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#'[i] isn't a pronoun because it's only one letter and so isn't a word'

astraystayyh · 9 months

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Invisible Thread- two.

This is the second and final part of Invisible Thread. Here is the link to part one.

pairing: minho x reader. pre-established relationship. reader has she/her pronouns.

genre: fluff and domesticity. angst. healing. characters trying to become better. humans being humans.

cw: parent death. grief. talk about death. allusion to sex but no smut. suggestive at one tiny part but it's for the plot.

summary: In which Minho rewrites your entire relationship with love.

word count: 17k

a.n: this is, i hope, a gentle reminder to always be kind to yourself, and to the people surrounding you. this one is pretty personal because i see myself a lot in yn, but it was also challenging since i wrote about things i have never experienced either. so i hope you'll enjoy reading, and that the second part will live up to your expectations. it took me a long time to write this but it's okay!! English isn't my first language and this was also a reminder to be patient with myself. thank you. i love you all. truly. feedback is highly appreciated, as always <3

(here is a Spotify playlist i made for this second part, you can listen to it while reading if you'd like :))

Love. How lucky yet cursed we are to ever experience it.

The fear attached to this singular emotion seems ridiculous. Because we aren't afraid of experiencing anger, sadness, or nervousness. They might overwhelm us, but we accept them, we recognize them as they are and then we cope with them. Whichever way we know best.

But when love comes knocking on our door, we stray away from it, we try to shape it into something else- much gentler on the soul, less devastating if it were ever not reciprocated.

So, we name it a crush, attachment, infatuation; anything but the cursed four-lettered word- anything but love. As though merely acknowledging it would morph it into a sharp-edged sword, eternally wedged within us, making our blood dribble away slowly and with it, our souls awash.

You are no exception. Love has terrified you for the better part of your life. There was a time when the word did slip easily from your mouth, back when you were a child and your view of the world was still naive, undisturbed by what you now know. You loved ice cream, you loved candy, you loved your teacher who braided your hair.

But then the once light word grew heavy on your tongue. Because love is what made you crave your mother's warmth, only to find coldness awaiting you. It is love that made you seek shelter elsewhere, in the fleeting opinions of the people surrounding you, hanging your entire worth on the words they uttered about you- ones they forgot within hours but you carried for years.

But this view of yours got dismantled, slowly, day by day. You’ve come to learn that it isn't love that had hurt you, it was rather the lack of it.

It cannot be love that wound when it is the emotion swimming in your eyes, whenever they rest on Minho. You didn't dare say it to him, to name the feeling out loud. You were petrified that if it was ever out in the open, then the love would materialize into something tangible, and the universe would snatch it away, as it has done before with everything you've ever wanted.

But although you didn't say it, you felt it, deep within each one of your atoms. It spilled from you like infinite ink, rewriting your entire relationship with love, dismissing every wrong notion you've once established about it.

Love cannot hurt because you love Minho, and you'd hurt yourself before ever hurting him.

But maybe none of you would have to hurt. Maybe for once, you'd both be okay. That's what you'd like to believe as Minho's shoulders brush against yours. You are sitting at your usual table at Limbo, a gray cat sprawled on top of your laps. Finals ended three weeks ago. Summer break is here, the one time you've been dreading since you came to college. Because everyone is going back to their homes, but you don't have one to head back to.

"What will you do this summer?" Minho suddenly asks, putting down his iced americano. You scratch the cat's ears beside you gently- Lilia you've decided to name her. "I don't really have plans."

"Would you like to go camping?"

"With you?"

"I mean, unless you have another secret boyfriend, then yes, with me."

"Shut up," you giggle, swatting his arm playfully. "I'd really like that," you smile softly at him, to which he nods. "Oh, and we still need to celebrate your win this term."

"Mm. Let's just call it a date this time," he grins, taking a spoonful of the salted caramel cheesecake and bringing it to your mouth. "I need to go visit my family for a few days, and then we can go," he adds.

Sudden guilt floods your being. He had a family he could go to. It was selfish for you to want him to stay, to strip him from this privilege you weren't granted with.

"I don't want you to cut your time short with them for me," you mumble, eyes fixated on Lilia soundly dozing off on his lap. It still astonished you how all animals seemed at ease in Minho's presence. As if they could sense his gentle soul, carefully hidden behind his sarcastic retorts, and cheeky smiles- one you were lucky enough to have been touched with.

"I'm not. I just really wanna go camping," he says nonchalantly, but his hand raises to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

"You should go with them."

"I have a two-person tent in mind, it won't fit the three of us. And I want to come back to you."

His words painted a sweet picture- of him returning home after a long journey, and you were that haven he sought to rest. The idea that he'd discover such solace in you when you struggled to find it within yourself, seemed unfathomable to you.

So, you bite your lower lip slightly, before squeezing his knee in gratitude. "Okay. I'll be waiting."

✹✹✹

Blue and orange flames surge higher under the wind. You watch, mesmerized as their light dances upon Minho's skin, painting him with glistening, golden hues. Every feature of his face is chiseled to perfection, as if a sculptor spent hours perfecting his face, down to the tiniest detail. He looked in his element here, setting up your tent and grilling the meat and now looking up at the sky, a chilled lemonade in his hand. You should go camping more often.

Minho places his empty can of cola on the ground, before tapping his lap. "Come here," he smiles and you oblige, rising from your chair and settling on his thighs. You tuck your knees to your chest, curling yourself entirely in his hold. His arms encircle your body, making sure you don't slip down. You close your eyes, as Minho gazes up at the night sky before you. You are comfortable and safe. It is that safety that you've craved for so long. To be held and not fear the threat of a knife behind your back.

It still surprised you, how you came to crave Minho's presence. But it went beyond just being near him; you felt as if you needed to touch him, as if verifying his existence, ensuring he wasn't an ephemeral specter slipping through your fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Yet, even more surprising was Minho's own yearning for you. His hands were always drawn to you, subtly grazing your face, resting on your palm, skimming your shoulders. Each tentative touch filled an echoing void within you, slowly diminishing it until all that remained were faint whispers of it.

Minho has cared for you, long before he understood you. He saw snippets and fragments of you, and he cared for the patched-up version he made up in his mind. And when you unlocked your heart for him, he only cherished it even more, silently molding his behavior so he wouldn't cross any of your boundaries.

He was hesitant at first, in holding your hands and kissing your lips. He still asks for permission, in that gentle voice of his, to touch you, in case you’re uncomfortable. Which you aren’t, because his hands on you are infused with care, fingertips dripping with unguarded attention and softness, for you.

You sigh contently, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck as his arms tighten around you. Comfortable and safe.

"What's your favorite word?" he suddenly inquires and you giggle slightly. He often asks you these random questions, as though he wished to understand you in the most ordinary of ways and to care for you in each.

"I think it's the word soft. Whoever thought of the word really nailed it. Nothing else could have depicted softness like this one."

"The word does sound really pillowy, and gentle."

"See, I really love gentle too! Why is the word gentle so gentle? Does that make sense?" Laughter tings your question as he grins, his nose brushing lightly against yours.

"It does. They both remind me of you, actually."

"Really?"

"Mm. You're still so soft and gentle, despite it all... If they ever tell me there is one kind person left on this earth, I'd come looking for you."

Sudden tears flood your eyes as a shaky exhale leaves your lips. It felt rewarding, in a sense, to have someone acknowledge the strength it takes to be kind, in a world that had dealt you nothing but harshness.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"Sometimes..." you pause, racking your brain for the best way to word this. "Sometimes it scares me how much I've come to care for you. How you make opening up not sound as daunting as before."

You grab his hand into yours, fidgeting with his fingers. The familiarity of their touch helps you calm down. "I'm not saying you'll hurt me. I just... I can't help this tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me to be cautious. It's gotten quieter, but it's still there."

"That's just your past selves trying to protect you," he smiles softly at you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "When I told you I'll be here, for as long as you'll have me, I meant it. Doubts and all."

"But I don't want to be closed off anymore," you admit. "It's very lonely that way."

"I know it is, love. But it's what you knew best back then, hm? You shouldn't feel bad about it, you did what you had to do to protect yourself. I'm just here to protect you too now."

"You think I can no longer do it myself?" you tease, your hand threading through his silky hair.

"Of course, you still can. But two shields are better than one. Also, this is exactly why I work out."

"Will your muscles protect me from my mind?" you giggle and he nods proudly. "Have you seen these?" he flexes his arms, before snorting, a bit shyly, eyes squinting closed. He's saying nonsense to make you laugh, and it's warming your heart beyond belief.

"I think these should just stay wrapped around me," you grin, guiding his arms around your back once again.

"No complaints," he smiles, as you settle against his chest. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head and you close your eyes. Safe and comfortable- Minho.

✹✹✹

Summer has been kind to you. Or maybe it was you who has been kind to summer, your laughter filling its air until it could do nothing but mirror your happiness.

Summer tasted like love with Minho by your side. In clementines he peeled for you, feeding you each slice with a soft smile on his face. In spontaneous bike rides at six am, to chase sunrises you've never witnessed before him. In numerous books he bought so you’d read them to him, his head on your lap, a tranquil expression coloring his face. And although the months have all been sweet, there are two days that you remember particularly.

You don't mark up the time with dates, but rather with the new feelings Minho bestowed upon you- the first time you wanted someone to stay, and they did.

"Baby?" Minho’s hand brushes against your shoulder and you startle, turning around to look at him. "Are you okay? You zoned out."

"I’m fine," the rehearsed lie slips from your mouth, long before you could think about it. A ping of guilt swarms your heart, you’ve promised yourself that you’d tell Minho about your true feelings, even if he couldn’t help you with them.

"Are you sure? You haven’t said a word since I came over..." He quickly glances at his watch, "Three hours ago."

"I’m sorry," you mumble, your thoughts swarming your head once again. You felt horrible for wasting his time. He had better things to do than sit with you in silence.

"I’m not asking you to apologize," he says cautiously as if he’s aware he’s threading along a dangerous line. You stay silent and he shuts his eyes closed, hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I just want you to be honest."

"I am."

"Are you, really?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask a bit breathlessly. You don’t know what you are saying, but you can sense your walls building up, higher than you could ever reach them.

"You’re clearly not fine and I-"

"I am trying, okay? I’m trying, please." You plead; you’re unsure for what exactly. For him to stop prodding, because you don’t have answers for him, not yet. Not when you haven’t understood it yourself.

"I'm going for a walk," he says, abruptly standing. You stay frozen in your place, as he quickly slips his shoes on, before leaving your apartment. You’re trying and it isn’t enough for him.

You don’t move from your place as time slowly trickles by. The seconds morph into minutes and suddenly it’s been an hour and a half since Minho left. There is a tantalizing fear making you stay put as if you ever dare to move a limb, then the stillness would be shattered and Minho wouldn’t come back.

It’s hard to reroute your brain entirely- old habits creep up on you swiftly, and suddenly you’re pulled back into the old you, woven into the web of horrible thoughts stitching all around you. Change feels sweet, with Minho, it feels like hope and the taste of a new beginning, but it is scary and different. And the familiarity of what you were before him calls your name from time to time. It was horrible and lonely, but there were no surprises in it. You knew what to expect at all times.

You could’ve told him that you weren’t feeling good, that you didn’t feel like talking and Minho would’ve understood. Because this isn’t the first time this happened, and it happens to him too sometimes. So, he understands, more than anyone you know. But instead, you lied and denied and Minho left. And you can’t blame it on anyone but yourself.

You grab your phone, its sudden light burning your eyes. You blink repeatedly, as you dial Minho’s number. It rings and it rings, then it goes to voicemail. You try again, through blurry vision. It doesn’t even ring this time- straight to voicemail.

Minho’s left. He’s had enough. You can’t blame him.

Three swift knocks resound loudly on your door. You don’t remember reaching the doorknob, your body’s moving on autopilot, but you pull it open. Minho. Your hold on the handle tightens until your knuckles turn white. You can’t look at him, you don’t want to see his face as he leaves you.

"Why are you crying?" he whispers, dainty fingers gently wiping away your tears.

"Don’t go. Not you too," you manage to utter, and you hear Minho suck in a deep breath, before pulling you tightly to his chest.

"What are you talking about?" he says, as he buries your head in the crook of his neck. The familiar scent of his cologne washes over you- you’ve memorized its earthy notes by heart now, easily recognizable between a thousand smells.

"You've been away for two hours and I called and you- you didn’t pick up. I thought you wouldn’t come back."

"My phone died while I was outside and I lost track of time, and- please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." He leans away, cupping your cheek delicately. "Im here, you see? Let’s go on a walk, hm?"

"You were just out," you mumble and he smiles at you. "I wanna go with you."

Minho takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. He leads you outside, still clad in the bunny slippers he randomly bought you a week ago. His hand is warm in yours. His hand wouldn’t be warm if he was leaving you.

You walk in silence to the park near your home, and Minho sits you down on an empty bench. Your tears are dried up by now, cheeks cold from the night breeze; and his hand is still in yours.

"Chan didn’t leave our dorm for three days." He starts, clearing his throat. "He’s overworking himself, doesn’t even eat the food I make him. And I tried to tell him to take a break today. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t convince him. He’s probably still working on his music right now," he chuckles, but there is no trace of humor in the sound. "And then I come to you and you’re not okay. And I want to help but suddenly I’m pressuring you. And you’re trying, so hard and you’re doing so well and I’m pressuring you instead of helping. And I failed at being there for you both. What good I am if I’m not there for the people I lo- care about?"

"Don’t say that, please. You are good enough. More than enough," you cup his cheek, pressing his forehead on yours. "You’re always here. Don’t ever doubt that. I’m sure Chan appreciates everything you do for him."

"And you?" he asks, tone coated in such raw vulnerability that it knocks the breath out of you. At that moment, Minho was a plain hill, devoid of hidden nooks and crannies- nowhere for him to guard his emotions from you.

"Do you remember that night, when I asked you how I can help you feel yellow?" you ask after a while, and he nods, repetitive blinks rythming his silence. "I used to think that happiness was yellow, that sudden joy that drowns out the world around you. And I wanted to always feel yellow, the highest of highs. But that could only lead to another low, another extreme. I’ve since learned that true happiness is feeling peace when you lay in bed at night… And for your heart to beat soundly from contentment."

"I remember feeling this way only once, a long time ago. I woke up to see the sunrise, but I was a bit late to it, so I missed the orange and the pink," you chuckle slightly, as the distant memory floods you. "But I saw the blue, this really soft blue, and as I looked at it a strange sense of serenity washed over me. As if, as long as I looked at that pastel blue, I’d be alright. And now…" You smile softly, your thumb delicately grazing his cheek, Now, I can just look at you. You are my blue."

Minho’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he looks at you, mouth slightly hung agape. You giggle quietly, before patting his head gently. "Thank you for staying," you whisper, and a sudden smile breaks out on Minho’s face. It’s so radiant- as if every star in this galaxy was ground to fine dust and then sprinkled into it. You can’t admire it for long since Minho crashes his mouth on top of yours, drawing you in for a kiss that leaves you breathless afterward.

"You know I had a really nice dream yesterday," he finally whispers against your lips, a newfound lightness in his voice. "I think this is the first time where my reality is much sweeter."

✹✹✹

The first time you felt loved, truly.

It’s a couple of days into August when Chan tells you that he has signed up with a producing agency- it’s a huge step for him, one he’s been rambling about each time you met him for the past few months. So now you’re over at his and Minho’s dorm, attempting to bake a congratulatory cake for Chan. It was Minho’s idea, one he mumbled into your ear nonchalantly, as if he didn’t wake up really early to scout all the ingredients you might need.

"Why is baking so much harder than cooking?" Minho whines, burying his head dramatically in the crook of your neck. You giggle, patting his back in faux sympathy.

"So, you're admitting you're not good at everything?" you tease and he straightens up instantly, brows furrowed as he looks at you.

"I didn't say I'm not good at it. I said it's harder than cooking," he drawls out and you hum in reply, a teasing "sure, sure" escaping your mouth.

"Do you know how to crack an egg with one hand? That's the cue that you're a great baker."

"Why would I when I have two hands?" you chuckle and he smiles cheekily, raising his eyebrows at you. "Well, I can do it."

"Fine," you huff, grabbing an egg onto your hand. "Teach me?" you smile sweetly and he grins satisfied, "Of course."

"Here, you just need to crack the egg gently into the side of the bowl. And then lodge your finger inside, slowly pulling the shell apart. Like this," he demonstrates and you nod in understanding.

"Your turn," he smiles and you follow his instructions, tongue poking against your cheek in utmost concentration.

"Min look! I did it" You grin widely, turning around to show him the egg now dropped into the bowl.

"You did! I’m proud of you," he smiles, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You pause, the egg’s shell still tightly clutched in your hand. You didn’t drop it into the bowl, and someone’s proud of you for it.

It’s late into the night, and your stomach is aching from laughing for hours on end. Your plates of cake are on the ground, with only crumbs left on top of it. Minho invited two of Chan’s closest friends over- Felix and Han, so now you’re all playing rounds of Uno, and the poor freckled boy is losing each time.

"This isn’t fair," Felix whines, before stealing a bite of the leftover cake on the table. "This is really good by the way," he compliments and you giggle, turning around to point at Minho, only to find him already looking at you, a soft smile on his face.

"It’s all him," you say, and Chan gets his face impossibly close to your boyfriend’s, a teasing smile on his face. "You love me so much."

"I don’t. Get back," Minho pushes his face away, but you can tell he’s lying, from the fond smile threatening to spill over his mouth.

"Sure," Chan sing-songs, before turning to look at you. You wink at him and he ruffles your hair affectionately, as he always does when he wants to tease you. "Thank you for the cake, yn."

"You’re welcome," you grin as an unfamiliar warmth spread through your chest. Is this how it feels to have a family? People you care for and who care about you in return?

Minho notices the sudden bittersweet expression etched on your face, so he grabs your pinky in his hand, squeezing it slightly. You turn your palm around, before blindly intertwining your fingers with his- something you’ve gotten much better at lately.

"We’ll get going," Han announces when it’s nearly midnight, as he and Felix both get up from the floor. "Sure you don’t want to come to the party?" Chan asks, eyes trained on you and Minho.

"Yeah, we’ll stay the night."

You stand up as well, following Chan to the door and stopping him before he leaves. "You don’t mind me staying the night, right? It’s your dorm too, so I should ask."

"Of course not. You can come over whenever, even if Minho isn’t here. You don’t ever have to ask me, okay?"

"Okay, thank you, Chan," you beam at him, relief coursing through you at his words.

Soon enough, the dorm is silent, and it’s only you and Minho once again. You go to clean up but Minho pulls you by your hand, ushering you toward his bedroom. "Let's leave it to tomorrow," he says, and his voice sounds like warm candle wax dripping down on you. You can’t say no.

You find that he’s already prepared a pair of pajamas for you, spread out nicely on the bed- his grey shirt and a pair of shorts he has apparently overgrown.

"You'll find a box there, under the sink, it’s for you," he announces, as you walk into the bathroom to change. It’s filled with anything you might ever need, tissues and makeup removal and pads and medicine, and your cherry shampoo.

"When did you prepare this?" you ask as you open the door wide for him. He peeks his head inside, eyes softening when they take a glimpse at your figure - wearing his shirt, in his bathroom.

"A month ago, or so. Just in case you ever needed to stay the night." He's so thoughtful, you're starting to believe that the word was molded after him. "Is it enough? do you need something else?" he asks tentatively and you shake your head, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"Of course. let's brush our teeth?" he smiles and you nod, grabbing the blue toothbrush he bought for you. He squeezes some toothpaste into it, and your eyes meet in the mirror. You can feel a blush creep up your face, to match the tip of his ears turning pink. It felt innocent to blush at the mere act of brushing your teeth together- at the domesticity of it, and the future hopes that lay within it.

Minho washes his face with his cleanser and you do the same. He suddenly hoists you up the bathroom counter, before standing between your legs. his arms cage your body, as his doe brown eyes look up at you. "Do my skincare for me," he pouts and you giggle, diligently taking the moisturizer and applying it to his face.

You take your time, massaging it into his skin, rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks and the tender skin under his eye. His eyes close at your touch, body leaning forward and pressing onto your legs. You grab his lip balm, applying it evenly to his puckered lips, and then you kiss him. Softly, tenderly, hands going up and down his arms. His own find your waist, encircling it, thumbs skimming your sides.

You lean away, a giddy smile on your face. "Thank you for the lip balm," you say, before kissing the tip of his nose.

Minho's room smells like clean laundry and vanilla, courtesy of the candle he lit up. You've been here before, but this is your first time sleeping on his bed. He goes in first, before beckoning you in. You lay down on his silky pillow, your hair fanning all around you. Some strands of it go into your mouth, and you giggle faintly as you pull them away.

"Here," he says, leaning over your body and opening the drawer next to you. He takes out a hair tie, and a faint memory dances around in your mind- you tying up his hair at the convenience store near Limbo.

"You kept it?" you question incredulously, voice coming out in a faint whisper.

"I did," he says simply as if it's ridiculous for you to expect otherwise. "Can I tie it up for you?" he asks and you nod.

His fingers gather your hair, making sure no strands of it are escaping. They're magical, relieving every tension you have in your body. You feel him twisting the tie around, securing your hair in a low ponytail.

"All done." his voice is quiet, and so is the kiss he presses onto your shoulder.

You both lay down, facing each other. It's silent but it no longer scares you. Not when your fingers are grazing Minho's palm, tentatively, the way one dips their toes into the water to test its temperature. Your hands are dancing around one another, not yet holding each other, as if engaged in a dance only your body understands. His eyes are locked on yours- a brown shade so mesmerizing you wish you could paint the entire universe with it.

His gaze is always soft when it comes to you, pupils slightly dilated, eyelashes fluttering with each blink. They're so quick you almost can't catch them, as if he unconsciously wants the time in which he looks at you to last longer.

Minho's hand reaches behind you, before pulling the slipping comforter over your body. He tucks it in your sides, and warmth surrounds you everywhere; from him mainly. He's been so attentive to you tonight- a silent care you only truly appreciate when you've experienced a lack of it. It's as if he's pouring years' worth of missed love back into your life, and in return all the love you've held within, never bestowed upon anyone else, has found its sole destination in the man by your side.

Your hand circles his once again, and you watch intently the way your fingers graze one another, delicately, as if skimming on the edge of holding one another. You give in first, intertwining your fingers with Minho’s and squeezing them gently. They fit his perfectly, this is where they're supposed to be.

"I don't know what you’re doing to me," he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours once more. There is a newfound emotion gleaming in his gaze- incredulity, at the depth of his feelings.

"What do you mean?" you question, nuzzling closer to him. Your head finds its rest on his arm and he responds instantly by patting your hair.

"I want to keep buying toothbrushes for you." His voice is hushed and yet it resounds loudly within your being, as if shouted from a sky-high rooftop.

You exhale softly, curling your hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him down gently to your face. You press your lips on top of his, and they move slowly, deliberately, like a painter's careful strokes. Each touch of his lips against yours is there to make you feel something- things that he can't bring himself to say, so he shows.

You finally break apart, dazed from the raw emotions barging into your heart. You then lift your head slightly, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. Minho closes his eyes, as your lips linger in there far longer than necessary. They remain closed even after you pull away, and it is the look on his face that pushes you over the edge. The serenity painted across his features, but particularly, the trust. As if you could mold him however you want and he'd be grateful you ever touched him to begin with.

"I love you," you confess so suddenly, and the words feel foreign yet familiar as they stumble out of your lips. You expect a shift in the universe, a disastrous change as you verbalize this sentiment that's long haunted you. And yet, all that happens is Minho's eyes shimmering as they look at you. And you realize that you aren’t scared he'd twist the words and stab you with them. You know he'd cherish them, even if he didn't feel the same.

"I love you," he says back, a radiant smile lighting up his face, coloring each of his features in unadulterated happiness. Hearing those three words from him made your heart leap in your chest. There is so much more of what you feel that you wish to express. You’ve told him, but you want to show, to press your body to his so the feeling would emit from your heart to his own.

Your hand trails across his chest, and you feel his muscles constrict under your touch. "Can I?" you ask, gazes flickering between his eyes and the hem of his shirt. It's always about permission to you both- permission to touch, to feel, to kiss and the answer is always yes. Yes, yes, yes.

"Please," he whispers, and you tug his shirt quickly over his head. You are a goner after that when his hands caress your skin like you're delicate porcelain. He’s hovering over you, the candle's shadow dancing across his body. Your fingers are tracing every inch of his skin graced by the flickering light, which meant your hands were everywhere, and every touch of yours was mirrored by him. Every kiss he returned ten times fold, every gasp he drank in hungrily, only eliciting a louder one in return.

"Tell me if you’d like to stop," he smiled tenderly down at you, his nose nuzzling against yours. You never felt the need to. And as the night marched forward, you gradually grasped what the poets meant by ‘making love’. You felt as if you were truly making love, as if your every move conjured love in its purest essence between the two of you. The ebb and flow of your bodies served as a spell, heightening your emotions into a raw fervor. It was love that orchestrated your moves, binding you both in a cacophony of sweet sounds, meant for you only to hear.

Minho's gaze remained fixed on yours, as he uncovered parts of you you've never dared to show anyone. It only cemented every feeling you harbored towards him. And the safety. The safety of being in his arms. To be as bare as one could possibly be, and yet to still feel blanketed by his soft eyes on you.

✹✹✹

Dainty snowflakes coat the outside world in a pristine white blanket. It’s a mesmerizing view, one you’ve grown to be grateful for these past few weeks since it signaled the return of winter, and with it, Minho’s birthday.

It's hard to resent snow when it welcomes the existence of the person you’ve fallen in love with.

The outside might be cold but you wouldn't know, not when you are nestled close to Minho, his legs thrown over your lap. You stare fondly at his figure, too engrossed in eating the birthday cake you’ve prepared for him- a vibrant green frosting and a picture of his three cats printed on top, just like he requested some time ago. You lean in a bit, wiping away a trace of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. He smiles at you tenderly, angling his head to press a soft kiss on your thumb pad.

There is a growing lump in Minho's throat, but it doesn't suffocate him, since it's formed by your love for him- you remembered what he said about the birthday cake. He was joking, obviously. But the fact that you brought his ridiculous wish to reality warmed him beyond belief.

You rummage a bit in your place, hands tucked under the pillows, and then you take out a purple envelope. "Open it," you say as you place it on top of his lap. Minho puts his plate down, straightening out in his place before looking at you, a curious smile on his face.

"More surprises?" he asks, referring to the gift you’ve already given him- a pair of t-shirts, all with cats and silly scriptures imprinted on them.

"Mm," you hum, as Minho finally opens the envelope. He pauses, as his eyes rack furiously over the content of the letter. "What's this?" he asks dumbfounded, trying to fully grasp the meaning of what he's reading.

"Because of constellations, people often think that stars always live together in a cluster. But oftentimes, they are alone. Or... if they're lucky enough, they get to roam the universe with a partner. They call them a binary star. Like you and me." Emotion simmers beneath your words, and you continue, your voice a gentle undercurrent.

"It's comforting to know that other versions of us are going through this world side by side too. To know that long after we're gone, there would still be two stars discovering the universe together, orbiting around one another. A token of the love we lived." You lift your gaze to meet his, to find him staring in awe at you. You take a mental picture of this moment, adding it to the collection of the ones you already captured of him.

"Our love may not be revolutionary, we're only two humans out of billions that have adored before us. But our love is grand to me. I try..." you bite your lip, reaching out for his hand- it will guide you as you try to speak. "I always try to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, to tell you how much you do to me. I used to always hold my hand out, in the hopes that someone would grab it. But no one did, so I curled it into a tight fist. And I thought it'd stay this way, for the rest of my life. Until you came, and you unclenched my fingers gently, one at a time, and then you grabbed it into yours." Tears are trailing out of your eyes now, but you show no effort to wipe them. Happy tears shouldn't be swept away.

"Thank you for existing, my Minho," you smile softly at him, and he nods, tears brimming in his waterline, cheeks flushed pink at your words. "Thank you for kissing my finger pads and reminding me that there is still softness in this world, all embodied in you." You cradle his cheeks tenderly in your hands, trying your best to let your love seep through your fingertips into his soul.

"I think you've carved yourself into me, carved your name into my heart. Your roots intertwined with mine, and thanks to you, I managed to crack through the hard earth and bloom again. Thank you for making me feel the warm sun again. I was so so cold before you." You whisper the last part, like a sinner's confession, eager for it to be carried away, forgotten.

Minho brings your body to his, as he buries his face in your chest. You can feel slight tremors shaking his body, and you place soft kisses on his shoulder blade- soothing, calming. You are safe in my love for you, they spell out.

"I can't believe you’ve named stars after us," he mumbles against you, and your fingers thread through his hair gently, flattening out stubborn strands of it. "It's nothing," you smile and he shakes his head vehemently. "It's not- it's not nothing to be loved by you. It's everything to me."

He leans away, bringing your head down to press his lips into yours. It tastes sweet from the cake and salty from his tears. It tastes like healing. You both kiss for mere seconds and yet it feels like an eternity to you. As if your mind stretches out time with Minho, knowing how valuable it becomes with him. He presses his lips onto yours one last time, before exhaling softly, melting completely in your hold.

"As long as you're with me, I don't ever need to look at the sky," he whispers. "There are enough stars in your eyes for me."

✹✹✹

It’s late December and the fragrant aroma of hot chocolate fills your apartment. You’re preparing two cups of the cozy drink in your kitchen, while Minho watches you fondly, leaning casually on the doorway.

"Are you just gonna stare at me?" you giggle, turning around to toss him a sly smile.

"Do you need my help making hot chocolate?" he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, I wouldn't say no to a bit of emotional support."

"Ah, my bad," he playfully bows, walking over to you. Minho gently wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. His bangs tickle the side of your face, akin to the brush of a butterfly’s wing, and a soothing sense of contentment washes over you as he holds you close.

Minho places a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, and the touch sends shivers along your spine. "This is for warming up the milk," he mumbles, adding another kiss to your neck, "and this for mixing in the hot chocolate powder," and a final one to your temple, "and this is for pouring it in cups."

"Why thank you," you giggle, turning around to hand him his cup. "Do you remember what episode we stopped at?"

"37," he replies instantly.

"I think you love this anime more than me," you pout jokingly. "I plead the fifth," he answers solemnly and you chuckle as you both make your way to the couch.

Merely one episode in and you can already tell that Minho is no longer focusing on the show. He’s absently swirling the drink in his hand, his gaze lost within his cup.

"What did the poor hot chocolate do to you?" you smile, a beacon of curiosity piercing through his daze. His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, turning around to look at you sheepishly. "Just zoned out."

"I noticed. What's on your mind?" you ask, lowering the volume of the TV to fully focus on him.

"There is an upcoming dance competition. It's at a regional scale and I'm just... wondering if I should participate."

"You should!" you fervently reply, "You're such a talented dancer. You deserve recognition for your hard work."

"I'll become very busy, though. It's already hard enough to manage this degree," he speaks softly as if he's not fully convinced of this excuse himself.

"I've never seen you as happy as you are when you're dancing. You'll handle it, and I'll be there for you too."

"I should do it, right?" he asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You really should," you echo, your hand rubbing reassuringly across his arm.

"Okay. I will," he nods, and you beam at him, before pulling him in for a comforting hug.

"On second thought... Everyone will now see how talented my boyfriend is and they will fall in love with you," you playfully muse as you hold him close.

"But everyone's already in love with me," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm, the heartthrob of campus."

"People throw themselves right and left at me, it's exhausting," he sighs, the giddy smile easily heard in his voice.

"Okay, now you're overdoing it," you giggle and he further buries his head in your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume. "Don't worry," he mumbles quietly, "I'm only ever yours."

As weeks meld into months, your days become a whirlwind of preparation for the dance competition; where each participant is required to create a choreography from scratch, for a song of their choosing. You witness firsthand the immense effort Minho pours into this, just as he does with everything he undertakes. He spent hours upon hours in the university's dance studio, and you were often there with him. While he practiced, you sat in a corner, working on your laptop. He only paused to kiss the top of your head before diving back into his practice.

He chose a song you've never heard before, called Taste. It was mesmerizing to witness him become a vessel for the melody, like an instrument attuned perfectly to the emotions the song tried to convey. His body moved sensually, flowing like fluid water, perfectly controlled by him. Every beat in Taste was matched with a move of his, powerful enough to capture you, gentle enough not to overwhelm you, like the ebb and flow of the waves brushing against the shore.

The first two months slipped through the hourglass of time in a breeze. And although Minho grew busier, you still both managed to carve out time for quick dates. Strolls by the ocean and spontaneous trips to the cinema- outings that helped you recharge fully once again. But the third month coincided with your midterm exams, casting a heavier cloud over both of your lives.

Minho became overwhelmed, quickly, bearing the weight of his two worlds. He was smart, immensely so, he could handle his classes with ease, retaining knowledge faster than anyone you knew. But the day only had twenty-four hours in it, and he couldn't possibly do it all- finding time to practice, study and take care of himself. So, you tried to handle the last part, as best as you could anyways. Exam seasons always took a heavy toll on you- both physically and emotionally. It also didn't help that you went down with a strong flu for two weeks, making your energy levels plummet to zero.

It was only three days before the start of your exams when a soft knock resounded on your door. You opened it to find an exhausted Minho. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, beads of sweat glistening on his upper brow.

"I'm tired," he whispers, eyes looking absolutely devoid of emotion as they align with yours. You smile softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside, "I know."

You lead him to the bathroom and he follows silently. He's so compliant in your hands as if all the energy in his body was sucked out of him. "Bad day?" you ask, as you peel away his blue hoodie.

"Very." He says, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay. You're here now," you try to keep your voice just as quiet as you take off the rest of his clothes. You undress quickly as well, before pulling you both to the shower.

Minho rests his forehead on your back, as you check the water temperature. When it's warm enough to feel soothing on his skin, you pull him underneath the jet, and you both stand in there for a while. His head hung low, now buried in the crook of your neck; his breaths growing slower, more even.

"You did well, my Minho," you say, voice threatening to get lost in the sound of the water hitting the tiles, but Minho catches it. He tightens his hold on you in response.

Minho can feel you reaching over and grabbing something from the rack behind him. He recognizes the smell of your shampoo as you pour it in your hands, before lathering it gently on his hair. He almost starts crying right there and then, as your fingers skillfully massage his scalp. You are everywhere, pressed to his body and your hands in his hair, and your cherry scent that’s washing all over him. And the outside world suddenly seems so far away.

You rinse off the shampoo, before grabbing your conditioner and threading it through his hair, making sure that every strand is evenly covered. He shuts his eyes closed, as your hands move to his neck and start massaging it. He's so sore from all the dancing, tired from the studying he has to catch up on. But you’re making him feel okay now, as you unravel his nerves without uttering a word. How do you do it? He wants to ask; how do you always paint his world blue?

Your hands are trailing over his body now, not sensually, just easing the knots in his muscles. You're spreading body wash all over him, and his eyes are still closed, as he feels you place tender kisses on his soapy skin. ‘I love you', your voice reaches him like a faraway lullaby, 'you've been working so hard', 'I'm proud of you'; and your comforting words morph into hot tears lodged into his waterline, begging for an escape.

You finally turn the water off, before pulling him outside and wrapping a towel around his waist. He sits idly on the edge of the bed, as you quickly put on your clothes, before walking over to him. You help him wear his pajamas, the ones he's left in your apartment since he often stays the night. He can't move a limb, but you're doing it in his place- as if the life in you was blown into him, and he's only breathing thanks to you.

Once you’re both fully clothed, you sit behind Minho on the bed, legs on either side of his body. You grab a towel you warmed in advance and begin to gently dry his hair with it, patting each strand with care. As soon as you're done, Minho turns around, nestling his head against your stomach. You let him, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"I already told you, but I'm very proud of you," you say, head lowered so he'd be able to hear you. "I'm so amazed by your strength and hard work. You inspire me a lot, Min. Just keep on going, and if you need a break, you can rest by my side, okay?" You place a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I love you," you add softly, and Minho tightens his hold on you. And then he crumbles. Completely.

He falls apart in your arms, painful sobs racking through his body. You panic, as the unfamiliar sounds knock your breath away. You've seen Minho cry before, single tears that managed to escape from his eyes, trailing on his cheeks. But you've never seen him so shattered, so consumed by his pain that he could no longer contain it. You’re caught in his storm, as uncharted waves of his hurt crash against your shores. Has he been hurting all along? Were you this oblivious to the pain brewing inside him?

Your body’s shaking as you press your chest to his back, your arms cocooning his curled-up figure. You try your best to shield him; you don't know from what exactly, but you know it has to go through you first to get to him again.

"I'm so- sorry you have to see me this way," he hiccups, his words digging their claws deeper into your chest.

"Don't say that, baby, please. It's okay, you can cry as much as you want. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, voice quivering, and you can feel your heart slowly cracking, hurting in depths you haven't thought existed before.

"Minho, I don't- I don't only love you when you're happy. I love you when you're angry and frustrated and when you're sad. You deserve kindness and you deserve to be kind to yourself because you are still Minho. My Minho. No matter what emotion you're feeling."

"Please stay with me," he pleads softly, and you bite your lower lip, as traitorous tears escape your eyes and land on his shirt. "Where would I go, love? You're my home. I'm here."

✹✹✹

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

The thought that's been reverberating within your mind, echoing since the moment Minho crumbled in your embrace.

Selfish.

Of course you are, since you remained oblivious to his own struggles as he slowly chipped away, until he shattered unexpectedly. Akin to a seemingly sturdy building, struck by a minor vibration and suddenly reduced to ruins.

Selfish.

Each time you sought solace in him, you failed to realize that he was stripping away his layers to shelter you. You took and took from him, each time you called, each time he came over to brush away your tears. Your endless bad days didn't leave room for his struggles, unperceived amidst your turmoil.

Selfish and horrible. You weren't made to be loved.

Minho is sleeping right next to you. He looks peaceful, endearing bunny-like teeth peeking through slightly parted lips. He's undisturbed, like a placid river, until someone selfishly decides to skip some stones in it- you.

His chest rises and falls, erasing all remnants of his previous breakdown, like a scripture on sand washed away by the waves. You could almost forget it ever happened if it wasn't for the persistent echoes of his sobs. Raw pain had seeped through him, yet it could have been different. If you had asked more, he might have unraveled slowly. He would have talked and he would've never had to explode.

Selfish and guilty. There's a bitter taste in your mouth. It doesn't go away when you hastily gulp down water.

You'll keep your problems to yourself. There is enough for him to bear already. By sharing your load, you aren't diminishing it, only adding more to his.

You can't let your mother be right. Not about this. Not when it comes to Minho. You can't ruin his life too.

✹✹✹

You are being distant.

Minho notices it straight away when you stop coming over to his dorm. When you find excuses to not come to Limbo anymore, accounting it for the exams you're both taking. But he knows it's just excuses. You are straying away from him. Your light that shone on him every day suddenly turned into a distant lighthouse beam.

And it's his fault.

He's embarrassed by his outburst. How he broke down right in front of you. How he clung to your arms, counting on your words and touch to stitch him back together. How he wasn't enough for himself, but you were.

Guilt floods his being, making you sadder when you're already dealing with so much. He recounts your tears dripping into his hair, as you hugged him tightly to your body. He made you cry; he shouldn't have broken down. That's why you're staying away. He can't blame you.

He misses you. He saw you this morning and yet he misses you. Because you weren't there with him, you were somewhere else, in a faraway place in your mind. What if he can't reach you anymore? He wasn't sure what to do with himself without you.

It's 11 pm, and he's knocking softly on your door. You open it and he smiles tightly. You smile back.

He hovers around the entrance of your apartment, hands tightly clasped behind his back. You unclasp them, interlocking your fingers with his and leading him to your couch. You are warm, he missed you. You are here and he misses you.

You both sit down, and you're looking at him curiously. His eyes fall to your lips, pillowy and rosy and he can't help pressing his mouth onto yours. It'll give him the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips and you lean away, confusion clearly written across your features.

"For crying the other day," he clarifies. "I've made you uncomfortable and you feel like you have to be cautious around me, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"What are you saying? You didn't- you never..." you suck in a deep breath, inching closer to him. "Minho, don't ever apologize for that. please. You should never apologize for being human."

"But you are being distant," he says in a small voice, avoiding your eyes.

"Minho, I..." you bring your hand to his cheek, locking your gaze with his. "It's not what you think. I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You bite your lip, sighing loudly before speaking again. "You sobbed. And I had no idea you were hurting that much inside. I am so reclined on myself that I didn't notice. And I tried to distance myself so I'd sort my thoughts out. So, I could be there for you, fully. You're always here for me, and I feel... As if I failed you."

It's now his turn to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently brushing against your skin.

"I felt so loved by you that day. That's why I cried. because I've never felt that way before," he's quick to explain. "Yes, I was stressed and overwhelmed but it's not your fault. You were there for me when I needed you most. You didn't fail me; how could you think that?"

"Because it should've never gotten that bad. If I had noticed before, then I would've helped you and it wouldn't have gotten that bad for you. You don't deserve to feel sad, not when you’re... You. Someone like you shouldn't feel sad."

"Didn't you say we're humans? Isn't that what humans do? They fall down and they get up, I can't always be fine. It's not your fault."

"Minho you don't understand... How much more of yourself can you give to me, without hurting yourself in return?" You're so sure of these words you're uttering, as if you've drilled them into your mind by now. You couldn't be more wrong.

Minho blinks repeatedly, trying to gather the words in his mind properly. You weren't distancing yourself from him, because he had hurt you. But rather, so you wouldn't hurt him anymore. So, you'd be there for him more. A sudden relief floods his being. He isn't losing you.

Minho can't help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. He shakes his head slightly as he brings you to his chest. You're so warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. He still misses you but you're here, you aren't going anywhere.

"You memorized my coffee order. And my favorite pudding. You always bring me one when you come over. When you find a new flavor, I haven't tried, you always buy it for me. You look at me so excitedly when I try it. As if me finding a new favorite pudding brings your personal joy," he's talking softly, slowly, in the hopes that you'd understand what he means.

"You love spicy food, but you always cook without it when I'm with you. Because I can't handle it as well as you. You put snacks and water in my bag when I have dance practice, and then you come to check on me, even when you're busy too. You bought me an umbrella, and you placed it near the entrance of my dorm, so I wouldn't forget it. You give me the opened chopsticks package first, and you blow on my food so it wouldn't burn my tongue. And you let me pick the movie, every time. You let me pick it," he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, tightening his hold on you.

"You brush my hair away from my eyes when you think I'm asleep. And you make sure the blanket covers my body entirely, even if it means it doesn't cover you. I've never had that. Never had someone care for me this gently. Even when I'm not awake and I can't give them anything in return."

He leans back, smiling softly at you. There is a new palpable emotion in the air- love, in its most unconditional form. It smells fragrant and sweet- like you and him.

"I notice everything you do for me, every way in which you love me. You're here for me in more ways than you can ever imagine. And I love you. Please don't stray away from me. Promise me," he pouts slightly, nudging his pinky toward your face. You giggle in defeat, before wrapping your pinky with his.

"Didn't you think pinky promises were silly?"

"Nothing you like is silly."

"Not even that cheesy drama I watch?"

"Okay. Maybe that one is. But it makes you laugh," he trails off. "If it makes you laugh then I like it too."

"You'll talk to me more, right? About whatever's bothering you? When you're not feeling black yet?"

"I will, I promise. You too, right?"

"Mm. I will too."

"Good," he smiles, pecking your cheek softly. "I've missed you. And I don't mind feeling all the colors of the rainbow, as long as you're near me."

✹✹✹

The voices of your friends singing you happy birthday reaches you like the distant chirping of birds, fading away in the back of your mind with each passing second. You know that Mina is smiling at you, her head resting on Jeongin’s shoulders. And that Chan, Han and Felix are all clapping excitedly, their voices blending together in a somewhat harmonious melody. But you can’t seem to focus on any of it. Your eyes are set on Minho, who’s walking over to you, a vibrant pink cake in his hand. The surface of it is covered in candy- marshmallows and macaroons, and a dozen of lit candles. Their light flickers on Minho’s face, casting an ethereal glow on him.

And as your widened eyes meet his, he knows that it all just clicked in place for you.

Four months ago.

"What did you like to do, when you were younger?"

You stay quiet for a few moments, mulling over Minho’s question. The waves crash softly at your feet, the sound of them and Minho’s arms around you serving as a perfect cover to thread through your childhood once again.

"I had a bunny plushie. My aunt gave it to me one day when her daughter didn't want it anymore. She was going to throw it out, but I took care of it. We took care of each other, in a way. I used to stay alone at home a lot, and Caramelo would keep me company."

"Caramelo?" he giggles and you pinch his arm playfully. "I was six when I named it, sue me."

"Mm, and where is Caramelo now?"

"I left it in the house. I packed in such a hurry and it didn't fit in my suitcase. But I really wanted to bring it," you smile sadly and Minho can sense a shift in your tone, so he trails his hands across your arms gently, pulling you even closer to his chest.

"What else did you like?" he asks, placing a kiss under the shell of your ear.

"Playing in the playground, there was one really near home. I'd sneak out and go play in the swing, but there was no one to push me higher there," you chuckle slightly, burying yourself further in Minho's embrace.

"Oh, but I met a girl there when I was eleven, Lydia, I think. She was our neighbor, and she invited me to my first ever birthday party. Her parents prepared this huge cake for her, it was all pink with so much candy on top. I kept dreaming about having a similar one for my birthday. We also painted each other's nails and put on facemasks, and then we watched a movie. It was really fun," you recall, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. You were really shy and didn't talk to the other girls present, staying away in a corner. But Lydia grabbed your hand and pulled you next to her. She didn't let go during the entire movie.

You hoped she was okay, wherever she might be now.

"And... my mom took me one day to a hill near our home. We sat on a bench there, overlooking the city's lights. We didn't talk but she braided my hair since it kept getting in my mouth. That's my favorite memory with her."

Your voice is carried away with the wind, drowned in the waves. You hoped that one day your childhood memories will come back to you, like the sea foam dissolving at your feet. Gentle, incapable of hurting you anymore.

"You know what I really want now? A big cake for my birthday too," Minho suddenly whines and you giggle, turning around to look at him.

"Want me to bake it for you?" you tease and he nods, cradling your face between his cold hands. They warm up once they rest on your cheeks.

"Yes. I want the cats’ pictures printed on it, and..." he trails off, looking up at the sky. "I want it to be green.”

"Green?" you chuckle. "Isn't that a bit weird for a cake?"

"Are you questioning my vision?" he wiggles his brows at you, his hands coming to your sides.

"I am," you laugh, as he starts to tickle you, unwaveringly. You fall to the sand, and he's on top of you, hands roaming your body as loud laughter erupts from you.

Minho’s eyes soften as he gazes at your laughing figure, but he doesn't stop, not until you tap his arm multiple times, happy tears trailing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Green is perfect, you are a genius!"

"Why thank you," he smiles, before leaning down and kissing your tears away. You shiver slightly, from the cold and the feel of his soft lips on your skin. He notices.

"Come on," he outstretches his hand and you grab it, standing up and dusting your pants. Minho squats slightly in front of you, and you giggle before climbing on top of his back.

"Don't you ever wonder who was the person who invented tickling? They were just sitting down and then they touched someone and they started laughing,” he suddenly muses.

"Right! And then they decided this was something they should keep on doing, and it stuck around for centuries."

"I think it's really cute. It says I love the sound of your laugh so much that I will sit there and tickle you just to hear it."

"And you just tickled me," you trail out. "I know," he mumbles, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink.

"I like your laugh too, Minho."

"Just like?" He teases, in a futile attempt to diffuse his shyness.

"I love it. I love it so much I could pay my entire life savings just to keep on hearing it again."

"Stop," he whines and you giggle, swinging your dangling feet in the air.

"Have you ever heard your laugh? No other melody can compare. At this point, musicians should just retire."

"You're insufferable," he finally laughs and you sigh, melting into his back.

"And you like me."

"And I love you."

Present time

The realization dawns on you like a floodgate- Minho is recreating your happiest childhood memories.

From the pink cake of your dreams. To the obnoxiously glittery nail polish he brought home three days ago, spontaneously, you foolishly assumed. He insisted on having a pampering night, where you both applied face masks to one another, bunny headbands tucking your hair out of your face. You giggled as he painted your nails with the utmost concentration, and then begged you to paint his in return. He didn't explain why he wanted pink nails suddenly, you should've known.

You should've known when he suddenly knocked on your door at midnight, taking your sleepy figure to the playground near your apartment. "Why are you here so late?" you questioned, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"We are sneaking out," he whispered in your ear, and you didn't question his flawed logic- who were you sneaking out from exactly? But all was forgotten as he pushed you in the swing, fueled by your growing high-pitched giggles. "Higher?" he shouted and you laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing around the park. "Yes, higher!" Until you felt as if you were close enough to touching the stars.

You should've known.

Minho places the cake on the table, his warm hand finding your lower back. He rubs it soothingly, as you mouth a heartfelt "thank you" to him, hot tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. You couldn't speak, afraid of bursting into sobs in front of all your friends. He understands what you're referring to.

It's far later into the night when your friends finally leave Minho's dorm. You've all cleaned up the place, soft music emitting from the speakers. You didn't need songs to fill the silence, the conversations flowing easily between you all.

You gather all the gifts you've received and take them to Minho's room- a pair of shoes you've been raving about from Mina and Jeongin, and new headphones from Chan, Han, and Felix, since your old ones stopped working not too long ago.

"You're okay?" Minho asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"Better than ever," you beam at him, cupping Minho's neck and meeting his lips in a tender kiss.

"I'm still not done," he smiles secretly, brushing his lips against yours once more, before pulling away. You watch, curious as he heads towards his closet and takes something out of it. Your eyes grow wide as they settle on the gift in his hands. You can feel your lip quivering as you walk hastily over to him.

"Is this...?" you ask incredulously and he nods, a happy smile on his face. "Your Caramelo."

"How... When?" you stammer, as happy tears blur your vision, "How did you do it?"

"I have my ways," he smiles assuredly at you. "Do you like it? I'm sorry if I overstepped by bringing it to you," he adds softly, a hint of vulnerability in his words.

"No, Minho, this is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe it- I... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he smiles, his hand rubbing your arm affectionately. "I figured this plushie should be in a loving home, with you. It helped you back then and now you're strong enough to help it in return."

There are overwhelming emotions that we can't quite express with words- like sorrow, sadness, or in your case, happiness. That's why touch was invented, you believe. As you pull Minho for a bone-crushing hug, Caramelo snug between your chests, you hope that he can feel everything you failed to express through words. That your soul will speak to him in a way your mouth couldn’t.

"When you told me there is a friend of yours, who lived in my town. There was no friend, right?" you mumble into his neck.

"No, I just wanted to know your address," he whispers, arms tightening around your waist.

"Did you meet my mom?"

"Yes. She's the one who gave it to me."

"Did she tell you anything... about me?" you ask cautiously.

Minho remembers snippets of his conversation with your mother- the indifference she showed towards you, as if it wasn't her daughter, her flesh and blood that she discarded away so easily.

"Nothing of importance. I promise you."

"Thank you," you whisper, voice caught up in your throat, bound by the ropes of your overflowing emotions. "Thank you for healing me."

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, and as Minho snored quietly next to you, you untangled your limbs from his, before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water.

You find that the lights are already on and that Chan is working on his laptop, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at his screen.

"Hey," you greet softly, careful not to startle him.

"Our birthday girl," Chan grins and you chuckle quietly, before settling next to him on the couch.

"What are you working on?" you question, taking in the different settings displayed on his screen.

"Just a new song," he shrugs sheepishly, "I'm almost done with it."

"That's nice," you mumble, tucking your knees into your chest.

"I suppose Minho already gave you your gift," Chan speaks softly and you startle, turning around to look at him.

"He didn't tell me what it is, don't worry. But I assume he pretended as if it was no big deal, that he got it."

You nod silently, fearing that speaking would stop Chan from talking.

"I told him that he should just walk up to your house, present himself, and then ask your mom if he can take some of your stuff for you. But he said it’s too risky, and there is a chance she might say no. So, you know what he did?" Chan chuckles softly, and you feel the breath slowly escape your chest. "He spent weeks researching all the moving companies that work in your town. And then he bought us uniforms that looked like one of theirs. With the name tags and all. We rented a truck and we drove there, so we’d pretend as if we were moving the rest of your belongings. Your mom didn't question it thankfully, and I've never seen Minho as relieved as when he climbed back into the truck."

An overwhelming need to cry threatens to consume you, and you bite your lip harshly to stop it from taking over. Not in front of Chan.

"For him to go these lengths for you, means that he loves you a lot. But also, that he feels really loved by you. So, thank you, for loving Minho. I'm very happy you guys are together now." Chan smiles softly at you, before getting up and ruffling your hair slightly.

You quickly go back to Minho's room, before bringing his body tightly to yours. And as soon as you touch him, he mumbles your name in his sleep before throwing an arm over your waist.

"Thank you for loving me. I love you so much too," you whisper into his back, as your tears dampen his shirt. You wished that the words would reach him in his dreams, making them sweeter for him.

You didn't make a wish that day, as you blew the candles, foolishly believing that everything you've ever wanted was already around you. But you should've.

Maybe that would've stopped the anguish to come.

✹✹✹

There is a bad feeling nudged into the space between your ribs. You rub a soothing palm across your chest, in the hopes that it will calm your spiking anxiety. But you only feel your heart growing more erratic in your chest, and the sound of it only makes you panic ten times fold.

You’ve just woken up. You can hear the water running in the shower. Minho has stayed over since you both studied late into the night. You listen intently, a small breath of relief escaping your mouth when the water turns off. He’s okay.

You drag a hand tiredly across your face, before shaking your head left and right. You’ll have a good day, you’ll open the blinds and the golden sun will stream through your windows, and you’ll feel okay.

You don’t.

The dread lingers in your being throughout the day, making the simple act of walking weigh heavily on your bones. You try to distract yourself, by focusing on your classes and listening to Mina’s rants about her latest date with Jeongin. But to no prevail. So, you surrender to that feeling, today’s a bad day, but tomorrow doesn’t have to be. You’ll make sure of it.

It’s five pm when you finally walk up the stairs of your apartment. Minho went to grab you both something to eat since you’ll be studying again tonight. You wish he’d come home quickly, so you wouldn’t attach your anxiety to him. As long as you see him, then he’s okay.

You open the door, pausing by the front entrance. Something in you tells you to flee, to turn back, and never set foot inside. You don’t listen to it. If you paid attention to everything your mind tells you then you’d never truly live.

You quickly change out of your clothes, before turning on the TV. You mindlessly scroll through the show suggestions, and settle on one you haven’t seen before. You turn up the volume, making sure that the voices of the characters would drown the ones in your mind.

But then, your phone rings. It vibrates from the coffee table, the name of your aunt illuminating your screen. She calls you from time to time, but why is she doing it today? You don’t want to answer, not when there is a bulge in your throat suffocating you.

You watch numbly as the phone call seizes. You breathe out a shaky exhale. You’ll call her tomorrow.

The phone rings again.

You bite your lip harshly, hands shaking as you bring the device to your ear. You’re overreacting, you tell yourself. Nothing’s wrong. Minho will be home soon.

"What’s going on?" you ask immediately, the question slipping out of your mouth before you even thought about it.

Your aunt sighs softly, and then her voice floods your being. It sounds hoarse like she’s been crying. "Look, I…" another sigh, and you imagine her fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She always wore dresses. All seasons mingled. With pretty flowers sewed into them and sometimes even-

"Your mother died in a car accident."

Silence. You can't hear anything after those words are uttered. You know that your TV is still playing in the background and that your aunt is still talking on the phone. But it's completely silent. For five seconds. Where the world stills, as if to allow you a brief moment to process what you just heard.

Your mom. Gone.

But then, sounds crash upon you like a relentless wave. The shatter of the characters in the background, the ticking of your clock, the dull buzz of the refrigerator. And your aunt, she's still talking, telling you about the funeral and when it will be held and you can't believe what you are hearing.

It's all too overwhelming, everything surrounding you is too much to bear so you simply hang up.

You put your phone down on the table. And then you turn it off. That's one sound dealt with.

You turn the TV off and dismantle the clock from your wall so it wouldn't tick anymore. You then unplug your refrigerator. Has its buzzing always been this loud? You wonder. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now it’s silent. It's what you crave.

Minho will come home soon. You should make him something to eat. You think to yourself. A fruit salad. It's warm outside and the fruits are refreshing.

So, you grab a knife from your drawer, and then you start peeling an orange. Then an apple. It's rugged, and half the fruit is wasted with the peel. You've never really known how to peel the skin properly. So, you put the knife down. The blade is slightly red, you notice. There is blood oozing from your finger. You cut yourself. But it doesn't hurt, so you leave it be.

Light floods your apartment, a stark contrast to the shadows within you. But you want it to be dark, and silent. You already took care of that last part. So, you pull down all the blinds and turn off the lights one by one. Now it's pitch black. Now it's quiet.

You sit on the floor, running your hand across the tiles. You count them, one, two, three. When is Minho coming home?

The floor is cold underneath you, the sensation heightened since your every other sense is muffled. You can't see, you can't hear, but you can still touch. You wished you couldn't anymore. The smallest sensation overstimulates you.

The front door unlocks, but you don't hear someone coming in. You imagine Minho standing by the door, looking around in the dark. It's okay, he'll find you. He always does.

"Honey?" he calls out and you reply from the living room, "I’m here."

You don't have to yell, it's quiet enough for your voice to be carried around your home with ease.

Minho has his flashlight on, you notice. He's looking for you and he finally spots you on the ground. You move a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel something warm smear across your cheek. You forgot about your cut- a reminder of the pain lurking beneath the surface, waiting patiently to consume you.

"Baby?" His tone is soft and careful, and you can see the worry brewing in his brown eyes. Why was he worried? You're okay. Nothing happened.

"I made you a fruit salad. It's in the kitchen. Can you please turn off the light?"

"Okay." His voice is calm, and you don't mind him talking. You could bear it. He was different after all, to you.

He’s pulled into the abyss with you, as he sits down next to your rigid figure. His hand rests on top of your pinkie, but you recoil from it. Not because you hate it, but his hand is warm and the floor beneath you is cold. That's a contrasting sensation. You don't want that. You just want a stillness, to feel like a straight line. Straight lines are always sure of themselves, of where they're going. You were tired of feeling like a bent one at the hands of the universe.

"What happened, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. What did you do when I left, hm?"

"Nothing much. I was watching this new show, I think you’ll like it. And then my aunt called. She told me my mom died in a car accident. And then I went to the kitchen and I cut up some fruits. But I didn't know how to peel them. Can you believe it?" you giggle, your voice suddenly high-pitched. "I mean who- who doesn’t know how to peel the skin of an apple? Isn't that such a basic skill?" You're laughing now, you don't know what's funny, but you're laughing.

"And I cut my finger, but I didn't feel anything, Minho. I don't- I don't feel anything," you're still giggling, hot tears trailing down your cheeks rapidly. "My mother died and I don't feel anything. Why- why can't I feel anything? Minho, I can't- I can't-" You're hyperventilating, words straining to come out of your mouth. The breath is knocked out of you and white spots cloud your vision, like the stars that dance around Minho’s eyes. They seem kind enough so you don't fight them. You want to welcome them in the hopes that they'd take this unbearable weight off of you.

"Yn, yn, breathe for me, baby. Listen to my voice," Minho calls out and it's as if you're pulled in two opposing directions. He sounds scared, so you try to do as he says. You don’t want him to worry about you.

"You're doing so well, breathe with me, okay? Breathe in... Breathe out... Perfect, let's do it again," he instructs and you try your best to follow suit. You can feel yourself shaking, your hands moving as if they have a mind of their own. You are cold, too cold, and you can't help but wonder if it's how your mother is feeling right now too.

The thought seems to drive you over the edge and you let out a guttural sob. It racks from within you, reverberating from the depths of your splitting soul. It's a pain unlike any you've ever felt. You try to find something to compare it to, a sensation you imagine must hurt the same. But you can't find any. You can't find a metaphor to make the pain more bearable.

So instead, you let out a heart-wrenching scream, slicing through the silence you tried desperately to maintain. Your throat aches from the strain on your vocal cords but you pay it no mind, not when there is a pain bursting open every seam of yours, undoing every thread you so carefully stitched back into your soul.

Amidst your pitch-black apartment, you see yourself quivering in the corner, head buried in your hands. And then it’s thirteen years old you sitting there, the one who wished for something so horrible to happen on the birthday she spent alone, yet again. Your wish came true, you want to tell her. You tried to take it back, but it came true.

Minho gathers you in his arms, and you clung to him. You know he's trying to wrap you up the best he can, his arms around your back and his legs pressed on you. He's trying his best to stop you from falling apart. From breaking beyond the point of no return. And you think to yourself that you've passed it. You've passed it and he's clinging helplessly into your remains now.

✹✹✹

The funeral went by in a blur, its details elusive in your memory. At times it felt like a fever dream, a mirage conjured by your mind. And sometimes you tried to believe it, to lull yourself into a comfortable thought. Where you don't talk with your mom and she doesn't know how you are doing, but she's still alive. On the other side of the country. She's still breathing.

But this fleeting comfort is quickly shattered. The thought barely lingers, like a whisper in the wind, never staying long enough for you to finally draw in a full breath. Because the grief clings onto your skin, and you carry it with you everywhere, like a stench that won’t quite leave you. You wonder if other people can smell it on you too.

Minho hasn't left your side, once. He's always next to you. His hands are resting on your back or brushing your cheek tenderly. They are always near. And you hold them tightly. You practically memorized the lines etched on his palm. It's all you stared at during the funeral.

It felt wrong and unjust to be somewhere where everybody knew your mother, except for you. You felt as if you were left out, robbed of happy memories to mourn as well. So, you remained silent, gaze fixed intently on Minho's palm. And he didn't mind; he never does when it comes to you.

He's gentle with you, he's always been, but he's particularly gentle with you these weeks. The countless times he's cared for you blur together- his soapy hands skimming your body, massaging the shampoo into your hair when your limbs felt too heavy to move; the meals he cooked for you, making sure that each bite was cool enough before feeding it to you. How he always told you he was proud of you, at random times throughout your days. ‘What for?’ you wanted to scream, ‘I'm barely alive as it is’. "For breathing," he'd add as if he heard the thoughts swirling in your mind. "For being here. For waking up today."

He did your laundry and he folded your clothes. Sometimes he even picked your outfits and dressed you in the morning. Leaving pecks all over your face after each worn clothing. You wanted to smile, to tell him how much you loved him. How his love felt like a sun ray peeking through the cell hole of a prisoner. But you couldn't speak. So, you hoped he knew.

He unburdened you of all these mundane tasks, so you'd focus on other ones. Like attending classes and taking notes and writing essays. Because as much as you wished for it, the world did not pause for your sorrow. In the grand tapestry of existence, where did you stand exactly? You were nothing but a mere speck of light. Your emotions, as profound as they were to you, did not hold the power to halt the world's march, to compel universal mourning.

But Minho made your world stop, just like he promised, almost a year and a half ago. When you finally found your voice, he'd listen to you talk, your head on his lap, his fingers weaving through your hair gently.

"I feel like I’m mourning two people. The person I knew and the person she could have been," you told him one night and he hummed, listening intently to you.

"The what-ifs are killing me Minho. It feels like I’m suffocating each time I think of what could have been. She left so suddenly. But she should've stayed. Maybe our relationship would've gotten better."

"Maybe… or maybe not, you can never truly know. And it’s not your job to find the answers to the questions she left behind. Maybe she didn’t even have them herself."

You appreciated how his hand never left yours, as you journeyed through seas of uncharted emotions. The anger- that came with her leaving so abruptly, leaving you behind with a heavy baggage to dissect. The sadness- from losing the woman who will always be part of you. Because we don't kill our hopeful past selves, we simply bury them and they remain just under the surface of our souls, a testament to everything we've been through.

The nostalgia- that creeps in from time to time, conjuring rose-tinted memories in your head. Maybe her voice was softer here. She did ask about your day one time. Wasn't that her sitting on the benches in your musical play? But it wasn't, it was just your brain trying to soften the harshness of losing her.

It is how our minds cope with grief, your therapist says. Minho convinced you to go see one. Because love doesn't mend everything. And he needed you to be okay again, for yourself.

He's always waiting for you after your sessions end. With coffee and a fresh pastry. You didn't eat them at first, because they tasted bland and you'd rather not waste them. But one time you bit into the strawberry muffin and it tasted sweet and citrusy. And you smiled at Minho.

He stared at you in awe that day, and then he kissed you softly, pressing his pillowy lips against yours. His eyes mirrored galaxies, tears tracing constellations down his cheeks. "You look so pretty when you smile," he whispered tenderly and you felt emotion bubbling within you, stuck in your throat. But you didn’t want to cry. So, you only smiled more brightly at his words, and you kept his compliment stored safely within you, right beside every sweet gesture of his since that day.

Minho didn’t have the answers to all your questions. He didn’t always know what to say to make it feel right. But he stayed there, he tried his best, to heal parts of you that you never knew could be bruised.

You tried one day, to go through the day normally. You woke up, opened the blinds, and then you made Minho breakfast. You ate lunch with Mina, making some jokes here and there. And when you saw Chan in the line of the coffee shop, you went up to him to talk.

And then you got home and showered, put on makeup, and waited for Minho to come to you. As soon as he opened the door, you were on him, hands busy unbuttoning his shirt, your lips pressed wildly on top of his. You missed him, missed the way he made you forget as he touched you, everywhere. As he showed you how much he loved you.

"I want you, please," you whispered, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, your hands roaming across his chest. Your tone was begging and Minho could feel the urgency in it, so he nodded, he could never say no to you. He watched as you guided him to the couch, as you straddled his lap. You kissed his neck and he tilted it back to give you more of an opening. His hands were on your thighs, cautious. Your lips on him felt heavenly but he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure, he had to keep an eye on you.

You were urgent, with the way you sucked the tender skin above his collarbones, how you grinded your hips into his. As if you were on borrowed time and you had to make him reach his high as fast as possible.

"Tell me you’re mine," you muttered, between the kisses you imprinted onto his chest. He could see the lipstick stains you left behind as if you needed to mark him up for everyone to see.

"I'm yours," he says, his hand smoothing the top of your hair. He could sense that something was wrong now, because your eyes were glazed over, and your kisses were getting sloppy, as if your mind was somewhere else. So, he grabs your hips to pause you. "I'm yours, angel. You hear me?"

"Tell me you won’t leave, tell me you’re staying," you take his hands away from your sides, clasping them in a tight hold. You capture his lips in a desperate kiss, and Minho can feel the tears streaming down your face. "Tell me you’ll stay, please, I can’t- can’t lose you too."

"Hey, hey, love. It’s okay, calm down," Minho easily frees his hand from your grasp, bringing you closer to his chest. It’s all it takes for you to start sobbing. "Who said anything about losing me? I’m still here, I won’t ever leave you," he shushes, his voice sounding like honey to your ears. It manages to muffle the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

"I'm so so tired Minho, so tired," you sob, burying your head in his chest. You felt as if there was pain igniting the end of each of your nerves. You couldn't run away from it because the pain became you. "I try to be strong, but I can't. It hurts to wake up and- and to try to go on as if nothing happened. The thoughts in my head don't ever stop and I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please make it stop. Make it stop hurting," you press your palm onto your chest, a useless attempt to soothe the burn within.

Why did it feel as if in your attempts to put out the fire raging within you, you only ended up fueling it even more?

"I would- I would if I could but I can't do that, I wish I could-" his tone is desperate, raw pain dripping from it.

"What if I'm not strong enough to do it myself?" you cut him off, finally asking the question that's been haunting you. "What if I can't fill this hole within me and it keeps on growing until it swallows me whole?"

Minho tightens his hold on you, rocking you gently in place, trying to lull your heart to sleep, so it'd stop hurting, even for a moment, even for a second. You know it's selfish to expect him to have all the answers, but he's all you have. He's the only voice you can bear listening to.

"I can't promise you that you'll ever fill the void left by her absence. It will keep on bleeding and throbbing, begging for a temporary patch-up. But one day it'll stop, it can't bleed forever. And around that hole flowers will bloom, like a sanctuary, watered by your overflowing love. Because it is your love that's hurting you, not your anger. Do not kill your heart to stop feeling, please. It will do that on its own, it won't hurt more than it can bear."

"It will take time. And if you run out of your time, I'll give you mine too. You aren't alone in this, we are a binary star, right?" he smiles softly and you nod slightly against his chest. "I read that to the invisible eye, they look like a singular star. I hope that to the universe we'd look like one person too, so they'd pass some of your pain to me."

✹✹✹

It’s been a few months since your mother died. You didn’t like the term passing away, because it entails that it was gentle, in passing, as if you were expecting it. But her death was sudden and it made your entire world flip upside down.

"Would you like to talk to her?" Minho suggested one night, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly.

"Will you come with me?" you ask quietly.

"Of course. If you want me to, that is."

"I can try."

Minho drove you to the graveyard the following weekend. It felt weird to see her name etched on the grave, a reminder that this was all real and not a figment of your imagination.

"I'm not a daughter anymore." You speak after a while, tone coated in sadness, and acceptance. "But I think I’ve never truly been one, since you were never a mother to me."

"Is it weird, that I miss you? I don't even know what I miss exactly since you were never there. But I miss you. I miss having a mother. And I'm sorry, that you were so angry at the world you couldn't find it in you to love me." You pause, blindly reaching out to hold Minho's hand. He grabs it instantly. "But I won't carry your anger anymore. I don't want to be mad at you, for leaving so suddenly. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. And I hope that you are too, wherever you are now."

You turn around, a small smile gracing your lips, and Minho wastes no time in wrapping you in his arms, your cheek resting against his shoulder. He's proud of you, the emotion shines clear as day in his eyes.

"I wanna take you somewhere," he tells you and you nod, wrapping your arm securely around his waist.

The drive is short and you recognize the place fairly easily. It's the hill you told him about a long time ago, the one that held your happiest memory with your mother.

You both sit on the bench, your head finding solace on his shoulder. The view unfolding in front of you is still as breathtaking, and with each passing moment, the tightness in your chest seems to ease. Memories of your mother and this serene spot intertwine like delicate vines, bringing you a bittersweet sense of comfort. Because mourning someone isn't straightforward, not when humans are this complex, never strictly good or bad.

"Cold?" Minho asks and you shake your head no. "You're a human heater."

"Only near you," he smirks and you giggle slightly.

"I remember your hands used to be so cold."

"So, I could find an excuse to hold yours."

"Are you flirting with me?" you chuckle and he nods, a proud smile on his face. "Is it working?"

"I haven't run away yet, so I suppose it is." There is a newfound lightness in your voice, one you’ve been achingly missing for the past months.

"Come here," he taps his lap with his hands and you promptly lay your head on it.

"Look at the sky," he instructs and you do as he says, squinting your eyes. "What am I supposed to see?" you giggle, but then you feel it, the faintest snowflake falling on your nose tip.

"Go away, I don't want to watch the first snow with you," you tilt your head towards Minho, who's watching you, a soft smile on his face.

You giggle at the distant memory, when you both left Limbo, two years ago. The first time Minho rewrote your memories.

"As if I could ever love you, that'd just be signing a death warrant," you repeat your words from that night, a knowing smile on your face.

"How's that death warrant going?"

"Horrible, so so horrible," you say as you intertwine his hand with yours, squeezing it lightly.

"Mm. I suppose we can't be the exception to the superstition."

"How unfortunate," you smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, before looking back at the sky again.

He looks perfect from your view. You can clearly see the mole on his nose, the pucker of his rosy lips, and his long eyelashes framing his eyes. You are overcome by a feeling of love for the man beside you, and you stand up from your place to pull him in for a deep kiss.

"What was that for?" he smiles once you lean away, his fingers gently grazing your lips.

"Thank you, for today and for every day since I've met you."

"Of course, my love. You took a big step today, what color are you feeling right now?"

"Whatever color loving you is."

✹✹✹

Hills covered in verdant hues, rows of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, stretching before your eyes. The birds are chirping somewhere near, intermingling with the faint melody of the wind brushing against your skin.

"Here," Minho comes from behind, placing his knit jacket on top of your shoulders. Its warmth seeps through you, and you lean your back against his chest, melting into his embrace. His arms encircle your chest, resting comfortably on top of your heart as if guarding it from harm.

You feel your breathing slow down as you both look out the window. You are somewhere far from the city and its buzzing lights, a small white cottage surrounded by nature, where only you and Minho exist.

Minho nuzzles his chin on your shoulder, placing a chaste kiss under your ear. A light giggle escapes your mouth, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. Your body still reacts as sweetly to Minho, proofs of his love imprinted all over you. His touch is familiar to you but still as soothing, never losing its effect on you. You believe it never will, even when you're both withering down; his touch will still be the only thing making you bloom.

"This is nice," he whispers, sighing softly and you nod against him, raising your hand to settle on top of his. His fingers instinctively find your wedding ring, playing with it as they've done for the past two years.

"It's always nice with you," you say and he smiles softly, squeezing your hand lightly. You remember how it felt when he held it for the first time. How he hasn't let go since. It was only ever his to hold.

"We did well, don't you think? For our first time being alive."

His words make a gentle warmth stir within you. It is your first life, and you're lucky enough to spend it with him.

"We did," you turn around, to find him already looking down at your figure, a fond smile on his face. "To think we probably wouldn't be together if it wasn't for our law classes."

"No," he shakes his head, hands gently cupping your cheeks. "I would've found you. On a random evening when you'd stumble onto Limbo. In the supermarket where you'd buy your cherry shampoo. In the park you used to play in as a kid. I would've found you."

You've once read that when humans are about to pass away, a film of their happiest memories plays in front of their eyes. You know that many years down the road when you're on the brink of going away, you'll remember this moment clearly in your head. You'll remember the cicadas chirping far away, and the zesty smell of the lemon muffins you made earlier today. You'll remember the cold breeze ruffling your hair, and Minho’s warm hands on you. And you'll sigh contently, from having lived a life filled with love.

"My soul is dipped in yours. It will always find you too."

1K notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 7 months

Text

Let Me Give It To You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: After a month of dating, Y/N isn't sure if what she has with Rafe is love.

Masterlist

Y/N and Rafe have been girlfriend and boyfriend for a month now and everyone knows it. She has to admit that she is nervous about being with him. Her biology major clashes with his business one. Her more reserved personality isn’t supposed to go with his outgoing party one. She knows there must be whispers about her around campus because she’s heard a few of them. She’s only with him because he needs help with some of his school work and she wants something out of it. She makes him stay home from parties. She is trying to control him. Everyone seems to think that whatever she and Rafe have is anything but love. They are, of course, wrong because she does love him. And he loves her. At least, she hopes that he loves her. Neither of them has said the words yet, but she knows that’s how she feels about him. They are both scared to say the words out loud. They just don’t know the other’s feelings.

A small part of her feels like maybe he doesn’t like her. She can see how he treats her differently from the other girls. How he looks at her with a special twinkle reserved only for her. How he always follows his rules to take care of her. Her brain wants to take all of those facts though and replace them with doubt. And Rafe can see that.

Her head is placed on his chest, letting it rise and fall with his breathing. His fingers twirl her hair around and around. He looks down to see her deep in thought, “What’s on your mind, Angel?” She readjusts her head on his chest, so she can look at him. “Do you ever hear the rumours about us on campus?” she whispers. His brows meet at a point, moving her hair behind her ear, “Yeah, why are you asking?” “Do you think they are right? That what we have isn’t lo- liking,” she worries, occupying herself with tracing her finger along his chest. His heart flutters at the word she is about to say. He knows she is going to say she loves him and he wants to scream to the world how happy he is. “I love you,” he says, looking her dead in the eyes. If this conversation is going where he thinks it is, then he knows she needs those words. Her cheeks raise to create a puff and her eyes gleam with happiness, but her concern comes back soon. “But how do you know what we really have is love? We’ve never been in love before.”

He gets off of his bed, searching for something on his dresser. He returns to her and pulls her onto his lap. “I may not have been in love before, but I know exactly how I feel about you. When I’m with you, the world stops. All I can think about is you and how I can make you happy. The thought of you being taken away from me would kill me,” he confesses. “And I’ve never felt that way about someone before, so if that’s not love, then I don’t know what is. But if that doesn’t convince you about how I feel, then maybe giving you this will.” He holds up his hand and a golden chain dangles from between his fingers, hanging from a small jump ring is the name of his frat in the Greek alphabet. His fraternity letters. A necklace given to him by his frat brothers that Rafe is never supposed to give it away.

“Rafe, you can’t give this to me. Your frat brothers are going to kill you,” she refutes, pushing his hand back towards him. He shakes his hand, unclipping it to put it around her neck, “I don’t care about them. If this is going to show you how much I love you, then let me give it to you, Angel.” His lips greet her cheek as he admires the way the letters rest between her breasts. He thinks he might die with how happy he is with her wearing his necklace. “Rafe, thank you. I love you too,” she says, giving him multiple kisses on the lips. His hands go to play with her hair, “I love you so much, Angel. I don’t think you will ever understand.” He places his head on her neck, enjoying the warmth of her in his arms. They may have only been dating for a month, but he already knows he would stay the rest of his life in hell for this Angel.

——

It’s the frat’s weekly meeting and every brother is supposed to wear their letters to it, but when Rafe shows up without it, it causes an uproar amongst the boys. “Where are your letters?” Kelce questions, holding up his own as if Rafe doesn’t know what he is talking about. Rafe shrugs nonchalantly, walking to his chair at the head of the table, “I gave it to Y/N.” “What! Dude, those are your letters. You aren’t supposed to give it to some random chick,” Topper argues. Rafe’s head whips towards Topper with anger, “My angel isn’t some chick. I love her and she needed something to prove that. I don’t want to hear another gripe about this. Do you understand?” “Man, he is whipped for her,” Topper mutters under his breath. Rafe ignores Topper and starts the meeting. He places his phone on the table, accidentally turning it on so the whole room can see his background photo of Y/N smiling with his letters around her neck.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

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chuuyasfanboy · 5 months

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No request with this one, just me being self indulgent because I'm an IDV addict again and I love Postman!!! Wrote this all while doing rank, congratulate me on multitasking

Paperboy x Reader

I'm an avid believer in all the skins having different personalities

So while default Victor is more reserved (NOT shy, The Prince is the shy one), I believe Paperboy is the most extroverted right behind Keyboard

He's a different kind of extroverted though

He's more focused on his blog than real life people, and so most of the conversing he does is through online forums and the like

DOES NOT mean he's afraid of in person convos!

His whole propaganda gang is trying to get people to STOP relying on tech, of course he doesn't mind talking to people irl

He's way more outwardly neurodivergent than the other variants, could probably rant FOREVER about product design, logos, hmtl and css, etc. He's really passionate about what he does

He's definitely lacking in friends though, despite all that

Other than his Call of the Abyss gang, he really doesn't get to talk to many people

It's pretty saddening, because after the fourth (read: ten-thousandth) rant about Have Fun, the only one who will listen is Luca, maybe sometimes Will

He really doesn't mind, but he does wish he could tell more people about it, people he liked

This is where YOU come in!!!

Someone new to the squad, someone who's interested in what he has to say!

Plus, even if you don't understand any of it, he has a cute puppy, isn't that enough to lure you in?

Speaking of Wick (whomst I will be referring to with all pronouns because I've been told that dog is every gender and I don't know what to believe anymore), he's the sweetest puppy ever!

When she's not ruining Jose's little dj gigs and radioshows, they're the most well behaved dog you will ever meet!

Play fetch with it, he will bring the ball back and give you puppy kisses while she's at it!

Victor LOVES seeing the two of you interact, it makes his heart explode with joy

Yes, he does talk to Wick like they're a real person. No, you cannot stop him. No, he does not use a baby voice, he is entirely serious about it.

Write him letters, he's never gotten one, none of his variants have except for maybe Prince.

He'll be SO SO SO HAPPY he'll love you forever

That's probably what kickstarted his little crush, actually, because he definitely fell first AND harder

You probably sent him an anonymous fan letter, just trying to make sure he knew people liked his blogs

He nearly CRIED running around showing everybody else, and you just laughed all joyfully at his excitement

He vowed he would find out who wrote it and write them back a thousand more word of appreciation

Imagine his joy when he found out (read: doxxed the letter for info) it was you!!

Yeah, he actually cried this time

Happy tears, I swear!

He promised you he would never ever forget it, and you KNOW he didn't, because he still brings it up years later as the happiest day of his life

Since the Call of the Abyss movement advanced and began making a motion, he'd received so many more fan letters, messages on his blog, and other things of that nature

But yours? Pinned up on his wall, FRAMED in gold

Takes every chance he gets to show it off, even if everybodys seen it before

Back to more general headcanons, Victor is completely nonverbal

He communicates through his lil mask thing, projecting words on it

He also uses it for more practical things

Like spreading more anti-Metropolis propaganda!

When he wants you to understand some niche thing he's into, he projects a video essay on to the screen, makes you watch it like a movie

Even with his eyes obscured and his words filtered, he's still extremely expressive, and its easy to tell what he's feeling

His face goes REEEEED when he's flustered or embarassed

And his lips are so so cute when he pouts

The only person he actually talks to is Wick, he does it in private, very few people get to see it

Even with you and the others, he's never spoken, only grunted or giggled or something small to acknowledge what you've said

When the plan to expose the Aurora finally closed in, and the final day was approaching, he excitedly ran around showing off his latest design

The first real print he'd made, he'd been banned from most shops and had to be careful entering them because of the guards, so he hadn't gotten the chance to bring them into reality

But finally, after Luca managed to get him a nice printer and a lifetime supply of ink, he did it

They were gorgeous- or- not the right word

They were effective.

He's really a genius in the graphic design department, slaving away hours over his laptop creating the perfect logos to draw in attention

He was incredibly excited that he finally got to spread it the way he's always wanted to

And he really hopes its as effective as he's been told

Hopes that it will encourage people to go find the sun once more

Back to the cute fuzzy romance!

It's a little awkward to kiss him, considering he almost NEVER takes off his little mask

Sometimes he does, but he really wants to save it for when the sun rises on Metropolis, it's a big dream he has

You really have to tilt your head, but its very worth it

He's soft all around, hands, arms, lips

And also, he smells like lavender

Dont ask me how I know, but its canon, I was his perfume

He really likes flowers, even though he's only seen pictures

He thinks they're gorgeous, and he believes they'll smell even better in person, better than any scent a cheap perfume shop could provide (sorry Vera!)

While he may be hard to kiss, he loves hugs, the tighter the better

Even if he feels like he's being squeezed apart, the closeness makes him feel safe

He hopes sunlight feels that warm

Sometimes, he takes you out to the theatre to watch the Aurora

"To research," he'll tell you

But really, he's just a hypocrite

Even if she's false, she does have a beautiful voice

He would never deprive you of beautiful things

He figures two extra tickets can't do too much harm, right?

Take that unsure answer as you will.

#idv #identity v #idv x reader #identity v x reader #victor x reader #victor grantz x reader #postman x reader #paperboy x reader #idv paperboy #idv postman #x reader #victor grantz #requests open #male reader #female reader #gn reader

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queers-gambit · 2 years

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Dating Eddie Munson HC [part two]

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

note: can't get this boy outta my head, so, here's a few other headcanons about boyfriend!Eddie Munson.

warnings: cursing, female descriptions / pronouns (i think), this one's pretty tame. still proceed with maturity.

• you cannot convince me this boy doesn't, like, do everything in his power to put a smile on your face. cracking a (bad) joke, pulling a funny face, or acting like a klutz just to see that smile on your face.

• Eddie writes poems for you. maybe not full songs (even though a few have been about you) but he likes to write you actual poetry. it was the one unit he excelled in during English because he had an array of poems at his disposal.

• some poems were left in a journal, some on scrap pieces of paper then taped on his dresser's mirror, others written to you and sent in a letter.

• this man is big on hand-written letters. you like to read? he likes to write? it fucking works for you!! he'll write you a letter for anything, too.

• bullies got him fucked up? he was writing a letter to you that he might not send for weeks because he's still adding to it. it's therapeutic. and it's not that he's not telling you when things happen but it's sometimes hard to verbalize everything. so, he writes and one day, he'll slip it to you, "you don't have to respond to it, but I want you to know these things."

• and later that evening after you've read the letter, you're at his trailer, and crawling into his lap. he might be sitting on the couch because Wayne's at work already, hands holding your thighs and up to your hips as your hands smooth his hair back, off his face.

• and you'd tell him, "I love it when you're open with me. and I want you to know, your feelings are safe with me, however you need to express them." and all sorts of reassuring things, because you didn't want to offer too much sympathy because he didn't want pity, but instead assurance that his feelings are valid, and safe.

• but he sends you letters for other reasons, too! he doesn't need much of a reason to pick up a pen.

• you save each one. i don't need to explain this, right?

• he gifts you a silver ring of your own; maybe gets you one for every year you're together. but that doesn't stop you from stealing his on the occasion, let's be clear on that.

• because in my head, Eddie doesn't do short-term. he's in it for the long term, so, he likes to go all out for anniversary's. hence the rings.

• and he loves seeing your style and his meshed together in your outfits, remember? seeing you in some ripped jeans, one of his shirts? hair done, make-up poppin', nails manicured, with - oh - what's those? shining silver rings he got you? he might swoon a little.

• and holding hands when you're wearing your rings isn't 100% comfortable at first but you both get used to it. and he even might start to fiddle with your rings sometimes, too; either when anxious or just lost in thought, he'll gently spin one of your rings around your finger.

• skin to skin contact is still a must, but laying face-to-face while gently petting over his face as if to map out his features is just soul-soothing for the both of you. "everything's quiet when I'm with you," you tell him softly, voice barely above a whisper.

• and he smiles lightly, "what do you mean, quiet, sweetheart?"

• "everything in my head, all the bullshit going on in the world," you sigh as you trace over his chest tattoo, "it's quiet when I'm with you. everything's just... so much better with you, baby."

• ah, man - he melts. you hear me? he melts. he can't help but bring you in closer to press an excited kiss to your lips. and when he pulls back, he takes only a nano-second before he's kissing you again, and again.

• because he's elated to hear those words. and you make note of that by making it a habit to reassure him of his place in your life. his insecurities run deep but he's making real progress on that because you take deep satisfaction in assuring him of your love.

• I know I said stoner!boyfriend Eddie lets you paint his nails, but can we agree that boyfriend!Eddie in general will do that? great - so, you like to paint your nails, right? and sometimes, you can't choose a color and Eddie thinks it's really cute when you get that concentrated look on your face while trying to get an even coat.

• so, he doesn't mind you painting his fingernails. he'll often have to decide the color for you because you "just can't!"

• he might try his hand out with painting your nails, too. look, Eddie can get a few tattoo sketches down, why can't he master nail art?

• don't tell anyone but he definitely has a shoe box full of photos of you guys. he got a polaroid camera when you started dating and he tries to take at least one photo every date. it's a nice homage to your relationship.

• he leaves the camera in his car so he doesn't forget it. plus, he has his own personal collection of pictures of you in his passenger seat, so, win-win. oh, there goes my heart.

• when he's missing you or after you guys have a fight, he looks through that photo box. and oh, look! he's writing you another letter! he's a simp and my mind can't be changed.

• your heart gets warm when he calls you sweetheart. you're used to him calling you baby, and don't get me wrong, it's adorable. but when he drops sweetheart in lieu of your name, you're the one melting a little.

• and you're both always holding hands or your arm's around the others shoulders. like, constantly. he's not overly adamant on PDA but that boy doesn't feel right if you're close by and he's not touching you.

• there's a height difference. and he likes to pick on you for that. he's lanky, so let's say he's taller than you; and he never, ever lets you forget it. you'll try to reach something in the cabinet above the stove while you're cooking at your house, and here comes Eddie!

• he'd let one hand move around your waist to squeeze you into his side while the other grabbed whatever you needed, "woah there, small fry, careful! you might knock yourself over stretchin' like that."

• "you think you're funny, don't you?"

• but he is funny, the little shit. his jokes are mostly corny but because you guys have history, there's a lot of inside jokes that make you both go lightheaded from laughter.

• Eddie has social anxiety that's hidden behind this macho bravado but you can tell when he's feeling uneasy.

• it's sometimes easier to just slid your hand into his and mutter quietly, "squeeze my hand if you wanna go."

• you were always quick to come up with some excuse for your abrupt departure the moment you felt him squeeze your hand. it ranged from some excuse over dinner with your mom, maybe you have a sibling that needs picked up somewhere, or there's some extended family member coming into town. no matter what, when he squeezes, you're getting him out of there.

• when the anxiety passes, he's realizing he's dating his best friend and silently thanks God because you both just read each other. you both just get it.

• he calls you his little problem solver because it doesn't matter what's going on or what he's feeling, he can turn to you. confide in you. and you know it goes both ways because he's there for you no matter what.

• when you're sick, good luck getting Eddie to go to school. you'll phone him early in the morning and tell him your symptoms before insisting you'd just stay in bed; but he's already packing a bag to hang with you for the day.

• he'd come over with snacks and Gatorade (or something) because your parents already left for work. he doesn't care if he'll get sick, too; he'll crawl in bed with you and gently massage your scalp.

• Eddie doesn't like going to school if you're not there, so, he doesn't mind playing hookie. and he gets you anything you need because he's a sweetheart like that.

• yeah, you like forehead kisses - but he likes kissing your forehead.

• mixtapes! mixtapes! mixtapes! Eddie makes you mixtapes! just imagine he's out somewhere and finds himself bobbing his head along to some song, specifically asks for the name, so later, he adds it to a mixtape 'cause he thinks you'll like it, too.

• look, sometimes his emotions get the better of him and he communicates through music.

• so, sometimes, after a fight, you'll find a cassette tape left in your mailbox when you collect the mail that day. you know it's from him without a signature, but there's usually a scribbled note on the front of the case.

• I'm sorry for what I said. I hope this can help?

• and you listen to it all night. he'll come to pick you up in the morning for school and feel anxious you wouldn't want to see him, but just as he comes to a halt, you're heading out your door.

• you spend the morning talking about whatever upset the both of you before telling him how the music made you feel. he'll tell you what the songs made him feel, and that's how you sort through your feelings over certain fights.

• we know he kills the spiders but let's face it - you probably kill the rest of the creepy crawlies. you just don't do spiders... so, he's brave for the both of you, so as long as you're brave the other times and handle other bugs.

• Eddie stops to pet dogs. (so, you both stop when you're together).

• you like to bake. and Eddie likes your creations, so, he sometimes lets you rope him into helping if you promise him the first few bites of baked goods. he can burn water but under your eye, he actually kinda likes being in the kitchen - but he likes making you sweat, so, he'll continue to give you a hard time.

• younger siblings adore him. they think Eddie's funny, and he does those goofy voices when playing with them or reading them some story. Eddie doesn't mind getting down in the dirt with them. they want him to sit next to them at dinner.

• older siblings don't approve at first but they come around because let's face it, he tries to charm them since he's intimidated by them. and they think his efforts are cute that they cut him some slack.

• does Eddie let you braid his hair? only after a joint.

• maybe you first meet 'cause you're looking for a dealer.

• maybe you meet in middle school.

• maybe you meet his first senior year.

• maybe because it's both of your favorite holiday, you meet at a halloween event wearing either accidental matching costumes (so you kinda have to hang out all night and get to know the cutie) or you're wearing perfectly opposite costumes. so, again, how can you not hang out with him all night? it was fate, you were sure of it.

• or maybe you meet because you used to babysit Mike and / or Dustin, promising to give them a ride home after Hellfire and there's Eddie, waiting to make sure the newest members get in their ride. looking too cool for school as he leans on the side of the building, and he's not as smooth talking as he wants to be but you think he's still endearing.

• look, how common was it for Eddie to find you in his hoodie? pretty freaking common. they smelled like him and he started using that fabric softener you told him about that made the material soft, so, he was used to you entering his room, dropping your belongings, and snuggling your way into a hoodie.

• Eddie is the type of boyfriend that when you pass by in the lunch room, he's wrapping his arms around your waist to tug you into his lap; greeting you with kisses on the cheek. no matter if he saw you that morning, or an hour ago, he's just happy to see you.

• all right, so, about his smell. Eddie is overly conscious about his smell - so, daily showers. and he uses that cologne you complimented because his clothes smell like cigarette and weed smoke, and together, you think it smells kinda like home. when your nose is pressed to his skin, you don't really notice the smoke smell.

• you like both coffee and tea, so, Eddie learns how to make your favorite of both. he's cute. very, very cute.

• okay, so, he likes scary movies. he jumps at all the jump scares but he laughs after. you don't mind scary movies because it's an excuse to sit in Eddie's lap and press your nose into his neck.

• man, throw a blanket across across you fools and you'll actually fall asleep during a horror movie.

• okay, when you go out to eat, you both take turns ordering something neither of you have tried before. it's a simple way for you both to try new things and push your comfort bounds.

• he goes with you when you get your first tattoo, too. holds your hand, reassures you that you're doing great, has an opened bottle of water for you, and takes peaks as the tattoo progresses. he'd make cute jokes to distract you when you'd wince in annoyed pain.

• oh, man, the dates are just cute. they're not always conventional but you both look for any excuse to hang out.

• he likes to pinch your jaw and lift your attention up to your eyes (that height difference, man). then he'd kiss you and mutter, "don't know what I did to deserve you, but good job me."

• and yeah, I mentioned it before, but he's close with your family. like, to the point when you need an extra team member for family game night, Eddie's rolling in with more flowers for your Mom and maybe a pack of candy for your sibling(s).

• let's just imagine Eddie at family meals please. he's offering to fill your plate when the peas come your way, refilling your Mom's wine glass, and teasingly taking your Dad's side during arguments.

• he'd be invited to the Christmas vacation! and he'd blush because wow - your family really accepts him. he has heart eyes the whole time.

• he's the type that takes whatever is in your hands to hold for you, too. backpack, binders, shopping bags, (sometimes) your purse, that one time he came into your job and saw you moving an inventory box - he swooped in and took it from you.

• "what're you doin' movin' something this heavy, princess? I got it, I got it."

• this boy melts when your nails rake over his back, shoulders, and obviously his scalp.

• and Eddie's the type to kiss you at any given opportunity. we know he reminds you he loves you constantly but he also looks for any opening to kiss you.

• when he gets angry, he worries that he's scared you. you never are, and you tell him as such, but he still knows that he can get intense. so, he'd take some time to just be in your presence (usually with his hands somewhere on you) before he's trying to explain why he had the kind of reaction he did.

• you appreciated the communication, so, you listened and tried to understand, empathize. your job isn't to judge him.

• he often uses his fingers to press into your cheeks. he likes to poke and hold them, sometimes squeezing to pucker your lips. oh, man, this boy is almost always touching you - it's so cute. damn it.

• Eddie's perfect, okay? cool.

requesting rules and masterlist

ST masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things headcanon #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson concept #eddie munson fanfic

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defectivefanboy · 1 year

Text

You’re better when you’re quiet

trying to take a moment to yourself in teyvat you decided to take a walk around the land, but it didn’t help much when it slowly became taking out treasure hoarders, hilichurl camps. Just to make it better, you took out one wrong fatui camp and the silhouette of a man casted a shadow behind you. Seems you both could use a stress reliever…

Overall notes: While this story doesn't use specified pronouns for the reader, it is AMAB and is written for the gays and they's. My boys and... bOiis? idk but it isn't written with female in mind, same with all my other stories. if you don't like that, find another blog. don't know what to tell ya.

C/W: NSFW. sub scara. top!male!reader. cursing. hate fuck. choking. degradation. praise if you squint. hair pulling scratching impact play yah da yah da. bit of blood. disappointment in myself. the fact ill have to explain some things to my friends bc i let them read these :’)

Notes: Minors DNI. this is old asf this was written on oct 13th 2021. So this is when scara was still thought to just a rumor of a playable character. he literally only came up in game once and then the trailer dropped. I crack up reading this

you’re better when you’re quiet.

It was supposed to be a peaceful walk. Supposed to help you, y’know, clear your mind. Yet, it only made you feel worst. After having to deal with a night full of drunkards you were tired of people for the day. So once you completed your daily commissions for the guild, you set yourself off for a simple walk.

And simple was the last thing it was.

First it was the treasure hoarders roaming around the place. Next it was the uncleared camps that the normal knights should've taken care of, and it’s still too early for Diluc to take his nightly patrol. That would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the Fatui.

Of course when you were finally able to take a breathe, a mob of them were gathered within a small clearing surrounded by trees. At this point, you just sighed, because either way,

you were going to be the one dealing with them.

After getting shoulder checked into a tree, to almost be hammered into the ground like a nail. You were over it. Over the pain. The soreness. Over the fighting. Oust over everything. Like the snap of a rubber band your sword slashed the last of them as you stared off blankly.

Before you were able to let your guard down for a moment, a figure had to appeared behind you. Only to be luckier, the shadow had casted a large outline of a rather familiar hat. Turning around and clicking your tongue on your teeth, you gave a glare to the male.

“Wow. Not even a word in and you already look like you want to kill me. Color me impressed, Honorary Knight.” With a low laugh at the end, the male lifted his head as he held a smirk on his face.

Letting out a low groan you brought your empty hand up to your face. “I don’t believe now is a good time to be a brat.”

his smirked dropped at the name. A what? Who do you think you are. A brat? Absolutely not. He was about to make way to you when you took the first step.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not a step, I'm in control today, doll” stepping close enough to hold his face in your hands. You grab his cheeks with your hand with a sinister smile on your face. One that could be mistaken for a innocent one if you didn’t know any better.

If anyone were to look, if they even could, Scaramouche was wide eye at your actions. It quickly changed into a look of annoyance as he was about to say something, most likely yell. Though, before he could get a word out or even a letter, you shut him up as you placed your lips on his in a rough kiss.

Frozen once again his eyes went wide. The thought to push you off did cross him mind as he brought a hand up letting off light sparks of electricity, but the kiss you had him in was a terrible poison. So intoxicating and addicting, yet so deadly and dangerous. Kissing back, his body relaxed moving his raised hand to your hair as it became tangled in it.

As the kiss grew more heated you both pulled each other closer as you fight for dominance over the other. That was quickly shut down as you grabbed his ass and lifted him up, pushing him back into a tree. Keeping him caged between you and the perfectly place tree.

“What would happen if someone saw you like this, doll? Think they would still see you has the high and mighty Harbringer? or just a horny puppet in my hands.” Hiking a knee between his legs, lightly grasping at his neck. He bit back a moan, closing his eyes and clenching his legs.

Pushing your leg up further, you move a hand down to his waist before trailing his jaw and neck with kisses. Leaving dark marks as you trail further down he lets out small whines and hushed moans as he lightly grinds down on your leg. His hands move from around your neck down to the bottom of your shirt, trailing his hands up your chest, before you removed it completely.

Placing your own hands under his top you lifted it passed his head, revealing his chest as you trailed your kisses down, leaving marks on his chest in your wake. Removing your leg from between his, he let out a low whine, stopping once you filled in the spot with yourself, letting him wrap his legs around your waist. “Awe.. was someone enjoying that?” you whispered moving close to his ear.

“And you seem to have a death wish you perverted freak.” He spoke through his clenched teeth with a hiss as you pulled him down against your bulge. “Hmmm..? What was that love? I couldn't hear you. Could you speak up for me?” placing your forehead on his you pushed yourself further into him as you begun grinding at a slow pace.

Light gasp came out of his mouth before he bit his tongue and his hold around your neck became tighter. Only letting out a low laugh you begun fiddle with his shorts, he brought his hands to your hair and pulled your neck to close him as he begun to leave marks of his own. Pulling down his shorts you brought your hand to the tent that had formed, precum leaving a stain in the fabric.

“If i didn’t know any better i would say you’re quite happy about this. Am I right, Scara? before you could say anything more, he bit down on your neck harshly breaking the skin drawing a bit of blood out that he lapped up with his tongue. “you speak one more time i’ll-... fuck” he cut himself off with a moan as your hand pulled back the fabric and began to jerk him off.

“Awe.. What happened, darling? Cat got your tongue?” you smirked as his hands pulled at the back of your hair as he tried holding himself up, but the motion of your hand was telling him a plan. He was about to open his mouth and speak, but you shoved two fingers into his mouth to keep him silent.

“You’re much better when you’re quiet, doll” moving your head back to his neck, leaving more marks on the other side. He sucked on your fingers, twirling his tongue around them. His hands had moved to your waist pulling at your pants, even lifting his waist up to pull them down as he fiddled with the fabric to pull your cock out.

Sitting back on your waist he placed your dick next to his as he began to jerk you both off in a sloppily manner, short gasp coming out of his mouth––

––and thats where I had left off and I'm too embarrassed and shy to write anymore :')

hope you enjoyed

#foolish writing #request #request open #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact scara #scaramouche #genshin scara #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche x gn!reader

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hazbinhotelactorsau · 3 months

Text

antonio

« man, flirtin' is fun. al, would ya be pissy if i started flirtin' wit' everyone? i could be like one'a them method actors! »

Name: Antonio Enrico Ragno

Nicknames: Sha (by Alastor), Darlin' (by Alastor), Tones (by Valentino), Tony (by everyone)

Height: 194cm (6'4)

Age: 31

Birthday: April 1 19XX

From: Brooklyn, New York

Nationality: Italian-American

Languages: English, Italian (fluent)

Gender: Genderfluid

Pronouns: He/Him (She/Her in drag)

Sexuality: Demiaroace

Partner: Alastor (Queerplatonic)

Famous For: Model for Vampire by Victoria

Plays: Angel Dust

Trivia:

he has a thick brooklyn accent but he's amazing at faking accents. he regularly mocks the others' accents and it's always annoyingly accurate. he helped alastor learn to do a transatlantic accent

adopted his character's tendency to flirt with anyone to be a 'method actor' ("if al can be a method actor, so can i!" "tony, alastor isn't method acting he's just naturally a freak. you should know that better than anyone"). being demiaroace, he hadn't seen the fun for flirting until he really got into his role

he has an older brother named giovanni and a younger sister named mariabella, both of whom he's convinced blitzø to cast for season 2

he has heterochromia. his left eye is green and his right eye is blue. his sister also has green/blue heterochromia but hers is the opposite eyes, leading to him joking that they should swap eyes so they can be 'normal'

he bleaches his hair blond so he doesn't look too much like his brother. it's naturally a dark brown colour. his hair grows incredibly fast however so he regularly has to get his roots touched up by victoria

he and alastor have been together for 10 years. they were each other's first partners after they met at a gay bar they both got dragged to by their respective friends

he had a french bulldog growing up named nugget, which is where he got the name 'fat nuggets' from for his character's pet pig

he loves pranks. he enjoys being born on april fool's day because he can get away with pranking everyone even more, because who could yell at him on his birthday? he and alastor are menaces to the rest of the cast, constantly pranking everyone

one time nikolai pranked him back with gravy tea bags. he has been reluctant to drink tea made by anyone but himself ever since

he uses the creepy fanmail he gets for the show. the 'show feet' letter they use in the show is a genuine letter he has received. he thinks it's pretty funny. charlie wasn't amused when she found out it was real though

he has bpd and is in therapy for it. he occasionally has episodes during filming so he has a code word (which he jokes is a "safe word fer tha sake o'tha rest o'ya") that he uses when he feels he needs some time to cool off

he's best friends with valentino and forever thanks him for dragging him to a gay bar all those years ago because it's how he met alastor. he sees valentino as an older brother type of friend because of his strained relationship with his own brother

he learned he was demiaroace through maggie when he explained the nature of his an alastor's relationship to her. before that, they both assumed they were just in a really unusual relationship because it was their first and they were inexperienced. he in turn taught alastor what it meant

he's in the closet about being genderfluid. the only people who know are alastor, valentino and oxley

he's secretly envious of alastor's ability to not give a fuck about his gender. he became more comfortable with himself and his feminine side after being cast as angel dust. he became to appreciate the art of drag and now does local drag shows under the same name as his character

he loves astrology and calls himself 'an astrology hoe'. he's constantly saying things like "that's so gemini of you!" and no one else has a clue what he's talking about

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel actors au #actor info #human angel dust #radiodust

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anisette-blackwirth · 2 years

Text

SAGAU: Meeting Heizou

summary: Heizou's thoughts on you as he feels your presence for the first time during his hangout quests.

spoiler warning: all Heizou hangout quest routes

content warning: Chosen Traveler is Aether. She/Her pronouns for reader because I am too lazy to pretend this isn't a blatant self-insert. This is set very late in the AU; reader and the characters have collectively managed to "break the shit out of the system", allowing more communication and leniency.

notes: "Oh, he's just a detective character. I'm sure he's fine I'm just not particularly intereste-" Hey past me, shut up, he's perfect?? Congrats to his birthday mail for convincing me to stop and do this hangout in the middle of Golden Apple Archipelago exploration.

This is probably terribly OOC since I'm not certain of his character yet. I'm also not happy with the lazy transitions here, but a re-write of the entire hangout quest would be too massive for one single post. That'd be a whole chaptered fic.... So I had to skip a lot of dialogue. Just, uh, shove it back in there in your head, please.

[Fic under the cut!]

Heizou's constellation had lit up during the recent star-showers, but he hadn't yet felt anything from you. It was disappointing to know that you’d been purely interested in Kazuha’s golden star and not his three purple ones, but not the end of the world. After all, he’d steered clear of the Traveler’s path during the entire Vision Hunt Decree and its aftermath. He’d wanted to avoid his superiors asking him to actually capture the guy, and that meant he hadn’t properly caught your attention when you were in Inazuma.

Not that he was the only one being ignored, mind you! While wandering Watatsumi on his impromptu vacation he overheard soldiers chatting excitedly about their General's new constellation illuminating the night sky. Gorou’s life hadn’t visibly changed since the event. The difference, of course, was that General Gorou and the Traveler were known to be fast friends, and Gorou could presumably just ask to talk to you whenever he wanted. Heizou had his work cut out for him if he wanted to catch your attention starting from scratch.

So after sending a flirtatious letter in the Traveler’s direction inviting him to come by and chat sometime, Heizou takes off to the outskirts of Watatsumi to try and think of his next move. With luck, he’ll also figure out that weird dream of his by the end of his birthday!

He isn't expecting you to show up with the Traveler just as he's starting to really irritate his captors into hopefully giving him the information he wants, but man alive he is not complaining!

“Well well, look who it is! I was wondering who could be valiant enough to wipe the floor with these guys so easily. Turns out it was the distinguished Traveler… and [y/n]. Really, I can’t thank the both of you enough!”

“Have we met?” says Aether with an amused smile.

“Of course, I was aware of you long before you arrived in Inazuma…” Heizou can feel Aether’s amusement growing as he explains - or wait, no, that’s your amusement too. It’s bleeding through into Aether and Paimon’s grins as he introduces himself. He’s used to reading hidden meaning in people’s words, but this background presence will take some getting used to. He has three people enveloping him in amused looks at once! It’s making him a little loopy.

“The Traveler from afar heroically rescues the weak and defenseless detective from the clutches of the ruthless Nobushi! Traveler, you’re so dreamy~" It’s a joke Heizou intends to immediately follow with a question about the Traveler’s commission, but he has to pause as he feels you laugh joyously from... wherever you are.

“Oh, she likes you,” Aether says under his breath with a chuckle. His floating companion rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too, with her little arms still wrapped around the commission scroll. Oh? Well, if flirtation is what you want, and these two don’t seem to mind, he can certainly oblige…

The conversation continues along lines Heizou had roughly predicted until he gets the opportunity to question Paimon directly.

“A Vision is an external magical focus, right? Well, similarly, a Voice is an external voice box. I’ve heard that the Traveler is often the Voice for [y/n]. Then, given how chatty you are, you must be his Voice, right?”

Paimon’s protests are vehement, leading to another wave of amusement, but Aether looks thoughtful. “Huh. Yeah, I guess I am her Voice,” he says while looking up at the clouds. He remains thoughtful while Heizou explains the dream that led him here. …Interesting. Had no one else mentioned Voices to the Traveler before?

Now, Heizou thinks, would be the perfect time to deliver on that flirtation again. “The dream contained only one message, an echo resounding from the depths of the earth that kept ringing in my ears, saying…” He walks right up to the Traveler as he speaks, gauging the man’s comfort levels. No point making your host uncomfortable, after all. Aether seems bemused but relaxed as he approaches, so Heizou continues with his gambit.

Heizou can feel both you and Aether freeze as he leans in to press his lips close to the blonde’s ear. “Something vital is missing on this island…”

What Heizou feels from you, he can only describe as ‘flustered exclamation points’. He pulls back and continues his musings as Aether turns away, seemingly caught between laughter at your state and a blush of his own. Paimon rolls her eyes and ignores both you and Aether to suggest that the thing “missing” is the island’s food. Which… actually doesn’t feel wrong. It might be more insightful than he expected. Huh. Maybe not food exactly, but he’ll think about that one.

“So, since we’re already here, why don’t we just solve this puzzle together? Once everything is settled, I’ll gladly accompany you back to the Police Station, or anywhere else you’d like to go. What do you think?”

“I’m curious about your dream, too. We’ll assist,” Aether says. Heizou gives a mental cheer for catching your attention and prepares to hold it as long as he possibly can.

The investigation is not without its hitches. Heizou can feel your mood welcoming the General when he appears, so it’s with trepidation that he leads Aether, Paimon, and you out of earshot to suggest that the man is hiding something. Aether and Gorou are friends, and Gorou is another one of your (potential) vessels, so you might take the accusation poorly …but you don’t seem to be offended. In fact, both you and Aether agree to continue the investigation readily.

You trust Gorou’s character, but you don’t blindly trust everything he says. You want to get to the bottom of this mystery as much as he does. Man alive, you’re getting better by the minute, here!

In fact, investigating with you is so much fun that it flies by in almost no time at all. As the case reaches its conclusion, it’s with a heavy heart that Heizou realizes he’ll have to stay on Watatsumi. At least for another few months. He’d like to avoid bringing attention to their… creative problem-solving while they wait for bureaucracy to catch up to their needs. And that means he won't be accompanying you on any journeys like he had hoped. Feeling the impending deadline, he grabs Aether’s wrist and leads him (and you) to the seashell cliff overlooking the main vortex waterfalls so he can wax poetic about the island's vitality and beauty.

“Anyway, thanks again, Traveler, [y/n]. You know, even though we’ve just met, I wish you could be my partners all the time. Haha, call me greedy, I guess.” Heizou takes a deep breath of the sea air, then lets go of Aether’s wrist and stretches, preparing to say a formal goodbye.

“So, ready for the next one?” Aether asks, interrupting his pre-planned speech.

Heizou blinks. “What do you mean, ‘next o-’”

---------------------------------------

“...Once everything is settled, I’ll gladly accompany you back to the Police Station, or anywhere else you’d like to go. What do you think?”

"I'm curious about your dream, but I think we should head back," Aether says. He's grinning a knowing grin. Heizou… pauses.

He knows exactly what would have happened if you and Aether agreed to investigate his dream. He can remember every detail of that arc: from the discovery of the second confiscated shipment to the confrontation with Todoroki at the shrine. But that's not what's happening. What's happening is Aether is leading him to a waypoint so you can teleport the three of them back to Inazuma City and report to the Police Station.

So. This is part of your power, then?

Well he’s certainly not about to protest more time with you. Especially when it turns out that this time, you'll be handling a complaint from his old partner regarding the Ryuuji case. It’s very convenient that this is resurfacing now with the Traveler here, but that's a perk of having your life planned by someone else, he supposes as he gathers the relevant documents from the file room.

“Just so you know, she’s wondering if you tampered with the records.” Aether whispers when Heizou returns, so the other doushin can’t hear.

Heizou knows it’s a reasonable suspicion and tries not to be offended. There had been ample time for him to remove any files he wanted while you and Aether were talking to the guards outside. Even Sango’s suspicion is warranted… but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. “Is she now? What about you, Traveler? Do you trust me?”

Aether gives him a confused look. “Sure I do. She trusts you too, she just thinks you might be testing us to see if we can spot something missing.”

Oh.

There it is again, Heizou thinks as Aether wanders over to the records and starts poking around. The ability to trust someone without believing them. Maybe it’s more common in your world?

Heizou thinks it’s you directing Aether right now, so he watches as you read everything through with care. You look at the convictions twice and pause on the autopsy report for a long time. When Aether comes up to present your findings, you breeze through Heizou’s first question on motive. Wonderful! You’d picked up on the blackmail.

But when he asks about means, you stay silent. Aether stands and waits patiently as confusion swirls around him, but Heizou tilts his head in curiosity.

“Something’s bothering her, and she can’t figure out how to ask about it with these options,” Aether explains.

“So she has limitations too?” Heizou asks.

“She says the options are sometimes… lacking. I can’t tell what the problem is right now, but - oh. Alright, she’s giving up.” Aether clears his throat. “The Autopsy Report, Shiroyama’s Testament, and the Toxicology report?”

“Bingo!” Heizou explains the obvious conclusion that can be reached through those three documents and pretends to wrap things up. Your frustration murmurs in the background until it’s suddenly replaced with a sense of triumph.

“Wait, I still have some questions,” Aether says, then asks in rapid-fire about the similar convictions and the missing pages. Heizou can’t help his smile as you correctly pick at the clues, though he tries to dismiss them as convincingly as possible.

“She also says she didn’t quite figure this one out in time, but it’s part of what was bothering her: what about the poison? The Toxicology report mentioned it’s not sold in Inazuma, but Shiroyama said he bought it at the ITA.”

“Maybe the report was wrong. It’s natural for there to be a couple missing records here or there,” Heizou brushes that one off too and feels you very clearly rolling your eyes at him. Haha, wow! He’s glad you don’t believe he’s that ignorant, but a bit offended that his best innocent act didn’t work!

When you call him out, he leads the three of you away from the Police Station and reveals the truth. The satisfaction he feels coming from you is a perfect mirror to his own whenever he finally pieces together the clues to a case, but it’s underlain by a sense of unease.

Huh. He’s getting better at sensing you.

“Did I do the right thing? I couldn’t turn to anyone for help, and everyone around me thinks I’m so smart that I should just be able to handle every case on my own. But you’re different. Unlike them, you don’t have that kind of prejudice towards me. So, I’d like you to be the one to decide whether we should expose the truth or not.”

You and Aether ultimately decide to reveal the truth. And Heizou is fine with whatever you decide, truly! But he’s also curious about your reasoning, so he asks. “What was the deciding factor in revealing the truth?”

Aether tilts his head, listening to you. “Partly… we didn’t want you to have to live a lie. Even if it’s safer, being hated for something you didn’t do can’t be easy for you.”

“Mmm.” Heizou’s face feels warm. “That was very thoughtful of you, thank you. And what’s the other part?”

Aether listens a while longer, then pulls out a device that looks like a stone tablet with…. words appearing on it?

“Sorry, this one is too complicated for me to hear…” he excuses as he reads the words going by. After a minute, his eyes go wide. “She wants to know how common sunsettia juice and fish-liver paste are in medicine.”

…Oh!

“‘If they’re common cold meds and health supplements then someone could take them together by accident, right? Do they need a warning label?’” Aether quotes off his device, then turns to meet Heizou’s eyes. “I agree. If this is a new discovery then doctors need to know about the interaction immediately.”

Well, well. Looks like he’ll be making a visit to Kujou Sara first thing in the morning.

--------------------------------------

As you get into what Aether says is "probably the last arc of his hangout", Heizou can feel your presence settling firmly around him. You had started the day hovering near Aether, enveloping him like a second aura. Now Heizou swears he’s starting to feel your arms draped around his shoulders and your chin resting on his head from behind. It's a warm and soothing feeling, constantly tinged with affection or amusement.

Even his brusque conversations with Etsu and Iba don't put you off. He knows his distaste for the situation is bleeding through, but you don’t seem to think less of him for it. In fact, he swears he can hear you laughing directly in his ear as he cuts Etsu’s community service reward short for trying to haggle with him.

He restrains a shiver. Is this revenge for whispering to Aether earlier? Goodness, he hopes it is.

He makes it through narrating the play twice (once for each ending, Aether says) despite having to cover for Itto’s ad-libs and the increasingly frequent phantom sensation of you embracing him almost possessively from behind. If he weren’t fantastic at his job, he’d have lost his composure already. It’s driving him to his wits’ end embarrassingly fast.

His sigh as you pull back at the end of the second play is mingled relief and disappointment. You fade almost completely away and it gives him a chance to breathe, but he’s not going to pretend that being submerged in your attention was unpleasant. He only hopes that wasn’t the last he’d see of you. Aether bids farewell to Itto and then - mirroring this morning in Watatsumi - grabs Heizou’s wrist and leads him to a quieter area.

“You alright?” Aether asks.

Heizou nods, though he still feels giddy from your emotions. “Fine. Is that normal? Is she always that intense?”

“No, no,” Aether laughs. “She really likes you. I think you surprised her.”

"I'll count that among today’s wins, then,” Heizou says as he looks up at his own constellation above, two stars shining brighter than the rest.

Aether tilts his head, listening to something beyond the noises of the city around them. “Ah, sounds like she wants to meet you in person. She probably wants to ask if she can add you to the team.” Heizou gapes at the Traveler. Paimon pops back into existence and asks with obvious sarcasm: ”So is now a good time?”

One thought sticks out in Heizou’s mind as he rushes to compose himself before you arrive in Teyvat: He won’t let you keep catching him off guard like this forever. It’s time to turn the tables.

#sagau #genshin sagau #sagau heizou #shikanoin heizou #heizou #I can't believe I have to farm MORE VV pieces #please I spent so long in there for Kazuha already #I'm becoming an anemo gamer I can feel it #PUT WARNING LABELS ON YOUR MEDS INAZUMA #this may be edited later as I figure out Heizou's voice for real

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shamefulsho · 1 year

Text

𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 || 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄♫

genre: scenario

requested: no

not edited

pronouns: you/your

wc: 10,624

warnings: none

Edelgard

Somewhere only we know (Keane)

In spite of how busy she is, Edelgard’s love language is quality time. The second she has a break from her duty, she’ll take you away from people and responsibilities, to explore or just to drink in your presence. Her love is adventurous and cheerful, almost as to compensate for the childhood that was stolen from her. While she isn't the type to initiate kisses, she will melt if you kiss her anywhere, especially her cheeks.

On busy days, Edelgard hides away on the roof in order to make for a quick break. If you are near, she’ll send someone to fetch you, so she can have someone to lean on.

You are the only one who will be able to get under her emperor facade. She won’t have to regulate emotions or be mindful of herself. Being able to get her to trust enough that she completely lets go makes you her paradise.

While she isn't necessarily against PDA, she won't initiate because she always has a goal in mind when in front of people. If you initiate, she will become putty and forget her goal which will end up with Hubert being irritated that his plan needs to be saved or modified.

Hubert

I wanna be yours (Arctic Monekys)

On the rare occasion that you can get Hubert to love you, he loves hard, obsessively even. His very being is motivated by love, everything he does. His love language is gift giving with some acts of service. He isn't one for saying I love you, in words, but when he does, he's poetic and careful with how he does it. Almost as if you were to blink, you’d miss it entirely. However, if he were away for war and you were stuck somewhere else, his letters would contain nothing but endearments and poetic love confessions.

He’s not a huge fan of PDA but can look past linking arms or hand holding. Hubert is a decently traditional man, and he wouldn't want to lay with you sexually or not before marriage. But if you catch him in the library with no one around, he wouldn't mind letting you lean on him or wrap yourself in his arms.

Don’t be surprised to find little things you like in places you frequent. Hubert knows how busy both his and your schedules can be and how rarely they synchronize, so he leaves something to help you push through the day whenever he can. Things like a cup of water, a snack, or a damp rag to ensure you’re taking care of yourself. Everything accompanied with a black flower, of course. He especially loves when you acknowledge or thank his acts. He’s one that loves feeling useful and caring for you

Ferdinand

Until I found you (Stephen Sanchez, Em Beihold)

With loving Ferdinand, you receive a romance only spoken of in books. He absolutely spoils you as much as he can with the finest things and shows you off at every chance he can.

His love language is quality time and words of affirmation. He needs to have something with you every day or so to motivate himself. Should you drink tea with him, he’ll ensure the treats and tea are your favorite. Should you both have a free day, he’ll take you to see his territory. You make him feel alive, human even.

Though everything you do makes his cheeks flush red, he’ll absolutely melt when you verbalize your love for him. Compliment his hair, he’ll light up and compliment you in return. Praise him for his work, he’ll puff his chest with pride and smile for the rest of the day. But tell him you love him and watch his cheeks turn red, his noble facade fade, and his tongue still. He needs someone to remind him that he has worth outside his title.

Caspar

Paper Rings (Taylor Swift)

Caspar approaches his love with a passion that rivals how he feels for training. He loves taking you to train with him, no matter if you spar with him, if he carries you while running or if you sit on his back while he does push ups.

He likes giving (strange) gifts to you. Expect him to bring you random things he finds cool or reminds him of you. Screaming, he’ll run across the entire camp to show you a cool rock he found in the mess hall. When he’s forced to separate from you, he’ll make it a point to send the small things with a messenger or save them for you.

Giving him a place by your side means more to him then you realize. To love Caspar is to love him whether he is brimming with determination or anxiety. He’ll only allow you to see his moments of true weakness, when he actually lets his mind race. His future has never been guaranteed, so having you helps anchor his fears for the future.

Linhardt

Bloom (The Paper Kites)

Linhardt is one for soft, subtle love with his love languages being physical touch and acts of service. His love is like the feeling of nuzzling into you after a long day or gentle hands caressing his face. He will follow you around, no matter what you are doing. If he can lean on you, sleep on you, or touch you while you're attending to your business, he will, but if he can’t, he’ll stay a safe distance and patiently wait for you to finish.

Though, for physical touch, it’s not how you would expect. Linhardt would find comfort in smaller, simpler touches: leaning his legs against yours, his pinkie intertwined with yours, your breath brushing against his face softly. If, at some point, you decide to brush his hair, he won't brush his hair again. He’ll waddle up to you with his tired eyes and his brush and ask you to brush his hair for him.

Saying “I love you” for Linhardt are murmurs as he falls asleep or when he knows you're asleep while he’s indulging his curiosity for crests. Though he says it in other ways when you're sick or unwell. He’ll have all your work done and allow you to truly rest to repay what you do for him.

Bernadetta

Kindergarten (Chloe Moriondo)

Bernadetta loves through gifts and quality time. Most gifts she gives will be handmade gifts. She adores cute little matching sets both you and her can wear.

You're the only person she allows in her sanctuary (her room). She trusts you enough to not overthink around you which automatically makes you better than most. Her room is somewhere she can forget about the outside world’s troubles.

With dating Bernadetta, you can expect her to use you as a shield from other people, often talking from behind you. She finds fiddling with your hand or sleeve to be more comforting than her own hands or clothes. Your presence, visibly, makes her perk up. Watch her paranoid eyes soften and her cowering posture straighten when you walk into a room.

Petra

Oasis (Jasmine Thompson)

Petra, for you, will do her research on romantic gestures of Fodlan. She will ask everyone she knows, she searches books and studies them to please you and to assure herself that you feel loved. Though when you do the same for Brigid’s acts of love, she’ll become speechless and get uncharacteristically flustered.

She'll be absolutely ecstatic if you tell her you want to go with her to Brigid. She would begin teaching you the basics of the language and traditions, so you don’t feel completely lost as she did when she came to Fodlan.

Petra adores your hair with her entire being. No matter where you are or when, she absentmindedly combs her fingers through your hair or braids it. She won't realize how much she loves playing with your hair while talking to you about a topic of curiosity. When she does, expect her to invite you away to do just that.

Dorothea

Willow (Jasmine Thompson)

After being in the Opera Company and adored by many for years, Dorothea finds comfort in the little things she has left for herself. Especially in relationships, she keeps a private, not secret boundary.

At random, she will pull you close to fix your clothes, allowing her hands to linger and her fingers to softly graze. Needing something beside you, she allows herself to especially lean on you. If you hand her something, she grabs it rather slowly, allowing her hand to rest on yours momentarily.

After long, draining days, Dorothea will insist on slipping away with you. To her, it matters not what you do or talk about if you speak to begin with. Her depleted attitude will gradually recover as she absorbs your face’s creases and curves.

Her heart and mind both at ease, leaving her attractive facade at the camp. With you, she's Dorothea, not the Mystical Songstress. With you, she cares not for any stray hairs, any imperfections in her skin, and malfunctions in her wardrobe, but instead for the wind that sways around her and you, the accelerated beating of her heart, and your warm, welcoming presence.

Monica

Cloud 9 (beach bunny)

Monica’s love is unlike her admiration for Edelgard, instead it’s more slowed, believe it or not. Her infatuation is spent on Her Majesty, so when it comes to a relationship, Monica needs something that's soft and requited.

Because she rises at unreasonably early hours, Monica tends to you while you're asleep. She leaves you a cup of water and puts everything you’ll need for the day together. Beside it, a note with Monica’s uniquely curly handwriting on it, expressing her love for you.

When she returns, it will likely be after you’ve fallen asleep. Monica will quietly join you under the covers, wrapping her arms around you and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. The warmth that emits from you comforts her, nothing like the biting cold of the cell she was in.

Jeritza

Valentine (laufey)

Both Death Knight and Jeritza, even if he refuses to admit it, both adore anyone who's stronger than him. The thrill of battle plays with the Death Knight’s heart, and the possibility of death with his head. In contrast, your skills with a weapon remedies his worries and promises him someone to stay by his side.

Despite his elegance with a weapon, he’s terribly clumsy with tasks that require a steady, gentle hand. He wants nothing more than to help you when you are cooking, but the second you assign him a task, it somehow goes wrong. “Measure the flour, would you, Emile?” you tell him; almost immediately there’s a coating of flour on the table and in his hair. “Fill the pot with water, darling,” you hum; the pot suddenly slips through his hand, and the water manages to put out the fire.

He has never been one for words. If it were up to him, he wouldn't utter one more word to anyone except occasionally you or his sister. He would rather feel the warmth of your body against his, your fingers running through his unruly hair, and the soft brush of your lips against his.

After loving him for so long, Jeritza will allow you to use his real name and even prefer it over his alias. The way the syllables fall from your mouth keeps him anchored and tugs his heart strings like no other. It reminds him of his humanity and how dear you are to him.

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 1 year

Text

Sirius Black x gn! Reader - Burn

A/n: This is a song fic from the song burn from Hamilton, this also isn't by best work because I wrote it so long ago but I thought it would be a good way to kick of heartbreak week because it the least angsty out of all them!

Heartbreak week masterlist?

Summary: You were warned but you ignored them in favor of love, now look where that got you

Warnings: Cheating, heartbreak, implied abusive black family (just barely,) I think that's it? You have been warned!

The three P's:

[Pronouns used: you/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Parings: (romantic) Sirius x reader, (platonic) unnamed sister OC x reader]

I saved every letter you wrote to me

From the moment I read them

I knew you were mine

You said you were mine

I thought you were mine

"Y/n you have another letter!" Your sister yells at you as you run down the stairs to tear it from her hands.

"Hey!"

You ignore her, ripping open the letter your eyes racing over the paragraphs, and memorizing each and every word. You drink in the pages, and pages of words and your heart had learned to love the smell of ink and parchment.

You love Sirius, perhaps you were too young to know but you love him. It was harsh sometimes your relationship, mostly due to his parents but you two dealt with it fine. You were in love, what more could you need?

Do you know what Angelica said

When we saw your first letter arrive?

"You should run Y/n." Your sister whispered to you as you cradled the letter in your hands like it was the most precious jewel there was to behold.

"You should run far away before he breaks you."

She said, be careful with that one, love

He will do what it takes to survive

"He wouldn't!" You snapped, aghast at what your sister had even the guts to say. How could she think that!

"Sirius is caring and loving! He would never-"

Your sister just shakes her head and takes your hands into hers. The look in her eyes was sad, terribly sad.

"Just be careful is all I'm saying."

You consider her words for second before nodding, with this you could agree with her. You would guard your heart with your life, but you would also wear it on your sleeve. You were a fool in love.

You and your words flooded my senses

Your sentences left me defenseless

Your hands intertwine with Sirius's as you look at him like he's a star. When you looked at him like that he was, he was a bright star and you were just a lonely moon that was in his orbit. Not even significant enough to matter.

"I'm going to have to spend Christmas away again."

He sighs pulling away from you rubbing his hands over his face.

"Do you have to?" His voice breaks a little as he peaks at you with his twinkling grey eyes.

You built me palaces out of paragraphs

You built cathedrals

For a split second you almost say no, you nearly slip into the habit but you can't. You had to spend Christmas with your family, even if it meant being away from your boyfriend for a couple of weeks.

He sighs yet again, he seems to be doing that quite a bit lately before he pulls you into a long loving kiss.

It ends too soon as he pulls away from you, you miss the heat that he brings and the certain happiness that could only come from him.

"I'll be okay love." He says but there's a particular way he says it, almost like he's relived that you're not staying, yet you brush it off. It was just nothing... Right?

I'm re-reading the letters you wrote to me

I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line

For some kind of sign

And when you were mine

You scrambled through the Hogwarts corridors, you could see your lover again! After all the time spent away, you could see him again! You seemed to be glowing as you ran around Hogwarts looking for him, only for the sight you see to be the worst thing your eyes have ever laid upon.

He was kissing someone else. In front of everyone.

The world seemed to burn

Burn

They just kept on kissing as some foolish students would cheer them on and he would grin cockily pulling away from the person before they would pull him right back in.

You published the letters she wrote you

You told the whole world

How you brought this girl into our bed

In clearing your name

You have ruined our lives

You couldn't take it anymore you ran out of the hallway crying your eyes out. Why would he do it? Why!

So you ran to your sister.

And as soon as she saw your eyes filled with tears as some already flooded down your face she dreaded the words you were about to say. Ultimately though, she knew just as you opened your mouth what you were about to voice.

"You were right."

Do you know what Angelica said

When she read what you'd done?

"He's a fool." She said as she cradled you in her arms.

"He's a fool for losing you." She whispered into your ear.

She said, you've married an Icarus

He has flown too close to the sun

"I had to do it Y/n!" Sirius hollers at you as you try and find a way to escape the room you were in.

He had cornered you in an empty classroom, as he's been trying to talk to you for weeks now. You've been avoiding him like the plague, with good reason.

You and your words obsessed with your legacy

Your sentences border on senseless

"My family was getting on my ass for dating you! So I had to make them happy and I thought-"

Slap!

The crisp, clear clap of your hand meeting his face echoes throughout the room as you gaze upon him with angry eyes. You weren't sad anymore you were furious and burning with rage, the flames consuming you and everything else around it.

And you are paranoid in every paragraph

How they perceive you

You, you, you!

"If you wanted to please your family so bad you aren't the Sirius I know and love." You snare at him.

You take a step forward backing him into the wall behind him.

"If you ever think anyone or even your family is going to see how I was a fool to be in love with you like before, you would be wrong!"

I'm erasing myself from the narrative

Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted

When you broke her heart

You have torn it all apart

Taking the letters out of your pocket you look at them once more, reading them all and sometimes even smiling slightly at the versus. You loved him, you still do. Some part of you would always love him.

So it had to burn.

I'm watching it burn

Watching it burn

You don't even need a wand, you don't even move your hands the letters just burst into flames in front of you.

Sirius gasped as he lunged for the letters (they must have been dear to him too) but you just kept on feeding the fire with them, as you tossed one after another in the flames.

The world has no right to my heart

The world has no place in our bed

"Y/n, please! I needed to find a place to stay at-" He throws a hand through his hair but you don't stop the distress that is going through him. In simple terms you don't care anymore it's not your problem.

"My family had threaten to kick me out! I just needed to find a place to stay! But I didn't have anytime so I kissed them thinking if the information reached them in time they'd let me off the hook!"

They don't get to know what I said

I'm burning the memories

Burning the letters that might have redeemed you

Looking over at him with a blank face you just shrug your shoulders uncaring.

"We both know you could have asked James."

You forfeit all rights to my heart

A trace of fear flashes in his eyes and you know the truth.

"What did you think I'd really fall for that trick?" Your voice is monotone but it hides an underlying threat. Or maybe in was a very real threat, that was very real now.

You forfeit the place in our bed

"Y/n please don't do this! Don't burn those letters!"

"So? So!" Finally your voice has fury in it and suddenly Sirius is flown back across the room and more papers, and desks, light on fire. But it doesn't spread unless you want it to.

"So you can be the good guy? Ah!" You laugh as you throw more letters into the fire.

You'll sleep in your office instead

Sirius looks at you affronted, and some part of you wanted to ruin his life in exchange for breaking your heart. Though, that part was the angry, hot ice and it was slowly dripping away. Now the furious rage was gone and all that was left was the cold flames.

"Y/n! This will ruin my life!"

With only the memories of when you were mine

"Y/n! N/n..." He attempts to comfort you through his manipulative words as he goes to softly reach for your hand.

"You wouldn't want to ruin someones life would you?" He says in his sweet, charming voice that he used to use on you.

You wrench your hand from his grasp and open the door and look back at him once before walking away.

"You did that yourself."

I hope that you burn

Words 1252

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Hp Taglist: @regulusblackswhorecrux

Heartbreak week taglist: @igotanidea @hawkinsbaby

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rycbarmerlin · 11 months

Text

SPOILERS FOR THE WITCHER S3 VOL. 1

Will be discussing Extraordinary Things, other Jaskier things and Vol. 2 predictions! It's a fairly long scroll!

----

I've been seeing lots of people giving their thoughts about Extraordinary Things so I thought I'd give my thoughts and interpretations.

Who is the song about?

People have been umm-ing and ahh-ing about whether it's about Geralt or Radovid (or other) but I definitely feel like it is about both of them. The premise of the situation is Jaskier is playing a few songs for Radovid and company, implying these are songs Jaskier has had in his repertoire for a while. This is where the song could definitely be interpreted to be solely about Geralt. However, from a kind of story perspective, I think the song works as a way to frame Jaskier and Radovid's romantic entanglement.

The immediate parallel I can think of for this technique is in episode 1 with Yennefer's narration of her letters to Geralt (which I LOVED🥹). The letters act as situational and emotional context for the viewer; they tell us where Geralt and Yennefer's relationship is at and an impression of the time passed since Kaen Mohren, all without bloating the episode with snapshots of these moments.

I think, therefore, Extraordinary Things acts as a look towards what Jaskier and Radovid could become, and what they could find in and through each other. Joey Batey said that he wrote Extraordinary Things to replace scenes of dialogue, because it could say just as much, if not more. Hence why I think the song reflects Jaskier's present/past/future.

"The greatest songs are made up of unspoken words of love / of them I have had enough"

These lines, I feel, are most definitely about Geralt. You only have to think of his set-up for Toss a Coin to Your Witcher and Jaskier's line "respect doesn't make history." His career became oriented by singing the praise of the White Wolf in epic ballad styles of quests and battles against foes. Of course, then comes the mountain™ moment and then Burn Butcher Burn. I think (depsite what the showrunners have said and that platonic line this volume) Jaskier has been in love with Geralt. Jaskier loves love, he loves people, why wouldn't he have loved Geralt? I still feel the pronoun usage in Her Sweet Kiss makes the song ambigious in its position regarding his feeling and whose perspective he is singing in. The "I forgive you" line in 3x04, alongside S1 Jaskier's "and yet, here we are" and "just trying to work out what pleases me" lines further contribute to this. Furthermore, as Jaskier confirms with Yennefer about Burn Butcher Burn, "Fine, yes, when I wrote it, it did come from the heart. Perhaps a broken one."

Now, returning to Extraordinary Things, Jaskier's role as a bard is different now - he isn't travelling the Continent trying to be a barker for Geralt. He is the Sandpiper, he has found his higher purpose, the thing he truly cares about and wants to make a difference with (*plays Song of the Seven.*) Those days of Jaskier following Geralt round on uneven terms are over. They have a different dynamic now so those Toss a Coin days, of them he's had enough.

Joey lingers on the line "of them i've had enough" which I think emphasises the feelings I mentioned above. He also beautifully expresses this kind of cocktail of bittersweet regret, longing, acceptance, self-awareness and defiance before singing the following lines:

With you I have enough / with you I am enough / I am enough

Radovid sees Jaskier as Jaskier sees Radovid. They both seem to be able to look beyond the carefully constructed masks they both put up. And yes, it certainly feels they both know that they can "take" each other's hearts, and "break" each other's heart as they're both playing a dangerous game. And yes, the way and time Jaskier sings the song, him and Radovid have only had a few scenes together, but I think this circles back to the fact of this song acting as a framing device for what Jaskier and Radovid could be.

Radovid's admission in episode 4 that Jaskier sees the best in people, while the truth, Radovid is implicating that where Jaskier is seeing the best in Radovid, there are the darker/more nefarious secrets and conspiracies which Radovid is embroiled in. But when you find that person that sees you as you are, especially when many people perceive you as this one-dimensional thing, that can throw logic and rationale out the window.

Regarding Radovid's/Jaskier's position this season, Radovid, I don't think, ever intended to catch feelings for Jaskier, and nor did Jaskier. Jaskier, I think is trying to use his position to protect the people he loves and protect the elves, trying to play both sides. Ultimately, I don't think this is going to work. I feel the season (and Time of Contempt which is the Sapkowski novel the season is predominantly based upon) is all about the reality that you have to pick a side, neutrality is no longer an option, and from what Joey has said, Jaskier is not as good at all this political manouevering than he thinks.

My personal prediction for Vol 2 and what could happen is that Jaskier may find himself in trouble with Dijkstra and Radovid will use his position to get Jaskier out of it. It may be a case where Radovid betrays Jaskier (as one feels is bound to happen) but, as I said, Radovid would ultimately save Jaskier as his kind of 'redemption' moment. Their romantic entanglement feels doomed, but the fact that these feelings can blossom and bloom in such a time of war and struggle and violence is hopeful in a way.

It's not a want / it's a need / it's paying no heed to what others say / to sing

This line almost adds to that feeling of doomed romance - they're playing "no heed" to what would be expected of them (a standard or uncomplicated romance). I also love this line in the context of Jaskier's conversation with Yennefer in Oxenfurt when he is discussing the persecution of the elves. Being queer makes him an 'Other'. Just being in a nonstraight relationship, he is "paying no heed" to the kind of relationship ("song") he is expected to have.

My final thing, slightly unrelated, is that I reallllly hope Jaskier and Rience have a scene together in vol. 2. I am so pleased that Jaskier's trauma from Rience has been discussed so I would just love to see Jaskier in a situation where he is confronted with it - and hopefully sticks it to Rience!

And thus indeeds my far too long ramble about all things Jaskier. Time of Contempt is one my favourite books ever but I didn't want to cross-reference my thoughts with it too much as that is even more spoilers. If you've made it this far, I would love to have a chat about what you all think! Obviously this is just my interpretation and i'm an english graduate so will find any excuse to write an essay lol. Now the wait for vol 2...

END OF POST!!! YOU ARE SAFE

#the witcher #the witcher spoilers #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season 3 spoilers #jaskier #jaskier spoilers #joey batey #radovid #jaskovid #extraordinary things #geraskier #close reading #i love when everyone has their theories so i thought i would be bold and impart mine!

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spanishskulduggery · 1 year

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can you go over reflexive verbs? like te, me, etc

I was debating how far in depth I should go when I explain this because there are a lot of separate concepts that go into a full understanding of this, but I'll do my best to give an overview at the very least. And if there are any specific concepts you'd like me to address further, let me know - I'll include some links to other posts I've done that discuss more of these concepts

First: The umbrella term for this is "pronomial verbs", which are verbs or expressions that use the reflexive pronouns.

Second: Not all pronomials are true reflexives; meaning there are times when you'll see reflexive object pronouns used but it won't specifically mean that it's a reflexive verb

Third: All reflexives must have agreement [concordancia]; for example if you have a sentence with a yo subject, it requires the object pronoun me + a yo conjugation, te requires tú conjugation and so on

For example: me levanto, te levantas, se levanta, se levantan, nos levantamos

In that case, what do I mean by a "true reflexive"?

The definition of "reflexive" in linguistic settings is when the subject and the object are the same. In a sentence like lavo el piso "I wash the floor", the "I" is the subject, but the "floor" is the object. In the sentence me lavo it's "I wash myself"; the subject and object are the same.

Your first run-in with the reflexives is llamarse because it's used in introductions. It's understood as "my name is" but me llamo is literally "I call myself"; and as a question ¿Cómo te llamas? is "What's your name?" or literally "How do you call yourself?"

If you can understand llamarse that will make things easier

Some quick grammatical terms in case it's necessary:

Subject = The doer; the person or thing who is acting

Object = The recipient; the person or thing who receives the action, or, in other words - the person or thing that is acted upon

Direct object / Accusative = The person or thing that is acted upon e.g. "I write the letter", and "the letter" is the direct object

Indirect object / Dative = The person or thing that receives the result of the action; to whom or for whom something is done e.g. "I'm writing you a letter", and "the letter" is the direct object, but the "you" is the indirect object as "you" is the intended recipient

Pronomial = Something that uses the reflexive object pronouns

Reflexive = When the subject and object are the same

Reciprocal reflexive = When multiple subjects do things to each other e.g. "to hug one another", or "to get married (to one another)", or "to fall in love (with one another)"

Infinitive = The dictionary form of a verb, "to (do something)"... for reflexives, the infinitive form ends in -se; as an example levantar is "to raise" or "to lift", while levantarse is "to stand up" or "to get up"

The Reflexive Object Prononous

me -> yo te -> tú se -> él, ella, usted [singular] se -> ellos, ellas, ustedes [plural] nos -> nosotros / nosotras os -> vosotros / vosotras

All of 3rd person, singular and plural, uses se. You can only really tell if it's singular or plural based on the verb conjugation:

Se sentó. = He/She/You [usted] sat down. Se sentaron. = They / You all [ustedes] sat down.

As stated above, "reflexive" means that an action is "reflected" - the person doing it is the one who also receives it. Thing of "talking to yourself" in the mirror, or your "reflection", and that's the general idea

Sometimes reflexive expressions in English are ones where you see a -self added... "myself", "yourself", "himself", "herself", "themselves", "ourselves" etc.

This isn't always the case, but it does happen

*Side Note: This is unrelated to reflexives specifically, but it is worth pointing out that body parts/organs/things associated with the body are more likely to have the regular articles [el, la, los, las or un, una, unos, unas] rather than possessives

In something like me lavo la cara it's "I wash myself the face" literally but it translates as "I wash my face". Because it's something like "I wash MYSELF", the implication is that it's your own body part already so no need to specify. Same thing like se ha roto la pierna "he/she broke their leg", or me afeito la barbilla "I shave my chin". Most body parts are inherently "attached" to a person so it's not usually necessary to specify ownership unless it's in doubt

A NSFW example I like to use because I think it helps siéntate en mi cara is "sit on my face" as a command. It makes sense to include a possessive adjective mi here because if you said siéntate en la cara it would read as "go sit on your (own) face"

In addition to the basic reflexives outlined above, you also have what is known as "reciprocal" reflexives. It's the same as reflexive just with two or more subjects

As an example: me viste "you saw me" vs. nos vimos "we saw each other"

Me conoce. = He/She knows me. [direct object] Nos conocemos. = We know each other. / We are meeting each other. Me enamoré de él. = I fell in love with him. Nos enamoramos. = We fell in love. Me están mirando. = They are watching me. [direct object] Nos estamos mirando. = We are watching each other.

These are sometimes a bit confusing in context with something like se casaron "they got married" because it could be that two separate subjects [ellos/ellas] got married to two separate people... OR you could have it contextually mean "they got married (to each other)"

After that you get into advanced grammar territory and I warn you if you're not familiar with Spanish enough, this might be over your head

There are times in Spanish when reflexive expressions are seemingly used but they don't make sense in a reflexive sense

This is why the term is "pronomial" because there are some expressions that can use reflexives without being a true "reflexive"

The big two that are going to show up and trip you up are expressions that use se. I won't go into them too much, but they're either impersonal se constructions or passive se constructions. Essentially...

Se escribe con A. = It's spelled with an A. [impersonal or passive] Eso no se hace. = That isn't done. [passive] Se suele decir... = They often say... [impersonal] Se suele decir... = It is often said... [passive] Se comieron las galletas. = The cookies got eaten. [passive] Se habla español. = They speak Spanish. [impersonal] Se habla español. = Spanish is spoken. [passive]

Again, not spending much time on this but three things.

These expressions only use se and can only show up in 3rd person because of it; this is why it throws people off because se is distinctly a reflexive pronoun but the constructions aren't "reflexive"

Passive expressions with se are used when something is done; an object is verbed by Subject, like se comieron las galletas "the cookies got eaten" or se comió el postre "dessert was eaten"

Impersonal expressions are when things are done by an indefinite subject. In English we tend to say "they", or "one", or "you" in context - like ¿cómo se hace una tarta de manzana? "how do you make an apple pie?"

Past this you get into the very confusing world of "superfluous dative" or "ethical dative"

Again, "dative" refers to the indirect object - "to whom or for whom", but it generally means "showing great interest or emphasis with regards to the object"

These are the expressions that typically change meaning, and in English we tend to use prepositional expressions with them to make them understood as being distinct from the root verb

Common example: ir is "to go", irse is "to go away" or "to leave"

Superfluous dative / Ethical dative often indicates a change in status or there's something remarkable about it that impacts the person in some way

Other examples are like dormir "to sleep" vs. dormirse "to fall asleep"

And of course, with food comer is "to eat", but many native speakers use comerse with food to imply that they like it or are eating it with some emphasis on eating the food having an emotional response rather than just mechanically eating something

The ethical dative is often used with se + indirect object + verb, to describe especially passive expressions that affect the person greatly in some way

romper = to break Rompí el coche/carro/auto. = I broke the car. [purposeful] Se rompió el coche/carro/auto. = The car broke down. [passive] Se me rompió el coche/carro/auto. = The car up and died on me. [passive + this affects "me" greatly"] caer = to fall Caí. = I fell. Se cayó. = It fell (on its own). Se me cayó un diente. = One of my teeth fell out. / I lost a tooth. [lit. "the tooth fell itself (out of) me"]

Another common one you see is olvidarse "to forget" vs. olvidársele "to slip one's mind"

me olvidé "I forgot" in an accidental way; vs. se me olvidó "it slipped my mind" where it literally reads as "(something) forgot itself to me"

It could be se me olvidó el libro "I forgot my book" for singular, or se me olvidaron las llaves "I forgot my keys" for plural

In this way, very passive things can happen to people as if they weren't involved.... se me acabó el tiempo "I ran out of time" or "the clock ran out on me" or even se me acabó la harina "I ran out of flour"; and things like se me cayó todo el pelo "all my hair fell out (on its own)"

These are unique and not usually taught, and very passive

#Spanish #langblr #learning spanish #language learning #languages #long post #asks #reflexivos

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kanamori-kamper-moved · 7 months

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❤️‍🩹 for aztecshipping?

aaaa I love this!! Don’t have any ideas for them in terms of regular Yuma and trey but I have been having more knight trey and prince yuma ideas :333 As always, transfem Trey so she uses the feminine pronoun

enjoy!! (Also there are a few font changes in this so do tell if you need me to reformat anything)

ask game

Yuma sighs longingly. He’s read her letters far too many times. They are always written in flowery, soft cursive and laden with beautifully chosen words straight out of a poem.

When was the last time he saw her? He didn't know. Yuma has forgotten now, but all he knows is that even throughout his business, he deeply misses Trey. He's been swamped in work, far too tired to even write back to her. He felt guilty, eyes moving back-and-forth slowly through the words on the paper.

"I know you've been busy. Just know that if even if you come to be away from me, I'll always be there to protect you, even if in spirit. I long to see you, and to spend time with you. I know you're busy, but I miss when you'd write back to me. But even so, I hope this letter finds you well -Trey, your knight."

Yuma feels guilty, he can't keep ignoring these. He wants to write back, but he's labored, ever so labored.

The piles upon piles of her letters sitting in the corner of his room makes him dizzy. Suddenly, out came a noise; a sigh so soft, suffused with ache.

"Today's sunset was beautiful. It reminds me of you, almost. Even when it came to be nighttime, I did not want to close my curtains just yet. I open the window, and the warm spring air floats in. The pie I left to cool on the downstairs windowsill isn't hot anymore. I hoped you'd come, rushing downstairs to see if you'd taken a piece for yourself, but you hadn't. But it is okay. I wrapped it in parchment, hopefully you'll come over soon, so we can share it before it spoils. I have never more wanted to see you than I do now; just to sit and look at you, at least. But, my eldest brother always taught me that It is shameful to beg. I hope this letter finds you well. -Trey, your knight."

Her words make Yuma's heart skip a beat, he still remembers when they first met. Yuma snuck out of the castle again, opening up his window and running past the guards before they could catch up with him.

He wanted to get dirty, have fun, to run away from all of his responsibilities. Even if he was seen as a disgrace, and exiled without a word, it still would have been worth it. But, there he was, in the middle of a field of berries that he'd become lost in.

It was like Déjà vu. When he was just about 8, he'd gotten lost picking berries with Tori, the girl he'd known since he was in diapers. It was just like this all over again, he didn't know how to navigate himself, and could only pass the time by eating the ripe bushels of blackberries. But, this time, it was like nobody was coming to find him. His dad always told him about the creatures he'd saw during his travels, but Yuma never thought he'd see one himself.

Its claws were digging into his arms, pinning him down as he thrashed and screamed. He thought he was going to die, only to be left as a stray pile of blood and clothes. But the wretched creature screeched, Yuma peering his head over to see a sword stuck in its back.

It's Trey. She's beautiful. Her hair is so short he was sure she at first a man, but he doesn't have time to think about it.

When she's done slaying the beast, she kisses his hand, "Are you alright?", concern fills her pretty, androgynous voice.

No one's done this before, Yuma's blushing and can't even form a coherent sentence. But, he doesn't need to, because Trey puts him back on his feet and escorts him back to the kingdom after treating his wounds.

"I'm fine, I swear!"

"No you're not, just look at how you're bleeding! I'm only doing this in your best interest, your highness."

She's persistent. Trey refuses to leave him alone, insisting a good knight wouldn't leave until they're sure that everything is fine. Yuma can't even sleep that night, he wants to see her again.

There's so much burning in his chest, he rifles through his desk to find a piece of paper to finally write back to her. Sure, he doesn't write in any of those pretty fonts or as flowery, or poetically as her, but he needs too, he HAS TOO.

He has to be honest with her.

"I'm sorry for not getting back to you sooner, it's been a lot lately. But I need to tell you something. It's hard to find the words, I thought of saying that I fell in love with you, but no. Falling is an accident. No, I ran aggressively towards my love for you, and I cannot keep ignoring it. There are so many things I could tell you, but they all just dissolve in my throat. It's dark now, and I'm very tired. I'll love you forever, always. Time is nothing when I'm with you.

-Yuma, your prince."

Yuma gives it to his courier and falls into his bed, he should have done this so log ago, but now it's done.

In the morning, he's given a letter. It's from Trey. Did she manage to respond that quickly? She's always been amazing, Yuma shouldn't be surprised.

"I'm glad you told me, and don't be sorry, your personal affairs come before our letters. But, I need to tell you as well, I feel just the same. I cannot continue to water myself down so you don't catch on. You utterly pierce my soul, there's no other way to describe it. No matter what kind of future it will be, I’ll always find you. Come to the cottage, my brothers won't be there. I'll be waiting for you. -Trey, your knight."

And so Yuma does, opening up the window and sneaking out once more. Trey is waiting for him inside, and he runs in her arms. There are no words, the both of them know what they want. He kisses her softly, Treys lips are ever so soft.

"I have some new recipes I'd like to bake with you."

"That would be lovely."

#anthys asks #Anthys writing #Aztecshipping #michael arclight #yugioh zexal #trey arclight #trey zexal #iii yugioh #zexal iii #iii zexal #Knight trey au

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cloud0818 · 1 year

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Reading KHR in Japanese (3)

In Japanese, we can get a person's character and personality by the way of speaks. How about :

Xanxus

First person : "Ore"

Second person : "Omae" (but more rough)

As a whole : Violently,Sophisticated,Overbearing

Japanese can be formed without a subject or object. He has no subject and object in his approximate statements. Short and simple ranting. Also, the Japanese is easy to disrupt the letter of words. Therefore, the exact same sentences can be extremely formal or extremely informal in Japanese. And his way of saying extremely rough in any sentence.

His speaking shows his confidence and leeway. And basically he looks down on people and never gives them respect. His rants are often his original expression. They are extremely emphatic, so it gives intimidate. It has a sharpness that makes the other unable to say anything more.

His first person is commonly used in Japan("Ore"). Rather distinctive is second person pronouns he uses. He uses "Omae" which is a rough especially in Japanese second person. And he further breaks down this pronunciation, roughening it and giving it a rather violent form.

Or he calls people "scum". But not just scum. He often additions a letter that further emphasizes its meaning. In other words, it is a stronger scum. What am I talking? It can paraphrase to "trash" or "shit". However, I think "scum" is closer to the Japanese nuance. In Japanese he says "カス/kasu", but there doesn't to be a corresponding English word. Originally, it refers to something*mainly trashy* piece or unwanted part of something. When this is used against a person, It's a complete insult. It means insignificant, worthless, less capable, etc.

His phrasing is indeed rough. But that doesn't detract from his nobility. This is because there is a bit of solemn in the words he choice. He sometimes uses words that are too formal for nomal conversation uses in especially when he speaks as a part of Vongola or boss of Varia. And then, people find his strong charismatic and smartness.

In other words, his speaking including both rough, violent and sophisticated, formal words. He uses the words that disturbed the original letters, roughening them, and transforming them into more emphatic forms. And his sentence-ending particle is also rough and disturbanced ones. But it isn't felt lowbrow or childish. His speaking shows that he isn't just a young man who makes people uncomfortable, but he is authority figure and he has great power. It makes feel if someone are negotiating with him, they must be too careful about every word they say.

Very simply, when he speaks in sentences rather than words, we can see he's sophisticated. When he speaks only in few words ...... you know, "shut up" or "kill you". Btw, these are also more rough and unique. Idk how the English translation is, but he says "extinguish" rather than "kill". (Of course, this is also more disrupted used.) The meaning of he want to say, it is the same, but "extinguish" is more accurate nuances given his ability.

In the first place, he seems more violent because his fists often come out more than his words. And definitely, his speaking is violent. But if we pay attention to his words, there are glimpses about his own nobility. The number of words may be few, but they have sufficient impact and uniqueness.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #xanxus #Reading KHR in Japanese

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theamphibianmen · 7 months

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One thing I worry a lot about in online spaces is people thinking I'm faking my disabilities because my grammar fluctuate so much, or dismiss because too many typos. If you find my blog and wonder why I type the way I do, why is not consistent, etc., there a couple reasons for it.

I have difficulty reading. Not entirely sure why, doctor chalked it up to severe ADHD. To the point I didn't read until late second grade (about 8 years old for non Americans). I skip around letters and even entire line sometimes. I don't have dyslexia, but do have quite a few symptoms, which includes struggle with look alike words. Also have memory loss that makes it difficult to spell, which brings me to my next point:

I rely very heavily on autocorrect and predicting text. This is because of the aforementioned spelling issues, but also because of difficult motor control. I use Tumblr exclusively on mobile. The buttons on phone keyboard are tiny. Button in top bar is a bit bigger, so easier for me to push.

Energy constraints. I don't always include small words like "the" or pronouns, especially if I feel like point get across without. My ability to determine what words are needed also diminish when in distress.

I pick up on the typing and speech patterns of those around me. One time, YouTube short (I know, you are welcome to crucify me for that one) decided to show me only clips of young Sheldon. As a result, I talked like young Sheldon for six hours without realizing it. If you have a particular speech pattern, and notice that start to show up in my posts, I am not mocking you. I don't know why I do this, but do know that isn't a conscious effort. This is a big part of why so inconsistent.

So yeah. This should hopefully clear up any confusion.

#pinning this #autism #adhd

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rjalker · 1 year

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some people have been pushing to rename "misgendering" to "mispronouning" because the logic they are using is that:

"pronouns don't equal gender, so someone isn't misgendering you by using the wrong pronouns, because that would imply that your pronouns equal your gender!"

And most of the people I've seen arguing this use multiple or all pronouns.

And they are missing several points.

Yes, pronouns do not automatically equal gender. Anyone can use he/him pronouns, and it doesn't inherently mean you're a man or masculine in any way. Anyone can use she/her pronouns and it doesn't inherently mean you're a woman or feminine in any way. Ect. Ect.

But arguing that pronouns don't equal gender, so therefore no one is ever questioning your gender when they use the wrong pronouns for you, is just so completely flat out wrong it's absurd.

Just because you, personally, don't care what pronouns are used for you does not mean that that's how everyone feels. To argue otherwise is to just be disgustingly transmisic.

These people are also ignoring all of the underlying things that necessitate misgendering in the first place.

I just had someone misgender me on iNaturalist, despite my it/its pronouns not only being on my profile page, but literally in the first paragraph on the first page of the identification guide I made to help people learn how to identify pawpaws and common lookalikes.

@ Nonbinary-naturalist even wrote of this common mix up in her book…

This person misgendered me in direct reference to my book, showing that they'd read it.

And they still ended up misgendering me by using she/her pronouns for me.

Now how, exactly, did this happen? What were the events leading up to this?

They weren't mistaking me for anyone else. No one else has written a free small-flower and common pawpaw identification guide. (I guess most people on iNaturalist don't realize they can just...write their own identification guides, which is a shame).

They weren't talking about multiple people within the comment and mixed up our pronouns by mistake.

"its" and "her" do not share any letters. There's no typo that could accidentally transform "it" to "her".

So how did this person end up misgendering me? Why did they misgender me? What made them type out the word "her" instead of "its"?

Because, and this is the part people who want to rename misgendering to mispronouning apparently do not understand, this person has been thinking of me as a woman this whole time.

Even after reading my book, where I list my pronouns and the fact that I'm nonbinary in the first paragraph of the first page, including instructions on how to use it/its pronouns correctly, even though my profile explains what the word nonbinary means, this person has still spent this whole time thinking of me as a woman.

They didn't accidentally use she/her pronouns for me because they've been correctly thinking of me as a nonbinary person who uses it/its pronouns.

They misgendered me because even after knowing what my pronouns were, even after they knew I was nonbinary, they were still defaulting to thinking of me as a woman.

@ [redacted] my pronouns are it/its, not she/her, so that should say, "Nonbinary-naturalist even wrote of this common mix up in its book…" :)

My sincere apologies, @ Nonbinary-naturalist. Even after reading your bio and paging through said book, my prior programming still got the best of me.

The people who want to rename misgendering to mispronouning do not fucking understand why misgendering happens. People are not using the wrong pronouns because they're thinking of us with the correct gender, they use the wrong pronouns because despite knowing what gender we actually are, they still think of us as the wrong one.

If you think of a trans person as their actual gender, and you know what their pronouns are, you're not going to accidentally misgender them unless you have to spend half your time not outing them to their family under their instructions.

This person has only ever interacted with me since I started using it/its pronouns. They've only been on the site since after I changed my username to literally be Nonbinary-Naturalist.

They didn't misgender me because they were confusing me for someone else, or were talking about a bunch of different people at once and got two of us mixed up.

They misgendered me because, even though my username is literally Nonbinary-Naturalist, even though my pronouns are listed on my profile page and in the first paragraph of the first page of the pawpaw identification guide I wrote, this person was still thinking of me as a woman. They decided, arbitrarily, based on who knows what criteria, that I was a woman, despite my username and knowing my pronouns are it/its.

Misgendering is called misgendering because the underlying cause of someone using the wrong pronouns is the fundamental refusal to think of the person being misgendered as their actual gender.

Just because you don't give a shit what pronouns people use for you and don't feel misgendered when people use whatever pronouns they want does not mean you get to silence other trans people and deny the very real transmisia that causes misgendering in the first place.

#misgendering #exorsexism #transmisia #mispronouning #so people see this. because you are not helping anyone by insisting on replacing misgendering with mispronouning.#you're either missing or purposefully ignoring what's really happening when people misgender trans people #transmisogyny #transandromisia #Queer #Pride #LGBT #MOGAI #transnonbinary

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