⤜ purrrfect ↠

ten aka kitten. 24. prostitute for phoenix ❝ it is not the homeless, mentally ill or extremely cunning people that we have to be AFRAID of. when someone l o s e s everything that meant something to them is when people should get very afraid. a person that has nothing to lose is the SCARIEST person on earth ❞

[yoonjaeumb]

‹ crossroad. ›

[mixkitten-blog]

hunterxmi‌:

It was a night of celebration over a mission well done. The room was full of intoxicated men and littered empty alcohol bottles, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. Whenever the bottle was passed in Kyungsoo’s direction, he took it meekly and drank without any protest. A few hours in, his cheeks were dusted pink, but the fact he pretended to drink more than he actually did and did shallow sips instead of full swallows meant he was barely tipsy. 

“Do you want one, Hunter?” Someone called out to him from across the room and Kyungsoo looked up. The man had two scantily dressed ladies draped on him, one on each arm as they kissed down both sides of his neck. Great, someone must have called in escorts because clearly, alcohol wasn’t enough to satisfy these beasts. 

“He never wants one, just leave him be!” Another person called out, standing against the wall with his pick of the night. Kyungsoo spared a glance towards his kind savior, only to have his eyes glued to the face of the prostitute the man had in his arms. 

He recognized the person. 

Kyungsoo knew he should have just left it. The person was from his past, high school, to be exact. They didn’t know each other well and only spoke to each other when they were in the presence of their mutual friend. It wasn’t easy, being an undercover officer, and someone from his past could definitely ruin his cover. 

“Actually, I do want one.” It was one of the few times he couldn’t stop himself from speaking up. “In fact, let me have yours.” Kyungsoo slipped to the duo against the wall and clamped a firm hand around the prostitute’s wrist. “And I want to take him to go.” He was never the quiet-spoken type in Hydrus so for a second, his boldness shocked his fellow gang members into silence, giving him the opportunity to run off with the stolen escort. 

They escaped into the corridor with laughter and whistles on their heels. Kyungsoo did not let go of the person until they were out of the hotel doors. “I didn’t know you became a prostitute, Ten.” He paused, realizing his tone could have been softer. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I am just surprised. I thought you’d be back in Seoul somewhere right now.” With Johnny, that dumbass. The two of them were together when Kyungsoo graduated, but not for long since he was two years ahead of them. 

this job is an odd one - he’s been sent to get information on hydrus members. it’s a little out of the range of his job description, but he’ll have a nice eavesdrop and try and pry some info out by putting on his stupid sex-toy act so no one thinks he could ever possibly be a threat. he’s never done a job like this one before, but it seems exciting, especially when there’s very little chance of him being found out to play for a very enemy team. 

he’s dressed in a pretty, glittery, sliver shirt that catches the light and draws eyes to him; thanks to that he’s not standing alone for long. soon, there’s an arm around his waist and he’s pretending to enjoy the man’s company, leaning into his side and acting like he’s got no idea what anyone is talking about or that anyone here is even affiliated with someone who knows a gang, let alone be very involved in a notorious one. 

he’s caught a bit of gossip here and there when a conversation, louder than the usual ones, catches his attention and he peers up at his companion, then over at the man he’s addressing and has to catch himself - he recognises him, and he almost flinched at the realisation. who knew an old acquaintance from seoul would find his way here too, and into an opposing gang as well. 

he’s a little taken aback at how forward this old acquaintance, or friend if he could even really call him that, had become - he seemed to remember him being a lot less confrontational. within seconds he’s being stolen from his initial companion and tugged out of the room where the parties being held, confused, but glad to be away from the guy he was sure would start getting handsy. not that ten wasn’t used to it, but he really wasn’t his type and it’s never fun when they’re not even attractive in the slightest. 

he follows kyungsoo, if he’s remembering his name correctly, breathing in the night air as they exit the hotel. he almost laughs at the harsh way kyungsoo states his occupation, and he laughs softly. “no i... left seoul a long time ago. just... fell into this line of work i suppose. i’m guessing you didn’t steal me away to have me for yourself, then?” it’s an easy assumption to make, given what he knows kyungsoo to be like, and how the conversation held no flirtatious edge like most men’s conversations with him did while he was working. 

“what about you? you’re not in seoul... you’re... in a notorious gang now?”

[mixkitten-blog]

pretty lady.

starter for @bvllami !

the lights are dim and ten’s leant over the bar, fingers twisting a small glass, half full. it’s one of his favourite bars - the music always good, and the company of the owner even better. he is, by no means, attracted to women, but that doesn’t mean he won’t jokingly play around and flirt with them when he gets the chance, which seems to be his odd relationship, if you can call it that, with bella. 

it’s another night in which he doesn’t have a client lined up already, and is wondering whether he can find some random, hopeful young man to entice into bed with him so he doesn’t have to spend it alone. he lifts his glass and takes a sip as his eyes scour the people in the bar. people lounging, or standing up wiggling in the most uncoordinated way to the music. it almost makes him laugh. 

“so, how’s thing with you, pretty lady.” he calls over to bella, watching her serve another man. he’s not sure he’ll find a companion for the night here; he might have to go to a nearby nightclub where people are a bit younger and drunker, but might as well start his night somewhere a little more tolerable. 

“how’s business?” 

[mixkitten-blog]

stress reliever.

starter for @mixhimchan !

this is something ten’s used to. seeking people out when he knows they need someone - someone to talk to, to hold, to just be around. he reads people, he notices things, and lately, he’s picked up on himchan’s stress. it could be anything getting to him; ten supposes it’s more than likely it’s job related, but he doesn’t ask, he just takes himself off to himchan’s apartment one night after a stream. 

even if he pretends these visits are all for the other persons benefit, that’s not exactly the truth. of course, his focus is mainly on whoever he’s trying to relieve of stress, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the company too. anyone who knows him well enough knows that the night time is the worse time for him to be alone. that’s when his brain goes into overdrive and drags up images of events long since put behind him. 

it doesn’t mean they don’t still hurt, or haunt him. 

so he arrives, in some sweats and a hoodie, fresh out of the shower, hoping himchan’s in, so he didn’t waste him time coming all this way. he presses the buzzer and waits at the door, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

[mixkitten-blog]

yixingxmi‌:

This time he did roll his eyes. To Yixing that was a perfectly acceptable response to the heavy sarcasm in Ten’s voice when he was talking about Yixing’s dancing. “If you don’t like my dancing why do you even bother to stick around? I’m not an idiot you know and that was probably the least sincere you could have said that.” He stood up and turned to face him directly. He really should be a better person and just walk away, but Ten loved to prod and test him and Yixing’s aries side would not stand for it. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just walk out of here and deprive you of the attention you thrive on?”

ten doesn’t like when his play-things are taken away, but yixing always wants to take himself out of these situations wherein ten just wants to have fun. maybe it’s not as fun for yixing as it is for ten, but he wishes he’d just indulge him, and play along instead of getting so upset about simple pokes. 

“who said i didn’t like it?” he responds with a huff and overly exaggerated frown, arms coming to cross over his chest. “because this is fun. playing with you.” there’s a slight smirk on the corner of his lips now. sure, yixing seems to hate these games ten wants to play, and it really annoys ten when he cuts it off and storms away, leaving ten wholly unsatisfied and agitated, but ten can’t help pushing him. 

maybe, if ten pushes hard enough yixing will snap, and maybe even shove ten, or pin him to a wall, or something equally as desirable. does he have it in him? ten thinks, eyes scouring over yixing from head to feet, as he usually does at least once in his company. “maybe i need to give you some lessons.” 

[skippermi-archived-deactivated2]

moon, half.

[mixkitten-blog]

skippermi‌:

— tw blood, death, gun, murder

there’s a clear vision, almost as clear as crystal glass on the first floor that makes johnny painfully aware of the reality behind the scenario that’s unfolding in front of his eyes. his first reflex is to pull off the mask still hiding half of his face while he steps closer, nothing but a careful glance thrown into the direction of the man in front of him, man that much more older than him and a much younger male in the same room; right, he should have know.

when he looks to much younger make, briefly, it’s not due to the curiosity he currently feels residing in his chest, the one that’s set something ablaze in his heart and mind, it is unspeakable and he doesn’t know why he get so curious about the boy who is oddly familiar as he doesn’t really glance at him properly to understand who he actually is. johnny has always been less graceful with words and the impulsive, brutal type when released to do a mission. the moment he was set on something, he would try to do it in the most efficient and fun way. but isn’t his concept of fun kind of ambiguous? kind of morally grey? he doesn’t possess that, the realisation of what he is doing miht be a little too much and recognizes he might never: his forte lies elsewhere but at the moment he thinks he’s done well enough for himself, for the mpd, and the columba.

Keep reading

[ tw // murder, death, guns ] 

at first, ten isn’t sure what’s going on, when a man who he assumes is ‘room service’ makes his way into the room. he’s half turned away when he spots him, pulling the bed sheets up around himself a little to try and covers as much of his bare skin as possible (if he’s not paying, he’s not seeing anything). this has never happened with a client before - someone else, even a hotel employee, turning up. 

however, it doesn’t take long for ten to realise that the man isn’t working for the hotel. his clients response to him giving that away within seconds. ten’s not stupid, he realises the situation he’s in is horribly dangerous in that second, when there’s the mention of gangs. if this goes south, ten’s life could be in danger. with the realisation, he freezes, like a deer in headlights, thrown back to the moment his own father held a knife to his throat and threatened to kill him, and the ice cold terror that he can still, to this day so vividly remember coursing through his veins. 

it’s his voice that makes ten really freeze, though. that familiar voice that ten would recognise even amongst a thousand others shouting. he remembers that voice saying such sweet, gentle things to him, muttering soft, loving nonsense in his ears on the nights he found it hard to fall asleep. he remembers the man’s laugh, and the way his hands felt against his skin. his heart, which now pounds so hard it seems as if it’s trying to claw it’s way out of ten’s chest to get to them man, seems to recognise him too. 

but this scene, and the harsh way in which he speaks - it’s so foreign that ten almost questions whether he’s got it right. 

it only takes one glance towards his client, and the man, to confirm it. but... what is he doing here? in myeongcho? presumably doing a job for a gang. this isn’t how johnny’s life was meant to be... ten’s heart aches, because it seems to him that the johnny he knew, who was gentle, and caring, is simply gone - this man, rummaging in his clients pockets and pulling out a gun, is so unfamiliar to him. seeing johnny holding a gun, it just felt wrong. 

ten, now with his back pressed against the headboard of the hotel room’s king, can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the scene in front of him. it’s as if he’s watching something out of a movie, his heart racing, mind clawing for some hint at what might happen next. but there’s no suspenseful background music to rely on, no camera angles, or close-ups. nothing. all ten has is the view of johnny, and his client - johnny spilling bullets on the floor, before slamming ten’s client into the wall. 

ten jumps at the sound of the mans body making contact with the hard wall, hands clutching so tightly to the bed sheets that his knuckles turn white. this has to be a bad dream, he thinks, eyes locked on johnny’s back. he doesn’t look that different to the last time ten saw him - maybe more muscular, with a tidier haircut, but still undeniable johnny-like. 

ten’s listening to what johnny’s saying to the man, until he realises what’s about to happen, and his eyes widen, watching him pull the trigger for the first time. with no emotional connection to his client, ten can’t find it in himself to care about what happens to him, but that doesn’t mean this turn of events doesn’t send ice through his whole body, sending him shifting oh-so slowly off the bed, tugging the sheet with him. he needs to move, to hide - there’s still a chance that johnny didn’t see him when he came in, and that he’ll leave after he’s done he’s killed the man. 

he wouldn’t kill ten if he saw him though, would he?

ten’s not even sure, if he’s being honest. 

so, he crouches beside the bed, turning his back to the scene and tugging the sheet around his body, eyes squeezed closed. he can barely hear what johnny’s saying over the blood pumping in his ears now, but it isn’t loud enough to drown out the gun shot that sounds only seconds later, and the thump of a body falling to the floor. it takes all of his self control not to scream at the sound, nausea starting to overtake him as he realises what kind of man johnny has become. 

it’s only when he feels a gun against the back of his head that he stops focusing on trying to keep quiet, and not cry, and focuses on keeping himself as still as humanly possible. he doesn’t know this johnny, he doesn’t know whether he’ll hesitate to shoot ten or not. he doesn’t know whether, if he finds out that the person he’s pointing a gun at is ten, he’ll not just shoot instantly. what if he hates him, and wants him dead? ten wouldn’t blame him. 

ten, shaking, tries to process the question. who do you work with? there’s no way ten will give up his family, not even to save himself from the only man he’s ever loved. so, he simply stays silent, and carefully, so slowly he’s barely moving, turns his head to look up at johnny, a soft exhale escaping him at the full view he now has of him. 

his johnny... all grown up.

his voice is small when he speaks, shaking slightly.

“johnny...” 

[skippermi-archived-deactivated2]

moon, half.

[mixkitten-blog]

skippermi‌:

when they both lived together, they had a favourite teacup that they used to fill to the brim with steaming, heartwarming instant coffee every morning and our favourite earl grey tea every morning or a plain hot milk — the same beverage that turned cold due to the unnoticed cracks in the cup of their relationship that slowly unfurled and seeped into the innocent porcelain like a crawling bramble of thorns choking its new found plaything. they both took it for granted, unwary of the inevitable they subconsciously wished to delay.

they used to send each other lengthy messages every night. it was a routine; a sweet one. good night and too many heart emojis turning into a sleepless night of trying to be the one who closed the conversation – that even though they are thirteen centimeters apart. one roof, one bed, one love. he, realised it or not, devoted himself to perfecting it. his good night messages.

they stopped at some point of their relationship, johnny couldn’t remember, still cannot remember who was the first one stopped. but he knows his nonexistent, cheery queries about how good he was faring faded into nothing but mere memories. pathetically, johnny still kept trying to send messages to him until a few weeks after the love of his life disappeared before his eyes. his feelings sent but unread, expressed yet concealed behind a screen of expectations; however, one day, an urgent, heart-piercing message abruptly beckoned at his eyes that have been blind and shut out from reality for so long.

(we are sorry; you have contacted a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. if you feel you have reached this alert in error, please check the number and try sending your message again.

“don’t joke around with me, ten.” he said, pitifully in this cold empty flat they shared).

that, the cup shattered. perhaps because of it being used too much yet neither of them expected it nor was able to save it and glue the shattered remains back together. or maybe it was johnny who is unable to noticed the distant ten made between them later on, unable to understand what’s in his mind, unable to connect to him despite them being inches apart now miles away.

still, he loves him. his irreplaceable piece.

after a good obnoxious knocks on the door, a stolen clothes from whoever worker of the hotel, skipper is ready for action. “room service, room service, sir!”

[ tw: prositution mention ]

night after night ten goes to work, though he relishes in the nights he doesn’t have a job lined up. he get’s to stay with a friend, or someone who will at least talk to him like a person and ask him about his day before sleeping with him. tonight isn’t one of those nicer nights, unfortunately. he’s got a client lined up who he’s only seen twice before, and he doesn’t like him all that much. the man never asks much about ten, though he likes to assume things about him, and what he might like (he’s usually wrong). but, he pays well, and he’s got information that phoenix deems necessary to keep acquiring - he’s a constant income of secret details about this and that, and they need to keep in his good books. that’s where ten comes in. 

the better ten does at his job, the happier the client will be, and the more he’ll spill. 

ten arrives shortly after the client, immediately ordered to undress and wait on the bed. it’s the same as the previous appointments with him, and ten isn’t unused to being naked when his client isn’t - sometimes the clients never fully undress, and ten never asks why. some have it as a kink, while others like to keep weapons on them at all times. 

it’s the same hotel as the previous two appointments. one that ten rather likes; they leave chocolates on the pillows, and he always manages to sneak them into his pants pockets before undressing, saving them for later. this time, once he’s undressed, he slips under the bed sheets as the air conditioning’s on quite high and he can feel the goosebumps on his arms already raising. he doesn’t think his client will mind, he usually just wants to have a casual chat before they get down to things, but he likes ten to be bare while they talk, so he can admire him, which ten doesn’t mind. 

just as his client turns from where he’d been standing by the window, eyes locked on his phone screen, about to make his way over to join ten on the bed, there’s a knock on the door, and his client rolls his eyes, frowning at the interruption. ten’s never had room service interrupt his appointments before, but he assumes they’re just asking whether they want breakfast options for the next morning, considering the rooms booked overnight (though ten always leaves right after his jobs done - he doesn’t know whether the clients stay or not). 

his client moves to the door, which is just out of sight of the bed, and ten hears him open it. “yes?” he hears his voice grumble, clearly not trying to hide his annoyance. 

[mixkitten-blog]

yixingxmi‌:

Starter for @mixkitten

Yixing slumped against the chair breathing hard. That was probably the best workout he’d had in ages. With one of his very rare days off he’d decided to get back to the studio and just let loose. All the stress and anxiety built up from the last month or so melted away to the rhythm of the music. He always felt like he was flying with not a care in the world when he danced. But as with all things, he eventually had to return to reality. The music stopped and he grabbed his water bottle and ready for a much needed drink, only to finally notice he had an audience. Words could not describe how difficult it was for him not to roll his eyes and instead offer a small smile. He’d just gotten rid of all his stress and in walked probably one of the most irritating people he knew. He sighed as he addressed Ten, willing to try and be as calm and civil as possible. “I don’t know how long you’ve been standing there, but I’m just finishing up. Studio’s all yours.” Time to beat feat before things got out of hand and he lost his newly acquired tranquility.

now, ten wasn’t one to hate many people, and in all honesty, what he felt for yixing was very far from hatred. irritation, attraction, something of a mixture of the two maybe, but it always seemed to come out in a way that just seemed to fuel this odd hateship with yixing. of course, ten didn’t mind all that much; he found it entertaining. 

so, when he stopped by the dance studio after some studying in a nearby coffee shop, he was half annoyed, half elated to find yixing there dancing already. he slipped into the studio quietly, leaning against the wall out of sight of the mirrors and watching his movements with some level of scrutiny. yixing wasn’t bad, at all really, but ten wasn’t going to tell him that. ten wanted to rile him up until he exploded, in all honesty. 

when yixing finally notices him his lips spread into an amused smirk. “just long enough to see you killing it.” sarcasm laces his words, pretending he doesn’t at all think yixing was ‘killing it’ - he was almost killing it. “oh no, don’t leave!” an exaggerated pout forms on his lips. yixing is far too much fun to play with, and ten’s still intrigued, desperate to find out just how angry he can make him before he explodes. 

[mixkitten-blog]

47. do you believe in true love?

HEADCANON MEME: accepting !

47. do you believe in true love?

he sighs, smiling a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he glances off to the side. “sure i do. doesn’t mean it’ll last, or end well, though. maybe for some lucky ones, it does... it didn’t for me.” he shrugs and takes a slow, deep inhale, then exhales, as if trying to rid the ice that had formed in his veins at the memories invading his mind. 

“sometimes i think people have another half somewhere, and not everyone meets theirs, but they can still love someone else almost as much as they’d love their other half... but your other half... you missing piece-” he voice cracks and he takes a moment to compose himself. “your missing piece is different. what you can have with them... that’s true love.”

[mixkitten-blog]

39, 40

HEADCANON MEME: accepting !

39. do you regret anything from your past?

there’s a lot of small things ten regrets - like that one time he put a fork in the microwave with his lunch when he was trying to heat it up when he was a teen, or that time he gave a random girl his phone number and had to change it a week later when she wouldn’t stop texting him. but, he assumes the question is referring to far bigger things. in that case - his blood chills.

first he thinks of his dad; would he change his mind about killing him is he could go back? he doesn’t think for long - the answer will always be no. he doesn’t regret killing that vile man. but, there is something he regrets, and even thinking about it, about him stings. “yes...” hesitating, he swallows thickly. “i left someone, without even saying goodbye. if i could even get to go back just to say goodbye, i would... but i don’t even think i could leave again if i went back... but then where on earth would i be now?”

40. do you miss anyone from your past?

his jaw locks, clenching and his eyes closed - each question seems to burn a little deeper. “i’m getting really fucking tired of these questions,” he mumbles, half to himself, “but whatever.” he huffs, shifting in his seat to sit up a little straighter, the frown that has carved itself into his face as the question was posed hasn’t shifted. 

“yes, i miss someone. i won’t name him, but he was... is very special to me. i fucked things up, as usual. i don’t know where he is now, and i think... i missed out on the best thing life every gave me, because i was stupid. it’s my own fault i lost him, but i’m not even surprised. i’m my own worst enemy at this point.” a humourless laugh escapes him, body sagging as he looks off to the side, lifting his hand to chew at his nails. 

[mixkitten-blog]

42.

HEADCANON MEME: accepting !

42. is something irritating you right now?

“other than you with this question?” he playful quips, very clearly joking with his mischievous smile. with a little laugh, he shrugs, tilting his head to the side as he hums. “right night, at this moment in time, no, not really,” he answers easily. in general, there’s probably multiple small annoyances, but none shine out as the most annoying. 

“i’ve got a couple... tiring clients this week, that’s somewhat annoying, but they pay well so i can’t complain. i have a useless dance partner for an upcoming assessment performance... nothing horribly irritating though.”

[mixkitten-blog]

7 & 15

HEADCANON MEME: accepting !

7. does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

ten scoffs, “no, not when it’s basically my job - both of them.” spending most nights in a week with, usually, different men, and putting on ‘shows’ on livestream twice a week desensitised him long ago to it all. “i don’t think it should, really, even if i wasn’t in the line of work that i am.” he shifts where he sits, looking off to the side for a moment. “it’s all natural, isn’t it? everyone does it, so why be all shy about it?”

15. favorite part of your daily routine?

multiple things come to mind instantly, “my coffee breaks maybe? i like the few hours i get most days to just sit and work in a coffee shop with a warm drink.” thinking about it makes him crave a particularly sweet warm drink, maybe hot chocolate, or a chai latte, something as sweet as he likes to tell people he himself is. “or on nights when i’m not working and i get to pamper myself a little with a bubble bath and a face mask.”

[mixkitten-blog]

41

HEADCANON MEME: accepting !

41. ever broken someone’s heart?

his entire body seems to freeze up at the question, mind racing right back to seoul. he remembers the night he left, blood staining his hands and tears staining his cheeks, and how all that was on his mind wasn’t the father he’d just killed, but him, back in their apartment, no idea that ten was walking away from seoul for good, without even a simple goodbye. his chest aches as he thinks about it. 

“i hope not...” he murmurs, staring at his hands, twisting together in his lap. “i-... don’t know, all i know is i broke my own. did i break another in the process... maybe? i just hope not.” he turns his head sharply to the side, eyes lifted upwards as he hurriedly blinks back tears that had started to prick at his eyes. 

[mixkitten-blog]

16 and/or 25 ~

HEADCANON MEME: accepting !

16. what part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

an instinctual frown falls over his features. ten, on principle, doesn’t think about his body - he’s long since realised that thinking about it as something that’s his, judging bits and pieces of it just making him more connected to it, is a bad idea with the line of work he’s in. is the answer ‘all of it’? or maybe ‘none of it’? “i don’t... know.” is his first utterance. 

wracking his brains his frown only intensifies as he tries to think about his body as his, something he can have an opinion on. “to tell you the truth, i can’t think of anything. i don’t know if that means i like everything, or if it means i don’t like anything enough to have a least favourite thing.” he’s uncomfortable, revealing this, especially to sicheng. “not even sure if i think of it as mine anymore.” a bittersweet smile accompanies this comment, and it makes his stomach churn to think too much about.

25. what are you paranoid about?

he takes a lot longer to think this time, knowing there’s probably a clear answer to this if he thinks hard enough - isn’t everyone paranoid about something, after all? eventually, his posture shifts and he sighs, “that one day i’ll lose phoenix, lose everything that i have, and i’ll be all alone once again.” to ten, life doesn’t seem worth living if he’s alone. being alone is the worst thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s not willing to try living like that. 

“i’m already more alone than i’d like to be, and the thought that i could get even more alone, with less people who genuinely care about me and not my body... it’s the scariest thing i can think of. i’m paranoid that everyone will leave me one day, i suppose you could say.” he can’t even smile through the pain this confession lifts to the surface, his frown stiff and cemented into his expression at this point. 

[mixkitten-blog]

5 / 12 / 14

 HEADCANON MEME: accepting !

5. what kind of people are you attracted to?

a half smirk curls it’s way into the corners of ten’s lip, as his eyebrows raise slightly, “men?” is his short answer, but he waves a hand with a soft laugh, relaxing his posture a little. “of course, that’s not what you’re asking though, is it?” attraction isn’t something ten has the same relationship with that other people do - he can’t usually choose who he spends his ‘time’ with like others do with people they’re attracted to, so it isn’t something he regularly thinks about. 

“i’m inclined to say tall guys, but i think i found a short guy attractive once.” it’s hard for him to be completely serious, and open about anything. but, with a reluctant sigh and pinched frown he sags, “someone who makes me feel safe. someone i can trust far more than myself. someone who... has a nice smile, and doesn’t mind lazy nights in. someone who’s exciting, yet stable at the same time. not exactly predictable, but not unpredictable in a bad way. maybe someone who just... isn’t anything like me.” it’s with a sad smile that he finishes speaking, the realisation of all the things he likes in someone shaking him up a little. 

“in the end, don’t we all just like people who make us smile, and feel nice?” 

12. what are your bad habits?

“i don’t have any, i’m perfect.” is his playful response, cheeky smile gracing his lips. “but no-” he shrugs, shifting his posture slightly. “would you say drinking too much coffee is a bad habit? because that’s certainly one of them.” even talking about coffee is making him wonder whether he can fit in another coffee shop stop before work that evening. 

“other than that...” his eyes shift off to stare into the haze of middle-distance, not really looking at anything. “possibly being too dependent on other people to help me sleep better. i guess i should figure out a way to fix my sleeping troubles myself, but it’s just a lot easier to let someone else do it, y’know?” 

14. do you have trust issues?

his teeth catch on his lower lip, gnawing at the plump flesh for a moment as he thinks over the slightly more intrusive question. “to some extent, i feel like everyone does,” he starts. “but i wouldn’t say i have more than your usual messed up person. it’s hard to trust people fully, but i think it’s more the fact that i know better than to trust most people. i trust the right people.” his mind goes right to phoenix, the gang members he calls his family - he knows he can trust most, if not all of it’s members. 

“if someone proves to me they’re trustworthy, then i don’t think it’s too hard for me to completely trust them, i’m just not dumb enough to believe that even the most trustworthy of people can always fuck up in the end. i trust to an extent, but i’m not stupid. you can never trust anyone fully.”

[nctaezen]

alluring ♡

[myeongchokrp]

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[mixkitten-blog]

— before sunset

starter for @taexmi​ !

the summer time is always a lot more relaxed, for ten. when the sun sets later, and the light keeps the dark at bay for many more hours, he’s able to relax for a lot longer, let his guard down and just pretend he’s a normal university student. in these summer months he spends the hours between lectures and dance practises ending, and the sun setting, either in the library, working on notes, or writing things for his blog, or he sits in his favourite cafe, gazing out at people wandering by with a nice americano warming his palms as his hands cradle the cup. 

that’s exactly what he intends to do today, as he heads inside the familiar coffee shop, hands, out of habit, clutching at the strap of his bag that hangs across his body. the familiar boy at the counter brings a smile to ten’s lips. he might be one of the reasons this coffee shop is ten’s favourite. taeyong, ten’s self-declared best friend. they’d met through a dance thing at uni, though taeyong wasn’t a dance major, he liked it, and ten liked to watch him dance - ten thinks his best friend is mesmerising when he dances. 

heading up to the counter his eyes meet taeyong’s and his smile widens, “yongie! how’s work going?” his eyes shift to the glass display with the cakes and chocolatey confectioneries inside. “just the usual.” he hurriedly says, eyes still glued to the muffins. “and can i get a double chocolate chip muffin?” he’s pretty sure, if he remembers correctly, that taeyong’s shift should be ending sometimes soon, so thinks he might get to spend some time chatting to him over coffee once he’s finished. “when do you get off work?”