your senses. This was one of the biggest rap battles in the area, and yet they always booked places that were way too small to hold it in. Finally, you spotted a small booth in the very back, somehow free of people, and you make your way through the clouds of smoke and wandering hands. You crumble into the seat with a sigh of contentment. Perhaps your poor ass won’t bruise now.

Keep reading

Everything sucks; A rant

Putting this under the cut because I realize very few people care, but if you want to know what the fuck is going on with me recently and why I haven’t been posting much, please enjoy the following Tales of Bullshitery. 

Originally posted by jacularmetteld

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SHINee Pairing Theme Songs

This popped into my head one day when I was thinking about how Excuse me Miss is S U  C H a Jongtae song, and then I made a list using some SHINee songs (including solos), so I hope you enjoy! I linked a performance for each of the songs (If there isn’t a performance, I linked the lyrics) They are listed by ages, so I started with Jinki and worked from oldest to youngest (Jjong to Taem)











A/N I hope you enjoyed~

anonymous asked:

Heyo! Could you maybe do a seventeen react to you being drunk and try to take care of your or something? Thanks in advance dude! :)

Yes, of course! Thanks for requesting :)


  • that protective instinct is kicked into overdrive and he hovers worriedly the whole time trying to take care of you and keep potential threats away
  • if he’s been drinking too, he won’t be super good at it, and may even end up crying, but he will definitely try to be responsible 
  • “do you need water? make sure you aren’t drinking on an empty stomach! wait, wear my jacket! it’s harder to feel the cold when you’ve been drinking and you might not notice!”


  • amused first, and maybe even teases you in simple ways e.g. pointing out you’re struggling to walk in a straight line and challenging you to try
  • but also incredibly caring, maybe in a quieter way than coups, such as taking your drink from you and holding it for a while so you don’t down it all at once
  • if he’s been drinking too, my goodness he’ll be giggly!! probably ask you a bunch of “who do you like better?” questions to make to pick him


  • would not be drinking himself, so he’s merely amused by your increasing intoxication at first
  • he also takes advantage of his own sober state to get alcohol out of your reach when you start going too far
  • likely very gently encourages you to drink some water and eat some food, and let’s be real, he succeeds! because who could say no to that face?


  • incredibly amused by how weird you’re getting and delighted to have the chance to get very weird himself
  • even though he doesn’t drink much/often and is probably totally sober, people will be convinced he’s just as drunk as you are
  • he WILL get up and encourage you to dance, but despite his flirty nature, any sign of you getting flirty and he has too stop because he gets flustered


  • you can bet hoshi gets super hyped up being at any kind of party, and before he’s even drunk, he’s already the loudest person there
  • he’ll challenge you to drinking games 100% confident that he will win, whether it’s true or not
  • and then once you’re both drunk, he’s a thousand percent charmed by everything you do and possibly too reckless in this state to do much to take care of you (”Yes, Y/N, let’s jump off the two story balcony into the pool!!!”)


  • he finds it fascinating to talk to you and have those fake-deep conversations while you’re both intoxicated 
  • probably shares his drink with you because the alcohol makes him Soft and you just look so cute
  • one to tuck you into bed at the end of the night because he couldn’t leave your drunk self alone for one moment and was still by your side


  • all about efficiency, woozi is definitely taking shots if he’s drinking at all, so you can bet he encourages you to join
  • it ends up causing more skin ship than you would ever expect because woozi without his inhibitions accepts all the affection from you without yours
  • probably teases you because he manages to remain very put-together and able to hide his drunkness, but you can tell he’s charmed by any silliness on your part


  • thinks drunk you is just the most remarkably hilarious, sweet thing he has ever seen in his life
  • and he gets as drunk and giggly and loud as hoshi does, and probably will drunk cry with you over little things like the existence of puppies
  • and boy does he freak out with worry every time you trip or stumble, keeping a hand on you to steady you at all times


  • he will keep up with you drink for drink, excited to try whatever you’re tasting and willing so share his own, even mixing you new cocktails and stuff because he would find that so fun
  • but he’s also such a worrier, and it only gets worse when he’s drinking, so he’ll follow you around most of the night just fretting over your well-being
  • probably feeds you a TON of stuff if he can convince you to eat it


  • another to want to have a go mixing you some really aesthetic drinks, and probably take selfies with them. and selfies in general.
  • thinks you’re hilarious but firmly stops you from taking it too far
  • it’s kind of unfair how well he holds his liqueur, because he doesn’t even seem drunk and just laughs when you whine at him about it


  • oh no, lightweight alert!! and another worrier, so as he drinks with you he gets super concerned and whiny
  • “Y/N, don’t do anything dumb, just come here and cuddle! Y/N, sing something with me! Y/N, I feel dizzy…”
  • but he knows his limits, so once he stops drinking it’s just full protective mode, probably walking everywhere hand in hand so he can keep an eye on you


  • probably holds his alcohol pretty well too, but let’s be real, this boy can get weird even when he’s sober, so he’ll be willing to get hyper and have fun
  • and he’s very concerned over your well-being if you get too recklessly silly, but kind of bewildered trying to work out how to actually help you
  • gentle hands taking your drink away!! and if it wasn’t for his cute face convincing you when he begs you to slow down and drink some water, he would truly suck at keeping you reigned in


  • he would possibly be allowed some sips of the hyungs’ drinks, but there’s no way he’s getting drunk, so he will focus on taking care of you
  • mostly finds you really funny at first, and giggles in that adorable way of his
  • but very firmly and maturely leads you around, and does shockingly well with dealing with your messy self 
100 Day Drabble Challenge Masterlist

Hey guys! I’ve decided to start making a seperate post for the masterlist of drabbles in the 100 Day Drabble Challenge that I’ve been doing. I listed them by member in numerical order and even though we’re not at 100 yet, I’ll keep updating this as I continue making more drabbles.

Hope you enjoy~

Masterlist under the break~

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Serendipity [ Min Yoongi ]

Originally posted by kuromel


Summary: [requested] college!au w/ yoongi where he treats you like his little sister and he keeps talking to other girls so you decide to push your feelings aside and distance yourself and talk to other guys but then yoongi gets jealous and then confessed.

Genre : Slight angst, fluff  |  Warning : Curse words 

A.N : Let me know what you think! Not really proof-read to there may be some mistakes  


[Y/N] hated Min Yoongi. She hated his jet black hair and his gummy smile and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. She hated how warm and comfortable his hugs were and how their hands fit together perfectly. She hated the way he looked at her, how his gaze softened, the slight indifference replaced with fondness. She hated his laughter and his stupid smirk and his nagging rant whenever she made a dumb mistake. She hated how he made her heart raced like a racing horse and her cheeks flushed pink like she just ran a marathon. She loathed the fact that he always knew how to make her smile, that she didn’t like it when he ignored her, or that he knew that she always slept halfway through a movie because being in his arms was just too damn comfortable. She hated how how he made her fall in love with him without any effort. But out of everything, she mostly hated Min Yoongi for treating her like a sister.

Like what he was doing right now.


“Okay, that’s enough alcohol for you.” Yoongi took away the red cup from her hand, poured out the alcoholic beverages that smelled too strong for his liking, and gave her a bottled water. “Drink this.”

“I’m not a child.” [Y/N] grumbled, taking the bottle nevertheless. “Why do you care anyway. Go find your girlfriend and ignore me like you did the past hour.” She childishly mumbled, the alcohol slowly taking control of her speech. In her defense, she was really mad and tired and disappointed. But this was a party and she was drunk, which gave her a valid excuse to lash out like a little kid. Yoongi raised his eyebrows as he leaned back on the kitchen counter and crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyes fixed on her pinked cheeks and the way she swayed whenever she tried to move.

“You are to me.” Yoongi replied with a small smile despite his frustration at her drunkenness, memories of them hanging out together when they were kids flashed through his mind. He supposed it had been ingrained in him to always take care of her. “Careful, brat.” He grabbed her arms before her face collided with the marble floor. He was about to scold her when she looked up at him with a sad smile and all anger in him dissipated. His expression softened as he helped her up, holding her waist to keep her steady. “You look sad.” He softly said, feeling a little tug at his heart.

She laughed and shook her head. Yoongi might be a genius at music composition and rapping but he sure was dumb as a fucking prawn when it comes to noticing her feelings.

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modern!AU where Bill and Stan meet for the first time at a Baseball Game

Details requested by @deadelectron  
Notifying @smol-and-annoying

  • Richie got the tickets as a 21st B-day gift for Bill, his best friend
  • Bill’s birthday was the previous day and he had spent weeks telling Eddie he did not want a party (Richie’s boyfriend is a party planning little monster)
  • But now Bill regretted that choice because it’s was raining plus his team was losing miserably
  • Richie ended up grumpy too, ‘cause not only he misses Eddie (who didn’t wanna come because he hates sports), now Bill drank all the beer Richie bought for the two of them, which made Richie responsible for Bill for the rest of the night 
  • But Bill is not a child, right? Richie thought he could leave Bill alone for a second to go and get more fried chicken, Bill would still be right where he was once Richie was back…
  • Richie was still in line to order when he glances casually to the side and his eyes focus on drunk!Bill lowkey making a scene at the line for the nachos
  • Bill had his arms wrapped around the shoulders of the guy in front of him
  • also, Bill was whining, loudly 
  • “Richie! You abandoned me! Take me home! I can’t stand this game anymore either!”
  • Only, obviously, that’s not Richie, that is just a stranger with the same height and resembling curly hair
  • Richie doesn’t know what hurts more, walking to Bill knowing that he will have to deal with that, or the insult of Bill not realizing that Richie was not, and would not, ever, be dressed like the stranger was
  • “Sorry, man.” “Bill! Let go of him! “You are hurting him!” “Can’t you see that’s not me, you loser!”
  • Stan had been frozen in gay panic for a minute now
  • Richie had to yank Bill away from him, Bill hanged on to the last second as if his life depended on it; it was very difficult to drag Bill back to the bleachers
  • “I should have known that’s not you, Rich. That guy combs his hair.”
  • “Nice!” Richie was seriously considering going home indeed, just leaving Bill here in the middle of the crowd, not watching the game, not in line for any food, just indistinct limbo
  • “He is here for the other team!” “See, he not only smells good, he is smart too!” “I should root for the winners!” “I’m switching sides!”
  • Bill escaped from Richie’s hands, running in the direction the supporters of the opossite team were walking, and Richie just wished he could SCREAM!
  • “Bill! What the fuck are you doing? Do you have a death wish?” You can’t go there wearing the name and the colors of their enemies!”
  • Richie aggressively pulled Bill by his clothes all the way back to where they were sitting before, and once Bill had settled down, he threatened to throw Bill down the stairs if did not stay put
  • The tickets were too damn expensive, they were going to watch this game to the end no matter what! Richie says so
  • Bill is sulking and not even paying attention anymore, he feels dizzy, cold, and where is the food??? Richie said he was going to get more food!!1
  • All of a sudden, Stan appears and sits in the empty place beside Bill, too calm for his own good, Bill perks up once he sees the stranger is back somehow, but after a couple seconds Bill goes
  • “NO! You can’t be here, they’ll smear your perfect hair with your own blood!!”
  • Stan as never seen a boy so handsome, nor so dramatic, before
  • “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m Stan. Stan Uris.”
  • He tries to shake Bill’s hand but Bill has no idea what handshaking is at this point, so Richie leans closer and shakes Stan’s hand instead
  • “He will be alright… I’m Richie!” Thi…
  • “BILL! DENBROUGH!” Bill threw both his arms up like he is cheering for himself now, shouting out of the blue, he scared Richie and made Stan laugh and cover his ear
  • It was not funny. It was ridiculous. Stan only laughed ‘cause the young man happens to have a bad case of the heart eyes atm
  • Denbrough. Right. That’s a start. I better go…”
  • Stan is smiling and he almost trips as he gets up because he is multitasking, typing Bill’s name on his phone, to search for him on social media
  • Bill laughs at his nervousness, because Bill is wasted, and because let’s face it, Stan is cute af
  • “Damn! He is calling for a cab.” Bill looks at Richie a second later, devasted, changing expressions as fast as a cartoon. “I’m never gonna see him again!” “This is the worst day ever!”
  • Bill looks like he is about to start crying and Richie just rolls his eyes and punches Bill’s shoulder 
  • “You idiot! He was probably googling you or something…”
  • Bill has starry eyes (afgjklasdfghjklasdfghjklasdfgjkl)
  • “Yeah, he just needed to go back to his side of the stadium.” “NOPE! Don’t you move, you are still not going there…” “Just get sober first and check your phone later…”
  • Richie’s gift worked out for the best at the end
  • This was the first time Bill looked truly happy for the last 2 days
  • That night was the first time Stan felt this happy for the last two years
SanversWeek Day 3- ‘You’re Drunk’

Alex didn’t know what to do; she had seen Maggie drunk before, hell, she’d been drunk with Maggie before, but this? Her girlfriend and her sister both fairly inebriated… at the same time!? This was going to take all of her DEO training to get through.

‘Danvers! Heeey! Danvers!’ Maggie shouted a little too loudly for someone who was sitting in a booth close to Alex. Kara winced a little at the volume, jolting her head as if to shake it off. ‘Oh sorry Little Danvers’ Maggie whispered, ‘AAAllleeeexxxx’ Maggie continued in a shouting whisper, ‘Your sister can fit fifteen potstickers in her mouth! Fifteen!’

Kara giggled and looked tremendously happy with herself.

Alex tried not to smile; she had to retain the ‘in charge’ persona in order to get them both home. For once she was very grateful that Maggie was a giggly drunk rather than a fight me drunk.

‘Where did you even get potstickers from? Please tell me Kara didn’t fly…’

‘Nooooooooo! I wished really really hard for them and they just appeared!’ Kara hiccuped.

Alex looked slightly confused because she was 99% sure that food manifestation was not one of Kara’s powers.

‘I bought them’ M’gann supplied as she walked up behind Alex, ‘I was trying to sober them up…’

‘Thanks. How did they end up…’ Alex waved her hand at the booth where Alex and Maggie were now engaged in an arm wrestle; this was not going to end well.

‘So drunk?’ M’gann rolled her eyes and chuckled, ‘Maggie had a pretty bad day; she kept mumbling about idiotic higher ups and budget cuts?’

Alex nodded.

‘She then order three shots for herself and three for Kara.’

‘Three shots? There’s no way they got that drunk off three shots…’

‘Brian bought them the rest…’

Alex turned sharply looking for the blue alien, but couldn’t find him anywhere.

‘He scampered the moment you walked in… I’m guessing he didn’t want to face your wrath’ M’gann chuckled, ‘I’ve been bringing them water and food when I realised just how drunk they were…’

‘Thanks’ Alex squeezed the top of M’gann’s arm, ‘I better try and get them home’ she sighed.

Quite how she was going to wrangle them both home, she wasn’t sure. In the end she managed to convince both of them to come home with the promise of pizza. With an arm wrapped round each of them, supporting them as they were both slightly unsteady on their feet, she headed towards the door.

Alex quickly realised that the walk home was going to be a long one. Kara kept stopping to pet all the dogs and cats they found along the way, and Maggie kept tugging her in different directions insisting that they take the ‘scenic route’ back.

Alex decided drastic measures were needed when Kara started floating along next to her after muttering how hard walking was. She pulled them over to a nearby bench and while keeping a tight grip on Kara, (which she did realise was slightly useless, but thankfully Kara’s brain was a little too alcohol clouded to realise she could easily break loose) used her free hand to fish the handcuffs she knew Maggie always had on her out of her back pocket.

‘Oooh getting handsy there Danvers!’ Maggie wiggled her eyebrows in what she thought was a seductive manner, ‘I’m getting lucky tonight!’

Alex placed a kiss to Maggie’s forehead and stifled a chuckle as she heard an ‘Ewwwww’ from Kara. ‘You’re quite drunk Maggie, lets just focus on getting you home.’

She sat Maggie down on the bench and quickly undid her belt with her free hand, pulling it free, laughing as Maggie immediately started humming the intro to ‘The Stripper’ before slowly sliding to gently fall sideways on the bench. Alex gently clicked one side of the handcuffs shut over one of Kara’s wrists who looked confused and a little indignant at being cuffed. She threaded her belt through the empty cuff and looped it through the belt loop on the side of her jeans, fastening it shut.

‘Now you can float home’ Alex explained, ‘and I don’t have to worry about you floating off and causing property damage…’

Kara looked ecstatic and started bobbing along next to Alex.

‘Come on’ Alex gestured to Maggie, ‘we’re only a few blocks from home.’

‘My feet hurt!’ Maggie protested, ‘and Kara gets to float! why can’t I?’

‘Because you’re not an alien…’ Alex tried to reason.

Maggie just pouted.

‘Fine!’ Alex rolled her eyes and lent down towards Maggie, picking her up by the waist and placing her in a fireman’s carry over her shoulder.

Maggie squeaked as she suddenly found herself in the air and looking directly down at her girlfriends denim clad arse.

Alex started walking the last few blocks back to her apartment, praying that no one saw them. There was no way she wanted to have to fill in yet another form for Pam in HR…

Maggie had gone suspiciously quiet and Alex was just about to ask if she was doing OK when she heard her giggle and something that felt like a finger poking her bottom.

‘I touched the butt!’

‘Can we watch Finding Nemo when we get home?’ Kara gasped out in excitement.

‘You’re going to sleep when we get in…’

Alex didn’t have to turn around to know that Kara was pouting. She felt Maggie poke her arse again followed by another giggle, she rolled her eyes and muttered that it was only two more blocks until they were there.

Alex managed to get Maggie and Kara to her apartment building with only one more minor mishap involving a sign looking for a lost kitten and protests of ‘I’m Supergirl, what kind of monster would I be if I didn’t find Mr Snugglepaws!’ and ‘I’m a cop Danvers! It’s my duty to help!’ that meant Alex had never been so happy to be home in all her life. After promising they could look for the kitten in the morning, Alex finally managed to coax the two people she loved the most in the world up to her apartment.

She ushered them towards the couch and released Kara from the make shift reigns before grabbing them each a glass of water.

‘Drink’ she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Alex pulled out one of her old band tshirts and a pair of joggers, handed them to Kara and then gently guided Maggie towards the bed. She helped Maggie with the buttons on her shirt and placed a kiss to her forehead.

‘You OK to finish getting changed while I grab some pillows and a blanket for Kara?’

Maggie shrugged off her shirt and shimmied at Alex, giggling as Alex chuckled.

‘Come on you- into bed. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Alex grabbed some spare pillows and a blanket for Kara and wandered back to the couch to find her sister dozing slightly. She managed to lift Kara’s head enough to slide a pillow underneath and tucked the blanket around her. She grabbed some painkillers from the bathroom and left them nearby, but she wasn’t too convinced your over the counter variety would deal with an alien headache.

She padded back to the bedroom and smiled as the same sight greeted her; Maggie sprawled across the bed, snoring gently. Alex quickly put on her pyjamas and climbed in next to her girlfriend.

Within moments Maggie’s face was buried in Alex’s neck as she cuddled in.

Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, Alex felt the bottom of the bed wiggle and bit her lip to stifle a chuckle; she knew exactly what was happening. Sure enough a few moments later, Kara’s head popped out the top of the duvet as she wriggled her way up.

‘No funny business… Superhearing…’ Kara muttered sleepily as she snuggled in between Maggie and Alex.

you know the trope “let’s pretend to be engaged to get free cake samples”? imagine andreil doing that because let’s face it Andrew loves cake and Neil loves free stuff, but they don’t realize that one of Dan’s strips sisters now works at the wedding cake place so she squeals and is like “omg Dan didn’t tell me you guys got engaged, congratulations!” and texts Dan to scold her for not telling her and then it spreads throughout the team from there and Andrew and Neil end up getting engaged for real because they can’t back out now

Take My Heart & Soul


So a couple of days ago, I had a lovely discussion with Sarah (@queenwinry), which led to me screaming at her for an Anastasia!AU RoyAi fic of the famous boat scene, whilst offering this very angsty piece in return. I do highly suggest to read her one-shot after this as a pick-me-up! So make sure to do that!!

Word Count: 3,450.

Warning: Roy’s a… well, he’s drunk and he’s sad. I was not drunk during the process of writing this, however; I was just sad.

There was something unspoken about the winter air within the East City walls, something to which the drunken man could barely describe. It was calming, more so as the feeling of numbness ran through his fingers and his toes. However, he knew that there was much more to it than he could comprehend. Perhaps it was the way it nearly made him forget the ache within him, the pain that had taken place somewhere in his chest and called it its home. Or perhaps it could have been the number of drinks he had that night, but he shook his head at the notion and told himself that he was perfectly fine and was far from the edge.

He hadn’t appeared so intoxicated either; just a man who was enjoying a stroll during an ungodly hour. But Roy Mustang was a man who had mastered the game of facades, and was more than skilled enough to hide the truth to his character when it suited him.

So yes, he was drunk; his focus a haze, his mind a mess, but he knew where he was going as he walked through the empty streets. He followed a path he knew quite well, to a destination that was entirely committed to his memory through more ways than one. Or at least he believed so.

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And Don’t Tell Me What To Say

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

I woke with a start. The sun was shinning brightly through the thin white curtains that covered my bedroom window, and I heard a bus roll past my building. The bus didn’t stop at my corner until 8:30, so I never heard it during the week because I was already on my way to work, which could only mean…I was late. Again.

I was always thankful for a Friday because it meant a night—well, weekend really—of debauchery lie ahead of me, but I was especially thankful today. Friday’s were casual at the office, and I took full advantage of the word casual in my haste to get ready this morning. I pulled a pair of jeans out of a pile of clothes on the floor and a black jumper out of an open, disheveled drawer. I really needed to tidy up my flat. I couldn’t find a second sock, so I just said sod it and slipped on my beat up trainers without socks. My feet would be rotten later, but I didn’t have time to keep searching. I grabbed my coat and headed out the door without my keys or phone, so I had to turn back around to get both before scrambling out again.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the window on the tube. Not only did I feel like a mess, but I bloody looked it too. My hair was frizzy and my eyes were puffy. Unlike the night before, I slept hard through the night. As soon as I’d given up on receiving a text from Harry, naughty or otherwise, and my eyes closed they didn’t open until my internal clock sent a shock through my system telling me to wake the fuck up! My body was stiff from being in the same position all night, and I knew I’d grow more tired as the day grew long. If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall asleep and miss my stop, so I pulled out my phone to keep me occupied.

I was nearly sick when I saw his name on my screen and quickly pushed the button to dim it. I looked around nervously, as if the other passengers could see who texted me and what words I hoped—god, I hoped—he’d written to me. My heart fluttered as I imagined the dirty words that could have possibly come from his keyboard to my screen. I hoped it had something to do with wanting his beautiful, angelic face between my legs while his strong arms cradled my thighs, holding me open for him to lap me up.

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glassesgirl0401  asked:

I saw you answer an anon ask a while ago that your members have a no hate rule... however, there are at least three of them who I've seen posting/reblogging character or ship hate on tumblr, and several others who may remain neutral on tumblr, but spew venom on twitter. You may excuse that I have some trust issues here.

Hey there! 

We’ve been pretty busy over here at headquarters. A new shipment of spray paint came in, and we had to put every can in order by exact shade and then alphabetize them. 

Today, I was alerted to this ask. I read it, and I called a lunch meeting for the committee which runs this blog. 

So we sit down to a lunch of hot dogs (mistake), and we have to make dick jokes. It’s obligatory. There was no way to avoid it. We had thirty minutes of nothing but dick jokes. It was great. 

Then, I said: “Okay, let’s get into it.” 

And someone said: “The way that Erwin gets into Levi?” 

And the room erupted with cheering, and I flipped the table, left the room, and had to walk off a raging boner. I couldn’t sit down for an hour.

The meeting was postponed, but I made everyone on the committee stay at work late tonight, and now we’re all drunk. We’re able to focus on topics easier once we’ve been drinking a while because alcohol makes us think of sad!Eruri, so we try to avoid getting weepy. If we’re not thinking of happy Eruris, we’re talking business. 

Anyway, here’s a summary of the results of the meeting: 

A few agents agreed with you. Some said that we should be paying closer attention to the hate side, even if we don’t enjoy reading it. The Erurinati doesn’t appreciate hate, and we honestly avoid it. It’s unpleasant. 

Another agent brought up the ask that you’re referencing. The previous ask that we believe you’re referencing said that this blog would remain hate free, and it has. 

Another agent clarified and suggested that you were talking about our posted rules which state that we won’t participate in or perpetuate hate. 

The bottom line is: Are we going to start policing hate from people who claim association with the Erurinati?

My return question was: “If we’re going to attempt to police others, where are we going to draw the line of jurisdiction? Tumblr is only one platform. Are we going to start going to other platforms like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, etc. to make sure that Erurinati is not associated with hate speech?” 

So we calculated the time and effort. 

The short answer is: We’re not going to police other people. 

We aren’t going to take the time and effort to track down people who are in the Eruri fandom or people who claim to have Erurinati membership and tell them to stop what they’re doing. We have control over our own actions, and we have control over this blog. We aren’t going to reach beyond those boundaries, especially online. 

Communication online degrades quickly because it’s very easy to dissect a monologue in comparison to dissecting a live-action dialogue. There are also studies that suggest that a person is more willing to use more malicious language if they are communicating with someone that they cannot physically see, even if that person is passive or timid away from a keyboard. We can’t control what other people are going to say or present in their online space, and attempting to control it would be time wasted. 

This blog will continue to be free of hate. We’re too busy making dick jokes and spray painting buildings to perpetuate or police hate.

We’re converting this ask into a friendly reminder to those who want to be associated with the Erurinati: 

Spread some love today. You won’t regret it.