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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

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Pretty like the wind. Epilogue.

Series masterlist

a/n As promised, I welcome you into the last glimpse of our beloved's future. Thank you so much for joining me in this wonderful project. I had a blast writing it and a big part of my heart will always be here. ✨🤍 in a way can be read as a separate piece. 🫧

warning: kids for sure, mentions of past trauma and that's all. Happy, happy vibes. Just cute fam goodness.

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You hummed to yourself. That ancient melody of the wind that had been woven into your blood for decades. One that was now accompanied by a gentle breeze. Pulling the basket to rest on your hip, you slowly turned back to the house that Azriel had bought, even before you and the kids were in the picture. One he had surprised you with weeks after the proposal. You three had slowly decoded and rebuilt. Painting flowers and gusts of wind along the rims of the windows. Slithers of dark and radiant beams of light. A mural of your story. One that had threaded you all together so tightly that there was no way to distinguish where one of you stared and the other began.

"Can you do my hair the way you had it during the mating ceremony with papa?", you flinched slightly as an overly excited Zofie appeared right in front of you the moment you walked through the patio door. You slowly set the laundry down. Cupping her cheek gently. To think that now she was almost above your shoulder. Where, when, and why did babes suddenly start to age way quicker?

"With flowers and all?", you asked her softly, and she nodded so eagerly that there was no way for you to decline. You loved that both Axel and Zofie had been there. Have been a part of one of the happiest days of your existence. Mother, strike them all. You still got goosebumps just from the thought alone. Of course, neither you nor Azriel cared about official vows and ceremonies, but there had still been a part of you that wanted to meet him in the middle of the old oak forest. Meet him in the glistening pool of startling. Take his hand as he slowly helps you step over the slippery stones.

Azriel was beautiful. You knew that from the moment you laid eyes on him. But that day. Dressed in all black. His slightly curly hair brushed back, yet that one stubborn, utterly perfect strand lazily fell over his forehead. The moment Azriel's eyes met you, you were ready to run down the path, not walk. Run straight into your mate's arm, into your forever. "My light, my sunshine," the spymaster had muttered as he brushed his nose against you when yours, you two were inches away, both up to waist submerged in the starlight.

"Alright, but...", you muttered, shaking your head slightly. You hadn't been the one to do your hair. It was Feyre and Cordelia who had braided and poked at your head for what felt like hours. "I picked all of the flowers myself." Zofie quickly cut into your train of thought, "You don't have to do anything; just braid," she breathed out. So hopeful. So full of young enthusiasm. Flowers. It had been the flower that Elain had grown in her garden that had been threaded through your hair that day. Even if Azriel had turned from her, you had sought her out against his will. She had moved out with Lucien. With Beron dead and Eris running the autumn court, the youngest Vanserra had wanted to stay close to his brothers. She, like the farmers in the border villages, had been poisoned by the dark magic Padme had borne. A weak link—that's what she had been. A naive, still ever-trusted heart that had been forced against her own will to cause harm that now she had to be forced to bear.

You chased that memory away. Even now. Even after so much, her story still sent shivers down your spine. Reaching for the brush, you gently brushed Zofie's long, onyx hair. Twisting and braiding. Plucking flowers from the basket as you went. Zofie shifted in her chair. She had a direct view of herself in the big brass mirror that stood against the wall in the hallway. Smoothing the silk of her skirt, she muttered, "Do you think it's too much?" You met her eyes in the reflection ahead. She was one stunning young girl. But teen years could be and often were filled with so much doubt. "Oh gosh, it's too much, isn't it?", she nearly sighed, and you realized that you had taken way too long to answer, "Zofie, darling, calm down; you look lovely." You smiled at her, finishing some of the last braids as you carefully pinned them into place.

"We'll go as soon as Axel comes back," you said softly. She rubbed her palms together, already trying to turn her head to see the backrest. The lack of patience in these younglings... "Do you think papa will be mad?", she asked softly, yet you couldn't help a slight frown that ran through your face. "Mad about what?", you had started right as the door opened, and Azriel walked in, looking as refined as ever. You instantly felt a gentle caress against the bond, making you smile before the spymaster turned his attention to the not-so-little girl. "Wow," Azriel breathed, and Zifie's cheeks instantly turned crimson. "Give me a twirl," his shadows already dancing in the sides of the purple dress you had stitched specifically for tonight. "You look breathtaking, my little start," and here she was, nearly shining with the love and confidence Azriel poured into her on a daily basis. She flourished when she was with him. And Azriel had done all he could to make her grow into her skin. Into her power.

"It feels like a whole welcome party for your brother," Azriel finally chuckled as he stepped further into the house, and Zofie's face fell instantly. The girl spared you a look before turning to her dad, "It's not for Axel." It was barely a whisper, and yet she knew that he heard her. "You just wanted to get...", but Azriel's voice died down right as the realization hit him. "Oh...", he breathed out. His features grew stern almost immediately. "Nyx's will be there," Zofie swallowed thickly.

This was probably one of the things Azriel struggled to get over. Of course, he knew they were going to mate eventually. And you had to be blind and dead and, in general, not be able to grasp reality to miss the way Zofie and Nyx were constantly pulling towards each other no matter where they went. "Papa," she breathed, stepping closer to Azriel and pulling at his arms that were tightly folded over his chest. "You are too young," Azriel huffed slightly, shaking his head. "Come on," Zofie huffed, turning to you. "Mom," she pleaded her case with you.

"Azriel, we talked about this," you said softly. And you two had. Elain had a vision of them a long way down the line. Azriel, of course, had called it bullshit. But Rhys saw the early flickers of bonding between the two kids with his own two eyes. Of course, they were left unaware for now. Way too young to go through frenzies. Hand holding already gave Azriel cardiac arrest. If Nyx were to pull her into a cabin all alone, the end of the world would be upon everyone.

"You are supposed to be in the phase when boys are disgusting to you," Azriel stated plainly, making you giggle slightly. Yet you knew that there was only so long he could decline her, and the minute Zofie's shoulders had sagged in defeat, the spymaster had thrown his head back too. "Fine," he muttered, and Zofie let out a happy squeal that she tried to cover with her palms, but nothing truly slipped through Azriel's ears. "Your shadows can be with me at all times," she stated, nodding her head firmly. "Oh, like hell they will be, missy," Azriel leaned in to kiss her forehead lovingly. His fingers reached for the blue sapphire that glistened on her neck. Azriel had crafted it himself for her. It was a way for her to block out the flare-ups of her empathetic powers. It helped her keep her shields up. Helped. She could do it perfectly fine on her own now, but Zofie had never taken the necklace off. No matter what, that piece of jewelry always stayed.

"I'm home." You nearly let out a gasp as you turned your attention to the door. And here he stood. You nearly tripped over yourself as you rushed to him. "Oh, my sweet," you said, feeling your eyes tingling as you cupped Axel's face. "Look at you," you breathed. To say that it was hard watching him go to the camps to train would have been an understatement. You couldn't sleep the first night he was gone. Had made Azriel winnow you there just so you could see him sleeping peacefully. Of course, he wasn't alone. Nyx was with him, and the two had formed quite a friendship, but still, the past trauma of the place lingered.

"Ax," Zofie's voice echoed, and Axel barely got to turn away from you as she jumped into his arms. Axel spun her around a couple of times before muttering, "Hey, Zo." The two siblings were beaming at each other. It was hard for them to stay away from one another. For most of their lives, they held onto each other so tightly. Protected one another. A slight sob slipped past your lips. "Mom, come on," Axel reached out to you, but you just shook your head, waving him off. "Don't mind me," you said, patting your cheeks. Zofie instantly stepped to hug you from the side, her head pressed against your chest.

"Who let you grow so much in a week?", you muttered, making everyone let out a chuckle. "I doubt I did," Axel looked down at himself before his eyes met yours. "Yes, you did," you reassured him as he too stepped closer to kiss your cheek. "Put your bags down; wash up if you like before we go," you brushed your fingers over his cheek, earning a smile from him in return. While you had been excited for a family dinner the past couple of days, all of a sudden all you wanted was to lock up the doors and keep your family all in the house. "I'll help him unpack," Zofie beamed. You knew it was less about the unpacking and more about the extra time they could spend together. The two just loved to talk. And since they trusted each other so much, you were sure there was a lot to catch up on. You watched them chasing one another up the steps. The house was once again full of laughter, and footsteps were echoing from the second floor.

You closed your eyes, your hand resting on your chest. "You're okay," Azriel's smooth voice found you before you felt his touch. "Don't ask me that, Azriel or I will cry," you huffed, pressing your lips together as another wave of tears burned your eyes. "Come here," the spymaster pulled you into his embrace, warm palms drawing patterns on your back.

"Mother, strike me. I hate this," you pinched the bridge of your nose as you blinked rapidly, trying to chase the tears away. Azriel snickered, "I think it's adorable." You shot him a glare, muttering a quick, "Shut up." That, of course, earned another wholehearted laugh from him, "See, adorable," to which you had only rolled your eyes. Azriel leaned in, kissing the side of your head. Cheek. Before his lips met yours, slow and gentle affection. That was how your love was now.

"I just want to keep them here forever," you breathed out after a while, "They are not allowed to leave ever." Leaning against your mate's chest, you felt that all overtaking peace and quiet. "And I'm the overprotective one," Azriel teased, but your lack of response and the way your shoulders were tense let him know that today wasn't the day to play around. He pulled you even closer to him as if that were even possible.

"Breathe with me," he muttered softly, resting his forehead against yours. Guiding your breaths once. Twice. A shallow breath in and an extended exhale. "And you," the spymaster muttered, the smile in his voice hard to miss, "You need to stop making mommy so emotional." His scarred palm slowly moved to rub your rather swollen belly. Where the newest addition to the family was growing. A loving touch from its father stirred the baby awake and earned a rather strong kick in return.

"You just said it was cute," you muttered, frowning. "And angry too, please," Azriel leaned closer to the bump as he whispered. You softly hit the back of his head, "You are insufferable." "But you love it," Azriel practically sang. "How are you feeling?", his tone almost immediately switched as he realized that you were up on your feet, so he was guiding you towards the sofa in no time.

"Well, I officially can't see my feet," you chuckled as he pulled out onto his lap, nestling his face in your neck for a couple of nibbles. "You look dazzling pregnant," Azriel stated firmly, making you shake your head. "Yeah, because you are high on fea hormones," you pointed at his chest, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

"How did we get here?", you breathed out, slowly reminiscing on all the years spent together. This was your forever. This home. This family. "Well, when a male puts his...", you hit his chest playfully. "No," you muttered, "With our kids wanting to be out instead of spending the evening with us," because it had been just you four for so long. Well, five. Cordelia had been the most loving mother-in-law ever. And the two kids were over the moon excited to spend time with her. Even now, they always visit. If not together, then by themselves. But she was a huge part of your family. "They are growing up," Azriel said softly, his hand protectively resting on your belly as he no doubt sat here listening to the heartbeat. One of his many hobbies now that you have been pregnant.

"I'm excited to plan their mating ceremony," you blurted out randomly, and Azriel's head turned to you so quickly that you wondered how he didn't get dizzy. "Hold your horses, women," he huffed almost offensively, "No one is walking down any aisle unless I'm the one dragging them off it." Here was the protector. You tried biting your lip, but you simply couldn't hold yourself back. Letting out a genuine laugh. And Azriel's slight frown melted immediately as he moved to brush some of the hair away from your face, "Here's that pretty smile I love so much." Your heart skipped a beat. Still skipped a beat as you felt your cheeks grow crimson. "Stop," you muttered, nestling your head in the crook of your mate's neck. "No way, I vowed to make you happy," Azriel breathed out, kissing the side of your head.

Laughter echoed from above, making your lips curve upward even more. You didn't need to see Azriel's face to know that he too was grinning. Nothing ever beats the sound of home. "Do you know how much I love you?", you pulled away slightly, suddenly desperate to look into his hazy eyes. Azriel cupped your face lovingly, "I do because I love you just as much, sweetheart," he breathed. His velvety lips meet yours. And Mother, you had never been happier for bargaining forever with this man.

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @stressed-reader

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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tinytinyblogs · 3 months

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A kiss from you would be nice

They successfully achieved their goal of receiving a kiss from you.

(Atz reaction, non-idol)

Hyung line Maknae line

Ateez masterlist here

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Hongjoong

The shrill ring of the doorbell sliced through the air like a playful melody, snapping you out of the warm bubble you'd created with Seonghwa. With a smile still lingering on your lips, you hurried to the door, eager to see who stood on the other side. Twisting the doorknob, the outside world flooded in, revealing a grinning Hongjoong with a bouquet of sunflowers that rivaled the summer sun in brilliance. His smile widened upon seeing you, a genuine beam that crinkled the corners of his eyes. You mirrored his expression, your heart swelling with happiness at the unexpected visit. "Hey!" you exclaimed, stepping aside to usher him in. He sauntered past, his arms laden with more than just flowers. A large paper bag peeked out from his grip, overflowing with promise. You followed him inside, curiosity bubbling over. He made a beeline for the table, dropping the bag with a dramatic flourish that mirrored his playful personality. You plopped down beside him, anticipation tingling in your fingertips. "What's all this?" you asked, leaning in for a closer look. Hongjoong grinned, then slowly unraveled the package, revealing a treasure trove of delights. There was the jacket you'd admired in a tiny boutique, the one covered in whimsical sketches he'd claimed to have doodled on rainy days. Nestled beside it were the adorable plushies you'd squealed over on display, their fluffy faces mirroring your own surprise.

"It's your birthday present!" he declared, his voice ringing with excitement. "I didn't know what to get you, so I got you everything!" A laugh bubbled up from your chest, warming your cheeks. His gaze clung to you like stardust to a midnight sky, each flicker of your smile catching the light in his eyes and setting his heart ablaze. It was a smile he craved, a rare bloom in the desert of his days, and to see it blossom across your face was a treasure beyond compare. The curve of your lips, the soft dimple that danced in your cheek – these were his constellations, guiding him through the vast unknown. "Hongjoong, you really didn't have to go to all this trouble!" you protested, even as your fingers trailed over the soft fabric of the jacket. "But I wanted to!" he insisted, sitting closer to you, his knee brushing yours in a subtle gesture. His cologne became a tangible melody around you, weaving through the air and wrapping you in its warm embrace. It was a scent of wood and spice, of sunshine and laughter, an olfactory portrait of the man himself. Its intensity mirrored the way his gaze held yours, an unwavering presence that felt like a blessing on your face. His figure, usually shrouded in an aura of nonchalance, seemed magnified. The angles of his jawline chiseled by unseen light, the slope of his shoulders a canvas for cascading moonlight. He carried himself with the grace of a dancer, each movement deliberate and captivating. Yet, amidst this breathtaking portrait, an unexpected warmth flickered in his eyes.

Your lips stretched into a little smile, mirroring the sunshine spilling from Hongjoong's eyes. His happiness was infectious, a golden bloom radiating outwards, warming the room despite the autumn chill. You tilted your head, curiosity dancing in your eyes. "What's now, Hongjoong?" you teased, your voice laced with playful anticipation. He grinned, a mischievous glint in his gaze. "Ah, but this, darling, is the finale," he declared, his voice rich with unspoken promises. "The grand curtain call, the pièce de résistance!"he said. "Another gift?" you exclaimed, your brows raised in mock disbelief. He chuckled, a low rumble that tickled your stomach. "But not just any gift," he clarified, his eyes holding yours with a newfound intensity. "This, my love, is the most precious one of all." Before you could blink, his lips descended upon yours, soft and warm like a summer breeze. The kiss was a whispered promise, a silent explosion of fireworks painting the night sky behind your closed eyelids. Time slipped away, becoming a tangled ribbon lost in the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. This, this was a first kiss like no other, a meeting of souls under the soft glow of candlelight, a whisper of forever stolen in the space between breaths. He finally pulled away, his eyes smoldering with an affection that made your heart skip a beat. "It's me," he breathed, his voice raw with emotion. "The last gift, the most important one."

Seonghwa

Seonghwa hummed a gentle melody, the notes swirling around the room like autumn leaves dancing in the breeze. It reached your ears, pulling you into the warmth of the kitchen where he stood, a picture of domesticity. He'd declared earlier that he wanted to cook for you both, to spend the rest of the day wrapped in each other's company, and the aroma of sizzling garlic and spices already hinted at the deliciousness to come. Drawn by the music and the promise of food, you tiptoed closer, a smile playing on your lips. Standing behind him, you stretched up on your tiptoes, peering over his shoulder to see the culinary magic he was weaving. "Need a hand, chef?" you teased, your voice tinged with amusement. Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth. "No, it's all under control, darling," he assured you, his voice a silken caress. The "really?" that escaped your lips was almost inaudible, a sigh of contentment more than a question. You rested your head on his arm, your cheek finding a haven in the crook of his elbow. The world shrunk to the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his movements, and the whisper of his laughter as he turned on you fully. "Why the long face, love?" he chuckled, pulling you into a warm embrace. His hands settled on your back, grounding you against him. "Feeling bored already?" You nodded, your face buried in the comforting expanse of his chest. "Maybe just a little," you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

"Hmm," he hummed, the sound vibrating through you like a lullaby. "Then stay right here," he whispered, his lips close to your ear. "The food will be ready soon, and then we can snuggle up on the couch and watch every terrible movie we can find. How does that sound?" The pout on your face was as adorable as a kitten's, pulling at Seonghwa's heartstrings and making him chuckle. He reached up, his large hand dwarfing your cheek as he cupped it softly. The warmth of his touch seemed to radiate inwards, melting away your little frown. His eyes, those beautiful pools of melted chocolate, held yours for a moment, a silent conversation playing out between their depths. Then, with a slow, deliberate lean, he closed the distance between your lips. The world narrowed to the space where your breaths mingled, the taste of him sweet and intoxicating. The kiss was like a slow burn, starting as a gentle brush of lips, then igniting into a smoldering ember that spread through you. His hand on your cheek deepened, tracing the curve of your jaw with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the feel of his solid form an anchor in the swirling current of sensation. He tasted of sunshine and spices, of laughter and promises whispered in the twilight. His tongue danced with yours, a playful duet echoing the melody that still hummed in the air. Each touch, each breath, was a whispered affirmation of everything unspoken, a story written in the language of desire.

His breath fanned against your lips as he pulled away, leaving behind a trail of fire and unspoken promises. A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he cupped your cheek with his hand, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "Cute," he whispered, the word echoing with a possessive tenderness in the quiet kitchen. "You're so damn cute, I can't even focus on cooking anymore." He glanced back at the stove, the pot of simmering sauce bubbling gently as if in agreement. With a decisive click, he turned off the heat, his attention fully back on you. "If you didn't stop being so adorable," he continued, his gaze holding yours captive, "I think I'd just keep kissing you until the kitchen caught fire." His hand reached out, finding yours like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole. With a gentle tug, he pulled you into another hug, his strong arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. He swayed you slowly from side to side, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Just… stay like this," he murmured, his voice muffled against your hair. "Let me hold you, let me be close to you for just a little while. Then, we'll eat, we'll watch movies, we'll do whatever you want… as long as you promise to keep being this ridiculously cute." His words, each one laced with affection, sent shivers down your spine. You nestled closer, his warmth seeping into your bones like sunshine on a cold day. In that moment, surrounded by the scent of spices and the melody of his laughter, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just you and him, two souls intertwined in a dance of unspoken promises and stolen moments.

Yunho

Your knuckles turned white as you clutched Yunho's hand, a plastered smile stretching across your face. His fingers rested comfortably on your waist, a stark contrast to the jitters in your stomach. You'd successfully cajoled your friend into playing pretend boyfriend for the evening, proving to the gossips that 'Loner (Y/N)' was a thing of the past. But Yunho's performance seemed too genuine, too familiar. Had he always played out imaginary scenarios where you were his, where these stolen touches were more than just a charade? Every brush of his palm against yours sent a shockwave through you, making your heart threaten to leap out of your chest. Even his casual hold tightened a knot in your throat. You snuck a look at your phone screen, a silent signal that it was time to escape the prying eyes at the friendly gathering. Yunho understood instantly, his goodbye smiles as easy as yours were forced. As you walked, his hand lingered on your back like a brand, refusing to relinquish its hold. "Thanks," you breathed, attempting to turn your body and face him, but he mirrored your movement, creating an unexpected intimacy. "At least they'll stop pushing blind dates and 'fix-its' on me now." Your eyes locked, the air around you charged. The space between you, once comfortable, now felt electric. "Your hand," you stammered, "You can let go now." Yunho hummed, his gaze tracing the path of his fingers on your wrist, then meeting yours with a slow, enigmatic smile.

"I find it comfortable," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin. "So, maybe we can just... keep it like this for a while longer, hmm?" His eyes, usually brimming with mischievous laughter, were suddenly serious, holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. They glittered, not with amusement, but with something much deeper, something that sent a tremor through your entire being. You cleared your throat, the playful question dying on your lips. "What's wrong with you, huh?" you asked, hoping the light tone would mask the fluttering in your stomach. He didn't respond at first, just stared at you with an unnervingly earnest gaze. Then, he hesitantly reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a whisper of a touch. Instead of pulling away as you expected, he surprised you by intertwining his fingers with yours, linking them together in a way that felt strangely intimate. "Being your fake boyfriend," he began, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, "made me realize a few things." He paused, the silence stretching between you, thick with unspoken emotions. You could feel his thumb gently tracing circles on your cheek, its warmth branding your skin, rendering you speechless. Then, he spoke again, his voice softer now, almost a confession. "All this time," he breathed, "I've dreamt of being your real boyfriend. Imagining holding you close, claiming you as mine, just like I did today." His words resonated through you, each syllable echoing in the chambers of your heart. His other hand found your chin, tilting your face up towards his, drawing you closer, closer still.

The distance between your lips shrank, the air crackling with electricity. This wasn't the practiced kiss you'd imagined for your fake relationship, there was no performance, no pretense. This was raw, honest, and terrifyingly real. He was here, professing his true feelings, blurring the lines between reality and your secret desires. Every fiber of your being yearned to meet him halfway, to surrender to the promise of his lips on yours. The spark from his kiss lingered on your lips, a phantom fire dancing across your skin. You pulled away slowly, your heart thrumming like a hummingbird trapped in your chest. His eyes, still smoldering with unspoken desire, held yours captive in that impossibly close space. "That's..." he began, his voice a husky murmur, barely louder than the frantic echo of your own pulse. A subtle smile softened his features, catching on the edge of his lips as his gaze flickered to the blush blooming across your cheek. It was a sight he swore could paint constellations across the night sky, a whisper of a vulnerability that made his own heart skip a beat. "That's what I've always wanted to do," he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek, a feather of promise tracing the contours of your ear. Each word was a brushstroke across your soul, painting a future you'd once only dared to dream of. Your senses swam; the scent of his cologne, the heat of his hand still lingering on your chin, the taste of his kiss lingering on your lips - everything conspired to pull you deeper into his orbit. "So," he murmured, his voice laced with anticipation, "why don't we make it real? Why don't we be together, not just pretend?"

Yeosang

The downpour outside was a symphony of percussion against the café windows, each raindrop a drumbeat on the glass pane. You sat nestled in the worn leather booth, gaze drawn away from the swirling steam of your hot chocolate and towards the blurred grey world beyond. Kang Yeosang occupied the seat beside you, the familiar warmth of his presence radiating like a tiny sun against the chill of the storm. Despite the shiver that danced down your spine, Yeosang's company was a soothing balm. Each conversation felt like a brushstroke, building a vibrant tapestry of your shared past. His voice, usually a playful lilt, softened to a contemplative murmur as he spoke, "The rain, trapped here with just each other...it's like being back in university." You hummed in agreement, memories flooding back with the evocative scent of wet pavement and damp coffee grounds. You could almost feel the clammy press of textbooks against your thigh, the nervous tremor in your fingers as you fidgeted with a pen, stolen glances at Yeosang across the crowded library table. It was then, amidst the whispered discussions and rustling papers, that your heart first learned to tap out a frantic rhythm against your ribs, an inexplicable melody dedicated solely to him. Yeosang chuckled, a soft sound that melted into the hiss of the rain. "Remember that time we got caught in the downpour after class? Stuck in this very café, talking until the sun peeked through the clouds." His words were a whispered key, unlocking a treasure chest of shared smiles, hushed jokes, and unspoken feelings.

You saw it again, your younger self with cheeks flushed pink and eyes filled with a dawning awareness. Every stolen glance, every whispered exchange, felt like a whispered confession, leaving your heart hammering a wild tattoo against your ribs. He paused, tilting his head towards the drumming rain. "You were so cute that day, you know? Just like you always are." The vast cafe became a forgotten canvas as the storm outside waged its war against the windows. Rain, the sole audience, pelted the glass in a relentless rhythm, a silver curtain isolating you and Kang Yeosang in your own intimate world. No other soul dared venture into this downpour, leaving you two adrift in a sea of shared memories and quiet anticipation. His question, soft as falling rain, broke the silence. "Do you remember it?" Yeosang turned, his smile a beacon in the dimly lit cafe. It was a perfect smile, one etched in your mind alongside the memory he was about to evoke. You nodded, the echo of that day forever resonating within you. "Me too," he murmured, fingers nervously tracing circles on the table, a warmth radiating from them despite the storm's chill. "I remember it too," he whispered, his voice a delicate thread woven through the rain's insistent drumming. It was faint, almost swallowed by the downpour, yet every syllable resonated deep within you. "It's etched in my soul," he continued, his gaze locking with yours, "because I always wanted to..." He seemed to be searching for words, for a way to bridge the gulf of years and unspoken yearning.

Then, leaning closer, his voice became a conspiratorial whisper against the drumbeat of the rain. The world narrowed to the space between your breaths, the air thick with unspoken truths. His lips met yours, soft and tentative at first, then deepening as the dam of unspoken desires finally broke. The rain, which had been a persistent thrum in the background, faded into a distant echo, replaced by the frantic symphony of your heart. Pulling away, his eyes smoldered with an intensity that mirrored the storm outside. "I really wanted to kiss you just like that," he confessed, his voice rough with barely contained emotion. The words, whispered but heavy with meaning, hung in the air like raindrops clinging to leaves. His gaze held you captive, an intense emerald beacon in the rain-kissed cafe. The storm outside drummed a frantic rhythm, but it was the thunder in his eyes that made your breath hitch. Inches separated you, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt rooted in place, a fragile flower under the scrutiny of the sun. The memory tugged at the corners of your mind, a whisper from your university days now blossoming into a vibrant truth. That shared gaze, that stolen moment in the sun-drenched library, it wasn't just a silly crush story, a whispered hope lost in the cacophony of student life. It was real, a seed that had taken root in both of your hearts, growing silently but steadily through the years. His voice, when it finally broke the spell, was a husky murmur, like a secret shared in the quiet hush of a confession booth. "I always wanted to tell you after that," he admitted, his eyes searching yours with the intensity of a thousand untold stories. "Always wanted to tell you that I like you, so much more than words can say."

©Tinytinyblogs

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