*𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒔𝒉.

ᴘᴇɴɴᴇᴅ ﹠ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴋᴀʏ. highly selective / private rp blog.

[hoshees]

TAEMIN - CRIMINAL

[kitayrin]

yuta’s long hair/ponytail for anonymous ♡  

[bachanaliia]

wei ying

“uber?“ wei ying’s tone pitches up – obviously affronted. he moves to stand in front of his roommate before demanding, “lan wangji. look at me.” he sweeps a hand down his body, before raising it to make repeated circles around his face. “i can’t ride an uber. i was ranked fourth hottest in the chinese students club. did you know this? i’ll bring up the poll later, but–”

he drops down to the floor so they’re eye level, crossing his legs and squinting at lan wangji’s face.

“and you were ranked second.” he admits airily. “but you own a car. you don’t have to face the dangers of public transportation with a handsome face. ah, to be born into money. but then again – that’s too easy. achievements are more commendable when the whole world is against you.” wei ying takes a moment of silence to acknowledge his adversity, before realizing his ever introverted and bookish roommate has agreed to –

“all those questions – are you coming?” the flash of teeth is wide and blinding. “but dress code? lan wangji. have you ever been to a university party?” he tips his head. “will you believe me if i say it’s beach themed?”

     the pitch of his roommate's tone is enough indication to where this is going, but lan zhan still humors him, tipping his head up to listen. he blinks a second too long, a huff of breath leaving his lips- it's akin to an eye roll to wei ying's dramatic antics. yet there is no malice, but patience mixed with fondness instead, with how he doesn't cut him short and continues to listen.

      he opens his mouth a millimetre to say how little truth those polls hold, but the other continues. and while wei ying's tone is light-hearted, his words to the end strike the actual truth, making lan zhan purse his lips. if he could help it, he'd pull the other away from the elderly jiangs as soon as he could, but there's a lot of reasons to why he can't do that. the most important one: he doubts wei ying would appreciate lan zhan's interference.

       and once there's a pause for him to speak, he does, head tilted. "i hardly think an uber counts as public transportation, wei ying." there's a hint of nervousness on his face at the question about parties, one that he hides quickly. "mhm. as long as we don't return too late." a beach-themed party, however, is too much of a stretch even for lan zhan, who only goes to parties when his roommate drags him.

      this time, he lets an exasperated expression take over his features, which is mostly a raise of an eyebrow, staring at the other for a beat too long. "i won't. you only want to dress me up in hawaii shirts so i will look out of place in the crowd.”

[bachanaliia]

march

as they walk, it’s instinct for march to stand closest to the street between akio and the rumble of passing cars, lazy at 35 miles per hour this close to campus. there’s a frenetic energy in akio tonight. words catching, releasing, jolts of sound as the student stutters. in an attempt to ground him, march fills the quiet with his slow, placid reassurance of– “are you asking about the time because you think you’re bothering me? don’t worry about it. outside of football i don’t have much.”

it sounds almost self-deprecating. that outside of coaching he has nothing to fill in the gaps between work. but since he was discharged from the military, he’d always been a solitary creature. preferred it that way – to avoid burdening anyone else with his eccentricities. some nights he can’t sleep in the dark. some mornings he jolts awake with sweat in his eyes, his hair, and deep, bloodied crescents in his palms until he realizes that in this room, his home, he’s safe.

“do you like kimchi fried rice?” he nudges akio with a hand on his elbow to turn right. “i have enough ingredients for a small family.” his home appears in view – a three bedroom victorian in desperate need of repainting.

“or i can drive you home after we drop these off inside?”

there are potential repercussions of letting akio into his home. march unlocks the door.

     doing his best to walk properly, nibs feels too self-aware next to march. the bouts of silence make him more nervous, and he can only hope the redness of his face can be brushed off as a side effect of the alcohol. his mind whirrs on, and at night, walking together with coach march feels oddly romantic, like after a date that he knows won't ever happen. the mere thought causes his heart to beat faster, and he can't help but be grateful the man reassures him again, as if having seen through him easily.

     "y- yeah —" nibs nods quickly, lips pursed as he tries to figure out what the other means. it's surprising to hear- and he doesn't know what he expected, but he finds it difficult to wrap his mind around the words. a beat later, he can't help but feel like march is just saying it to make him feel better. "are you sure? you- you must have better things to do than helping drunk students off the street."

      evading his gaze back to the road, he follows the man's lead, feeling irrationally upset that they reach their destination so soon. he looks back up again, wanting to see where march lives, and while the question warms his heart- nibs feels reluctant at first. "i do- i like it a lot —" there's a pregnant pause where he mulls over the options, not really wanting to leave, but he doesn't want to burden the man further either.

      "i can... help you cook? if- if you're sure though- i've already been... a lot —" finding it difficult to choose the right words, he follows the other inside, holding tight onto the bag in his grasp.

[bachanaliia]

@langvor​  |  rufio  &  nibs  ,  abo verse  .

        the last few days have been stressful to say the least- and while nibs absolutely hates keeping secrets from march- he wanted to be sure about this before talking to him. truth to be told, he had been feeling a little off for the past two weeks, but had chalked it up to seasonal changes, assuming it couldn’t have been anything else. 

      it all came to a standstill when morning nausea was added onto it, and nibs simply couldn’t continue acting like nothing was wrong. the thought itself was scary, promising a future full of uncertainties- so much that he wanted to tell march about it as soon as it crossed his mind. yet, he managed to hold back, not wanting to burden him with more when his work was as taxing as it was lately. he would tell him once he was sure- and when the other left for work, he tried the numerous pregnancy tests he had bought the day before. they all read the same: positive.

       after the realization set in, panic followed, and he tried to calm himself down, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was pregnant, and they hadn’t planned for it at all. phone clutched in his grasp, he paced their condo as he tried to think and breathe, doing his best not to freak out. quickly, he knew he wanted rufio to be there. in a situation like this, his best friend would be rational, help him talk it through and god, he would really like a rufio hug too.

       as such, rather than calling in a frenzy, he has texted the other, half asking, half begging him to come to their place- and when there’s a knock at the door ( much quicker than he had thought ), he rushes to the entrance. “rufio, you came —” the hybrid lets out in a breath, and jumps to pull him in a hug, hands clutching the back of his jacket. “i’m so sorry it was so sudden- it’s just- i needed to — talk —- thank you so much for coming.” he rambles, burying his face in his friend’s shoulder.

[bachanaliia]

wei ying

“lan zhan!”

his voice rises in the quiet of their shared dorm room, light and lilting and a little out of breath as he shoulders off his messenger bag and drops it on the floor. it’s mostly on his side of the room but he kicks it under his bed just in case. there’s an invisible line of ’mine and his’ – visible by the lawless scatter of notes, clothing, burger wrappers crumpled into balls and scattering like tumbleweeds as wei wuxian walks to his desk and turns on his lamp.

“ah! sorry. were you meditating?” he doesn’t look or sound sorry, and he throws himself on lan wangji’s bed, chin propped on the curl of his fingers as he lounges on the neatly folded sheets. “it’s friday. you know what that means, right?”

he doesn’t wait for an answer.

“the parties, lan zhan! will you come? i can’t drink and drive. that’s dangerous, right?”

     there’s a yoga mat set on the ground next to his bed, and he sits on it cross legged, hands on his knees with eyes closed. it’s a routine he picked up from his brother, a habit that helps with the stress, something he tries to do every few days. he’s completely focused, has separated himself from his surroundings when he hears the creak of the door. it’s perhaps futile, but he tries to hold onto the same state of mind for another short moment — yet it’s cut short completely at the exclamation of his name.

     eyes opening slowly, he looks up at the other, humming at the first question. while he would be quite bothered if it was anyone else — it’s not the case with wei ying. one could simply say lan zhan’s used to his antics- but he knows there’s more than that, something that’s not out in the clear yet, something he holds close to his chest.

     one eyebrow moves up slightly in question, assuming the other will explain what he means. the ends of his lips move down in a frown at that, and he opens his mouth to deny — yet the last words make him stop, a huff of breath leaving his lips in a sigh. “you know you can just uber back.” he states factly, but the mere thought of wei ying being drunk alone is enough to convince him. “... when is it?” he asks, a sign that he will accept the offer. uncurling one of his legs, he moves his body so that he’s facing the other. “is there a dress code?”

[bachanaliia]

ambrose

he’s honestly exhausted , but ambrose manages to give his father a proper hug , lips quirked up on the edges in a sorry excuse for a smile  —  but it was still there , at least . ‘ i’m fine , ’ he responds , albeit weakly and untruthfully . he just doesn’t want to worry kihwan , not when he’s literally just arrived . and the last thing he needs along with his oncoming headache , is to be the cause of one . 

still , ambrose can’t hide the shaking of his hands nor the way his eyes dilate at the sound of rushing .. blood . he licks his lips , looks away and focuses on the car that’s parked just at the curb . ‘ we should— appa , we should go . ’

       he pulls back gently, one hand going up to cradle his son’s face, breath hitching when he sees in person how drained, how out-of-it he looks. “rosie —” the man lets out in a whisper, a million questions running through his mind, yet he knows this isn’t the place nor the time to ask any of them. it takes a lot of effort to pull back a little, hand going under the boy’s armpit to support him, help him back to the car. 

      “it’s okay, rosie— it’s going to be okay, i got you —” as the reality of the situation sinks in, he tries to keep the panic at bay, his hold tight around his son. he opens the door and gently sets him inside, a hand clutching his. even it’s for a short moment, he finds it difficult to let go, and runs a hand through the boy’s hair in reassurance before pulling back and closing the door. he rushes around the front and gets back inside in seconds, turning on the ignition. “we’re going home, rosie — just keep talking to me, okay? what happened?”

[bachanaliia]

oberon

VERSE  :  changing times  !

a grin lights up his face , nearly skipping as he hurries home . he clutches two packages against his chest  ;  a bouquet of tulips and daisies in one fist , and a neatly wrapped box in another . 

oberon’s breathing heavily when he gets to their doorstep , and it’s not for the last time he thinks about spreading his wings . but he can’t , not anymore . or not here , at least . still , the excitement is still palpable as he nearly throws open the door , almost breaking the key in the lock from jamming it in too hard .

‘ petal ! petal dear , where are you ? ’ he hollers into the small corridor , voice echoing back at him as he deposits his coat in a nearby rack . ‘ you wouldn’t believe what i found today ! ’

        it’s been somewhat of a lazy day, she woke up late, watered the flowers and had a few little chores to do inside. she had the day off from work, which was more pleasure than work, really,— but they had agreed to take breaks nonetheless. after the light cleaning, she sets out to make one of oberon’s favourite desserts, wanting to surprise him when he returns.

      she has just taken the pie out of the oven when she hears the clings of her husband’s keys, so the loud noise that comes after doesn’t shock her. a smile spreads across her face instead as she gently sets the pie plate on the counter, and takes off her oven mitts.

     “in the kitchen, my love!” she exclaims, but quickly maneuvers around the counter to the corridor, eyes widening in surprise as she sees the mysterious package the man is holding, as well as the bouquet. “oberon! oh my, you shouldn’t have!”

[captainjoongki]

(｡♥‿♥｡)

[langvor]

@bachanaliia

[bachanaliia]

march

“something hideout?“ march’s question quirks at the end, mouth curling up on both corners as he points out, “that narrows it down to about five.” handing the lighter pair of bags over he keeps the heavier ones for himself. “and don’t apologize. that’s what your friends should be doing for losing you.”

it’s unfair to place the blame entirely on peter’s notorious gang of barely-students. not when the bar’s set so low. really– march wonders why akio is a part of that fraternity at all with such a strict father. but he keeps judgement to himself and leads the way to his home at a leisurely pace.

“pretty close. and i work late. schedules aren’t something i keep up with unless it’s sports.” he steers akio to make a left with a hand on the boy’s elbow. “would you like to–”

this is dangerous territory, but–

“have you eaten?”

      he nods eagerly, lips pursed, and when the explanation comes, he feels frustrated at himself, addled with guilt for wasting coach's time. a hand goes up to run through his hair and the alcohol intensifies the emotions, a frown taking over his features. "i—" he begins, but the reassurance comes instead, and it does wonders. his eyes are wide as he slowly shakes his head, unsure how to reply. it's really his fault more than anyone else’s, yet he can't help but be glad that the man isn't upset with him.

       "o- oh. that makes sense, coach!" nibs lets out instead, smiling again, now that he knows the other isn't upset, the fondness he carries shines through, eyes sparkling as he listens. the touch on his elbow makes his heart skip a beat, senses as sharp as they can be given the situation — and nibs can only hope his crush isn't as obvious as he fears it is.

       "i— uh— i think we had lunch? and s- some snacks-" again, the memory of the bar is quite blurry, and next to coach marchie, he can't find himself caring about before. though, he can't make the connection as to why the other’s asking, so he thinks it's only polite to ask back, nose scrunching. "h- have you?"

[bachanaliia]

                                             𝐑 𝐄 𝐍   𝐇 𝐖 𝐀 𝐍 𝐆

[omuse]

                                      𝖳 𝖮 𝖡 𝖨 𝖠 𝖲  &   𝖩 𝖤 𝖠 𝖭                                   𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 / 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭                                                                                                                                                              ( @lcstbov​ )

[omuse]

                                      𝖲 𝖠 𝖬 𝖠 𝖤 𝖫  &  𝖣 𝖠 𝖤 𝖵 𝖠                                          𝖕𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 / 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊                                                                                              ( @terrvrs )

[bachanaliia]

SAMAEL

@bachanaliia​ -  😲  Smack my muse’s butt + sameva 

he’s not certain what comes over him. samael has never been a man generous with physical touch– preferring to dictate who can initiate contact, when they’re allowed to approach, and is fiercely protective of his personal space.

so when he draws his hand back to strike at eva’s ass with extreme force, hand solidly smacking both cheeks– he blames the man’s irritating, constant need to talk. it works. eva falls quiet. “now can i get a turn to speak?“

       when daeva begins to speak, he knows no end. especially around samael, he finds it even more important to climb to the top, show that he is much better at his job, wanting to get under his skin, make him react somehow. so, he speaks, a huff of breath leaving his lips as he goes on and on. “if you know the first thing about actually running a company- which, you already should kn—-”

      what eva does not expect is the smack, and it makes him freeze, rendering him speechless for a moment. “i... i didn’t expect that out of you.” he lets out, though there are hints of a grin on his lips as he raises his hands in surrender. “fine. hope you know this means i can do the same to you now — but- go on.”

[bachanaliia]

MARCH

the plastic bags in march’s hands rustle full with ingredients for kimchi rice– pork belly and peeled garlic, chicken broth and onions in green and white. there’s month old kimchi he plans on using in his fridge, and he’d bought the ingredients in bulk. it’s difficult, after all, to find time to cook with semi-finals approaching. so he plans ahead for himself and his brother.

the air is summer tepid when he steps out of the air conditioning of the grocery store, thick in that damp way that glistens skin and frizzles his hair. he takes two steps when he hears– coach marchie. peering into the dark he catches akio stumbling out of the shadows. march grips the bags in his hands tighter at every slurred word. there’s no sign of akio’s usual friends– peter, ace, rufio, anyone.

“which bar?” his brows furrow. “this is a college town. they’re everywhere.” but the pure joy on akio’s face warms him, and he finds himself offering, “i’ll get you home. let me just drop these off.” he holds the groceries up. “before i do. that’ll be quicker and safer than trying to find your friends in the chaos of students with semester ending.”

       the question makes him purse his lips, one hand going up to his hair, ruffling it even more as he thinks. “i’m... not sure. something... hideout ?” his face scrunches up, frustrated at his own poor memory. “i know they go there often but- i can’t remember the name- i’m sorry, coach.” his mood drops for a moment as he dwells on it- but the next moment, the other is offering to give him a ride, seemingly not upset at all — and it makes him smile wide again, grateful.

    “thank you so much ! i- i’m sorry i’m being such a trouble - can i carry some of those, please ?” he is quick to walk to the man’s side, and only when he gets there, he pauses for a second, head clearing briefly. nibs’ hands brush over the other’s as he attempts to pick up the bags, and that’s when he suddenly realizes how close he is to his crush of almost two years. his heart picks up, face flushed red due to a mix of fondness and the alcohol.

       when he manages to get a few bags in his own grasp, he pulls back, smiling up at him again, lack of reservation making his filter much weaker. “do - do you live close by ? it’s a bit late for shopping isn’t it ? not to judge ! it’s just — i’m so surprised to see you here so late —”

[omuse]

                          𝖬𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧 𝖧𝖠𝖱𝖤 ﹠ 𝖠𝖪𝖨𝖮 ‘𝖭𝖨𝖡𝖲’ 𝖨𝖹𝖴𝖬𝖨

                                                     "my darling 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵,                                                             i know. i know.                                                          the ᴘᴀsᴛ haunts you.                                                    let me kiss your fears away.”

      commissioned by the lovely @terrvrs​, thank you so much love ! ♡ ᴀʀᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴅıᴛ

[bachanaliia]

@kintsvqi​  |  yarran  &  titania  ,  starter.

      even amidst the busy life of the castle, and the string of long meetings to attend, it’s easy for titania to spot something is off with her brother. however, unfortunately, they are always surrounded by people for the good half of the day, other royals, officials, people asking for answers, advice, and so on. she tries to show comfort by sticking to his side, trying not to add more onto the stress she doesn’t know yet; pushing the glass of water and snacks his way as one of their advisors talk. it kills her not to be able to ask just yet- and it feels like an eternity before they are finally done with work for the day.

      as soon as they are done, she is quick to speak, words quiet. “yarran- follow me, please —” titania pulls them to an empty room, pushing the door shut behind them. her feet take her next to him again, and her eyes are filled with worry when she speaks, meeting her brother’s eyes. “something’s- wrong. talk to me, please. what’s going on ?"