#kayson

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well… well okay LUCA HAS BEEN ADDED

I PRESENT:

Leila Lyannah - Love

Nica Redelle - Bartender

Vienna Leisrie - Darling

Azalea - Hunter

Natalya Heirines - Barista

Ella Floyan - Gremlin

Eva Daliton - Prefect

Envy - Pet

Adrienna Lucikanoi - Pickle

Lula Lobeiry - Honey

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CHAT I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THESE CHARACTERS AND PROCRASTINATED

FOR A WHOLE YEAR TO FINISH THEM XD (Hence the style differentiations xd)

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If you can be bothered, read the text :DD

[FROM LEILA’S TEXT - Morse code + 2 different languages]

Also I used google and DeepL translate so forgive me if anything is wrong ;-;

- .... .. ... / .. ... / .- -. / .. -. - . .-. . ... - .. -. --. / .-.. .- -. --. ..- .- --. . -.-.-- / .. / -.. --- -. .-..-. - / - .... .. -. -.- / .-.. . .. .-.. .- / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / ..-. --- .-. --. .. ...- . / -- . / ..-. --- .-. / .-- .... .- - / .. / -.. .. -.. / - --- / .... . .-. .-.-.- / .... .- .... .-

.- .-.. - . .-. -. .- - .. ...- .

..- -. ..

versum/verse

el alma atada por hilos

Niemand hoeft voor haar te zorgen. Haar lot is bezegeld. Zoals elk ander clichéverhaal.

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Please consider reblogging !!

‼️MORE TO SHOW‼️

-Luca’s Listener

-Cevyk’s Listener

-Niall’s Listener

Kayson x Reader

“Perfect?” Kayson whispered, poking his head into the living room. His shift ended late since the guests were not keen to leave the restaurant, and company policy forbade him to kick anyone out, no matter the time. 

He had hoped you two would get dinner together, but it was two in the morning. He gazed at you asleep on the couch — having failed to stay up for him — and could not help the affectionate smile from breaking across his face.

Zaros & Earis — "you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor"

Andrew & Darling — "in a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

Elias & Barista — "baby boy, I think I've been too good"

Xanthus & Love — "we keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

Niall & Sussybaka — "cause shade never made any body less gay"

Luca & Fiancé — "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings"

Cevyk & Iqsus — "knew he was a killer first time that I saw him"

Asirel & Pet — "you did some bad things but I'm the worst of them"

Isaac & Pickle — "I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all"

Dontis & Hunter — "you drew stars, around my scars, and now I'm bleeding"

Kayson & Prefect — "you got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt"

Jonah & Baby — "I'm drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar"

Are You Ok?

“Been staring at your face

From across the room now

You seem out of place.”

—————💙—————

Synopsis: Sometimes, Kayson is all you need.

——————💙—————

“You haven’t gotten a job yet? Just what the hell are you doing over there?”

You couldn’t help but flinch at the sharp, harsh tone that laced your mother’s voice. As the little beads of perspiration made their way down your face, you took a deep breath, and let a shaky sigh pass through your pursed lips. You tried your best to focus on the warmth of the gentle rays of sunshine, the shadow casted by the leaves hovering above you, or staring at the patches of sunlight that poked its way through the gaps.You tried to focus on the softness of the grass under your feet, or the intoxicating, overwhelming aroma of magnolia. But it didn’t matter how hard you tried to focus on the beautiful scene in front of you—you could feel the pit in your stomach getting deeper by the second, and the tremors that took over your hands didn’t cease. All you could do was tighten the grip on your phone and let the cold, icy feeling of regret seep into your veins—because you knew, somehow, someway, this was going to happen.

You should’ve let this call go straight to voicemail.

“Mama— I’m trying my best, but finding a job fresh out of college is so difficult right now!” You answered sheepishly.

“Well maybe you would’ve had one if you’d just simply applied yourself better!” She snapped.

You fought the urge to scoff and groan as pure annoyance took hold of your entire body. Usually, when she says things like this—you find it best to keep your face as neutral as possible, and answer her calmly. Usually, you’d murmur a weak, “Okay Mama, I’m sorry,” or a meek “I’ll do better,” and nothing more than that. Usually you’d let her speak her piece, and let her believe that you weren’t trying as hard as actually were.

But on this particular day, you were at your wits end.

It was bad enough that she thought that all you were doing was kicking back, twiddling your thumbs, and wasting time. It was worse that she invalidated all of your efforts and everything you’ve ever worked for. But the fact that your application was rejected from yet another job was just the icing on the cake. Pent up frustration and anger melted away the frigid ice that consumed your veins moments ago, and you decided to speak—not even trying to hide the pure irritation that took over your tone.

“Mama, you’re acting like all I did was slack off! I worked hard! I tried my best! I still am!”

“Well, you’re not trying hard enough, and you never have.”

“Are you seriou—”

“You have no idea how lucky you are to be in this position—to be in this country—to live this life. You have it so good, and despite all the sacrifices your father and I made to provide you with an easier path, you still can’t find it in your heart to do your best! Do you know what I’d give to be in your shoes right now? To live your life?? To be able to go to college? Your father and I didn’t have that luxury back home!”

“What about me? What about all the things I’ve sacrificed?? All the things that I’ve worked for?? I’ve spent hours of my life—hunched over at my desk—staring at nothing but books and computer screens in order to get grades to make you happy! Hours of my life I could’ve spent hanging with friends, or finding new hobbies—but instead, I sat there and worked my ass off for you! I did it to make you proud!”

“Well, do I sound proud to you?”

Anything else you had to say died on your tongue when you heard that. And the fire that once burned through your body fizzled out in an instant.

“You talk about the ‘sacrifices you’ve made’ but what would you know about any of that—lounging around on a couch that isn’t yours, eating food you didn’t even buy, mooching off of people who don’t even have your best interest at heart! Relying on that Kayson boy—who does nothing but enable this destructive behavior! You talk about all the sacrifices you’ve made but sacrifices only matter when you get the result you gave up everything for. But what do you have to show for all the ‘sacrifices’ you’ve made, huh?? Nothing.”

You felt your heart clench in your chest.

“The point of spending all of those hours studying was to ensure that you’d get a good job. I talked to Danny’s mother the other day and she told me that his younger sibling didn’t sleep for four days straight because they studied for the bar. And now, they’re a lawyer at a local firm. That boy they were dating got an offer to work at a big photography company in New York City. Your history teacher was 23 years old when he started teaching at the University. And you know what all of them have in common?”

You swallowed.

“They’re all around the same age as you are. They all sat by their desks—spending ‘hours of their lives’ slaving away at reports, essays, and homework—hours of their lives they could’ve spent doing something else, just like you did. But you know what the difference is between you and them?”

“I—”

“They have the luxury of seeing the fruits of their hard labor, and you don’t.”

“Wh—”

“You know good and damn well that if everyone back home heard about the way you turned out, they’d all look at you funny. Because here you are in a place where you have a chance—a chance better than them to live a successful life—to have a good job with a nice salary—and instead of seizing those opportunities while they’re still there, you’ve spent that time lazing around on a couch that doesn’t even belong to you. A chance they themselves could’ve—hell, would’ve used better than you.”

Your chest tightened as those words fell out of her mouth, and your mind went completely blank. You didn’t even know what to say in response. What could you say?

“Listen to me. Your father and I are sick and tired of waiting for you to get your shit together, (Y/N). We did not spend thousands of pounds to get you a proper education just for you to end up as a jobless blob living, sleeping, and eating under a roof you don’t even pay for! You either do something with your life, or you might as well give us our money back. The clock is ticking, (Y/N)! Do better!”

The line went dead, and all you could feel was the warmth radiating from your phone as it pressed against your cheek. You tried to focus on the smell of magnolia wafting through the wind, but that once beautiful aroma suddenly turned sour. And, despite the rays of golden that showered everyone that walked into its warmth, the world seemed a little darker, and a lot more colder. You looked out at the people sauntering down the grassy pathways, and the others lingering under the trees nearby, at the children running after each other, their mouths upturned and wide, the ends of their eyes crinkled with joy as the air was filled with laughter. You attempted to focus on the soft murmur of conversations of the people basking in the sun, and the chirping of the birds roosting in the foliage overhead. You tried your best to distract yourself from the sinking feeling in your stomach, from the absolute guilt that loomed over your head like a thick, gray storm cloud—blocking even the light peeking its way through the gaps in the leaves, or the burning pain that ravaged your chest.

You tried your best to breathe.

But those attempts were all in vain. Because no matter how much you tried to focus on sounds of the leaves rustling in the wind, they’d eventually be drowned out by your mother’s harsh words—the conversation playing in your mind incessantly like a broken record. It echoed in your mind, her angry tone cutting deep every time—opening up old wounds and insecurities you did your best to heal from. The guilt came crashing down on you like a deluge, sweeping away any semblance of serenity and peace within you—because the worst part was, she was right. You tried your best, but it wasn’t enough, and it will never be enough. You were guilty of wasting time—guilty of wasting money, of wasting chances—chances you were given so easily—that seemed like such a distant dream to your relatives back home. Your eyes burned with tears, blurring the view that once brought you calmness.With a heavy heart, trembling hands, and shaking shoulders, you started the long trek home.

You wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and curl into a ball, and cry until there was nothing left of you but a damp puddle—which will, too, eventually disappear.

….

Kayson hummed happily as he poured the bell peppers into a pot of ground turkey, dancing to an imaginary song while he stirred it carefully. He took a deep breath and sighed satisfactorily, pouring the marinara sauce in next. In a surprising turn of events, he was granted the rest of the day off, and he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time than making your favorite meal for dinner. He placed the cover on the pot, eagerly peeking his head around the corner as he heard you enter, his lips upturned in a wide smile—ready to give you a warm welcome. But his smile vanished in an instant when he saw your bloodshot eyes, your red face, which showed an expression of utter dejection and defeat—and your posture, which was usually so perfect, so precise—ruined by the way you hunched over.

Despite your unsightly appearance, you forced your lips into a small smile and croaked, “Hey Kay. That smells amazing, what is it?”

He steps closer to you. “Perfect? What’s the matter?”

You flinched at that nickname. You knew you weren’t worthy of it. A fresh wave of tears came over you, and sob broke past your lips. In an instant, Kayson gathered you in his strong arms—holding your shaking frame gently as you fell further into pieces.

“Shh….It’s okay. I’ve got you,” He assured softly, his hand rubbing your back—his ministrations slowly bringing back the comfort you thought you lost in that park.

With ease, he led you to the couch—and soon enough, your face was buried in his chest, your body curling into his own—his warmth enveloping you, like a flame in the harshest of winters. And for a few minutes, you allowed yourself to fall apart in the sanctity of his arms.

….

You were reduced to quiet sniffles and shaking shoulders, but your chest—which burned with so much pain, and was crushed by the heavy weight of guilt—felt so much lighter. And, even though you were suffering from a massive headache and sore, red eyes, you were able to breathe again. You sighed heavily, sinking further in Kayson’s embrace as he tightened his hold around you.

And, with a soft, gentle voice—filled with concern and love, he asked you, “Are you okay now?”

You shook your head.

“No,” you croaked, your throat still sore from crying, “But hopefully I will be.”

“What’s got you so upset, babe? What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your lips formed a small smile, despite how much they trembled; and with a wavering voice, you told him everything. You told him about the rejection of your job application, the harsh and hurtful words your mother had for you, and how you felt like you were failing at everything you did.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you sniffled—a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes, “The fact that she was right about everything, or that all of the time I’ve spent studying meant so little in the very end. Everyone else is so far ahead in their lives, and I’m just out here falling behind…”

“But that’s just not true! Every single day you get up out of bed and make the effort to find work! Every single day you keep applying, and interviewing, and doing everything you can to actually get a job! It’s not like you sit around doing nothing all day! You work hard, even now!”

“But—”

“Look, I know you think that all the work you did was for nothing, but that is the furthest thing from the truth. It was because you spent all that time studying that you graduated with honors! It was those sleepless nights that helped you graduate at the top of the class—it was all that effort you put into your assignments that got you those awards! You’ve graduated college, and were one of the most intelligent students in the class on top of that! Does any of that sound like “sacrifices made in vain” to you?”

For a moment, you paused—and let his words sink in. Doubt and guilt still swarmed you, its weight massive—its force excruciating, and painful; but despite the heavy load that burdened your entire body, you couldn’t deny what he just said. College isn’t an easy feat, and graduating with honors isn’t something to scoff at, either.

“No,” you murmured—your voice smaller, your tone discerning, “No, it isn’t.”

“Exactly. You’ve already accomplished so much in the short time you’ve been on this Earth, and I know you will go on to achieve so much more. And just because you aren’t where you want to be in life right now doesn’t mean that you will never get there, it just means you have to keep working until you do!”

The self-doubt that weighed you down like a heavy load—the guilt that once caused your eyes to fill up with tears—the pain that burned your chest, causing your entire body to ache, slowly but surely started to fade away as you processed his words. And as you saw his confidence in you—unwavering, relentless—like an untamed flame—the brick wall of self-doubt that had you sheltered in for so long—the wall kept you in the shadows, blocking you from the warmth of the sun's rays—slowly started to crack, and chip away.

“All this talk your mom has about how your relatives will ‘look at you funny,’ and how they would’ve ‘done better than you,’ doesn’t matter—because they aren’t the one who’s living your life. You shouldn’t let what other people would’ve done dictate the decisions you make. You wouldn’t be living your life otherwise—you’d be living someone else's. And even your mother wouldn’t know for sure what your relatives would do if they were living your life—because she’s not them. So, be kinder to yourself, babe! Everyone has their own path that they walk through at their own pace; that’s why it’s never okay to compare your progress to anyone else’s. Your time will come.”

He cupped your face, guiding you to look into his eyes, his loving stare meeting your gaze as a smile graced his beautiful features.

“And when it does, I’ll be right here.”

Your eyes welled up with tears once more—and when they fell, you were comforted by the gentle sensation of his thumb wiping them away. You melted further in his warm embrace, as you gingerly laid your head against his chest. His unwavering belief in you provided with strength you couldn’t have gotten anywhere else.

“Thanks, Kay. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He placed a kiss on the crown of your head, and tightened his hold once more.

“Anytime, Perfect.”

————————💙————————-

A/N: Good Ghandi, ya’ll. I’m SO sorry this took so long. I actually had this in the works since like—April, but I couldn’t for the LIFE of me finish it because as it turns out….writing for Kayson is kinda hard! But also, June and July were months that were just so damn busy for me, and I had such little time to write.

Anyway, I have a head cannon that Perfect is from immigrant family—mostly because in a lot of immigrant households, the parents put a lot of emphasis on getting a good education to ensure a good job. (My household is no different. However, I’m grateful to have parents who actually recognize my achievements, and would never talk to me the way Perfect’s parents do. Love you, mom and dad!)

There is a lot expectations and pressure put on Perfect to succeed, and it’s to the point where they just equate all of their self-worth to the things they’ve accomplished, and that really just reminds me of some of my friends who also live in immigrant households, too😭

Sometimes, you aren’t gonna be where you want to be in life, but that doesn’t mean you’ve failed or that all the hard work you’ve put in doesn’t mean anything, it just means it isn’t your time, yet. And everyone has their time.

And honestly, as long as you’re trying your best—that’s the only thing you can do. 💙

Andrew Marston

Isaac Rhoades

Kayson Mayer

Niall Marsh

Rowan