#i drew them from memory so apologies for any mistakes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cr-komi · 4 months

Text

"The Distance Between Us"

Summary: You sent nudes to the biggest fuckboy on campus, what could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Min Yoongi X Female Reader

Genre: Smut, a very very small amount of fluff at the end.

Word Count: 12,400+

Warnings: Y/N is an absolute idiot, Yoongi is kind of a dick at the beginning, swearing, oral (male & female receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this, please!) missionary pos., multiple orgasms.

Author's Note: This is not proofread so I apologize if there are mistakes! This one took me forever to write because I kept having writer's block and wanted to change a bunch of it but this was the final result so I hope you all like it!

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

Come on, Y/N, just send it.

It'll be like ripping off a Band-Aid.

He'll like you even more if you do this.

It's only a picture, right?

Just a blurry mix of pixels and saturation, nothing more, nothing less.

His text glared back at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You stared at the message, contemplating every word, feeling the weight of his request pressing against your chest,

You didn't know who he was, not really. You didn't even know his name, although his phone number was engraved into your memory after seeing it so many times, tracing all the way back to that random evening a few weeks ago. But there was something about his mysterious aura that drew you in, like a moth to a flame. You couldn't resist the temptation to unravel the enigma that was him.

---

You sat in your dimly lit room, legs curled up beneath you as the soft glow of your phone illuminated your face. The familiar pang of jealousy twisted in your stomach as you obsessively scrolled through Instagram, unable to tear yourself away from the seemingly perfect lives of your friends and acquaintances.

"Ugh, another vacation?" You muttered, glaring at the screen as you saw a picture--a perfect couple sipping cocktails on a pristine beach. "Of course, they're all smiles."

Your thumb swiped upward, revealing another post showcasing an enviable group of friends laughing and posing together. Their happiness felt so unattainable, further highlighting the loneliness that had become your constant companion.

"Must be nice," You whispered, voice laced with bitterness.

Your eyes scanned the screen, taking in the meticulously curated feed that presented a world you could only dream of inhabiting.

Just as your frustration reached its peak, a flicker of light caught your attention. It was a text message notification, appearing like an oasis in the digital desert you found yourself trapped in.

Eager for any distraction, you tapped the screen, feeling a flutter of hope that maybe it was someone reaching out to you,

A simple greeting was plastered across the screen, accompanied by an unfamiliar number. Your brow furrowed as you stared at the unknown sender. Confusion gnawed at you, and you hesitated before replying,

As you typed, your fingers moved cautiously across the screen before hitting send, taking a deep breath while waiting for a response.

The reply came almost instantly,

You scoffed. Whoever this was, they seemed ignorant, and you decided to play along,

You tilted your head back, attempting to recall any instance of sharing your number, but your memory failed you. How did this random stranger end up with your contact information when you couldn't remember giving it to them?

Your heart began to pound at his reply, fingertips hovering above the screen. "Is this some kind of prank?" you mumbled, mind racing with possibilities. Was it someone from school trying to mess with you? You haven't talked to Jungkook since your freshman year of college when he was your partner for a science project, why would he give your number out?

You couldn't shake off the feeling of intrigue and curiosity that coursed through your veins. Despite the skepticism that crept into your mind, a part of you wanted to believe that this encounter held some sort of significance. Perhaps it was a twist of fate, an unexpected connection waiting to be unveiled.

With hesitant determination, you decided to take a leap of faith and continue the conversation. The prospect of embarking on something new, something beyond the confines of your monotonous daily routine, enticed you. After all, what harm could it do?

You sighed, contemplating why Jungkook would be giving your number out, or how he even got it in the first place.

Your mind craved to uncover the truth behind this mysterious text conversation, even if it meant stepping into unknown territory,

You stared blankly at your phone, eager for a reply, but you were met with only silence. Minutes stretched into hours, and still no response came. Doubt began to creep in, mingling with the confusion that had settled in your mind. Maybe this was all just a cruel joke, a ploy to toy with your emotions.

But something inside you refused to believe that. There was an inkling of curiosity, a flicker of hope that urged you to hold on a little longer. So you waited, your eyes never straying far from your phone.

Days had turned into weeks, and yet the mysterious sender remained silent. The initial excitement had waned, leaving behind a sense of disappointment that weighed heavily on your shoulders. You couldn't help but wonder if you had been foolish for getting caught up in this unknown person's game.

The idea of giving up on waiting for a response finally began to creep in, but just as you were about to delete the number and move on, a notification jolted your phone awake. You hesitated, your finger hovering over the screen, afraid to hope again.

With a deep breath, you finally slid your finger across the screen, unlocking the message. Your heart sunk down into your stomach as you read the words that appeared before you,

Fuck.

--- Ever since the day he asked if you sent nudes, you had been giving yourself over to him, allowing him to slowly chip away at your self-worth. Each time he asked, you obliged, sending him a piece of yourself captured through the lens of your phone. It started as something simple, maybe a picture of your cleavage or the curve of your ass, just as you had convinced yourself in the beginning. But with each photo sent, you felt a piece of your soul fade, replaced by an emptiness that gnawed at you from the inside out.

You desperately craved his validation, his affection, believing that if you gave him what he wanted, he would finally see your worth. But no matter how many pictures you sent, it was never enough. He always asked for more. More skin, more vulnerability, more pieces of you to devour.

With every photo, you hoped for a different reaction from him - one that acknowledged your value as more than just pixels and saturation. But all he ever responded with were simple words of praise and shallow compliments that never reached beyond the surface.

You were losing yourself in the process, your identity becoming reduced to a series of explicit images sent through a screen. Each picture felt like a betrayal to your own integrity, yet you continued to send them, hoping that this time would be different, that this time he would finally see you.

But deep down, you knew the truth. He didn't truly care about you. You were nothing more than his object of desire, a means to fulfill his own selfish needs. The more pictures you sent, the more power he held over you.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, tears streaming down your face as you stared at his latest text message. It was as if a veil had been lifted from your eyes, revealing the harsh reality of what this relationship had become. You were nothing more than an object to him, a means to fulfill his desires without any regard for your own well-being.

The weight of his words pressed upon your chest, suffocating you with the realization that you had lost yourself in this desperate quest for validation. The vibrant colors of your world had faded into shades of gray, and you yearned to break free from the suffocating grip he had on your emotions.

There was a fire burning deep within you, a fire of anger and resentment that you had been trying to suppress for far too long. It was time to let it out, to confront him and put an end to this vicious cycle you had been caught in. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation that lay ahead, and that begun with asking Jungkook why he was giving your number away.

---

You spotted him on campus his familiar figure standing near the brick wall of the main building, a smirk playing on his lips as he chatted with the same group of friends he was always with, their laughter echoing through the air. It was a scene you had witnessed countless times before.

His presence sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of annoyance and frustration coursing through your veins. You felt a surge of anger rise within you, fueling your determination to confront him. With each step closer, your heart pounded louder in your ears, drowning out the noise of passing students and the rustling leaves overhead. Pushing through the crowd, you made your way toward him, ignoring the curious glances from passersby.

As you approached, Jungkook's eyes met yours, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before being replaced by his signature nonchalant expression. His friends noticed your arrival too, their conversations dying down as they turned their attention to the unfolding scene.

"Jungkook!" you called out, your voice stronger than you had anticipated. His attention snapped towards you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked you up and down.

"Y/N, right? Shit, I haven't talked to you in awhile. How have you be--"

"Have you been giving my number out?" You interrupted, your voice dripping with anger. His attempt at casual conversation only fueled your frustration. You crossed your arms, staring him down with unyielding determination.

Jungkook's expression shifted, a hint of guilt clouding his features for a moment. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Look, if this is about the text messages--"

"Of course it is," you snapped, your voice laced with bitterness. "What else would it be about? You're the one who gave my number away without my permission!"

Jungkook's friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the tension between the two of you. Jungkook ran a hand through his tousled hair, his gaze shifting to the ground beneath him.

"I didn't think it would be a big deal," he muttered, barely meeting your eyes, "he told me I wanted it so I gave it to him."

Your jaw dropped at his words, a mix of anger and disbelief bubbling up inside you. How could he so casually dismiss your privacy and consent? How could he believe that just because someone wanted your number, it was okay to give it away without your permission?

"Who are you talking about? Who did you even give my number out to?"

"Does it really matter?" Jungkook replied, his voice laced with irritation. "It's not like it's a big deal. You're making a fuss out of nothing."

"Jungkook, it absolutely matters!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. "You violated my privacy. You had no right to give out my number without my consent."

Jungkook nodded, glancing around nervously before finally meeting your gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's Yoongi," he confessed, his eyes filled with remorse, "He said he knew you from one of your classes and wanted to get to know you better."

Jungkook's words hung in the air, like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he trust Yoongi with your personal information without even asking you?

"Yoongi?" You echoed, feeling a strange mix of relief and betrayal. "Why would he ask for my number in the first place?"

Jungkook hesitated, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don't know, Y/N. If you want to figure it out, ask him, he's over there."

Taking a deep breath, you turned your attention towards where Jungkook had gestured. Your eyes fell upon a figure standing a few feet away, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. His expression was unreadable, a flicker of in his eyes of something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

As soon as he met your gaze, he smirked, walking off in a crowd of students with an air of nonchalance. Your anger and frustration intensified as you watched Yoongi disappear into the distance, leaving you with more questions than answers.

"Thank you, Jungkook." You mumbled, but before he could offer a response, you turned on your heel and began to chase after Yoongi, set on confronting him and demanding an explanation. Those who surrounded you parted ways as you weaved through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest, fueling your determination to catch up to him.

The campus was bustling with students going about their day, but you barely registered their presence. Your focus was solely on finding Yoongi and demanding an explanation for his actions. As you made your way through the crowd, the image of his smirking face played over and over in your mind, intensifying your frustration and boldness.

You clenched your fists as you trailed behind Yoongi across the college campus, leaves crunching underfoot.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fueled by anger and determination. You had been following him for what felt like hours – down crowded halls, past classrooms filled with students, even into a noisy cafeteria where you had to duck behind a vending machine to avoid detection, and although he had looked behind him numerous times during the journey, your remained unnoticed.

You watched as he strolled casually, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded denim jacket, apparently oblivious to your presence. But every time you thought you were about to catch up to him, he would disappear around a corner or slip through a door, leaving you becoming increasingly more and more frustrated.

As you navigated through the labyrinthine campus, your mind raced. Why had he texted you in the first place? What kind of person asks someone for nudes out of the blue? And how could you have been so stupid as to trust him?

With so many questions running through your mind, you became distracted, losing sight of him yet again.

Frustrated, you gave up and retreated to the library, the closest place you could find after travelling on foot for so long.

The hushed atmosphere there was a welcome respite from the chaos of your pursuit, and you sank into a plush armchair near the back, your eyes scanning the shelves aimlessly.

And that's when you saw him.

Yoongi was standing in the history section, a heavy tome clutched in one hand.

Sighing, he glanced up and locked eyes with you, his face paling visibly. Before he could react, you stormed over, grabbing his wrist so as to not let him escape you again.

"Yoongi, why did you text me? Why did you even ask Jungkook for my number in the first place?" You demanded, your voice barely more than a whisper but seething with fury. "Why did you ask me for nudes?"

He blinked at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and irritation. "Why are you even upset?" he countered, his voice low and measured. "You're the one who sent them."

"So? You shouldn't have asked for them in the first place." You hissed, your anger boiling over.

"You shouldn't have sent them." He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Look, it doesn't even matter at this point just--"

"Keep your voice down," he interrupted, glancing nervously around the library.

"No! You need to hear this," you yelled, forgetting your surroundings as your emotions took control. "You had no right to ask for those pictures, and then to turn around and act like it's no big deal? It's disgusting!"

Annoyed by your yelling, Yoongi grabbed your arm with surprising force and pulled you through the maze of bookshelves.

"Yoongi, what are you--"

"Be quiet."

You struggled against him, but he didn't relent until the two of you stumbled into a cramped supply closet. Slamming the door shut behind him, he released you, his face a mask of frustration and something else you could fully recognize.

"Listen," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You didn't have to send those pictures if you didn't want to, and I mean...I'm sorry for asking for nudes but I won't lie," he leaned in close, his warm breath brushing against your cheek, "you looked pretty damn good in every single one."

And so, you stood there, back against the door, his words washing over you like a tidal wave. For a moment, you couldn't find your voice - he was right. You had sent those pictures. You were the one who had been so flattered by his attention that you had forgotten about boundaries and given in to his request with such reckless abandon. But that still didn't give him the right to use them as he pleased! You pushed past him and walked out of the closet, trying to compose yourself.

As you stepped out, the library came rushing back into view, filled with students hushed amidst their studies. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious as everyone's eyes turned towards you as if they knew what had just gone down in the supply closet. Your face burned under their scrutiny as you tried to make your way back to your seat without making eye contact with anyone.

But before you could take a step, a strong hand gripped your wrist once again and spun you around to face Yoongi. His eyes bored into yours with unwavering intensity, his jaw tightened as he spoke lowly; "Look... I know I messed up." He paused, stepping closer, his eyes boring into yours are he spoke, "but you sent them to me, Y/N, and I didn't force you. You could have stopped me at any time, but you didn't. And for what it's worth, I never meant to hurt you. I just thought...actually, you know what? It doesn't matter."

He let go of your wrist and turned away, walking towards the stacks of books on the shelves nearby as if nothing had happened. You watched him go with a mixture of emotions churning inside of you. He was right, of course. You did send those pictures willingly. It would be your fault if they got out.

How could you be so fucking stupid? Why did you think any of this would be a good idea?

You couldn't shake the feeling that something about his apology felt half-hearted, like he was only saying what he thought you wanted to hear. But still, a small part of you yearned for him to be sincere.

---

The twilight seeped through the gauzy curtains, casting a lavender hue over your room where you sat, knees drawn up to your chest on the window seat. Outside, the world was softening into dusk, but inside, a storm brewed within you. Your eyes were fixed vacantly on the snow that began to layer on the window pane, mirroring the turmoil in your heart.

"Yoongi," you murmured under your breath, the words tasting bitter. The memory of your encounter with him was like a splinter—sharp, intrusive, and impossible to ignore. You replayed your last conversation over and over, each iteration twisting the knife a little deeper.

What had you expected? For him to suddenly understand? To apologize?

"Focus on something else, anything else," you chided yourself, uncurling from your perch.

You moved towards your cluttered desk, where an array of distractions awaited: unread books, sketches half-done, a guitar that hadn't felt the warmth of your touch in days. Your fingers hovered over a novel, its spine still creased with promise. But even as you pulled it toward yourself, the printed words blurred, drowned out by the echo of Yoongi's voice.

"Of course," you scoffed, tossing the book aside with a soft thud against the hardwood floor. "Books are no refuge when your mind is this loud."

You walked over to the mirror, studying your reflection—as if searching for an answer in the contours of your own face. With a sigh, you reached up, freeing your hair from its ponytail. Strands fell around your shoulders like dark silk, a curtain to hide behind.

"Maybe I'll just go to sleep," you said to your mirrored self, "sleep it off and wake up with a fresh head."

But as you turned away from the mirror, your phone buzzed atop the nightstand, an invasive vibration that commanded attention. You hesitated, a small part of you hoping, dreading. Your hand shook slightly as you picked it up. The screen lit up, and there it was—a message from Yoongi,

It was simple. A casual, stark contrast to the chaos he'd stirred in you. Just three letters, yet they held the weight of a thousand unsaid words.

"Hey?" You repeated aloud, a laugh without humor escaping your lips. "After everything, all he can say is 'hey'?"

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard, indecision warring with the urge to respond. To lash out or to leave it be? But beneath the hurt and confusion, a sliver of hope glimmered—the kind that refused to be extinguished even by the fiercest storm.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of olive branch, Min Yoongi?" You whispered, the beginning of a response forming beneath your breath,

His reply came almost instantly,

As you weighed Yoongi's message, you mulled over the possibility that he might be sincere this time. He had apologized, and now he wanted to meet at a cafe. Was this his way to make amends? Or was it just another one of his schemes to get you to do something?

"Just do it, Y/N," You told yourself, "you never know what's going to happen."

With a resolute nod, you decided that now was as good a time as any.

Y/N stood in her cramped bedroom, her breath fogging the windowpane as she looked out at the snow-dusted street below. She was about to do something she'd been dreading for days – meet Yoongi at the cafe. Her heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. With a resolute nod, you decided that now was as good a time as any.

"Right. Let's do this," she murmured to herself.

It was bitterly cold outside, but you didn't feel like making an effort to dress up for the occasion. Instead, you pulled on a cozy grey hoodie and a pair of comfortable black sweatpants. They were simple, but warm enough for the short walk to the cafe.

As you stepped outside, the chill hit you like a physical force. You shivered, burying your face in the soft fabric of your hoodie and pulling the drawstrings tight. The wind whipped around you, biting at your exposed cheeks and turning them pink. Despite the cold, you couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of the frost-covered trees and the crunch of ice beneath your boots.

Upon arriving at the cafe, your heart skipped a beat when you saw him through the window – Yoongi, sitting alone at a small table near the back, fingers tapping impatiently against his coffee cup.

You hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, even from this distance.

As you pushed open the door and made your way over to his table, you felt an unsettling warmth blossoming within her chest. It was strange, feeling drawn to someone who had caused so much turmoil in your life. But here you were, unable to look away from his dark eyes and strong jawline.

"Yoongi," you said softly, your voice wavering slightly as you took the seat across from him.

"Y/N," he replied, barely looking up from his coffee. But when he did, his gaze seemed to take you in with an intensity that made you shiver. There was a hunger in his eyes that you'd never seen before in anyone – lust, perhaps?

"Um, so," you stammered, struggling to regain your composure and focus on the task at hand. "What did you...want to talk about...?"

"Well..." he began, his voice low and smooth as he leaned back in his chair, never breaking eye contact.

Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, trying to find the right words to express how you felt about everything. You knew you had to face him, and move forward. But with every second spent in Yoongi's presence, you found herself increasingly drawn to him, despite everything he'd done.

"Yoongi, I—" you started, but couldn't finish, swallowing hard as you struggled to compose herself.

"Go on," he urged, a slight smirk appearing on his lips as if he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

You hesitated, biting your lip nervously, but then steeled yourself. Your words tumbled out in a rush, "I-I don't know what you want from me, Yoongi. Are you really sorry, or is this just another game to you? Because I can't do this anymore, I can't keep feeling like this, like I'm being played."

Yoongi's smirk faded, and his eyes softened. He lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back up at you, his voice sincere when he spoke, "That's...actually why I asked you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for everything. Y/N...I-I'm so sorry. I never should have asked you for those nudes."

You avoided his eyeline, instead averting your gaze towards the floor, "Why...why did you ask me for them? It's not like you knew me before we even started texting and I--"

"Yes, I did, actually." He interrupted, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice, "I saw you at a party a few months ago a-and...Jungkook gave me your number. Don't ask me why he had it because honestly...I don't know. I wanted to talk to you but I-I just thought it would be better to text you."

You noticed the slight stutter in his voice and the way his fingers played with the edge of the table, betraying his nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, you took a moment before responding, "So you were talking to me all this time, knowing who I was?"

"Yes," he admitted, his shame evident in his eyes. "But it doesn't excuse how I acted, Y/N. I know that. I'm so sorry. If there's any way I can make it up to you, let me know. Please."

It was difficult for you to hear him say those words, but as he explained himself, something inside you began to crack. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was understanding, at least.

You looked at him, trying to decipher his words and find the truth behind them. "Why did you do it, Yoongi?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I...I don't know. I guess I thought it would be a way to get closer to you, or at least have some kind of connection. But it was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Your heart ached as you stared into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in his words. You knew this wasn't the end of your struggles, but maybe it was the beginning of something different.

"Thank you for the apology. I'm sorry too, I never should have sent anything to begin with."

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but you didn't have anything else to say, so you remained silent.

Yoongi looked down at the table, his dark hair falling into his eyes, "If it's okay with you..." He began, avoiding your gaze, "I-I want to get to know you better."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. Did you trust him? Could you let go of the past and move forward?

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, "Okay, Yoongi. Let's start over. But we're not doing anything like that again."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a hint of relief in his eyes, "I understand. I won't push you, Y/N. I just...I'm so sorry."

"I-- it's fine, really."

And with that, you both sat in silence for a while, contemplating the new path that lay ahead of you. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but maybe it was worth a try.

---

It had been three months since you went to the café with Yoongi.

You found a new normal in your relationship, and although trust wasn't rebuilt overnight, you both were committed to fixing what had been broken.

The air between you and Yoongi had shifted. Instead of the tension and mistrust that had previously existed, there was now an underlying understanding and appreciation for each other's flaws and mistakes.

You appreciated how considerate Yoongi was, never pushing your boundaries or rushing things. Instead, he made an effort to listen intently, offering support and understanding as you opened up about your feelings and fears. It felt like the door to your heart was gradually creaking open, allowing the light of a blossoming bond to seep in.

One evening, you found yourself immersed in your studies at the library, the soft rustle of turning pages and hushed whispers creating a cocoon of tranquility around you.

Suddenly, your focus was interrupted by a gentle tap on your shoulder, causing your heart to skip a beat. You looked up to find Yoongi standing beside your table, his eyes crinkling as he offered his gummy smile that caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

"Hey," he said softly, like a lullaby whispered into the night. "I thought I might find you here."

"Yoongi!" You exclaimed, happiness bubbling up within your chest. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight. What brings you to the library?"

"Call it intuition," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "I had a feeling you'd be here, studying late like always."

You chuckled, gaze drifting back to the stacks of books and papers spread out before you. "You know me too well," you murmured, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at your disorganized workspace.

"Indeed, I do," Yoongi agreed, his eyes lingering on your face. "But, I also know that you deserve a break. How about we head to my place and just relax for a bit?"

You hesitated, the thought of leaving your studies unfinished gnawing at you, but you couldn't deny the allure of spending time with Yoongi away from the pressures of academia.

You glanced back at him, his eyes filled with sincerity and warmth, and you made your decision, "Alright," you conceded with a smile. "Let me just pack up my things."

"Take your time," Yoongi replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from you. The simple action spoke volumes – he was in no hurry, willing to wait as long as it took for you to feel comfortable. It was moments like these that reminded you of how far the two of you have come in rebuilding trust, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the second chance you'd given him.

As the two of you walked out of the library together, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the snowfall had eased to a near halt as the two of you began your trek back to his apartment, leaving behind an untouched blanket of white in your wake.

The cold air stung your cheeks, but neither you nor Yoongi seemed to mind it much as you walked – the world felt hushed, almost magical.

"Is it always this beautiful?" you asked, your voice soft and breathy as you watched the last flakes fall from the sky.

"Sometimes," Yoongi replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I think it's just the right kind of weather for tonight."

Your steps fell in sync with each other, crunching softly against the snow beneath your feet. The streetlights cast warm, amber halos on the frosted ground, creating a comforting contrast against the winter chill.

"Tell me about your work," you suggested, curiosity piquing your interest. Yoongi had mentioned his desire to become a music producer during your conversations, but you wanted to learn more.

"Ah, well," he began, a modest smile gracing his lips. "I've been working on this new project lately – it's got a different vibe than what I usually do. But that's what makes it exciting."

"Sounds fascinating," you commented sincerely. "I can't wait to hear it when it's finished."

"Hopefully you'll like it," Yoongi replied, his eyes shining with gratitude at your enthusiasm.

As you approached his apartment building, you couldn't help but feel a slight surge of nerves. It was the first time you would be stepping into Yoongi's personal space, and there was an undeniable intimacy in that. You glanced over at him, wondering if he could sense your apprehension. However, his gaze remained fixed on the entrance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"Here we are," Yoongi announced as you walked into the warm, well-lit lobby. The sudden change in temperature made you shiver slightly, your body trying to adapt.

"Nice place," you commented, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks," Yoongi replied, leading you toward the elevator. The ride up was quiet, the both of you lost in your own thoughts as you anticipated what might happen once the two of you were alone in his apartment.

When you finally entered Yoongi's space, you couldn't help but take it all in – the minimalist furniture, the impressive collection of vinyl records along one wall, and the cozy atmosphere that seemed to envelop the entire room. It felt like a sanctuary, a reflection of Yoongi himself.

"Make yourself at home," he offered kindly, gesturing toward the comfortable-looking couch.

"Thank you," you whispered, suddenly aware of just how intimate this moment was. You were standing in his apartment, seeing a side of him few people had ever been privy to. And as you took a seat on his couch, feeling the warmth of the cushions beneath you, you knew that you wanted to learn even more about the enigmatic man who had captured your interest.

"Would you like something to drink?" Yoongi asked, his voice soft yet inviting. His eyes, a rich dark chocolate color, held curiosity and a touch of shyness, reflecting his guarded nature.

"Sure, do you have any wine?" You replied.

You enjoyed how the warmth of the room seemed to embrace you, making you feel comfortable. It was a rare feeling for you, considering your own life and surroundings were often chaotic.

"Of course," Yoongi said with a subtle smile. He disappeared into the kitchen area, returning moments later holding two glasses filled with the familiar deep red liquid. He carefully handed one to you before taking a seat across from you on the couch.

"Thanks." You took a sip, savoring the smooth taste of the wine as it slid down your throat.

You noticed the way the moonlight that streamed through the windows caught the glass, creating a dazzling array of colors that danced along the edges.

"You're welcome." Yoongi raised his own glass and took a small sip. His gaze lingered on the window, seeming to find solace in the familiar sight.

"Your apartment is really lovely," You said earnestly, hoping to ease the initial tension between the both of you. "It has such a unique vibe."

"Thank you. I've put a lot of time and effort into making it my own little sanctuary," Yoongi admitted with a small smile. "I'm glad you like it."

As the two of you continued to chat, you both discovered shared interests and common ground – your love for music, your desire to create something meaningful, and the challenges you both faced in your pursuit of happiness.

With each revelation, the space between both of you seemed to shrink, and you found herself drawn to Yoongi's quiet intensity.

"Sometimes," Yoongi said, pausing to choose his words carefully, "it feels like life is a constant battle against time and expectations. It's hard to find moments like this, where you can just be yourself without any judgment."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a pang of empathy for the man sitting before you. "I know exactly what you mean. It's easy to get lost in the noise and lose sight of who you really are."

"Exactly." Yoongi's eyes met yours, and you're struck by the sincerity you see there. "But sometimes, it's in those quiet moments that we can truly find ourselves."

You couldn't help but be moved by the sincerity in Yoongi's words, and as the silence fell between you both, you found your gaze drifting towards the window again. The snow had stopped, leaving a blanket of white that seemed to silence the world outside.

"It's amazing how peaceful everything can be when it snows," you remarked, your voice barely above a whisper. "It makes you feel like anything is possible."

Yoongi nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It's a reminder that sometimes, we need to slow down and appreciate the beauty of the world around us."

You smiled, silently agreeing before looking around the living room, taking more of it in, "I can't believe we've known each other for as long as we have but I've never been to your apartment until now."

"Same goes for me," Yoongi replied, a hint of amusement in his voice, "It's kind of funny to think about how we even became friends."

You scoffed, "It's funny now. But, I wouldn't have it any other way. I still have your contact name as the same thing it was when you first texted me, though."

Yoongi tilted his head in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"It's still just your phone number. For some reason...I don't know I just like it that way."

Yoongi chuckled lightly, shaking his head in amusement. "That's...quite possibly the most strange yet charming thing I've heard today." He took another sip of his wine, the warmth spreading through his body as he savored the taste.

"Is that so?"

He nodded, smiling.

"Well, maybe I should change it then." You pulled out your phone, navigating to your contacts. "What should I change it to?"

"Nah," he began, putting his wine glass down before scooting towards you, "let me do it," he said playfully, snatching the phone from your grasp. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he held your phone aloft, just out of your reach. "Besides, I want to pick my own emoji."

"Give it back!" You laughed, your cheeks flushed with excitement as your reached for your phone. Your heart raced at your playful banter, something you had grown to cherish during your time with Yoongi.

"Uh-uh, not until I'm done," he teased, his tongue peeking out between his lips in a cheeky grin. He leaned to one side, keeping the phone firmly out of your grasp.

Your determination grew, and you leaned over him, stretching your arm out as far as possible.

Your fingertips brushed against the edge of your phone, but Yoongi shifted his weight again, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Yoongi, seriously!" You huffed, laughter bubbling up despite your feigned annoyance.

"Fine, fine," he relented, bringing the phone down just enough for you to snatch it back. In your eagerness, you accidentally ended up leaning too far forward straddling him in the process, your thighs pressing against his hips.

You both froze, suddenly aware of your intimate position.

Your eyes locked, and the room seemed to fall silent around the two of you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the proximity making you all too aware of the heat radiating from Yoongi's body.

You noticed the way his breath hitched in his throat, and the way his pupils dilated as the two of you continued to stare at each other.

A minute crawled by, every second feeling like an eternity as a thousand emotions swirled within you. Your mind raced with questions, doubts, and desires, and you could see the same turmoil reflected in Yoongi's eyes.

It was only when you felt a tremble in your hands that you realized what you were doing.

Face burning, you began moving your hips slightly in an attempt to get off of him, "Shit, Yoongi, I-I'm so sorry."

Although the movement you made caused a friction beneath you, and Yoongi froze, eyes widening, "W-wait, Y/N, stop...stop moving."

"What?" You stuttered, looking at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

His hands slid down to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place, "Just...stop." He managed to get out, his voice low and rough. "Don't move, please."

As you froze in place, it dawned on you that Yoongi's hands had now settled in a more intimate position on your hips, his fingers gently gripping your sides. You could feel his breath against your skin as his eyes locked onto yours, his expression filled with a mix of desire and fear.

"Y-Yoongi, I--" You moved again in another attempt to get off him, flustered.

"Fuck..." He groaned, allowing his head to fall back, and suddenly, you felt something underneath you.

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized what it was - his erection pressing right up against the heat of your core.

In fear and confusion, you pushed his hands off your waist, abruptly standing up before him, "I-I should go," you began, rubbing your hands against your sides in an attempt to wipe the sweat off of them, "I'll see you later?"

Yoongi watched as you quickly gathered your things and stood up from his couch, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the right words. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and he could feel the heat radiating from your body as your cheeks flushed red.

"Y/N, wait..." Yoongi's voice was hoarse, his eyes pleading as he reached for your hand. But you were already turning to leave the room, the weight of your words heavy on your tongue.

---

You avoided Yoongi for the next few days, his calls, his texts, everything.

You immersed yourself in your schoolwork, dedicating less time to visiting the library, as a means to escape the burden that this situation had imposed on you.

But as the days went by, you found yourself thinking about him more and more. About the heat of his touch, the desires you both had felt in that moment. You knew it had been an accident, but you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between you and Yoongi.

---

"You need to talk to him, Y/N."

"I-I know," you began, rubbing your temples, "but I have no idea where to start, I mean I just walked out on him, he probably hates me."

You and your best friend, Mina, had been sitting together in your apartment while you sulked over Yoongi, trying to figure out how you would speak to him again. Mina had been your rock through thick and thin, and now she was determined to help you out of this mess.

"Just think about it, Y/N. You owe it to yourself to at least try and resolve this. You can't just let things remain the way they are."

You nodded, biting your lip in frustration. "You're right, Mina. I just...I don't know where to start."

Mina smiled, placing her hand on your shoulder. "Well, you could start by sending him a message. You know, just a simple olive branch to let him know you're willing to talk."

"But...I walked out on him. I can't just text him after all that," you threw your face into your hands, "I feel so bad."

"Look Y/N," Mina began, "I know you feel bad but if you don't think that a text or a call is the right thing to do, then...I don't know what to say."

You scoffed, "Wow, thanks, that really puts things into perspective."

Mina laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Alright, alright. But seriously, you need to figure out what you want to do, Y/N. It's been a few days, and if you don't make a move, you could lose him all together."

"I know, I know, you're right."

"Of course I am." Mina got up from where she was sitting, a soft smile on her face, "I have to go, but keep me updated."

"I will."

---

You lay restless in your bed, moonlight casting silver shadows on the walls. The clock's red digits flickered to 12:00 A.M., taunting you with each passing second. Sleep remained elusive, for Yoongi's face flickered behind your closed eyes, his laughter echoing in your ears.

You couldn't shake the feeling that their misunderstanding had driven a wedge between them.

Why did you have to fuck everything up?

"Damn it," you muttered under your breath, tossing and turning, your tangled sheets a testament to your inner turmoil.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to find a solution to mend your fractured friendship with Yoongi. Desperation bubbled up within you until it burst like a geyser, propelling you out of bed.

"Fuck this," you hissed, flinging the covers off your body. With a newfound determination, you slipped into sweatpants and a hoodie, the fabric comforting against your skin.

You rummaged through the darkness, fingers closing around the familiar leather of your coat.

Your heart pounded like a drum as you prepared to step out into the cold night air, fueled by the need to speak with Yoongi and set things right.

You made your way through the hallway, and out the door of your apartment, each step setting a path towards your journey outside.

The cold winter night had wrapped its icy fingers around the city, but your determination burned like a fire inside your chest.

As you walked towards Yoongi's apartment, your breath condensed into fleeting clouds that disappeared as quickly as they were born.

You glanced around, taking in the peaceful serenity of the snow-covered streets, the faint glow of the streetlights casting long shadows.

"Just talk to him, Y/N," you muttered under your breath, your words barely audible over the sound of your boots crunching on the snow beneath your feet.

When you finally arrived at the building, you rushed through the lobby without so much as a glance at the receptionist who looked up from her desk, startled by your sudden entrance.

The receptionist called after you, "Wait! Ma'am!" but you were already pressing the elevator button with impatience, your thoughts consumed by the urgency to reach Yoongi and set things straight.

"Out of order?" you read aloud, voice trembling with frustration. The sign taped to the elevator door mocked you, leaving you with no choice but to turn to the stairwell.

You hesitated for a moment, staring up at the seemingly endless flights of stairs. Yoongi lived on the highest floor, and the thought of climbing all the way up there was daunting. But the fire inside you continued to rage, and you knew there was no turning back now.

"Alright then," you whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath before dashing up the stairs, utterly determined.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you hurried up flight after flight, ignoring the burning sensation in your legs. Each step brought you closer to Yoongi, closer to the confrontation you knew the both of you desperately needed.

Finally, gasping for breath, you reached the top and stood outside Yoongi's door. You raised your fist and banged on it forcefully, your voice raised in desperation, "Yoongi, I need to talk to you,"

Silence. You could feel the heaviness of it pressing down on you, but you refused to let it deter you.

"Yoongi! Open the door, please I know you're in there," you spoke again, louder this time.

The door finally swung open, revealing Yoongi's tired and weary face. As your eyes met, you saw a sadness in his that you had never seen before, and it threatened to extinguish the fire inside you.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "what are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

With a sigh, he lowered his head, but he stepped aside from the doorframe, creating room for you to enter.

"What do you want?" He mumbled, still avoiding your gaze.

The weight of his question was heavy, but you didn't waver. You stepped into his apartment, feeling the warmth of the air against your skin.

"I came here to say that I'm sorry," you began, your voice barely audible, "I shouldn't have left like that. I was scared, and I didn't know how to handle things. I was wrong to run away, and I want you to know that I'm here now."

Yoongi remained silent, staring at his hands as if they were foreign to him.

You leaned towards him, grasping his bicep in your hand.

He flinched at the sudden touch, but didn't shy away.

"Please, look at me, Yoongi," you whispered, your eyes pleading with him to understand.

Your fingers wrap tightly around his arm, and you look up into his eyes, attempting to convey the sincerity of your words.

"Please, I-I just..."

Your let your hand fall back your side, trembling slightly, as your face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and regret.

You stumbled over her words, speaking at a rapid pace, desperate to communicate the weight of her remorse.

"Look, I know I messed up, okay? I didn't mean to just...run out on you like that. It was so stupid and thoughtless and, god, I'm so sorry, I really am."

He opened his mouth to say something, "Y/N--" but you cut him off, your voice rising in pitch as your anxiety grew.

"I've been thinking about it nonstop, and I hate myself for doing that to you and then just completely avoiding you afterwards. I was scared, and I panicked, and I didn't want to face what was happening between us."

"Y/N--" Again, he tried to interrupt, but you continued your rambling, feeling a knot tighten in your chest as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

"Every time I think about how I left you like that I feel terrible. I can't stand the thought that I hurt you like that. I never wanted to be the type of person who runs away when things like that happen, but that's exactly what I did."

Your voice faltered, and you swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure.

Still, you refused to let him get a word in, terrified that if he spoke, it would confirm your worst fears – that you had irreparably damaged you friendship with him.

"Since then, I've been replaying that night in my head over and over again, wishing I could go back and do things differently. I should have stayed. We should have talked it out like adults. But instead, I behaved like a coward, and now I'm afraid I've lost you for good."

At last, you paused for breath, your chest heaving as you stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.

He took a step closer, his expression unreadable, and she braced yourself for the impact of his words – whatever they may be.

Just as you were about the reply, Yoongi closed the distance between the two of you, his lips gently touching yours in a tender, slow kiss.

Yoongi's lips were soft as he pulled back, a small smile on his face as he looked at you, his fingers tangling in your hair. He tugged gently, causing you to lean forward, his breath hot against your lips as he spoke. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

You smiled and leaned in, your noses brushing against each other as the two of you breathed each other in deeply.

The air was filled with the scent of his cologne and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke mixing with the warmth of his body. "Oh really? How long have you wanted to?" you whispered, heart racing as he moved closer, resting his forehead against yours. His warmth seeped into you, making you shiver.

Slowly, Yoongi's lips brushed against yours teasingly before pressing firmly, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer. Your kiss was soft and gentle at first, a slow exploration of each other's mouths, tasting and teasing. The feeling of his lips against yours sent shivers down your spine, a low moan escaping your throat as you parted your lips slightly, inviting him in more. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you eagerly opened up for him, welcoming him in.

The taste of him was addictive, like fine wine and coffee, with a hint of sweetness that lingered on your tongue long after the kiss.

You ran your fingers up his neck and threaded your fingers through his messy hair.

You pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, your body melting into his as they molded together. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, his other hand finding its way to your waist and pulling you even tighter against him.

Your tongues danced together, twirling and dueling playfully, your mouths opening wider to allow for more exploration. His kiss was demanding now, and you gave in willingly, your body arching into him as he took control.

You kissed him back just as passionately, your tongue tangling with his, breaths heavy and labored. He gripped your hips tighter, grinding against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her core.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to kiss you deeply, your body trembling with anticipation.

You could feel his heart racing against your chest, the sound of his rapid breaths mingling with your own.

The heat between the two of you grew, along with your desire, and you felt yourself opening up to him more than ever before.

"Jump." He growled, his lips still brushing against yours.

With a small whimper, you obeyed, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer as he stepped forward, nearly pinning you against the wall.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses along the way, making you shiver.

Your head fell back as he bit lightly on the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking gently. His hot breath fanned across your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms.

You sighed in contentment as Yoongi's warmth continued to envelop you, your heart racing in anticipation. In the nights you spent alone in your room, you had replayed this moment countless times in your head, imagining how it would feel to be in his arms, to feel the softness of his lips against yours. But the reality was far more intense than you ever could have imagined. Every touch sent shivers down your spine, every groan vibrating against your skin made you tremble with desire.

With a sudden surge of impatience, Yoongi dropped you to your feet, roughly ripping off his shirt, his muscles rippling beneath his skin in the process, revealing a chiseled torso that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him bare before you, his shoulders broad and strong, his arms corded with strength. You traced one of them with your fingertips, marveling at the definition of his biceps.

His abs were like etched stone, each dip and curve perfectly defined. As you trailed your fingers lower, you could feel his heart racing under your touch. He groaned softly, a deep rumble that vibrated through your body. You traced the trail of hair that led from his navel to his jeans, which were already unbuttoned and half-unzipped. You paused for a moment, looking up at him through hooded eyes. He growled low in his throat, a mix of irritation and desire, and you smiled before sliding your fingers inside his boxers to touch his hot skin.

He was warm and hard, pulsing beneath your fingertips. You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat radiate off him like an open flame. He gasped softly as you began to stroke him, slowly at first, then faster when he closed his eyes and arched into your touch. The look of pure bliss on his face was enough to make your heart race. In response, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his neck, sucking softly on his flesh. His hands fisted in your hair, holding you close.

"F-fuck, Y/N...w-wait," he grabbed your wrist, halting your actions before burying his face into your neck.

Letting go of you, he sighed allowing his hands to roam down your back, over your hips, until he reached the hem of your hoodie. He pulled it up slowly, revealing your red lace bra beneath.

You gasped at the sudden change in temperature before he lowered his head to suck on your neck, nipping at your skin lightly.

Your heart raced as he undid the clasp, the cool air caressing your warm skin. The bra fell to the floor, leaving your chest bare for his view.

He merely glanced for a moment before drawing his eyes back up to yours, "You're so beautiful."

He trailed his fingers down your side, over the curve of your breast, and cupped it gently in his hand.

"Everything about you...I don't think I'll ever get enough."

Yoongi's breath hitched as you arched into his touch, your nipple hardening under his palm. His thumb circled around the bud, rolling it between his fingers. He dipped his head and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking softly as you moaned.

The feeling of his lips on your skin sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps rising on your arms. You felt hot and cold all at once, your knees weak.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from his face as he looked up at you, his eyes hooded with lust.

Your gaze dropped to his hand, still massaging your breast even as he slipped it lower.

He used his free hand to hook his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them down slowly, his lips never leaving your skin.

You were left in just your underwear now, your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage.

He swallowed your moan as he finally pulled away, his hand sliding up your thigh. He cupped you through your lacy underwear, gasping at the heat that pooled between your legs.

His fingers danced over your drenched folds, teasing your clit as he peeled your panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them, your knees shaking ever so slightly. It was like being in a trance, every nerve ending alive and screaming for him.

He slipped his fingers out of your dripping center, holding them up to the light to emphasize the shine of your slick that glistened coated them.

"Taste yourself." He whispered,his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You obeyed, closing your eyes as you leaned forward to taste yourself on his fingers. The salty-sweet flavor was intoxicating, and you swirled your tongue around his digits, feeling him watching your every move.

He groaned, his eyes locked on your mouth, as you slowly licked his fingers clean. The air was thick with anticipation as he continued to watch you.

Grinning, he suddenly dropped down onto his knees before you, kneading his fingers into the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. His eyes never left your face as he positioned himself between your legs.

You could feel his breath on your sensitive skin, the heat of his body radiating towards you as he leaned in closer. His eyes locked with yours, his gaze filled with hunger and desire. You felt your body tremble in anticipation, your breath hitched as you waited for what would come next.

"Yoongi what are you-- oh, fuck!"

The first touch of his tongue made you cry out, your hips jerking forward. It was barely a lick, but it sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. He took his time, lapping at your folds, teasing and tasting, his fingers lightly brushing against your clit with each pass of his tongue. You moaned, throwing your head back and giving in to the pleasure.

"Yoongi..." you breathed, your voice hoarse. His name was a plea and a command all in one. He chuckled softly, the vibration sending waves of delight through you. With one hand still teasing your entrance, he used the other to spread your folds, exposing you to his hungry gaze. And then he dove in, tongue circling your entrance, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves within. Your walls clenched around his tongue, begging for more.

"Please," you whimpered, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He hummed in agreement, pushing deeper, his nose brushing against your entrance as he lapped at it. You squirmed underneath him, your hips bucking against his face as you tried to get closer.

The taste of you, sweet and tangy and salty, filled his mouth. He lapped at you greedily, groaning around your folds as he tried to get as much of you as he could. Your moans and gasps echoed in the room, mingling with lewd sounds Yoongi was making as he lapped at your core.

With one hand still gripping his hair, you arched your back and cried out as he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive spots. Your hips rocked wildly, grinding against his face as he drove you closer and closer to orgasm.

His growls and moans were music to your ears, fueling your desire and making your heart race. You could feel the heat building deep within you, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you reached your peak.

Yoongi is relentless, his tongue never slowing down as he continued to pleasure you. You threw your head back, your eyes screwed shut as you prepared for the moment of pure bliss.

"Yoongi, fuck I-I'm so close." you whimpered, begging for release from the pleasure building inside of you.

He chuckled slightly against your folds, loving the way you squirmed beneath him. With one hand, he spread your legs wider, giving himself better access. His mouth closed around your clit as he lapped up every drop of your arousal.

As he worked you up into a frenzy, you begged him not to stop, pleading for release, your hips bucking wildly against his mouth.

Yoongi loved the raw hunger in your voice, the way you trembled and squirmed under his expert ministrations.

His talented tongue was working wonders on you, and you began to feel familiar knot begin to build in the pit of your stomach.

You were close, so close.

"Yoongi, I-I'm gonna-- shit!"

And when you came, it was everything he'd hoped for—a scream torn from your throat as you shook and spasmed beneath him, your wet heat coating his face. Your walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to feast on your cunt, drinking in every last drop of your sweet nectar.

Finally satiated, he lifted his head, dragging his tongue over her swollen nub lazily and you flinched from over stimulation before making his way back up to meet your eyes, holding you close to keep you from falling off balance, "You taste so good."

You smiled, cupping his cheeks in your hands, "Take me to your bedroom."

Nodding, he gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, as he carried you towards the bedroom. His eyes remained locked with yours, brimming with longing and urgency. The sensation of your body against his, the touch of your velvety skin, and the warmth of your breath on his neck overwhelmed him, stirring a powerful desire within him.

"I want you so bad," he whispered, his voice ragged.

You rested your head on his shoulder as he carried you, "I want you too," you breathed, your heart pounding against his chest in time with his own, "more than anything."

Yoongi stumbles through the hallway, holding onto you firmly but not too tightly, his steps becoming more and more certain as he gets closer to his bedroom. He kicks the door open with his foot, almost losing his balance but managing to regain it just in time.

The room is dimly lit, with only a small desk lamp on, casting shadows across the walls and the floor. He slowly lowers himself onto the bed, cradling you in his arms as you lay your head on his chest.

To him, you hair smells like vanilla and you feel soft against his rough skin. His heart beats fast in anticipation as he looks down at you, taking in the way your eyes flutter closed and your breathing deepens as you lean into him. "Yoongi..." you whisper before trailing off, your voice barely audible even to herself.

With a sudden burst of energy, he pulls you closer, rolling so that you're on top of him and he's beneath you, your exposed cunt pressing roughly against his clothed cock.

Your hips grind together, and he groans at the feeling.

His hands trail up your sides, tracing the outline of your ribs before cupping your breasts. You gasp, your nipples hardening beneath his touch. He dips his head to capture one in his mouth, sucking gently as he groans against your skin. It tastes sweet and salty and intoxicating.

You look at him, a wry smile etched into your features as you press a chaste kiss to his lips, "Let me make you feel good,"

You slide off his waste slowly before kissing your way down his chest, tracing your fingers along his abs, along the thin trail of hair that leads from his lower abdomen to the waistband of his pants before finally reaching for the obvious tenting in his pants, palming him through his jeans.

He groans slightly, his breath hitched as your fingers brush against the evidence of his arousal. You smile without looking up, knowing the effect you're having on him.

Without any further hesitation, you unbuckled the belt of Yoongi's jeans and slid them down, his length straining painfully against his boxers.

With a smirk, you teased Yoongi by running your fingers over his underwear-clad dick through the fabric, feeling it twitch and throb.

Yoongi let out a low groan as he felt your soft hands stroking him through his boxers.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled his cock out, freeing it from its confines. Your eyes widened as you looked down at the jutting length of his dick in your hands. It was thick and veiny, standing tall against your palms.

You ran your thumb over the head, gathering the precum that had formed there before leaning down and wrapping your mouth around the tip, forcing a strained moan out of Yoongi as he quickly threaded his fingers through your hair.

"H-holy shit, Y/N, that feels so-- fuck."

The taste of Yoongi instantly filled your senses as you explored him with your tongue, circling the head and teasing his slit. The hand on your head gently began guiding you as you started to take more of him into your mouth.

Each bob of your head made a wet, sloppy noise as you sucked him off, taking more and more of him each time.

You could taste the pre-cum on the tip, and you couldn't wait to swallow it all down. As your mouth sank further down onto his cock, you let your lips brush against Yoongi's shaft and listened to the slapping noise as your wet mouth engulfed him.

You could feel the vein pulsing on top, and the smell of his arousal filled your nostrils.

You looked up at him, eyes meeting Yoongi's, and he thought about how damn attractive you looked with your cheeks hollowed out and lips red from around his dick.

With a soft moan, you leaned forward and swallowed him down, taking him to the base of his throat. You slowly started moving up and down, taking him in and out of your mouth, licking and sucking at the same time.

You could feel his hands gripping into your scalp, holding him tightly as you deepthroated him. The room fell silent, only the sounds of your tongue lapping at his cock and the wet, sucking noises could be heard.

Before you could take him deeper and swallow around him again, he grabbed your hair, roughly pulling you off of his dick.

You looked at him, confused, waiting for him to speak his mind.

"Not yet," he panted, his eyes wild and focused on your lips. "I need to be inside you."

He stood up, and you could see the strain in his muscles as he struggled to control himself.

"What are you waiting for, Yoongi?" you teased, your eyes never leaving his.

He let out a shaky breath, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. With trembling hands, he leaned down, fully removing his jeans.

Yoongi's breath hitched in his throat as he took a step closer to you, positioning himself between your legs.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he bent down, his eyes locked onto your own, filled with lust.

Your heart raced as he gently pulled your hips off the bed, lifting you up and guiding you towards the edge.

His hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your wetness as he slowly began to press inside you.

You gasped as he entered you, feeling him stretch you open.

His eyes locked onto yours, his breath hitched as you clenched around him, pulling him in deeper.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice ragged with desire.

Slowly, he began to move, his hips rocking gently against yours as he thrust inside you. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as your eyes met his, lost in the intensity of the moment.

With each thrust, you both let out soft moans, the sounds mingling with the wet slap of skin against skin. It felt like a million different sensations all at once - the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the friction of his dick sliding in and out of you, the pulsing veins of his cock, and the way his lips brushed against yours as he kissed you.

Your hips began to meet his thrusts, rising up to meet him as he fucked you, his eyes never leaving yours. It was as if he was searching for something in the depths of your soul, and you were right there with him, searching for the same thing.

"Y-Yoongi, please," You whimpered, silently begging him to move faster.

Suddenly, as if a light switch went off he gritted his teeth and growled, beginning to thrust roughly into you, filling you with each and every inch of his length.

You moaned loudly beneath him, nails digging into his back as he took you like he owned you, his hips slapping against yours in a primal rhythm that echoed in the small room.

“F-fuck, Yoongi!” You mewl, arching your back.

His breathing was ragged as he looked down at you, his gaze dark and intense. “That’s right baby girl, take my cock. Take it all.” He pulled out slightly before slamming back in, feeling yours walls clench around him, loving the sensation.

He could feel the intensity building inside of him, the need to release slowly beginning to build inside of him.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough and demanding. "You feel so good." He slid one of his hands between your bodies, teasing your clit as he continued to pound into you.

"O-oh my god, Yoongi, I-I'm so close..."

He loved hearing you moan his name. It fueled his desire, made him lose control even more.

He grabbed your hair with his free hand and pulled your head back, exposing your neck to him, leaving a trail of kisses and bites down your shoulder and collarbone as you moved together.

"Yoongi, please," you pleaded, your voice quivering.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper. The way he touched you, possessed you, owned you...it was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

His rough hands on your skin made you shiver, and you could feel the heat between the two of you growing more intense with every passing second.

His hips snapped forward, his cock hitting your G-spot just right, and you cried out, your body shaking. "Yes," you moaned, your whole body tingling. "Right there. Oh fuck, right there!" You arched your back, meeting his movements, your nails digging into his skin as you felt a familiar coil began form inside of you.

"F-fuck, Yoongi, I'm so close, please!"

"Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock, princess?"

You could no longer form any words, simply responding with a strained moan.

"Beg for it."

Your eyes locked with his, pleading for the release you both craved. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely audible. "I need you to make me cum, Yoongi, Please!"

Yoongi's face was a mix of pleasure and dominance as he watched you lose control. He thrust faster, harder, swallowing your moans among his own as they filled the room.

"Good girl," he growled, his eyes locked onto yours.

At the sound of those words, something within you snapped. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything in your life.

The air was thick with the scent of sex and desire as you both surrendered to the intensity of the moment.

You suddenly felt the pressure building, the heat between you two intensifying. Your body began to shake uncontrollably as you felt the orgasm you had been craving for so long finally taking over.

"Oh fuck, Yoongi, I'm-- shit!" you screamed, your voice echoing through the room.

Yoongi watched, his eyes filled with satisfaction, as you exploded around his cock. Your nails dug deeper into his skin, and he felt you tighten around him like a vice.

Feeling your walls clenching around his cock, it sent him over the edge as well. He moaned your name as he came inside you, his body shaking violently as he emptied himself inside you.

Your bodies kept moving, pulsing together as the wave of orgasm continued to wash over you both.

As the intensity subsides, Yoongi's weakened legs give way and he collapses against you, his chest pressed against yours, both of you breathless and covered in perspiration, utterly spent.

Gradually, as your breathing steadies, you attempt to shift and free yourself from underneath him. However, Yoongi swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, refusing to let you go, holding you close against him as he turns you both so that you're facing each other on your sides.

Yoongi's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of lust, love, and something deeper - a connection that went beyond the physical. His fingers gently traced the curves of your face, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

You could feel the heat and energy from his body pulsating through you, and the aftershocks of your orgasm still reverberating within you. The intensity of the moment had left you both breathless, and yet there was a sense of peace that enveloped you as you lay there, entwined with one another.

Without saying a word, Yoongi tenderly lifted your chin, his eyes locking onto yours, and he spoke into the silence, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Yoongi."

509 notes · View notes

carrotkicks · 8 months

Note

"If you want to court my anime fanart please submit a >500word essay or fanfiction detailing why you'd treat them right. This is for my entertainment only."

Dearest Kicking of the Carrots,

While I do digress that your username implies a mindless desire to cause harm to the edible orange gem of the soft and loamy soil we call our Earth, it is of utmost importance that I underline to you with as much vigour and passion as I fantasize about picking up our dearest obsession, Chuuya, and carrying him around so that his heavenly soles of the feet never have to touch anything except the interior of his impeccably styled footwear and the tips of my delicate, calloused fingers, that I must underline to you how well I would treat your collection of beautifully assorted lines. Pixels on a screen have never brought about such awe, admiration and heart palpitations as yours- your pixels, my dearest, are so mesmerizing that I, a lowly anon of the vast ocean of the internet, have found myself in this precarious situation in which I am writing a letter to you to ask for a light while I fight the waves of disillusionment in which I drown without such beauty. Simply put, I would like to marry your art. I am devoted, loyal, and recently widowed as my gorgeous wife - Pianoman - has revealed himself to actually only have been a deceased corpse this entire time. It is with great sorrow and regret that I confess to you that I only laughed at your warnings of him being a zombie- I laughed! Foolishly, of course, as you had been correct all this time. Henceforth, I will never make the same mistake twice; you have my word that I will not repeat myself in this embarrassing lapse in my judgement. It is not my fault, however- it is difficult to think clearly when I haphazardly catch glimpses of the stored files of my memory of your art: so beautiful, so delicate, yet so moving at the same time. It would be unfair to call you the creator of this art, and even 'OP' is a mockery to your level of dedication towards feeding the hungry masses of this internet platform. A mockery, because it is only with the fire of a burning passion and my kitchen oven that one can describe your oeuvres d'art, not with the weak words of the English language. My admiration can be reiterated in a number of essays, literary novels if I must, but my love for your art will never waver. We will be happy, eternally. Even as I fade as a mere mortal, I will leave behind an army of jpgs and pngs, trained only to take care of my dear love. Allow me to be clear; I seek not to breed with your art, only to cherish and love it until my final breath, to take it to witness the sun set, rise and dance among the clouds and never allow the drawn-on smile leave its face… not that it could, of course. I do not have any intentions of altering, colouring or reshaping your art in any way, as I am convinced that it is perfect the way you drew it. You, with the hands of an angel and the greatest minds to ever grace this universe. It's nearly terrifying, flabbergasting even (please pardon my vivid language), to think that at this moment, we could be breathing the same air. Drinking water that had, at one point in our lifetimes, passed through the other's system, traversed from their esophagus into their kidneys, then escaped, free again. I apologize for wasting your resources, for leaving you unattended at this moment when I instead could be feeding you grapes and batting you with large leaves. Since I cannot do this, I beg of you, let me take care of your art. I will do everything in my power, and more, to satisfy it. I do not frequently resort to begging, but such dire situations require dire responses. I will not only kick every carrot I see in my life, but I will even supply you with pictures of my kicking of the carrots. A woman can only reach such a level of desperation before her senses bring her back to the last shred of dignity she still holds as she refrains herself from continuing to speak, thereby incriminating herself, knowing fully well that her pleads will be put on display for all to see. Do not take this ask lightly, for I have poured all of my heart, soul, passion and maybe a little bit of piss for the sake of symbolism, into it.

Yours truly, with palpable vibes,

anon (you have yet to name me, and it would be pretentious to give myself a name. if you are willing to let me into your family, then I hope you will grace me with a name as well, my dearest)

omg.. oh my gosh. i'm blushing

#ask

58 notes · View notes

wonderland-smile-stories · 3 months

Text

~ Chapter 8. 03 ~

I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes and how poorly written this fanfic is. English is not my first language and together with my dyslexia ass things can go wrong I'm sorry.

I hugged my knees closer to my chest trying to get more warmth. This place is getting colder by the day. Then again I'm here in a dress and shirt with holes in them.

It's really time to get new clothes. Every time I think about it something happens. I can ask someone for something when everything has calmed down a bit.

Just an hour ago Miss An had told everyone that she was infected. Nobody had noticed anything until she said something.

She locked herself in the backroom even though everyone said she didn't need to. I guess she felt bad that they had locked Hyun-su in it because she said sorry to him about everything.

I couldn't take seeing the pain in both their eyes so I came here. It was just some empty closet in a hallway away from everyone.

It was in the same place I last was before everything happened to Ji-su. But now I was in the closet. I don't know why, but I felt safe here.

Maybe it was because I used to hide in closets like this in the orphanage and was safe from everyone.

I wonder if everyone is dead there. I'm not sorry for Miss Ward, Drew, or those other teenagers. They deserved it after everything they had done, but those kids, Miles.

I hope they are okay.

Something inside of me is telling me that they are dead. Maybe that's better. They don't need to suffer in this then.

"There you are."

I looked up from my knees when I heard Hyun-su.

I hadn't closed the door so he could easily see me. He crouches down in front of me studying my face.

"Are you okay?"

Out of instinct, I wanted to say that everything was fine and that nothing was wrong, but for the first time I felt like I could just say no.

I shook my head.

"No," I croak out before wiping my nose.

"I haven't been okay in a while. In fact, I haven't been okay my whole life." I didn't want to dump this on him, but it felt right to say this to him.

Without saying anything Hyun-su climbed inside the closet with me before closing the door. It was dark inside, but he turned on his phone giving us some more light.

"I'm sorry you're feeling like this." I nodded before leaning my head against the wall.

"I don't want to burden you with this. I know you had a rough past as well." I mutter out looking at the closet door in front of me.

"Me standing on that edge really gave it away huh?" I let out a little laugh before looking back at him.

"Yeah, but that wasn't the only reason I knew." A confused look came to his face.

Without saying something I grabbed his arm before pulling up his sleeve revealing the red raised skin on it.

"This was also one of the reasons. Someone who did this must have been in great pain to do it." My fingers trace the red lines softly barely touching them.

I was afraid I would hurt him, but I know that they don't hurt anymore only the memory hurts of the event.

"I guess that's something else that we have in common." I feel Hyun-su look up at me from his arm.

Letting go of his I pulled back my sleeve revealing my bare arm. I held it against his and heard him suck in his breath.

Some lines were faithed others were smaller. But the big one across my wrist was the one that stood out the most.

I can't take all the credit for the scars on my arm. Miss Ward and the others were Co-creators of them. Not only cuts but burn marks from mostly cigarettes were also still visible.

"The doctors told me that if I would have cut straight across my arm like you I would be dead in a minute with the dept I had, but I guess I didn't think about that." With shaky hands, Hyun-su grabbed my arm.

It was weird seeing him like this. It looked like it was the first time he had seen a cut on an arm. Yes, maybe there were more on mine, but his was worse.

"I.....I thought you said you took pills too..." He looked up from my arm and I could see pain in his eyes.

Not from himself, but for me.

It seemed like he was in pain to see me like this.

"You aren't the only one who tried to kill yourself twice." I gave him a small smile before wiping away a tear running down my cheek.

"These are only the bad ones the others have already been fading over the years," I explain tracing a light pink scar.

"Others?" I hear him croak out.

If he only knew.

Maybe he should.

Although the closet wasn't big it had enough room to stand in and move around, so standing up I began to pull at my clothes. My dress was already ripped from all the monsters, together with the long-sleeved shirt I was wearing.

"I grew up in an orphanage that is run by an awful woman who found pleasure in hurting the kids for nothing," I explain while ripping the fabric apart.

"She could turn everything into a torture weapon if she wanted to and nobody was safe from her if the torture didn't satisfy her she would lock you up in a hole for as long as she wanted." I really wanted these clothes off. It felt like they were burning my skin.

"I tried to fight her back a lot of times, but that just gave me more scars. Those innocent kids didn't deserve that. They already lost a family and now they had to live a life there in pain and misery. I try to help as many as I could, but I can only fight back so much." I could feel more tears run down my cheek.

"Not only was it that woman, but some awful kids as well who love to torture. There was this one guy that just loved to take advantage of me trying to protect the other kids. He knew I would do anything to keep them safe. He played it to his advantage. He would do things to me that I feel so ashamed of." I felt Hyun-su stand up, but of what I just said I was too ashamed to look at him.

I hoped he didn't think of me differently, but I couldn't just not tell him that part. It belongs to the story, my story.

"If I could go back I would fight back harder, but who knows what would have happened."

By now the dress and shirt were in pieces on the floor. If it was someone else I would be ashamed and won't do this at all, but with Hyun-su I felt safe to show him not only my body but the scars as well.

I wasn't completely naked. I was wearing a bra together with underwear and black bike shorts. The whole time Hyun-su looked at me without saying a thing.

Maybe he's afraid and thinks that I have finally snapped. With the light on Hyun-su's phone, you could faintly see the scars on my arms and stomach, but I wanted him to see everything.

I turned around and clicked on the light switch that was in the closet. I knew that my back was the worst of it all. I can't count how many times I have been forced on my stomach while they went ham on my back with belts, sticks, hot iron, cigarettes, and anything else they could think of.

They were smart they knew my back was less likely to be seen by other people and even then nobody would care enough for it to report anything.

I suck in some air when I felt Hyun-su's fingers softly tracing the scars. It was so light and gentle that it honestly felt like feathers of a wing were brushing over the raised red skin. The feeling was strange and felt foreign to me.

After a few seconds, I felt some more movement behind me before something soft was placed on my shoulders. I looked down and saw Hyun-su's sweater.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. You didn't deserve to be treated that way."

I slowly turn around to look at him. There were so many emotions in his eyes.

"Those kids were so lucky they had you. No matter what you protected them without hesitation. They weren't even your family and you stood by them no matter what." I could hear the pain in his voice when he said that last sentence.

"I wish I had someone like that." A tear ran down his cheek. My hand went up wiping it away before caressing his cheek with my thumb.

"You have now," I whisper giving him a small smile.

Without saying anything he pulled me to his body wrapping his arms tightly around me.

That's how we stayed for a while. In that closet, that was in a rundown building where the outside was a mess filled with monsters and madness, but here and now it was just us two in each other's embrace far from it all.

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter

———————————————————

I love soft moments like this ^^, but this isn’t a soft fanfic, and things are going to hit the fan real quick in the next few chapters.

9 notes · View notes

filmtv2022 · 1 year

Text

By Your Side: Chapter Sixteen (18+ Minor DNI)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Masterlist

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Reader

Chapter Summary: Y/N faces down crushing loneliness and anguish that comes after her fight with Rhett, but time stops for no one. Trevor’s funeral acts as the catalyst for Y/N to continue processing their grief.

Summary: Returning to Wabang was never something that Y/N had planned on, but with the loss of her father leaving her the sole owner of her family’s farm she must go back. Time spent at home forces Y/N to face the people she left behind. Will Y/N be able to navigate the murky waters of her past and present as the lines between them blur?

Warnings: Language + Funeral scene

A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than many of my others, but I didn’t want to push past the scene at the end just for the sake of adding more. The next part will be out as soon as I can, and always I am incredibly grateful to those of you who have continued to read and love this story. I apologize for any and all mistakes. The ending of this one really had me in tears. I’d written it weeks ago in an anticipation of adding it to the story, and now that it’s time for you all to read it… man am I feeling so many things.

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

Out of the truck, you pounded over the ground toward the porch, keys in hand ready to unlock the door. Jamming them into the lock, you twisted it smoothly and pushed into the house. The roar of your ragged breathing and sobs had covered up the missing snick of the lock sliding out of the way. Shutting the door behind you, the darkness of the home encased you like a tomb. In an emotional daze, you stumbled away from the door, leaving the bolt undone behind you. Traipsing your way through the halls you made your way further into the house to your parent’s bedroom. Tugging at the handle you found your way inside, collapsing on the bed as you fully succumbed to your emotions.

Flashes of Rhett in the parking lot haunted your dreams. The look of betrayal and hurt on his face mirrored the bitterness of the words you’d screamed at him which played like a broken record in your mind. Hovering in a state between deep sleep and wakefulness, your brain fought against the vicious loop of memories, and sadly, it was a losing battle. Spinning out of control, you could feel dampness on your cheeks as you cried in your sleep. But the echoing groan of the floor outside your room ripped you from your fitful state.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, you lurched for your phone which had fallen to the floor as you’d gotten into bed. Having retrieved it, you sat stock still on the edge of the mattress as you struggled to control your breathing. Your ears searched for any sign of movement in the house but heard nothing more. The uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach swelled to a crest before beginning to dissipate. The longer you went without hearing anything else the more the anxious feeling dimmed. Tightening the grip you had on your phone, you stood from the bed and made your way to the door. Closing your free hand around the knob, you paused, your ear pressed to the wood listening for any sign of what waited for you on the other side. You were met with silence. Swallowing hard, you opened the door and stepped into the hall. Carefully, you left the relative safety of the bedroom and began to search the house. Making your way to the kitchen, a sudden gust of cold air on your body drew your attention dead ahead to the entryway. The sick feeling you’d had upon waking flooded back in full force. The dull gray glow of the moon lit the floor in front of you as it poured in through the open front door. Your eyes flicked from side to side as you approached it. Wasting no time, you shut it quickly before turning the deadbolt into place.

The adrenaline still pumping through your veins made it clear that getting back to sleep was not going to happen. With a resigned sigh, you found your way to the living room and curled up on the couch. And there you sat, bundled under a couple of blankets until the morning sun began to light the space.

……………..

Using the counter as a support, you stretched out your stiff muscles as you waited for the coffee to brew. Too impatient and tired to wait, you poured a cup while it was still brewing and headed over to the table to make a grocery list. Having added only the basics to a scrap of paper, you capped your pen and finished your drink. Even in the light the ominous feeling from the night before continued to linger. Still, on edge, you gulped down the last scalding swallow and hurried to find something to wear. There wasn’t much that remained in your childhood closet that would fit, but you settled on an old pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt from one of the many rodeos you’d gone to in high school.

Having double-checked that all the lights were off and the door was locked, you drove into town in search of the items on your list. It didn’t take long to collect what you needed, but the trip still drained you emotionally. Your mind continuously wandered back to the Abbotts, and you couldn’t keep yourself from pondering what they might be doing at that moment. You gave the cashier a weak smile and wave as you exited the store, and returned to the truck. Throwing the bags in first, you climbed behind the wheel and prepared to take off. Your phone began to ring in your pocket, the melody growing louder as you pulled it from your sweatshirt. The name on the screen dropped your heart into your stomach… Rhett. Grimacing, you ignored the call, and tossed your phone to the side. Turning up the radio and rolling down the windows, you took off down the main street of Wabang back toward your home.

…………………………………………….

Music blasted through the house as you stood in front of the stove tending to your dinner, your hips swaying in time with the rhythm. The soft knocking at the door blended into the song's beat, leaving you unable to hear the noise. It wasn’t until the song came to an end that the knocking became evident to you. Pausing mid-stir, you glanced out the window your stress rising as you realized who must be standing at your door. Parked right next to your father’s truck was Perry’s pickup. His muffled voice could be heard calling out to you as he continued to pound on the door.

“Y/N, it's me, Perry. I know you’re in there-”

Yanking open the door, you cut him off before he could finish his thought.

“What do ya want, Per?” Your temper flared as you waited for him to answer.

“I uhh… I figured you probably wanted this back.” In his hand Perry held your bag, its zippers were strained as if whoever packed it had been in a rush.

“Thanks.” Insincerity oozed from you as you reached for the bag. Taking it from him you threw the strap over your shoulder as you awkwardly shifted your weight to the other foot.

Perry had dropped his eyes to the ground, but he didn’t make any move to leave. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a heavy sigh before starting to speak again.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. This is all my fault. I never should’ve-”

“Stop… fuck. I’m not the one you should be apologizin’ to. So, if that’s all you came here to do then just leave, Perry.”

You could see him flinch at the viciousness of your words, but yet again he didn’t move, Shoving his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a worn-looking envelope.

“Rhett wanted to make sure you got this.”

You knew just by the look of the paper what he was handing you, it was the letter your father had given his executor for you.

“I don’t want it. I have no use for some bullshit letter from my father, not anymore. Tell Rhett he can keep it… hell tell him he can burn it, I don’t give a damn.”

Turning away in a hurry, your palm closed around the side of the door as you tried to slam it shut, but your effort was futile as Perry had stepped into the space, and blocked its path. Whipping around you prepared yourself for an argument, but the look on Perry’s face kept you from shouting.

“Come on, Y/N, please… just take it.”

Reaching out, he grabbed your hand and slid the letter into your grasp. His voice was wet with the tears he was determined not to let fall, “Just one more thing, Trevor’s funeral is at 1:00 on Sunday. Patricia’s back in town and they wanted to have it before she has a chance to take off again.”

“Okay.”

Letting go of your hand, Perry backed away a couple of steps before turning around and walking back to his truck. Watching him drive away you grappled with your urge to grab your keys and leave Wabang in your rearview mirror. It was nearly impossible to imagine going to Trevor’s funeral. Not only would the entire Tillerson family be there mourning the loss of their loved one, but the Abbotts would be there too. Facing either family felt like an insurmountable task even without factoring in that it would be the second time in not so many weeks that you’d be forced to contemplate the repercussion of death on those left behind.

Returning to the kitchen you turned back on the burner and continued cooking, the sky grew dark as you finished up your meal.

…………………………

That night your dreams were plagued not only with memories of Rhett but also of James, their faces blurring together in a gut-wrenching collage. A low creak outside your room was lost in the blaring ring of your phone. The jarring sound tore you from your nightmares, your heart thrumming in your chest as you clamored for your phone. Holding your breath, your fear swelled as you turned it over to look at the screen, your mind prepared for the worst. Momentary relief washed in as you read the name of the caller… Rhett. Though that relief was short-lived. Swiping to end the call, you watched as a voicemail notification popped up. In truth, you wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, but you didn’t know if you’d be able to handle opening up that wound again. Turning over you plugged in your phone, and tried your best to fall asleep, praying that the dreams wouldn’t return so that you could get some actual rest.

……………………..

Even with the sun sitting high in the sky there was still a chill in the air as you climbed out of the truck, and made your way toward the people that had gathered across the way. Keeping your eyes plastered to the ground you chose a spot on the outskirts of the group, your dress flapping in the breeze as you listened to Billy Tillerson singing. His voice was not unpleasant, and yet it grated at your nerves. Mercifully, his song came to an end and the priest came to stand at the top of the casket. Bowing your head further, you forced yourself to stay present, taking in the quiet sounds of people crying as the prayers and scripture were read.

“A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones together. A time to embrace and a time to-”

The crash of the flowers falling from the casket as Patricia flung it opened forced your gaze from the ground. A look of shock was on everyone’s face as they tried to figure out what had just happened.

“Nobody told you to stop.”

Returning to her family, she survey the crowd person by person, taking stock of their reaction to what she’d just done. Seeing her gaze shift to the Abbotts, you watched as she gave Rhett a once-over before moving on to Perry. Her body language shifted as she took him in. Keeping her in your sights, you saw her lean back and whisper something to Luke, his body tensing as he listened. You’d have given more time to what that interaction could mean, but you felt someone else’s focus turn to you. Swiveling your head you locked onto Rhett, his attention burning a hole in your stomach. Locked in this moment with him, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. The murmuring of ‘Amens’ around you finally broke your connection with him.

Slowly, people began to wander off, many heading out to the bar the Tillersons had rented for the post-funeral gathering. You hadn’t decided yet whether or not you’d be making an appearance at said get-together, but you knew there was one thing you needed to do either way. Following the path back to the far end of the cemetery, you made your way to your father’s grave, the recently turned dirt still the only marker of him as the headstone you’d ordered had yet to arrive. It felt so different standing there now as so much had changed since the last time you'd been in that spot. A mixture of grief and anger rose in your the longer you held the space.

The grief of losing your father perplexed you. There were so many painful memories attached to your time with him, and yet you couldn’t forget the good that existed too. There were albums upon albums of pictures showcasing the wonderful years you’d spent together as a child. And then there was your mom. No matter how hard you tried you could never fully separate the memories of her from him. The two had been to incredibly in love. Their life together was the epitome of what a marriage should be, but that was part of the reason the changes in your father had been so difficult to bear. Losing her had damaged him in a way that no one could fully understand, not even you. But what you did know is that in the thick of his pain he’d hurt you. He’d ripped away the last vestige of your childhood. He’d abandoned you in his grief.

Reaching into your jacket you pulled the envelope out, and turned it over in your hands, examining it carefully. The crunch of footsteps on the dead grass alerted you to the fact that someone was headed in your direction. You didn’t bother to look up, too lost in thought to really care, but the smell of his cologne sent a pang of guilt through your chest. You could feel his presence as he moved into your space, the warmth of his body radiating through the air as he came to rest behind you.

“I don’t know if I can read it”

“Let me.” Gently Rhett took the letter from your hands and opened it. His voice was barely more than a whisper as he read the letter aloud.

My Dearest Y/N,

Where do I even start? Because if you are reading this letter then I am once again the cause of your pain, and for that, I am deeply sorry. I know that I failed you. I failed you in every way a father possibly could, and no amount of time or apologies would ever be enough to right the wrongs. But let me try.

Y/N, I’m sorry for letting you struggle alone after your mother passed. My love for your mom, and for you, was the glue holding me together. And when she left us, I thought I was strong enough to do it without her, but I wasn’t. I let myself drown in my grief, and tried to fill in the gaps with the only thing that seemed to numb my mind long enough to breathe. I know, this sounds like an excuse, but I assure you it isn’t meant to be. You needed me and I wasn’t there, I checked out on you when I should have stepped closer. And it took me forever to understand that maybe, just maybe, if I’d held you close instead of pushing you away… I would have kept you in my life. My regrets in life overflow, and pushing you away sweet girl, that is my deepest.

Life has not been kind to you Y/N, and yet, daily you showed me a strength that I only wished I could possess. You stumbled and fell, but you got back up every time… and damn… I’m so incredibly proud of your persistence. You remind me so much of your mother, tenacious beyond measure, but with a heart as wide as the great Wyoming sky. Your propensity to love others unconditionally is a beautiful gift, but I urge you to be careful. Don’t let just anyone into your heart Y/N because some will try to use that gift against you, and no one deserves that kind of pain.

As I sit here and write this letter, I can’t help but think back to the time I was blessed enough to spend with you. My heart aches for the nostalgia and for the memories that we never got to make because of me. Some of my fondest memories are of you and Rhett running around like little hooligans, getting messy and causing havoc. Your mother, Ceci, Royal, and I sitting on the front porch or in the stands at the rodeo chatting away as we watched you guys. You and Rhett, god you two were a sight to behold.

Y/N, I know my words probably don’t mean a damn thing to you in reality, but I pray you’ll listen to me just this once. I know I hurt you, and that my actions drove you away from Wabang before you were really ready to go. I also know that if it hadn’t been for me, you and Rhett would have gotten out together… when the time was right. I’m so sorry for being the thing that drove a wedge between the two of you. I forced you to grow up in a way that no child should ever have to experience. But believe me when I say that the love you and Rhett share… that’s the kind of love that can be the foundation for building a new life together, one away from the sadness of the past. Y/N, I know how much you love him, and I also know that he adores you in every way that a man should. Life has taken you away from one another, but I have to believe someday it will lead you back together again (your mother was convinced of it), and when it does… well, keep that big heart of yours open, okay?

She loved you so much Y/N, leaving you behind was the thing that scared her the most. I’m ashamed to know that she’s looking down on me now seeing just how badly I dropped the ball as your father. And while I pray that someday I will be able to see her again and apologize… I don't think the universe will bless me in that way. I wish the same thing for you and me, but again, I doubt I will see you again before I leave this earth. So let me say it one more time here for good measure. I love you and I’m sorry for the hell that I put you through. Just know this, no matter what life continues to throw at you, you are strong enough, and when it feels like you can’t go on, lean on those who love you… they will carry you through.

With All My Love,

Dad

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

@lostinthefandoms11

@hope-love-equality2

@eugene-emt-roe

#rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #lewis pullman #outer range

45 notes · View notes

bluem00n007 · 1 year

Note

Hello!! First off, I'm really sorry for not responding back to you earlier from my last ask. I got really busy with irl stuff that I didn't get the time to reply. But if I can still send in my answer, you don't need to apologize about the leash thing with sirius!! I should have realized that sooner lmao, but thanks for clarifying. Also, you definitely have a point that arcturus has so much potential to be a good, bad, or grey character. Besides his constellation, there's also his special magic, how he takes such a long time to get back to mc when he excuses himself from them, and the Shepard thing. These could be building up to something big later on in the story, and I'm equally terrified and excited. Side note though, I saw your comic about vega and vanessa and it was so good!! The layout felt so clean, not to mention the way you drew out their emotions was a critical hit to my heart!!

Also also, if you don't mind me asking on your opinion on this, what do you think are the effects of mc being imprinted with the sorcerers? Besides the boost in power ofc.

Apologies for the long text, hopefully I didn't bother you with this. Take care!!

OMG HEY ANNON!!! It's so good to see you again!!! ^w^)/ And please, don't apologise for not replying before, real life takes priority and I hope you are doing well

The Sirius thing was such an innocent mistake and well, it is a saying that not a lot of people are familiar with and use, so I really get what caused the confusion, Arcky, I think if he does indeed turn out to be a villain, would he be with the void on purpose or was manipulated, hm another Tumblr user, who's user I am forgetting at the moment, but all credits to them for this pointer, basically what they said was Arcturus is the protector of the bear, Summoner is represented with the bear constellation, so I think the void did wipe his memories and are now using him as a way to get closer to summoner, I mean so far everyone lives the way their constellations do

Also thank you so much!!!! I was really hoping you would see that comic TvT and I feel really happy that it was impactful, I don't know how to actually put this in words, sorry of if I can't say it properly, but yeah, I am really happy!

Now I think the best way to explain an imprint is that it's a very magical form of "red strings of fate", more so a promise to protect the parties imprinting and a way to ensure it than anything else, like the pact in obey me, it's a power scaler(?) Like you make pacts and if you learn how to use them, you can draw power from demons and make them do what you command, that's not what I think an imprint is, like Spica said, it's an oath to protect

For the imprints, so far we know bits and pieces for what makes them special, firstly they allow partners to feel each other's feelings, you have any idea how hard it would be to hide crushes? Jokes aside that means that there must be a while lot of trust between people before they imprint, Spica did a gigachad move, respect, because he just let us imprint with him without knowing us much

If we take Alpheratz's words at face value, multiple imprints are not possible, or at the very least not common, he looks so surprised that our heart was entwined with others, that or he was just surprised at how many imprints we had even before a week at Contell, this could be explained by the time loop theory, which if you didn't know about, is that Sirius is a time loop character, goes back in time, which creates a different timeline, the good stuff, that explains why summoner has so many pacts already, if the bonds carried over everytime, but honestly speaking, that actualy leaves more unanswered questions, why was Sirius surprised he got summoned? Why did us coming to Bound arlyn ruin his plans? So I am a little skeptical of this theory

I think that is what makes summoner a summoner, plus the entire potential of being able to summon stuff that are not under the same relam as constellations, hence so special, but then why these 6 specific guys? Which is why it's not a 100% disagree on taht, just skeptical

Third and personally my favourite, angst warning and it is a little morbid, so don't read this if you are uncomfortable:

you can't harm an imprinted partner or you get harmed yourself, it has so much angst potential (I love angst actualy) out of everyone, Sirius has the heighest potential, imo, to use this if he ever finds himself in a clutch, not because it's an easy way out for him, mind you, but most likely because it's the best way out for summoner in case the void catches them in a clutch (yes I do live for angst) plus if the time loop theory is correct it's not much of a risk either, plus storytaco has a reputation of having a high chance to kill any character, even MC has no plot armour

Sorry for the long reply, I kinda get in the whole flow TvT

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight arcturus #arcana twilight alpheratz #arcana twilight sirius #arcana twilight headcanons

16 notes · View notes

sooicorn · 2 years

Text

>>Here’s a oneshot I made at the start of S.17 about Shiro-4 facing his own Nightmares since Bungie doesn’t give him enough love and I thought it would be fun to write some low-key angst. 👀 >>This is the first time I’ve posted some writing of mine, so apologies if it seems boring or has some mistakes.

Anamnesis pt. I

“Still waiting for the Vaguard to notice you still exist?” A familiar voice quipped. Shiro-4 whipped around to face the voice; upon seeing nothing, his hand drifted to the sidearm at his hip. He inhaled sharply as he felt the stagnant, rotting air stir past him and he felt the sensation of someone grabbing his shoulders.

“They won’t.” The voice teased, and Shiro turned in a tight circle. “In fact, they don’t even remotely care.”

“Show yourself,” Shiro demanded his empty surroundings, struggling to keep his voice even. The voice behind him began to laugh.

“Aww... what, you don’t remember me? Even after all our little adventures—me, you, and Andal—the glimmer runs, the Cosmodrome patrols, our scraps with Fallen—“

“No. I remember you, Cayde.” Shiro mumbled. He winced as his voice wavered and turned around to see the scarlet appairition that had been hovering behing him. The air itself seemed discomforted by its presence, writhing and distorting around the phantom form. Shiro drew a deep breath; he had heard of these appearances—“Nightmares”, summoned at the behest of the Pyramids to torment any who wandered to close to them. He had heard little about them, save for their cruelty and persistence.

“Well, that’s a relief to hear,” the Nightmare of Cayde smiled. He drifted closer and Shiro instinctively maintained his distance. The Nightmare made an expression of mock petulance and followed until Shiro’s back pressed against the cold, suddenly confining wall. “If only you could feel the comfort of being remembered, too.”

Shiro closed his eyes tightly and the slightest whimper escaped him as the Nightmare rested a hand over his shoulder. The quality of the Nightmare’s warm, natural touch was painfully real; had Shiro been blind, he would have believed the figure before him was genuinely Cayde. “Aww, poor thing,” Cayde cooed. “Are you scared of me now?” His tone was cloyed with sympathy, but Shiro still recognized the caustic disdain stirring behind their words.

“No.”

“Ooh, but you are. Look!” Cayde grabbed Shiro’s wrist and laughed as their trembling hands closed tightly. “You’re still the little Dreg who thinks he can hide from his problems until they go away.”

“Shut up.” Shiro growled, fighting to quash the guilt rising in his throat. Cayde cocked his head apathetically and continued unabridged,

“That’s why you’re useless to them. You’ve never done more than peek around in enemy territory before you came back to stand aside and wait for the Guardians to do the real cleaning-up. You may have the title of a scout, but really, you’re just a hungry little pest—scurrying around everyone’s ankles, desperate for validation.”

“Shut the hell up!” Shiro roared as he swung at the Nightmare, possessed by his frustration. “You’re not even real!” His blows passed harmlessly through the Nightmare’s body and it looked down, its scintiliating yellow eyes now hinting sadness.

“Is that any way to treat an old friend?” Cayde’s tone was wistful but quickly became became biting. “Even after how you treated me?” He shoved his hand against Shiro’s chest, and pinned them against the wall. “How you just tried to forget me—instead of giving me a little dignity to have died with? Ooh, even better, after what you let happen to Andal?”

Shiro turned his head and felt a siezing pain in his core as he saw a Nightmare resembling his long-gone friend, Andal Brask, now standing a few paces away.

“That wasn’t—I-I couldn’t—oh, god...” Shiro buried his face in his hands and begged his mind to ignore the Nightmares. Old memories clawed their way up from the depths of his mind like zombies through soft dirt: of the monsterous Eliksni they had been sent to fight; of Andal, writhing in his Ghostless throes; of a somberness in Cayde that he had never seen before and would never forget. He stifled a pained cry and the Nightmares remained, Cayde with his stabbing remarks and Andal with his silent, piercing gaze.

“There’s a reason they made you live alone on a mountain,” Cayde sneered. “You thought I was backing out of the fight when I joined the Vanguard. But I still got to be out in the field even as a Vanguard. But you,” he paused and chuckled darkly. “you’re not even worthy of working with them. You never were. You didn’t even do a thing when either of us died. You were lucky enough to have Lord Saladin take you under his wing and even he’s left you.”

“Saladin, he—“

“He’s gone, Shiro.” Cayde emphasized; a hollow, heartless laugh followed this. “He abandoned you, as did the Vanguard and all your little Guardian friends. You’re irresponsible and uncaring and that’s why you will never, ever, be recognized. That’s why you still hide in the shadows, with only the company of the kid who murdered me to keep you sane. You’re a coward and your inaction made you a traitor, too.”

“You were never like this...” Shiro whispered, his voice shaking. “Y-you were... funny, and—and kind, and...”

“And playing nice is what got me killed,” Cayde snarled. He backed away slightly and watched with a smile of derision as Shiro slid to the ground, trembling with inexpressable tears. Shiro’s breaths shook spastically and he grinded the plates of his mouth together in a vain attempt to silence his tears as he watched Andal’s phantom approach.

“Leave me alone...” Shiro whispered; he dared not to raise his voice, lest he began to cry. He heard a deep sigh from the Nightmare of Andal and hid his face with his cloak.

“You were a great scout,” Andal admitted. “But oh, how you’ve fallen. Cayde was right; now, you’re just a little dog, digging through the scraps for any hint that anyone even remotely cares about you.”

“I’m not a goddamn kid,” Shiro hissed, his suffering expression still concealed. Andal laughed at this.

“No? Then keep it in mind: there’s a reason Cayde became the Hunter Vanguard before you were even considered the position.”

“The Dare made him obligated to be—“

“No, the Vanguard Dare was a drunken promise between us. Nothing more—just a dumb idea that we paid no real mind to because, back then, no one believed I would be the first to die. Of course, after that little accident with Taniks, Cayde decided he’d inherit that position as soon as they gave it to him for the sake of honor. And once Cayde died, well, the options have grown very slim for a new Vanguard, haven’t they? And even still, you haven’t been able to take up the post.”

“I declined.”

“I bet they appreciated that—you choosing to stay out of the way. You’ve always been the weakest of us, Shiro. You may have been fairly diplomatic, and decent with a gun, but your personal need for validation on any subject—your selfishness—hindered you.”

“In other words, you were too immature,” Cayde taunted with scathing contempt.

“You’re one to talk,” Shiro muttered as he forced his paralyzed limbs to stand.

“At least wasn’t my fault when you died, Cayde.” Shiro managed to muster the courage sprouting in his heart and directly faced the Nightmares. His eyes were bright with tearful rage. “You got your own self killed because your ego was too big for your brain—you were always the impulsive one!” Shiro snapped. “If anyone was obstructing the Vanguard, it was you! How many times did a Guardian have to rescue you from all the tight spots you got yourself into? Hell, you damn near triggered a war with the Awoken after your screw-up in the Prison of Elders! You don’t even exist anymore! Get out of my head!”

The Nightmare of Cayde rolled its glowing eyes and the Nightmare of Andal crossed its arms with a slight shake of its head.

“Your emotions are going to eat you alive,” Andal said in a mildly warning tone. “You can try and fight us all you want, but as long as you keep feeling guilty... we’ll never leave your side.” Shiro could practically feel the sharpness of Cayde’s invisible grin and scowled. The dull ache in his chest agreed with Andal’s words and he wondered if his haunting would last forever. He bowed his head.

“Still can’t get over that gnawing ‘what if’, huh?” Cayde observed. “No wonder you’re such good friends with Zavala’s little disciple. You’re both pathetic, whiny little emotional cripples who can’t let go of the past.”

“Don’t you dare start insulting Crow,” Shiro spat. He took a tentative step forward and pointed accusingly at Cayde. “He is innocent and always has been. He’s been through hell just remembering who he was—what Mara—no, what Riven made him do.”

“I’ll never understand how someone can have empathy for the enemy,” Cayde mused.

“That’s probably because you were always too cocky to feel any empathy at all,” Shiro shot back. He turned around with this and pressed his hands to the sides of his head to mimic covering one’s ears as he walked away. The pain in his chest grew and he slumped against the wall of the corridor. He pulled his transciver from his belt and tapped it a few times. He prayed the Darkness which blanketed the Levithan was not thick enough to entirely strangle his signal.

“Come on, come on, come on...” he muttered, and aggressively shook the device.

“Shiro-4?” Came Eris Morn’s voice, garbled some by static. “Are you still on the Levithan? What of The Crow?”

“It’s just me, I...” he drew a shaky breath as he could feel the looming presence of both his Nightmares again hovering behind him. His chest tightened with fear and it pained him to breathe. “I need to come back. I need to—please...”

“Just breathe, Guardian,” Eris soothed him. “I’m bringing your ship to where you landed. I will go to the HELM and we will speak of your findings when you return.”

Shiro nodded and did not end the communication even as he broke into a sprint, his unease mounting. He felt a surge of relief as his Ghost transmatted him into the fuselage of his ship and the Darkness’ hold on his Light gradually faded. He immidiately collapsed against the wall of the ship and pressed his head to his knees, struggling to quell his shivering.

“Are you okay?” His beloved Ghost, Suzume, chirped. “You look... you look horrified. What happened down there?”

“I’ll talk about it later,” Shiro said between uneven breaths. Suzume bobbed up and down to emulate a nod and drifted back into the cockpit of the ship.

“Eris?” Shiro gently called. There was no response from his comms and he sighed as he tucked the transciever away. He hesitantly walked to the front of his ship and fell into the copilot’s seat.

“You’re not going to fly?” Suzume asked. Shiro intently shook his head.

“No. I need some time to... to think.”

“Did you see a Nightmare?”

“I saw two of them. It... it was... unplesant, to say the least.”

Suzume was quiet for a moment.

“May I... ask who they were?”

“You’ve known me for a while; take a guess.”

“Oh. Was it your... your old friends?”

Shiro hesitated before he nodded. Suzume hummed in acknowledgement and did not probe her Guardian any further on the subject. Shiro tilted his head up and crossed his arms, blinking furiously to combat the invisible tears burning his eyes.

He struggled to accept the notion, but he knew he would never again see his friends as he remembered them. Forgiving himself grew increasingly difficult as his memories of their times together grew harder to recall. His friends were gone—that was the simple truth.

How he wished a Guardian could choose when they finally died.

#destiny fanfiction #season of the haunted #destiny 2 #shiro 4

34 notes · View notes

xxkhxndlelitexx · 11 months

Text

One True King PROLOGUE pt 1/4

✦✧✦

WARNINGS: Slightly implied mentions of harassment, Sibling rivalry

Word Count: 2.6k

I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes

HAPPY READING

✦✧✦

I swung my legs back and forth as I dangled them from the tree branch where I sat, I looked at the redhaired man on the ground as he sketched something in a small notebook, seemingly unaware of my presence. Someone called to him, and I pulled my legs back into the tree so I wouldn’t be seen, a man with darker shorter hair approached him.

“What are you drawing, brother?” The darkhaired man asked sitting next to the redhaired man.

“A drawing.” he answered with a chuckle.

“Well, I can see that,” The other man huffed, “But who is that girl in the drawing?”

A girl? I thought, leaning slightly to see the sketch.

“I’ve seen her around, drawing from memory...” The man answered.

Now I was leaning over a lot, glimpsing the sketches of long hair.

“Well, Aera made bread if you want some.” The darkhaired man now sounded uninterested now.

“Alright.” He closed the notebook, moving to put it in his satchel, “Let’s go-”

I slipped with a cry. This’ll hurt. I thought as I fell, screwing my eyes shut in fear.

I heard the flutter of paper before I was caught in strong arms.

“Are you alright?” I heard the voice of the redhaired man and opened my eyes slowly.

“I-” The darkhaired man said. “Isn’t she the girl from the drawing?”

I looked up at the redhaired man. “I- um-,” I cleared my throat. Wriggling until he put me down on my feet. “Thank you for catching me, I uh-” I gave a nervous laugh.

He was staring at me. He thinks you’re insane. “You’re welcome...” He said, looking now he did have quite a bit of height on me.

“Sorry for falling...” My eyes darted to the darkhaired man who was in fact, looking at me like I was insane. “I’ll um... Take my leave.” I turned to leave, before I was stopped by the redhaired man’s voice.

“Wait!” He stopped me.

“Yes?” I turned to look at him.

“Can I get your name at least?” He asked.

I felt the heat rising on my cheeks, “Ah... how foolish of me.” I smiled sheepishly. “Clomoria Flor Decebal.”

“Clomoria...” He said my name and looked at me, as if matching a name to a face. “Pretty.” He smiled, and my heart fluttered. “I am Ardyn Lucis Caelum, this,” He motioned to the other man. “Is my brother, Somnus.”

I give Somnus a soft nod. “Thank you again for saving me.” I smile up at Ardyn, I give a small wave about to leave.

“One last thing.”

I turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“Do you think I can see you again?” I stared at his slightly rosy cheeks.

I glanced at Somnus, whose mouth fell open in shock. “Maybe we’ll run into each other,” I give him a slight smirk as I turned away.

His face flushed a dark shade of red.

“If I want to speak to you, I'll look.” I walked away, smiling to myself.

I strolled into town and towards the flower shop where I worked, I heard footsteps behind me and turned, he stood there looking slightly embarrassed.

“Somnus.” I raised an eyebrow, “I thought you were following Ardyn to go eat bread?”

“I already had some it wasn’t too amazing.” He laughed lightly. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“To me?” I blinked slightly confused.

“Aye.” He said as he drew closer. “Walk with me?”

I nodded and we started walking.

“Ardyn is a healer.” He said.

“I’m well aware.” I nod, “I could just never put a name to a face.”

“Well now that you have what are you going to do?” he asked as we turned a corner into the forest.

“Um... That’s a very direct question.” I shrugged. “To be honest with you, Somnus, I don’t want anything from Ardyn. I have nothing to gain being around him. Which is why I said before, if I want to speak with you, I'll look.”

Somnus paused, looking at me as I crouched near a ladybug, and let it crawl onto my finger.

“Life should not be wasted on things such as war and power, but one revel in the beauty that makes it LIVABLE.” I looked up at Somnus.

“Are you a poet?” He asked.

I chuckled. “Poets write and say what is known. I know more than even the Gods.” I stand and let the ladybug fly from my hand.

“Then tell me, oh great one.” He huffed. “Who do you think the king will be?”

“I cannot say.” I smirk at him. “But it surely won’t be your smelly behind.”

His eyes widened. “Oh?”

I laugh and pat him on the shoulder. “A bath will do you good. I will see you around, Somnus.”

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak but closed it

I smiled over my shoulder as I walked away. “Tell Ardyn I want to see him tomorrow, under the tree.” And I walked back up the path into town.

I walked back to the flower shop and greeted my guardian, Susarna.

“Where have you been, young lady?” she asked, straightening the bouquets on display.

“I was in the field; I met a man.” I said kissing her on the cheek and moving to the register.

She turned to me. “A man?” She smiled slightly, “Was he good looking?”

“You could say that...” I sat in the spinning stool and thought about Ardyn, the way he smiled when he said my name, his red hair, would he have let me braid it, the way his lips parted slightly when he caught me, you’re such an idiot... I thought to myself.

“Anything else I need to know?” She walked over and nudged me.

“Well, there was another man too.” I admitted.

“Oh?” Susarna smirked. “Was he handsome?”

I raised my eyebrows; I hadn’t thought about that. Somnus was a bit shorter than Ardyn, he had much softer features but, based on what happened in the forest, a much sharper tongue. He hadn’t made me all jittery inside though.

“He was similar to the other man, but he looked younger.”

“Oh?” Her smirk widened.

“Mother!” I rolled my eyes.

“Which do you like better?” She shook me slightly.

“Why does that matter?!” I pulled away, brows furrowing.

“Who knows, you might marry one, one day.” She smiled dreamily, “And I can finally rest knowing my dear daughter is in good hands.”

I rolled my eyes. I stood and went to the door, flipping the sign to say closed before taking Susarna’s hand. I lead the woman into the small home attached behind the shop and inside.

“Come on.” I said. “Let’s make dinner, I'm starving.”

As we cooked, she continued interrogating me about Ardyn and Somnus, practically begging me to get married.

I sighed as I put the bread into the oven. “Look, I just met them. Even if you want me to marry one of them, they probably wouldn’t agree-”

A knock on the door caused me to pause, I looked out at the setting sun.

“Who could be here at such an ungodly hour?” Susarna said stepping towards the door.

“Mother-” I tried to stop her, but she opened the door anyway.

I stiffen as three men dressed in extravagant robes entered. A man as old as Susarna, MAYBE EVEN OLDER, with a huge purple, pompous looking hat cleared his throat.

“You are yet to pay off the mule you borrowed.” he said to Susarna. “Your interest is ten percent a month, remember?”

Susarna was about to speak but he cut her off.

“You also need to pay rent for your shop-”

“We paid last week!” I snapped.

His eyes flicked in my direction, I tensed slightly as they paused at my chest and legs. “Indeed, you did. But rent has increased.”

“So, we have to pay the remainder of the money?” Susarna asked, fidgeting.

“Precisely.” He addressed the short woman, but his eyes wouldn’t leave me. I felt crawly and uncomfortable in my own skin under his gaze.

“How much?” Susarna asked, noticing how uncomfortable I felt.

“Fourteen hundred Gil.” He smirked at the way Susarna’s face paled.

“We’ll pay next month...” she looked down, “We don’t have the money.”

He made a face. “But you do. Or should I say the woman power?”

Susarna looked up at him. “I don’t understand-”

“Your daughter would fetch a fair price as a whore in the market.” He smirked at me. “Or for my personal use.”

I took a step back, eyes widening.

“No.” Susarna said. “I’ll give you...” Her eyes darted around the lounge before she grabbed an antique vase. “This. It’ll fetch for fifteen hundred Gil in the market.”

He made a sound, motioning to one of his companions to take the vase. “You’re off the hook this time. I want to see what you can pull off next month.” He turned to leave but paused, smiling at me. “It’s her or the house.” And he left.

“Clomoria-” Susarna turned to speak to me, but I ran.

I ran through the back door, to the woods and into the field. I climbed the tree and sat there, trembling, He’s going to find a way... what to do, what to do! Run! That's the best option, get out of the village... But what will he do to mother... the bastard!

I burst into tears in the tree, crying and sniffling like mad. After almost an hour of crying, I felt my eyes drooping shut.

My dreams were always strange, sometimes it wasn’t much but other times...

I smiled. “Ardyn!” I jumped and cheered as the gold band was rested onto his red hair.

I looked to Somnus, he looked angry. As I looked back at Ardyn he smiled at me, slowly his smile turned wicked and black streaks of tears appeared around his eyes and mouth, his beautiful gold eyes framing in black. And my sight shattered.

I looked up at Somnus, pointing an accusing finger at Ardyn as the people began to nod, and Ardyn was put in chains... A woman with blonde hair started yelling at Somnus only for him to stab her with his sword as Ardyn screamed.

I was running, running to free him. Somnus stood in my way.

I looked up at the stars and saw huge people sitting at a table, men and women, and … snake?

“Clo.” Said the man at the table’s head, he held a claymore and had huge wings.

I was suddenly the same height as them all. “Bahamut.” I nodded.

“Ardyn is the one true king.” The people- no the Gods... the Astrals all said, and I nodded, looking to the oracle a small blonde woman.

I was running to Ardyn again before, it was a splintering pain in my back.

I sat up abruptly and slipped, falling from the branch. I didn’t hit the ground; I was caught by strong arms.

“Are you alright?” Ardyn asked.

I hugged him tightly.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Why were you in the tree again?”

I pulled away. “I like sleeping in trees.” I smiled.

His eyes searched for me for a few moments. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I lied.

He sighed. “Well, I'm here nonetheless, what did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing,” I smiled. “I like being around you is all, and I need someone to catch me if I fall from the tree again.”

“You need to stay out of the trees.” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “But if you really have nothing to do...”

“Do you have something in mind?” I asked, my smile turning into a grin.

“Could you...” He looked away blushing, “Be my muse?”

I stared at him for a moment, and hesitantly nodded.

He positioned my head in a certain way, facing the horizon, I could see horses and the farms in the distance. “Beautiful.” He said under his breath, and I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks.

I sat there for a few minutes. “Somnus said you drew me before?”

“I- uh-” He stuttered. “I didn’t have a good look of your face is all... I’d seen your hair and the side profile but-”

I cut him off, “Can I see it?”

He stared at me for a long time before hesitantly flipping the page and showing it to me. I stared at the drawing of me, it was when I was delivering flowers. I felt a heat rushing to my cheeks and I looked at Ardyn, “You drew this?”

He nodded. “I should probably go-” he stood to leave.

I grabbed his arm and pulled him to sit again. “Let’s just talk...” I smiled. “Please?”

He looked down at me and hesitantly he sat back down.

❤️⌖♔⌖❤️⌖♔⌖❤️⌖♔⌖❤️⌖♔⌖❤️⌖♔⌖❤️⌖♔⌖❤️⌖♔⌖❤️

It was no secret Aera was in love with Ardyn. I was his little brother, but I could see it from a mile away. The way she smiled at him and tried to be near him, the way she always cooked for him and made sure he ate it, the way she hugged him when she cried as if only he could fix it.

I had never thought much of the women of our small town, not until I turned twenty though, that was the first time I looked at Aera in a different light. I had an accident involving a horse and she was patching my leg, her touch was so gentle. Every time I grimaced or whimpered she’d apologize...

How can Ardyn not want you? I wondered to myself as she cooked and cleaned around the house and made sure I was all taken care of.

Then on the day she’d confided in me, told me the secret of her heart. Her yearning for my elder brother, I knew I had to make her mine, or I had to make sure he could never have her. I wanted Aera for only a year, until I met her.

Clomoria... I thought on my way back home. The way she’d spoken in the forest, the way she’d intentionally drawn me in, and then let me fall. I thought about her dark hair that billowed down her back in thick curls, her angelic voice, deep and heavy with the accent of the people from the east.

She was shorter than me, her soft cotton robes mapping her petite body, the skirt ending just above her knees. I noticed Ardyn going out early in the day more often than not. At one point I followed him, seeing my elder brother enter a flower shop, I followed, and a rage blistered within me. I could hear the music slightly from where I stood, I clenched my fists as they danced. His hand in hers one on her waist, she was clumsy dancer, but my brother seemed so infatuated with the woman.

I stiffened as she looked up into his eyes, I saw a look on my brother’s face I hadn’t seen ever before, and then I decided what I had to do.

He could have Aera, but Clo, she was mine, every woman I had eyes for he stole, but this woman, this dear woman, this goddess would be mine.

I went to Aera’s home and knocked on the door. “Aera.”

She opened and smiled, “Somnus-”

I pushed her into the house and kicked the door shut behind me before pinning her against the wall, “Listen closely. Ardyn has eyes for what is mine.”

She looked confused, “Wha-”

“I've seen them together. Help me Aera...” I looked into her silver eyes.

She swallowed, “Somnus. What do you mean?”

“Ardyn loves another woman.”

#ffxv #ff15 #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv ardyn #ff15 ardyn #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #episode ardyn #ffxv somnus #ff15 somnus #somnus lucis caelum #ffxv aera #ff15 aera #aera mirus fleuret #original character #original female character

4 notes · View notes

alanshee-keeper-of-realms · 1 year

Text

My name is Alanshee Valera,

I've made mistakes I've made choices but I've changed sometimes not in the best way and honestly I feel misjudged right now,

I'm seeing a therapist and she answered a lot and there is going to be a astronomical amount of baggage needing to be unpacked with me, if you see me elsewhere leave me alone please during this time because your baggage may be amongst that.

This is why when things come back up, I don't know how to handle it emotionally this is me saying I am sorry, but I don't feel emotion and that has caused hurt sprinkling I don't know how to communicate properly and you got yourself a shitstorm

From birth I have had a stressful household and if you look at modern sciences on how bad that is for somebody, even in the womb affected by the cortisol levels of the mother, I learned at a young age to detach myself emotionally and this leads to problems my therapist is currently working on me to reattach emotions and reorganize my memories and emotions of each of these memories so I can actually feel them,

This is what led into the fight over these last couple of days, me genuinely not understanding why nobody was getting where I was coming from and utter confusion over the reaction of others.

If you don't know me personally, and they can lie about this if they want, but my truth is, I can't remember what I did two years ago. I'm like an amnesiac patient. How can one get better when they can't even remember what they did?

All I can remember is that Monday and the emotions of hurt pain and agony, especially when I look at the art and photos, each of them that I love and still do because somebody drew them of my beloved creations,

And at the time it was out of appreciation for my own creations, at least that's what I thought.

That same creator has now done what they have done and just added more baggage on top that I will now have to sort out with my therapist as I don't know how to make this situation out and I guess that's why I don't know when to stop,

I don't know that I can choose I don't know how to be human because from my young age I learned to again disconnect myself emotionally from any stressful situation and I'm not talking five six years old I'm talking one to two years old, all of my life

I've been like this so for now this page is abandoned I do know one emotion I am feeling right now and that is fear that is genuine fear because of Diioodles post I think they were looking for me to cry no I'm just afraid for my family my little sister my mother my father who did not ask to be dragged into this,

Even if you think that you didn't people are cruel and they've been dragged in before so yeah I feel genuine fear because I've seen what people of this fandom do to people they don't like, call me a pro shipper when I am a neutral and I will stand by the fact

Labels are stupid and lead to more fights Democrat Republican, anti-pro shipper what is the difference? All I see are two groups fighting. So why are we forcibly labeling people I didn't understand that at time I will admit,

When they said don't call us that, I immediately apologized again, the emotional aspect of disconnection. I don't think of the factor of the fights. All I know is that they were seemingly open to listening to darker subjects,

they need to look at themselves and realize that with me they had no boundaries and that led to both of us ending up hurt, because I was blindly fumbling around not knowing where their boundaries were and they didn't know where their boundaries were

For all of them,

All I knew at my core is I need to defend myself immediately because I have people attacking me that maybe she can't change because nobody took the time to realize that there's something blocking that change, like I said I'm in therapy now have been for a couple weeks we are still in the very very early stages,

It's just today that my therapist realized that we need to work on not only me recognizing my emotions but also digging into my traumas and trying to correct them put them where they need to be and help me actually carefully connect to them because my brain has them disconnected.

I'm sorry for the pain I caused but I would like acknowledgment in the future of the pain you have caused Diisdoodles like I said both of us hurt each other especially now that you have me afraid for the safety of my family, one thing I actually constantly care for because if anything happens to them I'm done.

And I'm sorry if this doesn't come across right again, communication problem this is just how fucked up I am, I don't know how to communicate how I'm feeling what are the core aspects of being Human, I only know the pain the hurt and the agony I feel

Whether or not you genuinely believe me this is my truth

4 notes · View notes

faroreswinds · 2 years

Note

Hello again. I spent a good deal of time trying to write down a translation of that account’s deleted blog post, but then I realized it would take to long to do properly (and because I was trying to properly show it in English). I hope you forgive me for showing instead a shortened version (and this is still quite long, so I apologize again):

Pros: graphics are greatly improved and the cutscenes look beautiful. The gameplay is very entertaining and the level of difficulty is challenging in a good way. There is a lot to do around the base camp, and its changing locations add to the excitement. It’s good to have characters like Rodrigue and Jeritza as playable cast members (especially Rodrigue, he enjoys high popularity in Japan). Byleth speaking out loud and having supports with Jeralt is pleasant and highly prized. It’s good to see the rest of the cast show up in cutscenes and cgs to show their own parts in the story.

Unfortunately this is where the pros end…

The reviewer has maintained a blog to criticize the mistakes and issues in the fodolan series since launch but did so out of love. The reviewer’s stance is that Musou storyline totally butchers the spirit and integrity of Houses

Self-described as a lore purist who at least enjoyed being able to ”fill in the blanks” for everything left unsaid in Houses. Musou introduces a lot of information that is contradictory to established canon such as House Bergliez with its crest of cichol, Kronya’s attitude being the first sign of something wrong instead of that being Monica’s true personality. Monica herself is controversial, she’s seen as good yuri fanservice and a loyal vassal but others dislike how she is now part of ”the Emperor’s loyal court” (Hubert, Dorothea, now Monica follow Edelgard to praise her constantly).

Arval as the antithesis to Sothis went nowhere, was ultimately not considered of much interest by the fans.

Sothis having her memories but no interactions with her children and Rhea angered many people. The reviewer notes they also made her sound crueler and haughtier in English

Shez is a fun and likeable character, though fans ultimately care more about the established cast.

Eyebrows were raised over why pertinent lore the game wants players to consider canon is now suddenly in a Musou spin off instead of the main game. Suspicions were raised over Kusakihara and Iwata as the main scenario planners (this is the term general used for those in charge of the story scripts): is this the story they originally meant to tell, but couldn’t because of the rush to finish the deadline [in 2019]?

Further suspicions over the Nintendo Life/Famitsu interviews confirming the canonicity of both, which is unheard of for any Musou spinoff. Musou is meant first and foremost as a purely fanservice vehicle, and it’s how people buy those games at all

“In fact, the game seems to struggle with wanting to take itself seriously, and also tell players to enjoy the fanservice, while winking at the camera”

More suspicions, now towards Westerners. The reviewer notes the large size of the English speaking fandom…as well as the strange changes made for the international releases of previous FE titles (censored cg art and dialogue in Awakening, censored dialogue in Fates plus the LGBT controversy). There are concerns that the development team took to heart too many complaints over previous games’ characters, writing, settings, scenarios.

Reviewer casts aspersions over English fandom as vulgar yet strangely puritanical, constantly given to fighting, not tagging properly, the frequent interactions between fans and seiyuu so casually on social media, and generally being an unpleasant space to be in

Reviewer embedded several tweets from a few prominent English speaker FE fans showing…bad behavior basically.

The reviewer then compared them to other events like an asian fanartist who drew a Disney’s Encanto fanart being run off twitter because of perceived issues in skin coloration. They also pointed to reddit and 4chan as further evidence of bad behavior and made an explicit comparison to calling it “otaku behavior” and hoping they’re wrong about their feedback suspicions

The reviewer is pessimistic however as they explain about complaints that Fates got a Golden Route while Houses did not, and that it seems prominent in foreign fandom as a desire

“We as players understood that taking the hand of Emperor, clad in red, and wearing horns, whose own tragedy was working with the shadows while lying to Byleth (Jpn writes them together as Beretoresu since they actually share a name overseas), and as shown in the Safflower route’s ending illustration as the dark route, was meant mostly as a pleasant delusion (the term used for headcanon) and a particular fanservice. There seems to be no such distinction for foreigners.”

The review is then divided into critiquing each lord in Musou:

Edelgard’s tragic side is stripped to make her into a full-blooded Red Emperor character. This comes across as unpleasant since the reviewer feels like the scenario team is trying to trick the players with fanservice (her outfit is very youthful and cute) when it does not mesh well with her blatant agenda of conquest. In Houses at least players understood her goals as contradicting her image when she was dressed more like an adult, and had Amyr, with its menacing looks and movements. There is a great deal of confusion over why she wants to keep Rhea alive this time, yet still greatly hates the church. Her ending was nonsensical and unsatisfying and there was no reason for the Hegemon form to make an appearance

Claude. Goodness. The reviewer is incensed. Claude’s curiosity, wanting more knowledge, to learn the truth behind things, they’re gone here. His attitude towards the Kingdom comes across as condescending. He is called a hypocrite more than once. Though showing him having doubts, and expressing fears over his vulnerabilities is good, that’s negated when his actions only invite more disaster, and his worries look more like self-pity when he’s unhappy one moment, and then coldly executing another assault against the Kingdom the next. The Sreng invasion is particularly used to lambast him. There is no reason why his mistrust suddenly allows him to swallow Edelgard lying to his face or why he is suddenly so against the Church

Shahid is wasted when Claude is then shoved back into Fodla’s war. The reviewer snidely recommended watching The Lion King for better family conflicts over a throne.

Rhea is considered a lord in that she represents another faction, the Church. Rhea is quite popular in Japan and her treatment in the game is seen as insulting. Her motherly concern for Cyril’s safety is touching, but does not negate the strangeness of sacrificing herself for Edelgard against Thales, or (worse) Claude killing her. The reviewer brings up the apparent fact of the English voice director’s dislike of Rhea and his instructions for her English seiyuu to sound more harsh, violent, not as serene or dignified as in Japanese (circling back to concerns over Western involvement)

Dimitri, written surprisingly well. His arc is of a noble young king coming into his own, his friends are just as brave and amazing next to him. Unfortunately his route starts to falter in the middle, since it does not know how to strike a balance between suddenly knowing about Those Whoe Slither in the Dark and the Empire invading when both are now separately working. The powerful pathos of fighting against the girl who was once his family (and betrayed him) is gone, so it just seems like Marth fighting Hardin again. His redemption in Houses was one of the most popular things about him, and that is also gone too in Hopes…so taking both previous things into account makes Edelgard as part of his final fight seem very forced. “This is a king who is resigned to being a king, who will sadly be glad to kill his phantom, and say that his happiest moment will be on his deathbead, instead of living for his people.” Him not reaching a hand out to a helpless Edelgard is seen as cold.

Here is Byleth’s section. It is the bleakest part of the review so far and honestly made me feel really bad:

”The box art shows Byleth quite prominently, which is laughable considering her (reviewer played as Beresu for two routes and Bereto in one) almost non-existence in the story itself. The so-called rivalry pushed in [commercials and promotional work] was nothing more than an audacious lie designed to part us from nearly ¥6000 (reviewer purchased the LE box).”

The reviewer goes on to note Byleth’s high popularity and how it contradicts the magazine interviews acknowledging this. ”Is this how a [fan-favorite] is treated in other spinoffs? I can’t imagine this happening to characters like [Persona Five’s] Joker without angering fans.”

Byleth is seen as uniquely a target of particular scorn from Iwata considering their position in the game: recruiting them can be difficult and easily missed, and so means seeing Jeralt die painfully again, and absurd yet heart-wrenching retaliatory deaths of other characters. Rodrigue’s death is seen as particularly punishing, especially with dialogue from Felix and Dimitri then calling Byleth a monster and their enemy. Their death is anticlimatic yet also painful, and this level of death also unheard of for what is supposed to be a fanservice genre of games, nevermind for the former main character! In supports Jeralt laughs at the idea of Byleth becoming a teacher and calls them unqualified and Leonie still hates them.

Even when recruited, they play no further level of involvement in the story, nor do they show up in the fight against Arval that their recruitment unlocks, nor does that change the unsatisfactory route endings in any way.

The reviewer cites more suspicions and points to how Byleth is popular in Japan, but their research across English social media shows a lot of hatred for Byleth. ”Perhaps an English speaking fan wrote this game.”

”For fans of a teacher who grew close with their students, and formed bonds of cherished warmth with them in Houses, comes across as a slap in the face to see them being strangers [among the rest of the cast]”

This also carries on to other routes. If recruited for Edelgard the emperor says she feels drawn to them but nothing comes of it, but if not recruited then it means Claude recruits them and says he wants them to work together even after the war ends, but this results in both dying in Ailel. If recruited for Claude he also says he feels drawn to them but nothing else comes from it.

The dimitri one is particularly bad. I would like to stress that Dimileth is the most popular ship of Houses and in a popularity poll, Dimiresu scored first place, Dimireto second, with both varieties far outstripping any other ship (no Edelgard ship showed up in the top ten). Dimileth fans are particularly heartbroken

Considering the previous point: it seems like Koei/Iwata want to punish the players for liking Houses and Byleth, and to declare Musou, the new canon. In Musou, though the war continues, no one really dies (except maybe Claude and Rhea and Byleth and one of the other three that Byleth can kill). Nothing really terrible happens like Jeralt dying, the monastery being invaded, Rodrigue dying, Those Who Slither In the Dark are defeated. In contrast, many tragic things happen in Houses permanently for each route.

Considering the previous two points, this is especially heartbreaking for fans of Azure Moon: playing Azure Gleam means Byleth never becomes a teacher, and Dimitri keeps his eye, the whole truth of the Tragedy of Dusca is uncovered, Those Who Slither in the Dark are defeated, Dedue is never separated from Dimitri, Rodrigue and Jeralt stay alive, and so does Claude, Edelgard, and Rhea

Many Dimileth fans say their enjoyment of the ship and Houses is destroyed because they can no longer consciously think of submitting Dimitri, Dedue, Faerghus and the rest of the continent (!) to the sad events of Azure Moon when Azure Gleam clearly shows better fates for them all

A large-scale figure of Byleth is planned for release in July and is quite expensive. The reviewer calls it a poor yet expensive consolation for what is seen as the development team spitting in the fans’ eye

The reviewer concluded their blog post by saying that their enjoyment in Houses is shattered. They don’t know who to blame, either Koei or Intelligent Systems, but they know they are working on the next mainline title together, so it likely means they will stop playing Fire Emblem (they apparently started since the first games) if it means not giving KT-Intsys their money

I am sorry that this is so long. And I am sorry that this is such a negative thing to plant in your inbox. I just wanted to show information and the perspective of Japanese fans to others, since many outside of Japan don’t know what opinions are shared in those circles.

Thanks anon, and thank you for sharing other links as well (which I will keep private for their privacy).

This must have taken a lot of time, and your hard work is appreciated.

I really like these insights into other language speaking fandoms. I'm posting this for others to read as well.

<3 You are wonderful, anon, no need to apologize.

I’m going to make a post to regard these points more thoroughly. I just don’t have the time at this moment. Please forgive me if my response is inadequate to the work you put in at this time.

#Three Hopes #anon asks

14 notes · View notes

n0tamused · 2 years

Note

Any confession headcanons for Tobirama? 🤧

A/n: Hello! I apologize for the long wait, I've been busy with work and studies but now I'm back to get some of these done. Hope you like them!

Warnings: none,

Confessions Headcanons

Tobirama would have a harder time acknowledging his feelings and coming to terms with them, even if you were someone he was very close with and if you were someone he had loads of trust in

That being said, his confession may take a very long time.

To his brother, his subtle changes in behavior around you, and the way he addresses you are a dead give away that you make his little brother feel a certain way

He just knows, with the almost bashed manner in which Tobirama sides with you that those feelings are positive.

Hashirama would feel obligated to give Tobirama and you a nudge, a push really, but the second Tobirama caught wind of that idea, he shut it down. This was his private affairs, he would deal with them himself.

Gradually, the time that takes Tobirama to accept his feelings turn into a period of mutual, at times oblivious, pining.

Then, he'd finally start planing on how to confess

It wouldn't be anything grandiose or that fancy, he just isn't a guy for it but he'd still like for it to have some meaning to add to the weigh of his words

It has been eating his inside out for the past few months, if not even years - he can't just blurt it all out no matter how he may come off as

So, he takes the chance to confess at your usual spot on a free weekend he has. A beautiful creek with a lush, giant of a tree watching over it. That was the place the two of you usually went to wind down together, to meditate or simply bask in each other's presence.

Tobirama remembers this spot all too well from his youth. Many memories surrounded that particular tree, with its branches hanging so low one might mistake the tree for an oversized willow. The tree had seen much tragedies over the years, including the ones from his youth but nonetheless the tree seemed to draw him in all the time. It brought him peace.

It drew him to meet you.

When he goes to confess, it's the first time he stumbles over his words, the first time warmer hues dust his cheeks, the first time Tobirama feels the anxious feeling of butterflies in his stomach - even if he tells himself he's perfectly calm, he is not.

You can feel he's nervous and trying to hide it

But he doesn't let you interrupt him, please don't, just let him get the words out

Finally, as he draws his conclusion, confession, to an end, he notices how your eyes twinkle with mirth and how your fingers flinch with withdrawn energy. Your chakra felt almost overwhelmingly excited and happy

He's almost confused, awe struck, shell-shocked - you name it

And when you take his hand in yours, he can finally feel the butterflies in his stomach explode into nothing and be replaced by a feeling of pure serenity. His peace of mind finally returned to him, and silently he vowed to make both of your lives better, as best his ability can allow.

#tobirama x reader #naruto #tobirama senju #tobirama #naruto shippuden #tobirama senju fluff #tobirama senju imagine #tobirama headcanons #naruto x reader #-n0tamused.headcanons #-n0tamused.writes #Naruto x reader #Naruto headcanons #Naruto imagines #finally writing for my mans again #thanks for the request!

291 notes · View notes

moonctzeny · 3 years

Text

get to you again

pairing: friends to lovers! hendery x fem!reader

genre: smut, just a tiny teeny bit angsty I guess but with a happy ending, fluff

word count: 3k

warnings: raw sex, creampie, a little corruption kink?

summary: “You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?”

inspiration: get to you again - mac ayres

tagging the lovely: @markresonates

It had been too long since you last saw Hendery.

You two had met so unexpectedly, both trapped in a small coffee shop a couple years ago, drenched to the bone and trying to find cover from the sudden rainfall.

“I was going to ask you if you were willing to share your umbrella, but I’m guessing you forgot it on the wrong day like me”, he joked, so you decided to share a table instead. After the fourth time he had you clench your stomach in laughter, out of the sheer willingness to make a stranger like you cheer up, you decided to exchange phone numbers, thus starting what would become a beautiful friendship.

It wasn’t easy being an idol. Two promotions in Korea, then a reality show in China, then another comeback. You counted the days, one by one until he’d get to you again. Until you’d finally re-watch his favorite movie with him for the millionth time, just to get to watch him laugh over the same stupid lines.

You weren’t sure when you realized you had fallen for him. Maybe it was last winter, almost exactly a year ago when he handed you your Christmas present. He had driven you on a hill on the outskirts of Seoul, the only place he knew with some privacy from prying eyes, and the breathtaking view of the tiny city lights made the freezing cold worth it. You were both sitting against the hood of his car, admiring the big city that seemed to unravel at your feet when you opened the small velvet box.

It revealed a silver necklace of two wings hanging from a dainty chain, with his initials carved on the back of the charm. As you stared at it long enough to make sure you weren’t making things up, you couldn’t decide which one was more beautiful- the pendant or the stars in Hendery’s eyes as he waited for your reaction.

“It’s symbolic”, he started explaining, a little embarrassed with how much effort he had put into the gift, “I know I’m not around a lot to take care of you, but just know that I’m always there if you need me. Like your guardian angel”.

He sounded so wholesome while saying it, long bangs covering his eyes that bashfully avoided yours. You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

Tonight, it was beating as fast as the rhythm of the blinking Christmas lights decorating your living room. How could it not, with Hendery sitting only a few inches away, sharing a blanket with you? He was a few minutes late due to a last-minute photoshoot, but he arrived at your door bare faced and dressed in his favourite flannel shirt. He was just how you liked him, raw and soft and beautiful.

Unlike what you had predicted, he suggested checking out a new romantic comedy on Netflix. It was one of those that come out every Christmas season, all with the same low budget and cheesy acting that ended with some festive spirit that magically solves every plot hole. Two childhood friends, falling in love with each other, yet the girl thinks that the guy is way out of her league so she does nothing about it. The pure irony convinced you that the universe must be surely playing some sick joke on you, forcing you to look at a Hollywood version of yourself getting a happy ending for the next two hours.

“I don’t understand”, Hendery huffs in frustration, midway into the film by now, “why doesn’t the girl just tell him she likes him? What guy doesn’t want to hear that?”

“Maybe she’s scared of the rejection, or ruining everything-“ you start defending the character with a raised voice, realizing that maybe you’re invested in the movie a little too much, “sometimes there is this line between two people, and it’s comfortable to stay behind it because you don’t want to lose them in case something goes wrong”. You draw an invisible line with your index finger between your bodies, and Hendery focuses his stare on it as if it was real. He looks lost in his thoughts, still frozen in place before shaking his head and murmuring: “I guess you’re right”.

Your comment, his response, the sex scene playing on the screen. It all made you so painfully alert with his presence that your whole body tensed up and your mouth dried up like it was filled with cotton. You both chuckle in the midst of all the steaminess, as the actor fails to drag his former best friend at the edge of the bed by tagging on her ankle.

“What a loser”, Hendery scoffs mockingly at the character’s mistake, and you turn around to give him a side eyed glare.

“Relax, muscle man. Like you would do it better”

He mocks offense by opening his mouth dramatically, and you giggle at the distortion of his face that still somehow managed to look pretty. It was so cute, how he always wanted to look ‘strong’ in the eyes of others, reliable and macho. You didn’t care about any of that, you thought his resolutions were stupid. He was perfect in your eyes.

“Of course I would! I’m strong, look-“

The disaster played out in front of you like a filmstrip. His hands on your ankle, then his own ankle tripping over the blanket on the floor, and finally the feeling of his chest weighing down over your own. With him pressed so close against you, you were sure he must feel the way your heart is thumping, filled with so many emotions that it’s ready to jump out of your body.

The room was cold, but with Hendery’s sudden body heat coating you, you felt like you were on fire. The fleeting thought of you taking off your clothes, to relieve yourself of the suffocating feeling made your cheeks burn even more. Hendery’s neck was exposed just inches in front of you in it’s full glory, and you thought about where those veins on the side of it, visible through his pale skin, ended. You’d gladly kiss along the path they drew, let your teeth leave little violet blossoms on the way, while you’d make mental notes of what kisses made him react the loudest.

It’s his bangs tickling your temples that made you realize that he is still on top of you. You look up into his eyes, expecting a frantic look, maybe a string of apologies leaving his mouth. He was strangely serene, staring at your own lips instead, and for a second you thought he’d finally mercy you and give you what you daydream about every time he comes around. You’d kill for the sight of him with puffy red lips and blown out pupils, messy just for you. You’d kill for the feeling of his tongue against your own.

When he plants a kiss on your right cheek, right over the corner of your mouth, you think it tastes bittersweet. You were still high on the intimacy when he finally apologizes and rips his body away from yours, your crash back down to reality brutal. The movie was still playing on a high volume, yet all you heard was a deafening silence after his trip. You don’t object when he tells you he has to go before you get to see what happens to the couple behind the screen. They were eating you away, all the things you wanted to say to him as you sent him off, so much more than just a ‘drive safe, text me when you get home’.

Those thirty minutes after you close your front door felt like a lifetime. You replayed the accident over and over again in your head, the skin burning where he kissed you. The thoughts of calling him, telling him to turn around and finish what he started, were so loud that you felt like a crazy person.

You certainly thought you went insane when you heard a knock against your door. Peeking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see that, as if you’d unlocked the secret of manifestation, Hendery was standing once again in your hallway.

“Guanheng? Did you forget anything?”

He looked restless and fidgety as he walked back inside your apartment, like he couldn’t wait to let out whatever was on the tip of his tongue. His shoulders were coated in a light layer of snow that had managed to flush his face, and dampen his hair and eyelashes as well.

“No- well- yes, I-“. He stopped himself mid sentence and sighed, and you let him collect his thoughts. He looked serious, the expression foreign on his usually bright features, yet the way he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration made butterflies fly in your stomach. “What did you say about that line between two friends again? When we were watching the movie?”

You blinked back at him in confusion, waiting for him to tell you that he’s joking, he just forgot his charger, and he’ll see you again when his company allows him to. But he doesn’t, so you start to roll the pendant he gifted you between your thumb and index, trying to calm yourself down.

“It keeps two people that are meant to be together apart, but there is too much at stake to cross it”.

You start drawing that invisible line again, the one that separates the miserable comfort of denying your feelings for him and everything you wish you were brave enough to pursue.

He would be brave for the both of you.

Hendery grabs your lifted hand, bringing it on the side of his neck before he crashes his lips against yours. You don’t hesitate in kissing him back, hungry for his lips that taste as sweet as you imagined them to. He hasn’t realized how impossibly close to his body he has brought you, not until his embrace gets so tight that your necklace pokes uncomfortably against his chest.

You suck on his bottom lip and he welcomes you with his tongue, the kiss getting so heated now that you can’t help but tug on his hair to keep you grounded. Shivering from your action, his hands are now sliding from your hips to your waist, following the curves of your body until he reaches the underside of your breasts. You mewl against his lips as his thumbs dig into their softness, discreetly trying to cop a feel through your cotton shirt.

A moan leaves your mouth, lewd and desperate as he swallows it with a kiss, and he rips himself off of you when it seems to reach his stomach. He looks disheveled, as if he woke up from an intense, lucid dream; panting, sweating, staring at you with those big puppy eyes.

“We- we shouldn’t. We are going too fast, right?” You nod in agreement at his question but you’re not really listening. You had your fingertips placed on his moving lips, and he identifies the metallic smell as the remnants of you fidgeting with your jewelry earlier. “I should take you to dinner first, to that one place you like so much”. Losing interest in what he is saying, the words being too distant and grey when he stood so deliciously in front of you, you mindlessly start to unbutton his shirt, fascinated with that mole over his collarbone and wanting to see more.

The fire your fingers spread against his skin, in the midst of the chilliness of your living room has him groaning under his breath, with a voice as low and sexy as in his good morning calls. You can practically see him throw all his inhibitions out the window when he kisses you again, pushing you with his body until your back finds the nearest wall. Hendery’s hands are far from gentle now, leaving bruises behind all the soft spots he kneads with his fingers.

“I want you”, you confess with a whisper as you rid him off his flannel for good, and you can’t stop yourself from tracing all the lines of his toned abdomen. You can feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest, its fast rhythm matching yours. You grab his hand to lead him to the carpet next to the Christmas tree that is blinking along with the lights that adorn it- you’re too impatient in your arousal to take him to your bedroom and he doesn’t protest.

Hendery lays you on your back, finding his place between your legs as you wrap them around his waist to bring him closer. You remove your hoodie and the sports bra you had on, his lips immediately latching onto one of your nipples. He circles his tongue around the bud, licking and sucking on it interchangeably until you’re a begging mess underneath him.

Tugging on the elastic band of his sweats, you urge him to get naked for you completely, and he removes the extra garments with a strong pull. His sex bouces out of its cotton constraint, red and throbbing and aching for you. It makes the heat that’s pooling on your lower stomach spread even further, and you wiggle your hips to remove your sweatpants as well.

There’s something about the frilly pink panties you’re wearing- the innocent design on your shapely body that ignites a carnal instinct in him. He wants to ruin you, mark you, make you his. The sound of fabric getting ripped has your eyes bulge out in shock. You’ve never seen Hendery so determined.

He falls on top of you again, leaving urgent kisses on your jawline as he rubs his hard member against your heat. It’s driving you insane, how he’s so close to where you want him but not quite there yet, and you tug his hair again to make him look at you.

“I wanna feel you raw”

And raw was how he’d give it to you. You feel his warm hand over your stomach, keeping you in place as he aligns himself with your entrance, and the pressure his tip’s already feeling has him cursing out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this”

He dips himself slowly into your pussy, careful not to stretch you uncomfortably much. His worried eyes are glued to your wide ones, reading your expressions to ensure they’re those of pleasure. And indeed they are, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bottoms out fully, a symphony of both your moans filling the room.

He starts out with a steady rhythm, your pussy adjusting to his size with every calculated thrust. You’re getting drunk with the intimacy, with his smell that sticks to your skin and the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear. You feel addicted to it already, to the feeling of having him be a part of you, and as his growing desperation has him picking up his pace, yours makes you wish you could live in that moment forever.

“I don’t think I’ll last much longer”

”Neither do I”

He can tell how close you are, your heaving chest and guttural sounds giving you away. His cold fingers find your clit then, rubbing your sensitivity in messy circles and pumping more blood to the area.

“Yes, baby. Let go for me”

Little stars of various colors dance around in your vision, framing the sight of Hendery fucking into you so beautifully. You enjoy the hypersensitivity that the continuing motion of his hips gives you, locking your legs around his waist as his thrusts turn sloppy.

“Come inside me”

Just those simple words, slipping out of your pretty mouth are enough to send him over the edge, grunting as he paints your walls in ropes of white. You feel him twitching inside you for a good while, your belly bulging in fullness. It drips out of you slowly when he finally gets off of you, his hands spreading your thighs apart so that he can admire his creation.

He chuckles in disbelief of what you two just did, removing a piece of fake snow that somehow landed on your hair. You can only admire the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, all the little curves and shadows on his neck, his smile that gives you tunnel vision.

“All this time…”, he whispers softly, “you liked me too?”

You silently winced at the naiveness of his words, knowing damn well your feelings ran way deeper than a simple attraction. Nodding affirmatively, you avoid looking at his eyes by pretending to play with his fingers. You can’t let him see the way they have glossed up, yet the numbing feeling of disappointment is getting hard to ignore.

He doesn’t let you distance yourself from him further, lifting your chin up so you can make eye contact with him again. To your surprise, he looks way more nervous than you, subconsciously nibbling on his lower lip. He takes a deep breath, mustering up some courage before verbally letting his thoughts out of his chest.

“What if I told you I am in love with you?”

You were shocked at the confession, so much so that this reality seemed like a figment of your subconscious mind. You expected to wake up at any moment, to find yourself asleep on your couch, two feet away from him and still stuck in the sucky friendzone. But that moment never came, no matter how long you held your breath to trigger your awakening, and you let it go with a sigh and a blurb of your own thoughts.

“I’d ask you to be mine”

#hendery #wayv #neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #hendery smut #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv scenarios #hendery scenarios #hendery imagines #hendery fanfic #wayv fanfic #hendery fluff #hendery angst #wayv hendery #hendery x reader #wong kunhang #huang guanheng

881 notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Broken Trust, pt.4

Part one // Part two // Part three

Summary: Time passes, but certain things don’t change. In light of their emotions, both make a choice that will inevitably lead them to one another - for better or worse.

Warnings: angst (my apologies), fluff sprinkled on top

a/n - It’s likely the last one before the finale, so settle in and get some tissues.

========================

Y/N swore she’ll never be so stupid, so naïve, so helpless ever again when she left the orphanage. She swore she’d be stronger, for herself and Mal, yet she found herself in the very same position.

Mal returned to her side, alive unlike what she believed. In a way, Aleksander couldn’t take away the one person she had left and a small part of her loved him more because of it. Mal wrapped his arms around her, aware nothing he says would do them any good as she began to cry. She didn’t want to, she didn’t want anyone to see her weakness for the man she’s supposed to hate. She couldn’t help it, though. She felt utterly alone and helpless. She felt like her mind and heart are breaking into two – one meant to love Aleksander and the other meant for hate.

Her screams echoed long into the night, filled with raging despair and the sorrowful betrayal she had been a victim of. After all, it’s those we love who hurt us most and she didn’t break quietly. It felt like every atom of her being screamed in unison, traumatized by all the things she kept inside since she was a child. She thought she was safe with Aleksander, that she could entrust her heart and soul to him. And she could, but she’d have to sacrifice who she is in return and she caught herself wishing she could. Y/N wished she could shed that part of herself that saw the world as black and white, to see it in the same shade of grey Aleksander did, but she couldn’t.

When the wracking sobs passed, she cried in such a desolate way that Mal couldn’t bear to listen for long.

“We need to go”, Mal whispered, looking around anxiously. They’ve stayed for too long, her cries have been too loud. He could feel it in his bones, if they didn’t leave, something sinister would happen. “Please, Y/N.”

Mal attempts to help her up, but she sinks to her knees. Her entire body is trembling, inconsolable. Y/N found herself robbed of her ability to love and trust, not only others but herself for her heart had lied to her mind who trusted the muscle blindly. It’s much more painful than a simple betrayal – she would have taken a dagger to the heart much kinder than what he had done to her.

And she hated him with burning passion for leaving now. If he persisted, she wasn’t certain if she’d be capable of resisting him much longer. But he left. He told her he loves her, her told her he would be kind to her and then he left her for trying to save his soul.

“If we do not leave now, we will be killed!” Mal raises his voice and she flinches, snapping out of her thoughts. She stands, her tears glistening in the faint light of the moonlight above them. Nodding, she walks with Mal, refusing to wipe the tears away.

She might not be like Aleksander, she might not share his darkness, but she is too proud to surrender, too proud to bend, too proud to lose. If he wants to make war instead of love, she’ll give it to him.

“How do I look?” Y/N raised her eyebrows, hands on her hips as she twirled.

Her cheeky smile acted like a wrecking ball for the wall the Darkling erected long ago, meant to keep the light out. He cultivated his darkness, convinced it would give him all his heart desires, yet the sight of Y/N struggling to stand with his kefta engulfing her the same his arms would if they embraced, it had rendered him speechless.

Y/N’s smile falters in the silence, her eyebrows furrowing as a frown crinkles her forehead. “Should I not have done this?”

The disappointment in her voice forced Aleksander to act, shaking his head while sending her a disarming smile.

"No, it's fine. I just didn't expect you to wear my clothes."

On any given day, she’d be blushing at the sight of his smile. His smile had healing properties as far she was concerned, but today wasn’t an ordinary day and her nerves made her particularly sensitive. Pursing her lips, she attempts to fold her arms with the extra fabric making it much harder, while casting her gaze to the ground. “You don’t like it.”

Raising his eyebrows, his smile grows. He comes closer, placing his index finger under her chin to tilt her head, properly meeting her gaze. "On the contrary", he speaks slowly and clearly, "I find you irresistible."

If she didn’t know any better, Y/N would have guessed he was the Sun Summoner with the way his glowing smile set her alight.

Licking her lips drew his attention, his eyes flickering down momentarily. It seemed like such an innocent moment, but it was enough to make her hands shake in anticipation.

Sighing, Y/N forces her eyes open. While she kept Aleksander out of her mind during the day, the nights favored his memory. It had been an almost that came to her dream, their almost first kiss when she had been in Little palace for a full month – she remembers because he made the dinner all about her presence.

No matter how hard she tried to let it go – to let him go, she always found herself clutching her chest in the morning. She wondered if she ever crossed his mind, almost a year since they’ve parted. Does his heart ache the same? Is that why she had hardly heard anything of him?

Her mind conjured up the worst, most painful explanations in the lonely nights. She wondered if he ever truly loved her and if he had, where had the love gone?

Can a person just stop loving someone? Did Aleksander Morozova finally stop loving her?

She wanted to stop loving him, but she couldn’t. She found herself making up excuses in his place to cover up the mistakes he’s made. In this distance that was freezing her soul and collapsing her heart, Y/N’s sole wish was to meet with her darling Darkling again. But she couldn’t travel to Little palace with the knowledge that he likely didn’t want her there or that he’d still further his plans despite her wishes. She’d have been by his side if he truly wanted her with him.

If he loved her enough, he wouldn’t have deceived her.

If he loved her enough, he would have helped her destroy the fold.

If he loved her enough, he would be here to reassure her instead of letting her question everything.

“I can do this”, she whispered under her breath, reassuring herself. She spent so many months trying to conjure up enough light and maintain enough control for it to seem Aleksander wasn’t wrong about her.

She wanted to make him proud, to draw him in with her light ever since he named her Sunshine. It’s silly, but the endearing name passing his lips made her insides quiver and she was prepared to do anything to hear it again. After all, if she does spectacularly well during an evening where she’s the main attraction, she was certain he’d see her as the only woman in the world.

Yet, as she makes her first few steps into the room, Y/N realizes she was wrong. She hasn’t done anything yet, but his eyes are chained to her regardless. The way he’s looking at her now makes her feel as if she is the only woman in the world that matters.

She saw his chest rise as he drew breath, then he was coming toward her, moving with his usual predatory grace and the intimidating flare. She wasn’t sure which she found more unnerving the intimidating Darkling or the graceful General.

"We are matching", she presses her lips to suppress an excited smile creeping up on her. She didn't expect his kefta to match hers despite his request to wear it. For Y/N, it felt strangely intimate, but she welcomed intimacy as long as it was with him.

“You look stunning”, he breathes out, a handsome smile appearing on his lips as he holds out his hand for her to take.

She doesn’t hesitate, awestruck by the twinkle in his dark eyes.

“They tell me you refused the gloves”, he raises his eyebrows.

Lifting her shin up, she smirks, “Have faith in me.”

Leaning in, Aleksander’s nose brushes her earlobe, “I never said I don’t.”

Helping her up on the stage, Aleksander stepped before her. She could hardly focus on his words, staring at his broad shoulders as they entirely shielded her from curious glances. He eclipsed her long enough for nerves to subside and she was grateful.

“You still think you’re ready?” Mal settles beside her, lips pressed as he looks at her disheveled state.

Clearing her throat, she nods, “I’ve never been stronger.”

“I know, but if you need more time –“, Mal begins, but Y/N’s irritated glare shut him up.

“We head to the fold today.” Taking a sip of her water, Y/N stands, intent on going into the woods.

“You love him”, Mal’s words stop Y/N in her tracks. “I know you do. It’s why you suffer so much in his absence.“

Swallowing thickly, she exhales through her nose to stop herself from saying anything she might regret. There’s a reason she refused to speak about Aleksander with Mal, with anyone if she could help it. Other than occasionally asking around if he’s been seen, Y/N had kept him out of her mouth. Mal couldn’t understand her feelings, he never would. She knew it to be true.

Aleksander is still an active heartache she couldn’t heal with time nor practice. Truth be told, she wanted him with her all the time. She wanted him there to cuddle when she’s on the brink of breaking, for him to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and remind her she’s loved. She wanted him there when she bathes to splash water in each other’s faces like children, to hear him gasping for air when he laughs so freely like nothing had ever gone wrong between them.

She is his. Despite the way things started, she was truly his and no amount of denial will ever change that. Unable to form words, Y/N closed her eyes as her face contorted. Her lips pressed together to hold in a sob and her head hurt from all the pressure building up in her attempt to stop herself from falling apart. But she couldn’t. There were no walls left inside her to hold the hurt encased from her mind any longer. She was shattering after nearly a year and a half of being strong – silent as she missed him, as she loved him, as she defended him from herself.

Meanwhile, in Little palace, Aleksander sat in her old room with her blue kefta in hand. He brings it up to his face, inhaling the faded scent in hope of remembering the warmth mere traces of her scent could evoke. He missed the smell of her hair when he buried his face in her neck, the gentle touch of her skin, the sweetness of her lips.

"May I ask for a dance?” He asked her with a half-smile, surprised she seemed reluctant to take his hand after her demonstration. “I won't bite”, he winks, making her roll her eyes and giggle simultaneously.

“I can hardly dance”, she admits, nibbling on her lower lip mercilessly.

Taking her hand with his right hand, he brought her closer with his left hand on her hip. She gasps, caught off guard as she looks at him with amusement.

He raises an eyebrow, suppressing a chuckle as he begins to sway her from side to side.

"When I first saw you, I couldn't get over how breathtakingly beautiful you are.” Aleksander tells her, the softest smile adorning his lips and she wished she could just reach out and touch them to see if they feel just as soft as they look. “I tried to stop you from leaving because I was bewitched by you, but then your light came out and I couldn't believe how lucky I was."

Inhaling sharply, she stared at him with lips parted in uncertainty. “So you’d say you care for me?”

Sighing heavily, Aleksander leaned his forehead on his palms, realizing not much work would be done as her face is all he thinks of, all he sees. The night he walked away, he finally saw what his love had brought her – pain and suffering. He took all she was and picked her soul apart until she was left void of love, of hate, of all emotion. After so many lifetimes, the Saints answered his prayers and sent him a dream encased in a good woman, to love and to care for and he had ruined her.

Loneliness was a punishment too kind for his awful actions.

He thought what would have happened if he had given her the truth before – had he told her what he knew, but also what he kept from her. Maybe she’d understand, maybe she would have stayed. Would their bond grow stronger?

It couldn’t be worse than it is now.

That’s his fault as well.

Pressing his lips together, Aleksander closed his eyes for a moment. “I’d say you’re the light of my life and I never want to see it dim.”

Dipping her, his lips pause at her throat and he could feel the exact moment her breath halted, caught right below his lips. He could feel her quiver, gripping his arm strongly but not out of fear of being dropped, but from a need to be closer.

Bringing her upright, he had no more desire to remain among the people where every action is judged, controversial. He wanted to take her somewhere where he could just be Aleksander, more than the Darkling they branded him as.

“Want to go somewhere more private?” She tilts her head ever so slightly to glance at the grand entry door, waiting for his response. He couldn’t believe how easily she read his mind.

Instead of speaking, he simply pulls her toward the door, feeling as if he had been given a chance to do what he never thought was possible – live. To live and possibly love.

Once they entered his room, closest to them from the reception, Aleksander stopped. He turns to her with a smirk, his hand still holding onto hers. His fingers curl around it gently, encasing it. Slowly, he brings the hand up to his lips, leaving a feather light kiss on her wrist while her cheeks darkened.

Y/N couldn’t ignore the smile upon his lips. Smiles are supposed to be soft and inviting, but his is charming and deadly. She knew he had captured her heart and no matter what she does, he’s rooted deep inside her. He’ll always run through her veins, even if they part.

Problem is, she didn’t mind it. Not at all.

She could feel her lips tingle, parting in need. All she wants is to press her lips against his, close her eyes and take him in. She didn’t care about her previously established beliefs, she’d burn them all down for a single kiss. Barely holding onto who she was before she met her sweet Darkling, Y/N cups his cheek.

His eyes are alight with desire and craving he’s been suppressing for a long time, intoxicating her, captivating her.

Her hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him down and he complies. His forehead rests on Y/N’s, the tip of his nose brushing hers while her fingertips grasp at the short hair at the back of his head. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes closing, so she allows herself the comfort of closing her own while bridging the distance between them.

She presses her lips firmly onto his and the world melts away. His hand clasps gently into the back of her hair, pressing in softly. His lips are softness, passion, the promise of the sweetness to come.

Pulling back for a air, she hears the breathless chuckle accompanying his dashing smile.

“That was a perfect kiss”, she pecks his lips once more and he feels his heart stop. At a loss for words, he blinks a couple of times, seeing her lips curve into a small smile.

“Don’t go shy on me now, Sunshine.”

Aleksander remembered how they made love that night, leisurely, savoring each other’s bodies until their passion mounted. He thought about all the times she had given herself to him willingly and yet it felt like he was the one who gave her small pieces of himself each time. He loved not knowing what to expect with her for she was never the same twice. One time she would be quiet and sensual, the next aggressive and demanding. At other times she would be laughing and teasing. But no matter how she was, he loved loving her. Even the thought of touching her excited him.

She drove him mad, but she also showed him what it means to love someone. She could have killed him at any given moment had it been her true desire, just as he could have done the same to her and yet he couldn’t. Even thinking about someone hurting her upsets him.

Y/N could have stayed or killed him, he’d be fine with either way. At least then he wouldn’t suffer alone. She let him go so easily that he couldn’t help but think her love was never his. He wished he didn’t resent her for it, because a part of him wished she’d let him go long before, he wished for her to go far away from him where she’d be happier.

In his eyes swam ghosts of regrets and self-loathing, for he could have done a lot of things much better, made her life much easier. He could have been a better choice for her, a happy ending she’s deserving of. But he had already messed everything up and it is easier to have her see him as the bad guy.

She’d let him go easier.

“General?” Ivan paused in the doorway, aware no one’s allowed in Y/N’s room and he valued his life greatly, far too much to dare take another step.

Swallowing thickly, Aleksander remained on the bed while the Darkling rose to his feet. He had been planning for too long, hiding away from what needs to be done. It was time to act and the Darkling’s mind is made up.

“We’re heading to the fold today.”

PART 5

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #shadow and bone #aleksander x reader

453 notes · View notes

howelljenkins · 4 years

Text

As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom.

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing. I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly.

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold.

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children).

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical.

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

#*#og #rr crit #samirah al abbas #rick riordan

3K notes · View notes

softsalome · 3 years

Text

Discreet.

Repost from my old account, @/softperfuma.

“So you’re not a hugger? Color me surprised.”

Kuvira scoffed at the comment, pulling the satchel of lotus roots higher on her shoulder. The path back to the main compound wasn’t long, but under the gaze of the scorching summer sun, it felt along the lines of endless. She looked in your direction, eyes following the lines of your body as you shuffled the weight of your own burden, a bag about the same weight and length as hers.

“If there was any indication that I was one for hugs, I promise it was a mistake.”

You laughed at her response, sighing in relief as the buildings grew, the two of you drawing closer. The white paint was a sight of solace in the heat despite also signaling the lack of freedom for you both. Even though it wasn’t cold metal bars under the cover of night, it was still a prison. One that you’d both be condemned to as you paid for your transgressions in full.

Rolling your head back to face the sky, a smile spread across your face as you spoke back. “Aw, really? Could’ve fooled me. But I think a few hugs would do you some good.”

Kuvira rolled her eyes, taking the lead as you both used the back entrance to one of the kitchens. A voice called out as your boots squeaked across the floor, its owner hidden in the adjacent room. “Morning, you guys! Thanks for getting up so early for the lotus!”

“As if we had a choice,” Kuvira muttered under her breath, dropping her satchel on one of the tables to be mined through and cleaned later. Following her motion, you swung your share onto the space beside hers, giving her a light shove before answering the faceless voice.

“You’re welcome Lei! I’ll be back in a few hours to clean up after prep, alright?”

“You’re an angel!” he sung, making a short appearance in the doorway to wave at you both. It was lost on Kuvira, who was already on her way out the door.

You kept hot on her heels, the both of you following the path to the dormitories that housed your rooms. Catching up to make pace with her, you studied her face, wondering where the sudden shift had come from. “What’s wrong? You usually find Lei pretty tolerable.”

“He’s killed three people.”

“He also makes a mean stir-fry,” you countered, opening the door for her once you reached the building. “And do you know why he killed three people? It’s pretty crazy actually-”

“I don’t believe it’s crazy enough for me to care.” Making her way to her room, she stalked in, swinging the door behind her. She didn’t expect you to catch it before it clicked shut, or follow her in to confront her. You were quick to toe out of your still-damp boots, the resistance they gave as you set them next to Kuvira’s only adding to your frustration.

“Okay, what the hell is up with you? You’ve been off since we got up this morning. And I know you probably see me as someone you’re stuck with, and not someone you actually like, but I’d really appreciate some basic level of respect.”

Kuvira sighed, sliding the back of her hand across her forehead and sucking her teeth when it came back dirty. She didn’t know how today would unfold, but she wasn’t prepared to get scolded by you after hours of wading through pondwater.

“If you woke up on the wrong side of the bed or just really hate hugs, that’s fine,” you continued. “But don’t take it out on me.”

“I don’t hate them.” she mumbled. Unable to hear her, you stepped closer, meeting her in the middle of her room. “What was that?”

“I don’t hate them,” she said louder, looking up to lock eyes with you. “I just… never quite had enough to know how to feel about them.”

You stared at her, eyes wide as you processed the information she was sharing with you. Processed that she was sharing at all. Two years in neighboring rooms and all you knew about her was what you read in the papers before your sentence was decided. You could feel your brow in knots as you tried to come up with a reply. “I-”

“I understand I was a bit…insufferable today. I apologize.”

Still shocked, your eyes left hers to study the floor instead. The silence was heavy on you both, and it wasn’t until you heard a deep exhale, a preparation to speak, before you decided to say your piece.

“Come here.”

Kuvira’s fists unraveled as she looked at you, through you even, trying to find the meaning to your words. “What did you say?”

You found her eyes again, firm as you used your gaze and words to challenge her. “Come here, Kuvira.” She stared at you as you stretched your arms ahead, widening them slightly as you waited for her to fill them.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” you said crossly, widening your arms a bit more. “You said you didn’t have enough to know how to feel, right? So come here. Now, before I change my mind.”

You frowned, standing up a little straighter as you steeled yourself for rejection. The disbelief on Kuvira’s face was unmistakable, and even though you knew what the outcome would be, you held your position until it was certain that she wouldn’t entertain you.

But she surprised you. As she often did. She tentatively took a step forward, before steeling her nerves, quickly closing the distance to wrap her arms around you.

Sinking into her, you wrapped your arms around her waist, exchanging the moan you wanted to let out for a soft sigh, quiet against her shoulder. After a few moments like that, of feeling her chest rise against yours, of taking in the lingering smell of jasmine from her shower the evening before, you let out a light laugh, resting your chin atop her shoulder so she could clearly hear your voice.

“So you’re a hugger after all,” you breathed, diving back into the crook of her shoulder. She opened her mouth to answer, but the words caught in her throat as your lips grazed against her neck before finding comfort in her shirt collar. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally spoke.

“Shut up,” she grumbled softly. “This doesn’t change-”

“I forgive you,” you sighed, pulling her in tighter, hating the idea of any possible space between the two of you. You let the silence settle again, lounging over the both of you as warm as the heat you continued to share. You drew longer breaths, letting the scent of her fill you as you tried to etch the moment deep into your memory, knowing you wouldn’t have one like it again.

Fearing the minutes had stretched on for too long, you began to pull back, swallowing hard as you realized that your waists still met at your closeness.

“You should probably shower, Kuvira. You smell.”

She laughed, and you felt as though your heart would burst. “You say that as if you hated it, but you seemed to be breathing rather deeply.”

You frowned at the reality of being caught, wanting to give her another shove but refusing to untangle yourself from her arms. “Shut up.”

She laughed again, her head cocking back as you tried to commit the sound to memory. You wanted it so badly. On repeat, straight from the source, but knowing it was an impossibility.

An impossibility until she looked down at you again, the look in her eyes melting into something much warmer. Carnal.

“You should take a shower as well,” she said, her voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But you wanted to. Spirits, you wanted to.

“Yeah, of course.” Your voice devolved into a whisper as you followed her gaze. Back and forth, her eyes traveled. From your lips, to your eyes, and back again.

“Then you better get going.” she whispered, still holding you in her arms.

The seconds stretched on too long for your liking. Finally she was here, quite literally in the palm of your hands, but there was still a chasm between the pair of you that was absolutely infuriating. And as confident as Kuvira always was, she was surprising you again. Surprising you by hesitating, surprising by not jumping at the chance to get what she wanted. It was as if what she wanted was too fragile to grab, for fear that it might shatter in her hands.

But it was too much. And you were far too impatient.

“Fuck it,” you whispered, reaching up to grab her by the neck. Pulling her in, you make your first mark on her lips and relish at the sound. Her moans tasted sweet on your tongue, and you felt your mouth break into a smile as she gasped between kisses. You kept at her lips, begging over and over for the taste of her as her hands hooked beneath your thighs and hoisted you up against her. You joked about being lighter than the roots you carried that morning, but the quip didn’t last as she sucked hard on your bottom lip, your legs wrapping tighter around her waist.

______________________________

Kuvira was chasing the tail end of curfew, wanting to get back to her room before final call. She tugged her gloves off and held them in one hand as she walked. She didn’t mind tossing the garbage, but the smell it tended to leave on the fabric left a lot to be desired. Finally reaching her building, she was met by a figure half casted by darkness, holding the door for her.

“Kuvira, hi!” Lei chirped, moving aside so she could grab the door. She thanked him, making her way to her room before he stopped her.

“Oh Spirits, Kuvira, are you alright? What’s that on your shoulder?”

Her hand flew to where Lei was pointing, brows furling as she realized her gloves were still between her fingers. Switching hands, she searched the skin for any abrasions, wondering what could possibly be wrong-

Until she remembered the feeling of your teeth at her skin, biting a trail down her chest as she egged you on.

“Must’ve been from this morning,” she replied smoothly, hoping the dim light would shroud the growing blush on her cheeks. “The strap from the satchels dug into my skin pretty badly.” She could hear the pity in his voice as he answered.

“Oh, how terrible! Well I think there’s salve in the infirmary so be sure to grab as much as you need.”

“Of course,” she said, bidding him goodnight before disappearing down the hall. The hallway that led to the infirmary came and went, Kuvira passing it by as she made her way to her room. She wasn’t in pain, and she had no intention of using a salve.

She just wanted your mouth on her again. This time, in place that was a bit more discreet.

#fic rec #kuvira x reader #msww #kuvira

197 notes · View notes

sundaysundaes · 3 years

Text

Monochrome

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader/Female OC | Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff | NC-17 | Soulmate AU, Childhood-Friends-Become-Lovers AU

CHAPTER 1 OF 2. Part 2, titled Spectra, can be read here.

Summary: Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

It was the color of amaranth red, Donghyuck remembers now, though he was still too young back then to know the name. It was the color of amaranth red that painted her cheeks and the tip of her nose as they were kissed by the morning breeze. It was the color of amaranth red that tinted her shoes, her knitted sweater dress, the two ribbons she wore on her hair. And it was the color of amaranth red that burst onto his cheeks, as his eyes widened in both glee, curiosity, and sheer excitement. He was four years old and she was five, but the way she spoke so courteously as she introduced herself upon their first meeting was something little Donghyuck could only imagine doing.

But it didn’t matter, Donghyuck was too distracted anyway. If he was older maybe he would’ve been left dumbfounded at the sight of her breathtaking smile, or the perfect curves of her lips, or the vibrant eyes she had hidden behind her symmetrical bangs. But he was merely a four-year-old, so he was more distracted with a jar full of chocolate cookies she carried in her arms.

“We’re the family that’s just moved in next door.” The older lady, who looked like the exact doppelgänger of the little girl, mentioned with a polite smile and a formal bow. “I hope we can become friends.”

Donghyuck’s mother cheered and took her hand in a friendly handshake before she beckoned the little girl to come closer. “Oh my, look at how adorable you are! You’re about the same age as my son. I hope you two can get along.”

Donghyuck, who had been hiding behind his mother’s legs, took a step forward. He was only interested in the jar full of cookies that she carried in her arms, licking his lips once as his eyes bore into it. But when the little girl offered the jar, grinning widely from ear-to-ear, and chirped, “Brought you some cookies! I helped my mother with these so I bet they’ll taste great!”, Donghyuck decided that he liked her more.

It was the color of azure, the crayon she held between her fingers back then, as she tried to imitate the look of his clothes on a stick figure. She was quite a painter, four-year-old Donghyuck thought, because there was no way for him to know how to draw mountains and the sun lurking behind them with that little head of his.

“Okay, so this is you,” she told him, smiling to herself as she finished perfecting her sketches of him. “And this is me. And this is our pet dog, Jelly Bean.”

“But we don’t have a dog.”

“We can have one in the future.”

“We can?”

“Of course. When we grow up, we can have whatever we want.”

Donghyuck believed her. He believed everything she said because she believed everything he said, even about the monsters living under his bed that his parents completely ignored. During their sleepovers, which occurred nearly three times a week in his room, she would always stand by as a guard, saying, “I’ll keep watch. If it appears, I will destroy it with my sword. Nothing can hurt you when I’m around.” And he would feel content, knowing she was there to protect him, even when in the end she fell asleep way before he did with her toy sword hanging loosely around her fingers.

Donghyuck would sleep next to her, curling up like a baby that he was, seeking her warmth. Their little feet would dangle out of his teepee tent and he would breathe in the scent of his grapefruit shampoo from her hair. And secretly, under his breath, as he tangled his pinky finger around hers, Donghyuck would say, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Why do you always draw the sun?” Donghyuck questioned one day with his round, chocolate brown eyes scanning the giant yellow circle that she drew repeatedly with her crayon.

“Because I love the sun,” she answered, searching for another yellow crayon so she could paint it even more. “It’s bright and it’s warm, and I can play outside when it’s out. Don’t you feel happier when it’s sunny outside?”

Donghyuck thought about it, he really did with the very little experience that he had. “Probably. I can play soccer when it’s sunny.”

“See? The sun is amazing. Nothing can beat the sun. Do you know that the sun is the biggest star in our solar system?”

If he was smarter, he would've told her that of course, it's the biggest star, you idiot, it's the only star in our solar system. But little Donghyuck, who could barely remember what came after the letter S, innocently asked, “What’s a solar system?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I forgot that you’re only four.”

“Hey, you’re only five!”

“But I know what a solar system is and you don’t.”

Donghyuck pouted. If only he was older, perhaps he could reciprocate with a better argument. But then again, she was quite smart—the smartest girl he had ever met. Well, in his whole four years of living anyway.

“You’re kinda like the sun, actually,” she suggested, gathering his attention back to her. “You have a bright smile and whenever you smile, you make me want to smile too. You’re like the sun because you always make me happy. Oh!” She suddenly jabbed one finger into the air, making him jump on his little feet. “I know! You should be called Haechan, as in Full Sun! And I’ll be calling you Haechannie because we’re friends.”

And Donghyuck smiled the way he always smiled, which made her point a finger to his face, shouting, “Yes, that’s it! That’s the smile! That’s my Haechannie!” And he liked the sound of it. He liked the way she called him Haechannie but not as much as he liked being called hers.

Because he’s always been hers, from the beginning of time till the end. It’s always been her who owns his heart, who paints a spectrum of colors to his monochromatic life, and who breaks his soul to pieces and tones everything down into black and white.

It’s always been her. No one else owns him but her.

***

It was apple green, the color of the duster his mother was wearing when she had her eyes glued to the TV screen, watching another episode of her most awaited romance series. It was way past their bedtime so Donghyuck performed his best ninja skill which was tiptoeing his way out of his room with his bunny socks enveloping his feet and his deer plush toy accompanying him in his arms.

He was five and she was six, but she had learned how to forgive when he could barely remember to send an apology after making a mistake.

“You stay here and be on guard, okay, Haechannie?” She whispered before she tiptoed her way to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the hallway.

He grabbed the sleeve of her rosy pink pajamas. “But what if my mom finds out?”

“She won’t find out. She’s busy watching TV.”

“What if she walks into the kitchen?”

“Then that’s the time you should give me a signal, Haechannieeeee. Will you ever listen to me?”

“I don’t wanna stay alone. Mom can be scary sometimes.”

“Ugh, fine, take my hand. We’ll get in together. You can help me hold my chair when I reach up to steal those cookies.”

“Can we just go back to bed? I don’t need any cookies.”

“No, no. When you have nightmares, you have to eat cookies.”

“But will you still sleep beside me?”

A delicate hand ruffled his raven hair until it got all tousled and adorable. “Of course, Haechannie.”

The moonlight did not shine as bright as the girl’s cherished smile. But it was okay, he thought, she could replace the moon with her lips. She could replenish the stars with her eyes. They did not sparkle nearly as beautiful as they were anyway.

On their way back to their room, Donghyuck heard two sentences being exchanged by the lovers inside the screen so he stopped and listened, carving every word into his memories. When he arrived back in his room, he ran toward her, circled his short little arms around her waist, and muttered the exact same words.

“There’s no life without you, Noona.”

And she didn’t question him anything, wasn’t surprised of him, wasn’t disgusted with it. She simply smiled back, turning around to embrace him properly, and whispered.

“There’s no life without you too, Haechannie.”

***

It was the color of cherry blossom pink, the petals of flowers that flown into his room, coming from the window that he just slid open. He stood up on his little wooden chair, waving his hands back and forth like a drowning man desperate for attention, as he shouted, “Noona! Wake up! They’re blooming!”

He was six and she was seven, but she had memorized how to count one to ten in three different languages when he could barely count all the planets in the solar system.

When she opened her window, her eyes were all squinted trying their best to adjust themselves to the brightness of the sun—or Donghyuck’s smile, considering it shone just as bright. “I’m still sleepy!”

“But you promised we’d go for a walk!”

“Ugh, fine! I’ll meet you outside my house in an hour. Don’t forget to wear your jacket, Haechannie, because I’m not lending mine again!”

He nodded, smiling all the way. But by an hour later, he had forgotten yet again to carry his coat with him because he was too busy remembering the look on her face whenever she called his name, and too excited to have her hold his hands during their little trip outside.

And it was fine, really, because she already brought two jackets with her, knowing him like the back of her hand.

***

It was the color of crimson, the droplets of blood that stained his shirt. He could barely breathe through his broken nose, and the pain stung so much that his eyes began to water. But knowing that she was there, sitting beside him on the side of the pavements with worried eyes observing his expression, he had no other choice but to rub his tears away before she could catch the sight of them falling to his cheeks.

He was twelve and she was thirteen, but she already had her own preferences of clothing, knowing exactly what kind of dress could accentuate her beauty, while he, on the other hand, was still pretty much wearing the exact same type of clothes like what his mother bought him two years ago.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes examined his face as she dabbed an ice-cold napkin to his bruised jaw. Donghyuck swatted her hand away, stealing the piece of cloth from her fingers so he could do it himself.

“I’m fine. I’m not a baby,” he muttered and he knew how harsh the tone he was using but he did not apologize for it. She most likely had forgiven him anyway.

“What happened exactly?” She was still tentatively reaching out to him, tidying the tousled strands of his brown hair. “Why did you get into a fight?”

“Who said I was in a fight?” He was. He absolutely was. It was against a boy with the stupidest haircut he’d ever seen on a male, in his classroom after he caught him stealing her sketchbook. Donghyuck saw him raking his pen back and forth on her drawings, grinning mischievously to himself as he did it. He didn’t stop to ask for an explanation. The second he saw her beautiful drawings get tainted by something that wasn’t made from her hands, he began to launch his fist, directly to the boy’s poor face. Donghyuck had always been more temperamental, so he fought more with his rage than his strength, which usually ended up with him getting a fair share of beating as well.

“Here.” He handed her sketchbook back and saw her widening her eyes in surprise. “That’s right, stupid. You forgot your stupid book. I was on my way back to the class to get it when I tripped down the stairs.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I even took this out of my bag.” She blinked, checking her book and stopping after she flipped a few pages. Donghyuck froze on his seat. He’d already predicted that she would find out sooner or later that one of her pages—the one that was ruined by that asshole—was missing; he just hoped she wouldn’t notice right away. But maybe she also noticed the anxious look on his face when she went through the pages, which was why she decided to close the book, and do nothing but smile that stupidly blazing smile of hers.

“What?” He asked, already feeling quite flustered even when she hadn’t said anything yet.

“I’m just happy,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for, uhh, for getting this back for me.”

And he looked up to the sky, not caring if the sunlight was burning every inch of his skin and blinding his eyes, as long as she didn’t notice the rosy blush that painted his cheeks.

***

It was the color of lemon meringue, the chunk of tart that Donghyuck shoved into his mouth. They were celebrating his fourteenth birthday and he had a bunch of friends coming over. And yet, there he was sitting on the bench in his backyard, next to a girl dressed adorably in a yellow lace party dress, who was scowling at him.

“What?” Donghyuck muttered, yet plopping another big chunk of the tart. “Why do you look like you want to murder me? Is it that time of the month already?”

“No, jackass.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s my tart.”

“Sure, but,” he pierced the cake with his fork, taking another piece into his mouth with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “It’s my birthday cake.”

She sighed—a habit that she did a lot whenever she was with him. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be opening the presents right now? I think your friends are looking for you.”

“Nah, I’d rather talk to you.” He shrugged, pushing the empty plate back now to its owner. “Besides, you look like you’re seconds away from crying. I figured I can be a jerk to you another day and play the role of your prince charming for the rest of the evening.”

“You literally just ate every bit of my tart.”

“You’re welcome.” He sent her a flying kiss and a wink.

They both leaned backward, resting their spines against the bench, staring blankly at the cloudy sky with their fingers lying idly just a few inches from each other.

“Have you heard about that thing with our soulmates?” Donghyuck suddenly asked, his tongue still tracing every little bit of the sugary taste left inside his mouth. “About how we’ll begin to constantly dream about them after we turn eighteen, even if we’ve never met them before.”

“I thought that was just a rumor?”

“I thought so too, but then my parents told me that the exact same thing happened to them.”

“They met each other in their dreams?”

“No, it’s like—” Donghyuck scratched the back of his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s like your dreams are a mixture of your soulmate’s past and present memories. My mother said that she lived through his memories every night, until one day she met my father by coincidence during the day, and then she saw herself in the dream the following night. That was when she realized that he was her soulmate.”

“This is giving me headaches, but I kinda get the idea.”

“So whose memories do you think you’re going to see in your dream?” Donghyuck wiggled his eyebrows. “Mine?”

She snorted. “You wish your soulmate was me.”

“Actually, I do,” he stated, making her froze for a split second before she looked at him in bewilderment. “No, wait, don’t get me wrong,” he immediately corrected, raising a hand in the air. “It’s not like I’m into you or anything, ‘cause that’s, like, so gross since we’re basically like siblings by now, but if it really is true—this soulmate thingy—I wouldn’t mind if it turns out to be you because we get along really well, don’t we? Being soulmates doesn’t necessarily mean we have to marry each other—eww, God, no—” He made a show about it, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “It’s more like saying we’re connected. Know each other’s mind—like, we understand each other, you know what I mean? Don’t you feel that way about me?”

She thought about it, and with every second passing by, Donghyuck became more aware of how embarrassing his lines sounded in his ears. “You know what? Forget it. It’s dumb. I don’t know why I said—”

“Well, I guess, if you put it in a non-romantic way, then yeah, sure.” She smiled, a bit awkward and shy but sincere like always. “We can be soulmates. But I will only marry you if we’re the only two people left in the world. And even then, I would still think about it.”

He rolled his eyes but inwardly thanking her for not making this even more awkward than it already was. “Right, but for our friendship’s sake, let’s never talk about this again.”

“Agreed.”

They stood by in silence, hearing a bunch of children laughing in the background as they danced to the blaring music. “So on that note,” he said again, slicing through the awkward tension. “What are you so upset about today?”

She huffed, playing with her fingers. “I don’t know, I feel like everybody’s looking at me weird. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this dress—I know it’s too much—everyone is wearing shirts and jeans and I’m here looking like—”

“—a pretty girl,” he finished, staring nonchalantly at the clouds as he said it. “I don’t know what these guys think, but you’re prettier than any girl in the room today. You’re prettier than me, even, and that’s saying something.”

She bit her lower lip, holding back a laugh. “You just turned fourteen today and suddenly you’re old enough to flirt.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

He looked to his side, a lopsided smile on his face. “Feel better now?”

“A little.”

“Good. Now go fetch me another plate of that thing I just ate ‘cause I’m still hungry.”

***

It was the color of ruby, the lipstick she wore on her lips for the very first time, which made Donghyuck knit his eyebrows together, both in confusion and bewilderment.

He was fifteen and she was sixteen, but she already read a bunch of novels about first kisses and sappy love stories when he barely even owned a novel.

“Are you wearing make-up?” he uttered with a frown, scrunching his nose. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, his black Michael Jackson shirt falling a bit loose around his shoulders with the bottom edge of his light-blue jeans folded.

“Yes, and before you judge me for it,” she began, but Donghyuck was already sticking his tongue out at her, making the most disgusted look on his face. “You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“You look like a clown, honestly.”

“Well, this clown is going on a date.” She looked proud, which made him furrow his eyebrows even deeper. “And if she’s lucky, she’s going to get her first kiss by the end of the evening, while you, on the other hand, are just going to sit there in your room watching The Kissing Booth for God knows how many times and pretend like you’re handsome enough to date the female protagonist.”

“I am handsome enough to date the female protagonist. Handsome enough to date the male protagonist even.”

“Yeah, in your dreams. You’re just a virgin with a stupid bowl cut in reality.”

“Whatever. You still look like a clown.”

“Whatever. Now turn around, I need to change my clothes.”

“To your clown costume?”

“Turn around!”

Donghyuck had little options in his hand, when she brought her high heels in the air, ready to hurl them to his face, so he exhaled loudly in annoyance and lied down on her bed, turning his body around so he was facing the wall.

“Who’s this idiot you’re going with?” He eventually asked, because the rustling sounds of her clothes hitting the floor were getting too distracting.

“Na Jaemin. You know, that extremely cute boy from P.E Class.”

He knew who exactly Jaemin was. Heard his name being spoken several times as he walked down his school’s corridor. Girls were obsessed with him, and they would scream as if the world was ending whenever he played a game on the basketball court. They might be thinking why is someone as perfect as Jaemin interested in someone like her? And he hated the fact that he was thinking the same thing, just the other way around.

Why is someone as perfect as her interested in someone like him?

But on the outside, he toned it down to a simple grimace. “What the hell is a Na Jaemin?”

She threw her heel at him, hitting his spine and making him groan. “Hey, that hurts, you bi—” But his words died on his tongue when he saw her standing in front of her mirror in nothing but her matching underwear, with her dress threatening to fall from her arms.

“Hey!” She shrieked, squatting down to the floor and trying her best to gather as much clothing to her body to stop herself from being so exposed to his eyes. “I didn’t say you could turn around!”

And Donghyuck would’ve played it cool, he really would have, if he wasn’t too aware of the heat rising to his cheeks. “I, uhh—” He turned around again, clearing his throat. “Well, it’s your fault for throwing your shoe at me! I turned around in reflex.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying! From now on, you wait outside!”

“Fine!” He scrambled to his feet, making sure that he didn’t spare any glance at her—no matter how badly he wanted to—as he made his way out. “You have small boobs anyway.”

She screamed his name in both shame and anger but he was walking out with a cheeky grin on his face. He waited outside her room with his hands buried deep in the pocket of his jeans, yawning as he pressed the back of his head against the wall. A moment later, she opened the door with her face down, trying to tuck her bra strap under the collar of her dress. When he called her name, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Damn it, Haechannie, I thought you’ve left!”

“I wanted to see your clown costume.”

“Why you little—” But this time, it was her turn to be lost at words because Donghyuck was staring at her in the way he never stared at her before. His eyes were gleaming as they took in her features—her lace cocktail dress that matched the color of her lipstick, her red ankle strap heels, her natural make-up that gave prominence to her eyes, and the way all of her clothing just fell perfect on her skin, embracing her every curve.

“W-what is it?” She asked, carding her fingers nervously through her hair—her soft, beautiful hair that always made him a little bit weak whenever she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. “Do I look weird?”

He forced himself to close his gaping mouth and act nonchalant again. After nine years of training, he was beginning to master his act. “Well,” Donghyuck said, shrugging, “It’s not exactly like the clown costume I remembered it to be, but it’s okay, I guess. So now tell me where is this Halloween party you’re attending because I’m going too.”

“I can no longer tell whether you’re joking or not, honestly.” She waved him off, tightening the straps of her heels. “Look, it’s my first date with a really cute boy who I really like. Can’t you at least wish me luck?”

Donghyuck didn’t answer right away. His heart was still conflicted about the whole thing and his head was still swirling over the thoughts of how pretty she looked. “I can’t believe you’re blowing me off for something as lame as Na Jaemin.”

“Someone as lame as—wait, he’s not lame!”

“But does he know you the way I do, though? Like, does he know how loud your snores are? I know that, and I accept that.”

“Haechannie, we literally spend every weekend together for the last nine years. I’m just taking one night off.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still blowing me off.”

“Look, if it wasn’t a date, I would’ve asked you to come but since this is a date,” she stopped to smile, tapping her fingers against his cheek, “You be a good boy and wait for me at home, okay?”

As she walked out of her house, with him trailing behind her with heavy steps, Donghyuck said, “I hope his breath smells like shit when you kiss him later tonight!”

She laughed it off, raising her middle finger playfully at him, probably thinking he was upset because they didn’t spend the weekend together when he was entirely livid about something else.

He wasn’t sure how he felt towards her, but he was pretty certain that he didn’t like the fact she went out with some boy who probably wasn’t aware of her full name—or the way she would bite on her bottom lip from being too deep in concentration whenever she sketched something down, or the way she would puff out her cheeks in the most adorable way when she got teased too much. That fucking Na Jaemin wouldn’t understand her the way Donghyuck did.

So for the first time in his life, Donghyuck prayed something bad happened that night so her date would get canceled and she’d come running back into his arms, snuggling close with a popcorn bowl on their laps as they watched the same movie for the hundredth time.

Unfortunately for him, his prayer was not answered.

***

It was sapphire blue, the color of his hoodie was when he swung by to her house again, casually letting himself inside without even greeting her parents because he did it so many times within a day. It started to feel more like his house compared to hers.

“Oh,” she sneered, a smile appearing on her face. “You again.”

“What’s with the under-appreciating tone?” He clicked his tongue. “Most girls would actually scream in joy when I graced them with my presence.”

“Scream in horror, more likely.”

He ignored her banter, taking a seat on her bed again. She was lying down on her duvet, stomach pressed against the fabric with a fashion magazine under her fingers. “So,” he began, casually laying his head down on the dip of her spine, staring at the ceiling and secretly loving the feeling of knowing directly every time she took and released her breath. “Did he smell like shit when you kissed him?”

She flipped through a page. “As a matter of fact, we haven’t kissed. But that’s none of your business anyway.”

Donghyuck couldn’t help a smile creeping up his face. It was his luck that she didn’t notice. “Oh, but it is my business,” he said, trying not to sound as gleeful as he felt inside. “I really want to know whether he smells like shit or a dog's piss so I can make fun of him every time I see you.”

“Well, from the close proximity I had with him during our conversations inside the cinema, he smelled deliciously wonderful.”

“Deliciously? So he smelled like tacos?”

“Smelled way better than you, at least.”

“You’ve never kissed me so you wouldn’t know.”

“I already can tell without having to kiss you, asshole. You reek from a hundred feet away.”

“But just to be sure, wanna make-out with me for a while? I won’t bite.” Then he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“AUNTIEEEEEEE, SHE’S SAYING THE F WORD!”

“SHUT UP!”

***

It was Navajo white, the color of her knitted scarf was, as it hanged loosely around her neck, matching the color of her duffle coat.

“Oh,” Donghyuck flatly said as he opened the door to his room, answering her persistent knocks. “You again.”

“Haechannie.” The way she said his name sounded like she was desperate for help, and that made his heart flutter a little bit at the thought of being needed. But the words that followed soon after, crushed every bit of his happiness within an instant. “Jaemin asked me to be his girlfriend.”

He could feel how tightly his fingers were sinking into his palms but he tried to keep his voice steady. “And you’re confused because you just found out he’s a girl?”

“What should I do?” She whined, completely ignoring his sarcastic reaction. She seemed anxious, jumping a little on her feet every now and then, which was so adorable for his eyes to take but whenever he remembered the reason why she was acting that cute, he could feel his jaws tightening again.

“Do whatever you want, it’s not my business,” he muttered, walking back to his room but leaving the door open for her to follow.

“I like him, Haechannie,” she continued, and with every word that came from her mouth, a javelin seemed to strike him even harder in the chest. “I really do, but am I ready to have a relationship? Like what do I do? I know I joke a lot about having my first kiss but now that we’re about to become official, and knowing that he’s most likely going to kiss me soon, I get so nervous.”

Donghyuck didn’t say a word. He had nothing nice to say, so he kept himself in silence.

“W-what would you do if you were me?” She sputtered. “I mean, if a girl you like asked you to be her boyfriend?”

Donghyuck had his hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie, so she wouldn’t be able to tell when his fingers curled into balls of fists. He had the back of his hips pressed against his desk, locating his eyes on his shoes instead of hers. “This girl I like is actually talking about being someone else’s girlfriend,” he professed, “So I’m not sure I can give you proper advice.”

“Stop messing with me, Haechannie, I’m seriously begging for your help here.”

It was goddamn annoying, he thought, how she could be so dense when it came to things like this. Well, to be fair, he did have his fair share of flirting with her from time to time whether he meant his words or not, and knowing how playful he was, it’s a given that she grew to become accustomed to his teasing personality. It was nearly impossible for him to be taken seriously nowadays.

“Why are you even asking me?” He spat out, now looking at her eyes—almost glowering. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I don’t know, I really need someone to talk to, I guess.” She played with her hair, biting her lower lip worriedly. “And you’re my best friend so I naturally just come to you. You always seem to have the answers to everything.”

There was a pang in his heart when she singlehandedly decided on their relationship status and he knew he shouldn’t have asked for something more but with more days passing by where it was only the two of them walking side-by-side under the first snow, or calling each other’s names the first thing in the morning through their windows, Donghyuck couldn’t help but to hope for something more.

“Well, like I said,” he repeated, voice sounding low and foreign even to his own ears. “Do whatever you want. As long as it makes you happy.”

She took a proper look at his face. “Are you angry or something?”

“No.”

“What, like, did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“I said nothing’s wrong!” His voice thundered through the thick tension that was hanging between them and he felt his own heart shaking in pain from the tone he just made. They stared at each other’s eyes in what felt like hours before Donghyuck finally covered it with a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just really tired right now. Didn’t catch any sleep last night from playing too many games.”

It took a good few seconds for her to regain back her composure. “Well, I don’t want to bother you then.” She didn’t sound angry, but she did sound hurt. Donghyuck was still in the middle of sorting out his feelings when she walked out of his room, saying, “I’m sorry for pestering you like this. Goodbye, Haechannie.”

He had never hated someone as much as he hated himself then.

It took him five hours for his mind to finally make up the decision to go into her house and apologize in person, but only a second for him to immediately do it once he’d made up his mind. He ran down the stairs so fast, he almost fell face-first on the carpeted floor. When he stood in front of her house, desperately pushing back air into his lungs, the door was locked and no one came to answer no matter how many times he rang the doorbell.

Muttering a train of expletives under his breath, he turned to his iPhone and found the first number in his emergency contacts. He was about to press dial when suddenly her name popped out on his screen, asking him to answer her call.

“Noona?” Donghyuck called, breathing in relief. “Hey, I was about to call you. I wanted to apologi—”

“Haechannie.” She sounded so happy, almost to the point of shedding tears. “Haechannie, he just kissed me.”

Donghyuck’s lips were parted in shock, his throat felt like burning, even though puffs of air still tumbled down from his mouth. His heart almost stopped beating entirely.

“What do I do, Haechannie, I’m so happy,” she said, laughing between tears. “I’m actually crying right now. I’m so lame, I know, but—God, I can’t believe I got kissed by my crush—no, wait, my boyfriend—oh God, it’s still embarrassing to say that but—”

As if turning deaf, her voice in his ears was reduced into a silent murmur before vanishing entirely. The loud beating of his heart soon replaced it as it pumped more anger and jealousy through his veins but Donghyuck wasn’t going to repeat his previous mistake. He wasn’t going to let his emotions take control again.

“Well,” he breathed out, unfamiliar with the sound of his own voice. “I’m happy for you then.”

“You are? Oh, thank God, because I thought you’d whine about me for not spending time with you anymore.”

“Do you really think that lousy of me?”

“I’m kidding, Haechannie. I love you. You know that, right?”

And it hurt, the way she said it, because it meant nothing more than a platonic love and he wanted it to mean more. Perhaps he had been waiting for those three words to mean more for the last nine years of his life.

“Of course,” he simply said, hoping she wouldn’t hear the crack in his voice. “There’s no life without you, Noona.”

It took her a while to respond, and he was worried whether the cold tone in his voice stood too vividly again, but she laughed before he could think too much.

“It’s been a while since we said that. Of course, yes, there’s no life without you, Haechannie.” She giggled again, “It’s kind of embarrassing to say that when we’re already this old. Maybe we should start looking for another catchphrase. I don’t want Jaemin to catch me saying that to you either—”

“No, don’t—” Since when did speaking to her become this hard? “It’s something that we’ve been doing since we were kids. I’m not gonna change our tradition just because of one asshole that you happen to like.”

A silence, then a chuckle. “Seems like you’re back to your old self again. I was beginning to worry. All right then, let’s keep it that way. I’ll just have to be more careful.” He could tell that she was smiling all the way when she said her sentences.

“When will you be back?” I miss you. “I want to see you.” I want to hold you. “We haven’t really talked these days.”

“Oh, umm…” She sounded so apologetically soft, so quiet, so out of his reach. “Jaemin actually just asked me to go somewhere with him, but I’ll be back soon. Is there something you need?”

He curled his fingers. “Nothing important. It can wait.”

“Great. Oh, Jaemin just called, I gotta—”

“Stop saying his name.”

When a small gasp came from the other line, Donghyuck raised his head, startled by his action. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, his stomach doing somersaults. “It’s just—” He couldn’t think of anything fast enough. “You’re right. I’m sorry for taking your time.”

“Oh, no, it’s…” A pause, which struck like a hurricane. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Sure.” But he didn’t hold her on her promise, because she now belonged to someone else.

He just had to get used to being alone.

***

It was the color of eerie black, the denim jacket that he wore above his white shirt as he prepared himself for his date. Donghyuck had cut his hair short, ran his fingers through his bangs so they no longer covered his eyes, and sprayed the new bergamot perfume he bought around his neck.

He didn’t notice it at first, but he had become more popular in school for the past few months, after being a vocalist in a band and performing during the school festival. Girls were approaching him, asking from what class he was, wanting to know whether he wanted to hang out with them from time to time and it felt weird, although he had been quite popular back then too, it was more because he was the funny kid—not the hot kid in school.

So eventually he started going on dates, and every time he managed to spend a day with a girl, he’d come home to brag about it to his neighbor, wanting to evoke a reaction but what came out of her was only a small chuckle and a shake of her head, “What are you talking about? You’re just a boy. You know nothing about girls, let alone going on a date with one.” And he would drop the topic, fuming for the rest of the day.

“There.” He straightened his jacket, gazing at his reflection in the standing mirror. “New day, new beginning, Hyuck. You can do this.”

You can forget her and move on.

So he checked on his phone, noticing a new chat just popped up under the name of the stranger he had been seeing for two weeks, and felt his heart beating as steady as usual. Everything felt the same. Even after he’d kissed her for the first time, intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked from one cafe to another, or hearing her laugh over his words even when he didn’t try to be funny—everything felt the same. So… plain. Unexciting. And after two weeks had passed by, meeting this stranger—the girl with the auburn colored hair, crooked teeth, and waist thinner than most—began to feel like a chore.

No, you said you’d do this. You said you’d move on from her.

“Ah, Haechannie!” The way his childhood friend immediately smiled upon his presence, waving a hand back and forth as if they were long lost companions instead of neighbors, almost made him stop in his tracks. “You’re going somewhere? You look so nice!”

His resolution faltered as simple as that. Only by the sound of her voice calling his name, only by her contagious grin creeping to his face, only by simple praise that made his stomach flip most delightfully.

“What do you mean, I look nice? I always look nice.” Donghyuck was proud of himself to be able to conceal his feelings most of the time, and not actually acting like a blushing seventeen-year-old boy with the hugest crush on his childhood friend that he was.

She took her time analyzing him and for the first time in his life, he began to fidget on his feet, swallowing his breath.

“Stop staring at me, you’re making me feel weird.”

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re this big,” she said, her eyes sparkling in amazement. “Like, I know we’re neighbors but we’ve been busy dealing with our own things these days so I haven’t really taken a closer look at you but man, look how much you’ve grown. You’re way taller than me now.”

“Yeah, if you weren’t too busy playing tonsil hockey with that fucking Na Jaemin all the time, you would’ve noticed.”

“Indeed.” She looked amused, even proud somehow. “But I got to make-out and stuff. What have you done so far, cherry boy?”

He clenched his jaw, jealousy coursing through his veins. He tried to shove the picture of Jaemin running his hands all over her body—her perfect body—to the back of his head and he thought he did a remarkable job at it. But when he smiled, his eyes didn’t follow through.

“None of your business,” he simply said, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and walked away. “I’m going on a date. See you later.”

“You’re going on a date?!” She shrieked, eyes wide. “With who?”

“A pretty girl.”

She took a hold of his hand, stopping him from walking further. “Is this the girl you’ve been seeing for the last two weeks?”

He didn’t realize she kept count. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Nothing, I was just…” She awkwardly shrugged, her fingers hanging loosely around his arm. “Just curious, that’s all. So, like… Do you like her? What’s her name?”

It was almost possessive the way she asked the questions which on one hand, made him feel happy, hoping that she was jealous about it, but on the other hand, also pissed the hell out of him because if she was indeed jealous—if she ever felt the same way as him, even if only slightly—why did she go to Jaemin’s arms instead of his?

“Her name,” he glanced at her with lifeless eyes, “is Miss None-of-Your-Fucking-Business.”

Her smiled dropped instantly. “What is your problem? I just wanted to know—”

He knew he had the worst temper and patience in the world when it came to her, and he was not always like that before. Ever since the feelings he harbored for her grew bigger and bigger with each day passing by no matter how hard he tried to make himself fall in love with somebody else, he grew even more anxious, even less patient, and he hated the way he’d become.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Want to know what?” He asked, now facing her, circling his long fingers around her wrist and raising it in the air. “What do you want to know, exactly? It’s not just her name, is it? You want to know the things I do with her too? Want to know how I feel for her?”

Her eyes began to shake, frantically trying to understand him. “What—why are you so upset?”

“I’m not, I—” He sighed with a groan coming from the back of his throat, letting her go before he massaged his temple. I’m just so stressed out knowing how clueless you are of both your own feelings and mine. “Look, I gotta go. I’m running late.”

When he walked away, taking just about three steps ahead, she shouted. “Haechannie!”

He turned his head around, just enough to see her smiling softly at him. “This weekend,” she said, “Spend time with me this weekend. Please.”

“Noona, I—”

“I miss you.”

Just like that, she had him wrapped around her fingers again. It’s not fair. You’re not fair. You can’t keep doing this to me. But he smiled back, his gaze growing gentle, almost longing. “Then I’ll see you this weekend.”

He was in a fight he knew he’d lose every time.

***

It was coral pink, the color of the girl’s lip cream but he felt it pressed against his lips before he could see it properly. He felt his collar being tugged as his body was pushed further into her room, hasty hands pushing the jacket off his shoulders.

“You smell so good,” she said, giggling as she brought his bottom lip between her teeth. “And you look so fucking hot in this outfit.” Donghyuck hit the back of his knees against her bed and tumbled down onto her sheets, with his self-proclaimed girlfriend following shortly after.

“Wait—” he said, his eyebrows joining together in the middle from feeling both confused and uncomfortable. “What about your parents—”

“They’re not home,” she said in a rush, climbing onto his lap. “And I want you.” She tangled her lean fingers around his locks, pulling his head back to expose more of his neck. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, Hyuck,” she gasped, her mouth latching on his skin, tasting his bergamot perfume with her tongue. “And we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

A little more than two weeks had passed since they first went on a date, and he really thought he could like her but whenever he closed his eyes during the kiss, his mind would start acting on its own, morphing her face to someone more familiar. Someone who could pull on his heartstrings and play with them only by the sight of her smile.

It felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. But he said he’d move on, he promised himself he would, and this was one of the ways to do it.

“You seem distracted,” she moaned softly against his ear, pressing her hips against him. “Am I boring you?”

He didn’t say a word and instead forced himself to kiss her better. He held her by the nape, angling her head to the side, and she sighed against his mouth, hooking her fingers around his silver necklace to pull him even closer.

Donghyuck was lost deep in his thoughts, and his heart just wasn’t there, but he didn’t push her away. She spread her legs and tangled them around his waist, pressing herself down until she could feel the zipper of his jeans grazing against her underwear. Donghyuck hissed under his breath, not agreeing with how his body reacted on its own and she grinned against his lips, guiding the hands he reactively laid around her waist to move further down her body.

“Touch me here,” she begged, taking his right hand and slipped it under her shirt, pushing her breast against his palm. Donghyuck let out a heavy breath as he let her tongue slipped past his lips and he closed his eyes again because that was the only way that this could all feel right to him.

Noona…

But no matter how good her touches felt on his skin, guilt was the only sensation he could feel in his heart. The more they kissed, the more he realized that she was not her, and she could never be her. He couldn’t smell the scent of strawberries from her hair. He couldn’t hear the cute giggle she made when his jokes got to her head. And no matter how they seemed physically similar—the look of her hair, the shape of her eyes, the way she dressed—he still couldn’t lie to himself and pretend she was her.

“Wait—” He pushed her gently off his lap by landing both hands on her shoulders. “Let’s stop.”

“Why?” She was upset, he could tell. “What is it?”

You’re not her. “I feel like we’re going too fast.” I don’t want you, I want her. “And what if your parents come home?” I feel sick. I need to get out of here. I need to see her.

“They won’t be home until midnight, I promise.” She had her fingers curled around his nape again. “Please, Hyuck, don’t you want me?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer, swallowing his protest with her lips, tasting more of his mouth with her tongue. “Mmph—no—wait!” he pushed her away again, firmer this time to the point she almost toppled over. “Look, I’m not in the mood, okay?” His tone was getting harsher, which only led her to feel even more agitated.

“Why the fuck are you even here then?” She spat out, throwing her hands in the air.

Donghyuck shoved her away none too gently this time, stepping down from her bed. “I don’t fucking know,” he growled under his breath, putting his denim jacket back on. “I’m leaving.”

“What are you, gay?!” She was screaming as he stormed off, slamming her bedroom door on his way out.

***

It was the color of sunset that illuminated her face, as she sat on her porch with her knees pressed together to her chest and her spine glued to the wall. Her eyes were blank, almost lifeless as she stared into space, her previous conversation with her beloved childhood friend replaying non-stop in her head.

Does he really like her? Why didn’t he tell me anything about this? How far have they gone? Has he kissed her yet?

The heat was spreading to her cheeks at the thought of Donghyuck leaning in close, his eyes going half-lidded before he closed them entirely, his lips—his beautiful, plump lips—slightly parted in anticipation before he—

She buried her hands in her palms. What is wrong with you?! He’s practically your brother!

It wasn’t like she never thought about him as something more. She just never allowed herself to think about him that way. What they had was special—Donghyuck was special. He was her only true friend, the family that always stood by her side even when her parents didn’t. The one who noticed the simplest things about her without having to be told—like handing her a brand new sketchbook whenever she was about to run out of pages, or the way he would always take a day off school whenever she was sick in bed so he could accompany her the whole day, watching re-runs of her favorite show while munching red velvet cakes the way he knew she liked.

He was the one who could see behind her lies and excuses, and the only one who would come over to her side at any hour just to fulfill her dumb requests—even though he whined the whole time. And she knew she was special to him in some ways as well, because she was the only one who he allowed to see him cry while watching Titanic which to this day, still brought a smile to her face whenever the thought came up.

It was getting pretty distracting when puberty hit him like a truck somewhere in his first year of high school. His shoulders got broader, his jawlines became more prominent, his voice got a tad deeper, and he was getting taller and taller that she had to tilt her head upward to see his face properly during conversations. He was packing more muscles too, from all the soccer activities he did after school, turning his complexion from slightly pale into the perfect color of a sun-kissed tan. While she, on the other hand, only had two pimples appearing on her cheeks and her chest growing slightly bigger.

She adored him. To her, his existence had become such an integral part of her life that whenever she didn’t see him for a day, she would sit on her porch, counting the minutes until he walked past her house, calling her, “Noona,” with that cheeky smile on his face before he told her about his day.

That was before she dated Jaemin, though. Because after that, he became quite distant. It felt weird and slightly out of character for him to give her the cold shoulder whenever she mentioned his name, but she thought perhaps it was just a boy thing. The whole conversation about her drooling over her boyfriend was probably too boring for his ears, and Donghyuck was always straightforward with the things he wasn’t fond of so she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Maybe he just wanted to give her the time she needed, so she could spend her days with her boyfriend—like what she was supposed to do—but she couldn’t help it that whenever Jaemin called her noona because he was also a year younger than her, the thought of Donghyuck’s teasing eyes and lopsided smiles crossed her mind.

And then the thought of him, holding another girl on his bed, his lips brushing against hers—

Ah, she mentally groaned, attempting to massage her scalp but ended up yanking on the roots of her hair. Lee Donghyuck, what am I supposed to do with these thoughts of you?

“You look like you’re going insane, honestly.”

She’d recognize that voice in a heartbeat even if she had her eyes closed and when she saw him slouching over her fence with a teasing smile painted on his lips, she nearly crumbled to the ground.

“Were you waiting for me, Noona?” He questioned with his eyebrow raised in a teasing manner, causing her to blush even harder.

“Of course not, idiot, why would I?” And the sound of his small chuckle warmed her heart. “You’re coming back pretty early. I thought you were going to spend the night with her.”

“Yeah?” He dragged open the fence, walking closer to her spot. “You were thinking about me spending a night at her place? Doing what, exactly?”

“Shut up.” She threw her sandal at him which he easily dodged before he took a seat beside her. “Did something happen on your date?”

“We had sex.”

She wasn’t sure whether it was because of the way he just casually said the words as if he was talking about the weather, or simply because he said those words at all, but she found herself frozen to her toes, her heart dropping into a bottomless pit, her chest suffocating.

“O-oh…” She gulped, bringing her eyes down to her fingers. “That’s great… I guess.”

“It was great,” he said, leaning back to press his spine against the wall as well. “But her parents came home soon after so I had to bail.”

He was still talking but she could no longer hear him, as if he was drowning in the background, his voice turning into whispers.

There was a feeling she couldn’t understand that kept appearing in her chest, sending fire to her fingertips. It felt like he was crushing her heart little by little with every word he said, choking her until she couldn’t breathe. She never felt like this before. Was it sadness that she felt—knowing that her little Haechannie was not her little Haechannie anymore? Or was it loneliness, knowing that he had someone else in his life—someone who could feel his touches, and made him feel theirs, in the way she could never do?

“Noona.”

She blinked herself awake. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“I was just…” She desperately sought an answer. “I’m sleepy.”

It was a terrible lie and he could tell, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered her his shoulder. “Come here, then.” And she obliged, lying her cold cheek against his warmth and for the first time in her life, she began to be more conscious of everything.

Of his intoxicating scent. Of his slow breathing. Of his velvety voice sounding dangerously close to her ear.

Of his presence, entirely.

“So,” he pressed the side of his head against hers, voice turning gentle and quiet. “You’re not playing tonsil hockey with your stupid boyfriend today?”

“He had something to do, like a group project or something. And it’s fine, I needed some time alone to sort out my—” feelings. “—thoughts anyway.”

Donghyuck snorted. “Thoughts? Like, plural? You with that one brain cell of yours?”

She poked him on the side of his abs, forcing him to laugh in the way he usually did in the past. “All jokes aside though, Noona.” He sighed, staring at the way their hands were lying side by side on the wooden parquet. If only he could just move slightly… “Are you happy with him?” was the question he asked, but he actually wanted to hear the answer to Are you happier with him compared to when you’re with me?

“I think I am,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her words which ironically sparks pain to his every nerve. “I mean, it’s my first time being in a relationship so I barely know anything at this point, but… He does make me feel something in a way that no one has ever made me feel before.”

“What, like, horny?”

“That too, but—” She huffed. “I don’t know, like, he makes me feel wanted. Desired. He makes me feel pretty and I feel like I’m more confident now as a person, knowing that there’s someone out there who wants me that way, you know?”

Donghyuck stared into space, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “But does he need you, though?” Does he need you like I do?

“Is there a difference?”

“Well, wanting you would be like he wants to hold hands with you, kiss you, touch you, be intimate with you or something but you can be replaceable as soon as he’s satisfied with you and starts wanting someone else.”

“I don’t think Jaemin is the kind of person who thinks like that.”

I don’t fucking care about Jaemin. “Yeah, I hope not. I don’t ever want you to have your heart broken.”

There was a silence that hung around them, and it started to make him feel flustered at his own words so he immediately added, “By anyone else but me. The only one who can mess with your head and your stupid heart is me. That’s like the reason for my existence—to make sure your life is a living hell.”

She smiled, taking his hand in hers, and squeezed him softly. “Yeah. You’ve always been my little devil after all.”

The word ‘my’ had a nice ring to his ears, enveloping his heart in a warming sensation, and Donghyuck blushed again, for an entirely different reason but as long as she didn’t notice, he would be fine.

***

It was ash grey, the color of his sweater that she borrowed to be worn as her sleeping attire during their sleepover at his house. It felt strange for two young adults in their primal stage of life to be sharing a room, but Donghyuck was more than pleased to offer her his bed while he slept on the floor, and his parents also didn’t mind, as long as they kept their bedroom door open.

“Final chance to back down, Noona, because I’m not stopping once we go all the way,” Donghyuck warned, suggestively raising his eyebrow, making her gulp nervously.

“I-I’m ready,” she said, nodding her head shakily a few times.

“You sure.”

“Just do it.”

“Well then, here we go.”

And as he clicked play, the movie started. It felt like it had been years since the last time they watched a movie together, sitting side by side on a carpeted floor, with a popcorn bowl on her lap, and a MacBook on his. They shared earphones, forcing them to sit as close as possible to avoid having them slipped out of their ears. Horror movies were her weakness so he always insisted to watch one of them to torture her—and also to see her cute reactions but Donghyuck scratched that off his mind—and somehow, she always ended up agreeing to it.

Donghyuck could watch every jumpscare in the movie without batting an eyelash, but his heart jumped every time whenever she clung on to him, her arms wrapping tightly against his, her head sinking at the crook of his neck, her frantic breath fanning his skin.

“What are you so scared about?” He asked, thanking God that he didn’t stutter. “It’s just a ghost of his dead girlfriend, haunting him for vengeance while singing a creepy tune as she does it.”

“Literally everything you just said!” She sobbed, her fingers clutching tightly to the fabric of his shirt, her fingernails nearly scratching his skin.

Donghyuck knew he was blushing and he hated it, and if she kept doing that, who knew what he’d become. “Let’s just stop then.”

“But you want to see this movie, don’t you—AAAH!”

His ears began to ring. “Not with you screaming like this!”

“It’s okay, I can handle this.” She puffed out her chest, taking a deep breath. “But can I hold your hand, just in case?”

It was his turn to take a deep breath. “Sure.”

It was scary, Donghyuck thought, how his mind could pay no attention whatsoever to what was showing on the screen, and instead focusing every nerve in his body on the sight of her fingers resting on top of his, squeezing them tightly whenever she was scared out of her mind.

There was a knot in his stomach, making him feel lightheaded and he tried to push the thought of lifting her fingertips to his lips and kiss them until she could think about nothing but him away from his mind.

By the end of the movie, he knew nothing about the storyline but she was bawling her eyes out. “I can’t believe I’m crying over a ghost’s background story, this is so stupid,” she said, sobbing fervently until her entire shoulders began to shake.

Donghyuck lifted one knee to his chest, laying his arms on top of it before he rested his cheek on them, He gazed at her with a pair of longing eyes, gleaming in adoration. “You’re so cute,” he sighed in a breathy voice.

Still rubbing the tears out of her eyes, she asked, “What?”

“The way you get so worked up over stupid things like this is just—cute. You’re so cute.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop saying those kinds of things to me. You already have a girlfriend. It’s not right to do this to her, even if you’re just joking around.”

Maybe it was because she seemed a bit hurt, her voice sounding strained and plaintive, or maybe it was just her line entirely but whatever it was, it made his skin crawl and he could no longer control what came out of his mouth.

“What if I didn’t have a girlfriend then?” He questioned, eyes deadly serious. “What if I wasn’t just flirting with you? What would you do if I told you I meant everything I said, every praise, every feeling I had for you?”

Her hands froze mid-air as she tried to wipe the rest of her tears away from her eyes. “What are you—”

“What would you do if I told you I loved you?” He leaned closer, brushing his fingertips against her tear-stained cheek. “Would you believe me if I say I’ve been in love with you ever since I met you?”

Silence struck like a hurricane, and there was a storm swirling in her chest. “I…” Her throats felt dry. “I, uhh…”

She looked so conflicted that it began to hurt him even when she didn’t intend to, because Donghyuck wanted her to immediately say, “I would’ve said the same thing,” straight to his face without having to trip on her words. Without her voice sounding so brittle. Without her face looking like she was about to break someone’s heart.

So he simply got up to his feet, forcing a train of laughter to erupt from his mouth. “I’m just messing with you, idiot. Stop looking at me like you got your panties in a twist, I was just kidding.”

And he expected her to be angry. Angry enough that she would shout while throwing things at his face, but instead, she broke down in tears again but smiling so widely in relief.

“I’m so glad,” she said, nearly choking on her tears. “I’m so glad you were just joking.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the pain that fleeted on his eyes, so he turned around, sinking his nails deep into his palm so he could focus on that pain instead of the one in his heart before he gathered his quilt with both arms. “Let’s just go to bed, it’s late.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor again?”

“What do you think?”

“But…” She nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s, umm, I don’t mind if we sleep together—I mean, on the bed, like, side-by-side, not—” She caught herself, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s big enough for both of us anyway, and also…” She grew quiet, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m still so scared right now so if you could just, you know, sleep right next to me, that would calm me down a lot, I think…”

Donghyuck had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, glaring at his ceiling, asking his Lord, why must you test me like this?

“You do know that your boyfriend would kill me if he knows I’m doing this with you, right?”

She winced, smiling sheepishly. “Can’t you just keep it a secret?”

He sighed, making sure that he had the expression that said I’m-so-done-with-all-your-bratty-requests when deep down inside, he was shaking in both excitement and fear of not being able to hold himself back.

“I’m a man too, you know,” Donghyuck grumbled, slipping himself underneath the comforter. He didn’t take off his shirt this time, unlike the other nights when he slept alone. “I could attack you in your sleep.”

“Isn’t that the very reason why we’re keeping the door open?” She giggled, though the tremble from her previous breakdown was still there. “This is actually rather exciting. It’s been years since we slept side-by-side like this. It reminds me of our good old days.”

“Yeah?” He jeered. “Remember what else we do in our good old days? We take baths together.”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Donghyuck slept on his side, facing the other side of the wall while she laid on the bed with her spine pressed against the sheets and her eyes glued to his ceilings. Though she was the one who said those words, it took her forever to fall asleep. “Haechannie?”

“What?”

“You’re still awake?”

“No, this is his voicemail speaking.”

“If you’re too tired to talk, could you sing me a song or something? It’s too quiet and I can’t help remembering that creepy tune she sang every time she showed up.”

“My God, what are you, a kid?”

“You forced me to watch that, so take responsibility for it!”

“Ugh, fine,” he groaned, turning to his back with his eyes locked on his ceilings and then started to hum. She listened to it wholeheartedly, a smile popping up on her face but it didn’t stay long before she realized something.

“Are you singing the theme to Mario Bros?”

“If you even begin to complain, I’m going to kick you off the bed.”

“Right, okay, continue then.”

She listened again, prepared for the same tune, but he changed it at the last second. “I can’t believe you changed it to Spongebob’s now.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, just go to sleep!”

“Okay, geez!” Her smile became permanent on her face. “You just said the F word. Mommy’s gonna be pissed at you tomorrow.”

It ended up with them throwing playful punches and kicks under the duvet and Donghyuck laughed a lot, missing and loving every second of it because this was how they used to be—playing around like kids, messing with each other’s hair and faces. At one point, he began to hover over her, trapping her body between his arms, his knee placed on the small space between her thighs. The pendant of his silver necklace was grazing along her collar bone, making her shiver slightly from the cold.

She was sweating, her bangs sticking to her temple, and she was as breathless as he was, panting for air. It felt like time began to slow for Donghyuck the second his eyes were locked on hers, his surroundings vanishing into a blur. He was so close, too close, that he could feel her breath on his lips, could almost taste the scent of her shampoo on his tongue, and if he could just lean in…

The sound of his name tumbling down her lips in a soft, almost inaudible manner was what stopped him from pressing his lips against hers, and he was thankful because otherwise, he could’ve done it, and then everything would be ruined.

He couldn’t afford that to happen.

“Your breath stinks,” he said instead and pecked her quickly on her forehead. He immediately scrambled to his other side of the bed, shouting, “Go to sleep, you idiot,” as he gave his best effort to pretend he was sleeping.

You were so close, Donghyuck thought, you almost ruined everything. Pull yourself together.

And if I can’t have her, just let me have this moment for the rest of my life.

***

It was the color of ivory, her trench coat was as she wrapped it harshly around her body, all the while fuming in anger. Her phone was buzzing non-stop, alerting her to the new messages that arrived almost at the same time and she knew exactly who they were from.

I still can’t believe you’re choosing him over me to celebrate your birthday. - Haechannie, 09.10

We do this every year, Noona, we PROMISED to always celebrate our birthdays together. - Haechannie, 09.10

And now that you have Na fucking Jaemin giving you sloppy blowjobs as your birthday gift, you suddenly just forget about me?! How fucking ridiculous is that?! - Haechannie, 09.11

Does he even know it’s your birthday today? Did he congratulate you on it like I did? Showing up at your door at midnight, carrying the world’s most gigantic alpaca doll in my arms when it was fucking freezing outside?! Because I sure as hell didn’t see his stupid donkey face! - Haechannie, 09.12

Also, not trying to be an ass about this, but do you even know how hard it is to find a one-meter tall Alpaca doll?! Why can’t you just like teddy bears like everyone else for fuck’s sake. - Haechannie, 09.13

“Oh my God,” she groaned loudly to the air, almost stomping her feet in fury as she texted back, “I’m not ditching you, you selfish idiot! I’ll be back before dinner and then we can spend the rest of the day together so for once in your life, stop sounding like a fucking asshole!” She paused, thinking more words to add before she jabbed her thumbs to her phone screen again. “Also, I didn’t ask you to get me anything so you can take that stupid ugly doll back if you’re going to be a bitch about it because I don’t need it!”

And she pressed send. But before she could catch her breath, another response came by.

Great. Do me a favor, will ya? Don’t show up at dinner. I’m not your fucking backup plan. - Haechannie, 09.15

She was so close to smashing her phone against the wall, but the text coming from her boyfriend, telling her that he was waiting for her downstairs, made her heaved the heaviest sigh she’d ever made, shoved her phone into her purse, and stepped down the stairs with angry clicks of her heels.

The entire birthday date was a disaster for her because Jaemin was discussing something important but she couldn’t decipher a word he said. The look on Donghyuck’s face when she said she had promised Jaemin she’d go on a date with him on her birthday—how shocked and disappointed he was, not to mention furious—was the only thing that she could focus on. She kept replaying it over and over again in her head, until Jaemin took her hand and called, “Noona? Did you hear what I just said?”

And she was so terribly upset that she began to lose control of her mouth. “Don’t call me that. I have someone back home who calls me that a lot and it’s getting annoying.”

“O…kay,” Jaemin awkwardly said, pulling his hand away from hers. “I was just trying to be respectful.”

She threw her head back, sighing loudly in exasperation. “You’re right, sorry. I didn’t mean to take this out on you.” She took a deep breath, waited until she calmed down a little bit before she continued again. “I just had this fight with someone and it keeps bugging me.”

“Let me guess. Is it Lee Donghyuck again?”

She raised her head in surprise, looking at him. “What do you mean again?”

“He’s all you’ve been thinking about, for as long as I remember.”

“Yeah, because he’s like a little brother to me who annoys the hell out of me.” She rubbed her temple, feeling her energy drained. “Well, he’s not actually my brother, but he acts like one—he gets on my nerves, teases me a lot, calls me stupid all the time—”

“Why do I get the feeling that he’s more than just a little brother to you?”

She frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not listening to me—”

“Look, you know what?” Jaemin ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best to end this.”

“What?” She nearly dislocated her jaw. “What are you even saying—are you breaking up with me?”

“Well, you’re going to graduate soon and you told me once that you’d probably leave town for college, and with all this Donghyuck thing going on…” Jaemin sighed. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

***

It was the color of dark grey, the heavy clouds that hovered above the earth with thunders flashing between them. She stood in front of Donghyuck’s door, fingertips shivering slightly from the cold as she rang his doorbell. The boy came to answer shortly after, his usual gaze quickly turning into a menacing glare at the sight of her. He was about to rave over their previous fight when he noticed how she was all drenched from the rain with tears streaming down her face. She glanced up at him, murmuring his name between sobs, and Donghyuck hastily gathered her in his arms, not caring one bit how the rain seeped almost instantly to the grey Nirvana shirt he was wearing.

“Are you okay?” He attentively asked, cupping her cheek with his lean fingers. He lifted her face, examining every detail of her features, making sure she wasn’t hurt in the slightest. “Did something happen?” His voice suddenly turned gravelly. “Did he do this to you?”

She sniffled, burying her face in his chest. “Jaemin broke up with me.”

“On your fucking birthday?!”

She nodded.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Donghyuck said, almost growling as he embraced her tighter. “I’m gonna keep you company today and make sure you’re okay first, and then I’m going to kill him.”

There was no need for apologies to be exchanged, because Donghyuck already had his arms around her, drying her hair with a towel and lending her his sweater that he knew she loved. His parents weren’t home at the time, so they sat on the kitchen counters, legs dangling a few inches above the porcelain floor with a cup of hot coffee in their hands.

“This is the worst birthday in the history of mankind,” she said, slurping her coffee. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well, there was actually this girl who got murdered on her birthday—”

“Just humor me, will you?” He chuckled and patted her hair. “But to be fair, I don’t think he’s aware it’s my birthday today. He hasn’t said anything, didn’t give me anything. I also never told him, and he…Well, he never asked.”

“And yet, you still went out with him.” He sighed, now tucking a loose strand of her hair to the back of her ear. “I know you’re an idiot, but I didn’t think you were this much of an idiot.”

She grew smaller. “Please be mean to me another day. I’m currently wounded.”

“Right, okay, come here.” He cradled her in his arms, placing his chin on top of her head. “You smell like a wet dog, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She was about to lean more to his touch when his phone began to ring.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” She questioned when he did nothing about it and when he kept quiet, she broke apart from his embrace, jumped down, and grabbed his phone from the table.

“Unknown number,” she mumbled when his ringtone stopped playing. “Wait, there’s a text.”

“Don’t read it.”

“It said aren’t you coming over.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Is this your girlfriend?”

He yawned. “A different one.”

“What, that fast? Were you supposed to meet her? Oh my God, I’m so sorry for taking your time, why aren’t you—”

“Rather than saying that,” he took a sip of his coffee, “We should begin our revenge plan on that stupid ex of yours. I mean, I could just straight-up punch him in the face, but you already know his weakness. It’s time to strike, baby.”

She blinked, her puffy eyes soon began to gleam mischievously. “I’ve already planned it all out. Do you wanna hear it in alphabetical order?”

***

It was the color of burgundy, the quilt that covered her body when she suddenly woke up from her dream with a jolt, surprising the man who slept on the floor next to the foot of her bed.

“What happened?” Donghyuck asked, rubbing his eyes away from sleep. “Nightmare?”

Her eyes were wide when she looked back at him, gulping hard before she said, “I just had the dream.”

“What dream?”

“The dream, Hyuck.”

“Wet dream? I thought that was only for boys—”

“No, you’re not listening to me. The dream.” She threw her blanket away, scrambling back to her feet, and kneeled in front of him, taking his hand in hers. “I just met my soulmate.”

Donghyuck almost shuddered. “What?”

“It’s true, Haechannie, it wasn’t just a rumor,” she said, looking at her trembling fingers. “They said the dreams would start sometime after we turned eighteen and I saw it. I saw him. And it felt so weird. It wasn’t like a dream, it was—” Realization befell her eyes. “A memory. You were right, it was a memory—his memory.”

“Okay, wait a sec.” He held up a finger in the air. “What exactly did you see? And talk like a normal person this time.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, deep in her thoughts. “So, you know how when you’re dreaming, you can’t tell if it’s a dream? Like you’re suddenly somewhere, doing something that you can’t remember the beginning of it but it felt normal so you kept doing that, until suddenly you wake up and you start noticing how weird it really was.” Donghyuck nodded, albeit still a little unsure. “Well, this isn’t anything like that. You’re completely aware that it’s a dream—at least, I was. I remember telling myself it was a dream but now I realized it was a memory.”

“My God, you’re taking too long,” he complained. “What exactly did you see? For fuck’s sake, just tell me!”

“I was in a classroom at some school that I’ve never seen before and there was this guy who looked just about my age, sitting on the last row—just right by the window. He had the softest hair, a pair of big, beautiful doe eyes, cute thin lips, broad shoulders—”

“Hold up.” He grimaced. “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“One of these days, Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep, I swear to God, I will.”

“Right, apparently not then. Please, continue.”

She took another two seconds to throw ice daggers at him with her eyes before she finally started again. “He was scribbling something down on his book. And I tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t hear me. I could hear him, though, and everything else that was going on in the classroom. I could hear him hum a song before he nodded his head, looking like he just figured something out, and then he was writing things down again. I tried to reach out to him, but I couldn’t physically touch him too. I was just a bystander that saw everything—like watching a movie or something.”

“A completely boring movie, if you ask me.”

She rolled her eyes, completely ignoring him. “Then, when I blinked my eyes, I was standing somewhere else. There was this lake, so beautiful, surrounded by mountains—like the entire scenery of it was just breathtaking, and I don’t think that’s in our country so he might have traveled somewhere overseas.”

He snorted. “Sounds like an annoying rich kid.”

“Can you just—” She sighed, calming herself down. “So, I saw him there with a camera in his hands and a guitar case strapped to his back. He was taking some shots of the landscape and, uhh,” she shyly chuckled, “I know it’s too fast for me to say this, but his face when he’s concentrating—“

“Constipating?”

“Concentrating,” she corrected and Donghyuck sent her a kissy face. “The face he made when he was concentrating was so cute.”

“Ugh, enough with the lame commentary.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Why are you so sure he’s your soulmate? Sounds like just another weird-ass dream to me.”

“I can’t really explain it, but…” Her eyes turned soft, cheeks going a bit rosy. “It feels like I just found something that I didn’t know I lost—something important, something that was a part of me, even. And it just makes me feel whole, you know? It’s weird saying this when I don’t even know his name but… That’s just how I feel. Everything just clicked.”

“Huh…” Donghyuck’s tongue was protruding against the inside of his mouth as he tried to process his thoughts. It suddenly felt like his heart was being cut into several pieces, the moment his reality sank in. He didn’t realize it was that serious. Or at least, he didn’t want it to be that serious.

She squeezed his hand. “You understand how I feel, don’t you, Haechannie?”

He sent her a timid smile before he pulled her body into him, pressing his chest against hers, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah,” he muttered softly, his lips grazing the fabric of her sweater. “I get it.” And she giggled, embracing him tighter, thinking that maybe he was just as happy as her.

She didn’t notice the way his fingers slowly curled against the back of her sweater. She didn’t notice how he deliberately pressed his lips against her clothed shoulder as he spoke so he could hide the shivers in his voice. And she didn’t notice how his eyes were shaking in the fear of losing her, how he could barely bear the pain in his chest, how his mind almost made him vomit the words he’d been dreading.

It’s okay. She hasn’t met him yet. Maybe it’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.

God, please don’t let it mean anything.

***

It was a shade of purple, the color she used to paint a lavender in her sketchbook before she drew the rest of the landscape. But before she could finish painting the next thing, she sighed dreamily into the air, closing her drawing book with both hands.

“He’s in a band,” she said as they laid side-by-side on the grass, enjoying the warm sunlight on their faces and the scent of the pine trees in the garden near their homes. “Was. Or still is, I’m not sure.”

And she laughed, she always did whenever she talked about him and although the sound of it used to warm his heart, it made him struggle even more with jealousy. So he just hummed, scrolling down his Instagram feeds to distract him.

Three months had passed by ever since she had that dream, and Donghyuck was conflicted between wanting to know more or hearing none of it for the rest of his life. She had the dream every single night, reliving every single one of her soulmate’s memory—both past and present—every time she closed her eyes, and to him, she seemed more alive when she was about to go to bed, rather than after she woke up.

“I heard him sing once during his band practice when his vocalist had a sore throat. He sounded great but like, a bit hesitant, you know? Like he’s not confident with his voice.” She turned around to her stomach, staring at him with excitement in her eyes and a speck of scarlet painting her cheeks. “Well, he doesn’t sound anything like you, but I still think he’s great.”

“Good to know,” he coldly replied. She seemed to take notice of that.

“I’m sorry, Haechannie,” she said, “I must have bored you to death with all this soulmate talk.”

“Yeah, well, he’s your soulmate, not mine, so I couldn’t care any less.” He could’ve been nicer about it, but then again that wouldn’t be him.

“Well, guess what?” She landed half of her body on his stomach, knocking some of his breath with her weight but he just threw a glare in response and not pushing her away. “Somebody is having his eighteenth birthday in a month. So then, we’ll have your soulmate to talk about too.”

“Yaaay,” he weakly cheered, face flat and ignorant.

She pouted. “Why aren’t you excited about this? You’re gonna be dreaming about your soulmate! I’m excited to know who’s that lucky girl going to be.”

His chest felt heavy and it had nothing to do with the girl on top of him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I hope she’s nice and pretty,” she said, smiling genuinely at him. “Because only the most perfect girl in this entire universe can deserve my Haechannie.”

But he didn’t want a perfect girl. He just wanted her, so why was it so impossible to ask?

“Wish I could wish the same for you,” he said, placing his phone on his chest and leaned back on his elbows so he could focus his gaze on hers.

“What do you mean?”

And he switched their positions, rolling their bodies on the grass until she had her spine pressed against the ground with him hovering above her. “H-Haechannie?”

She looked so perfect like this—trapped between his arms, her doe eyes widening in surprise, taking in his sight, her lips parted making a soft gasp of his name.

Ah, I want to make her mine. Why can’t she be mine?

He leaned down, the tip of his nose almost brushing against hers. And if he could just forget everything—their friendship, her future life with her soulmate—for a few seconds and allow himself to be selfish, he would close the gap, meeting her lips with his, bask himself in her warmth, and he would let her moan against his mouth, would caress her cheeks with his fingertips, and would just wish the time to stop so they could repeat that for eternity.

But this reality of his was not that.

This reality of his felt more like a nightmare—one that he could never wake up from.

So in this reality, he brought his lips dangerously close to her ear, and whispered, “I hope your soulmate picks his nose and eats his booger whenever you’re not looking because only then he’d be perfect for you.”

And before she could kick his abs in response, he already scrambled back to his feet, running away as if his life depended on it.

***

It was the color of cerulean blue, the scarf that Donghyuck wore around his neck because he was a bit sensitive to cold even when spring was about to come to an end.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Donghyuck said, adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Anywhere. Just you and me.”

“What, now?” She frowned, looking at the clock on her bedroom wall. It was two hours before midnight—before he turned eighteen. “But it’s late—”

“I don’t care—”

“And it’s freezing outside—”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He was already tugging on her hand, pulling her up to her feet. He wrapped his scarf around her neck and placed his beanie on her head. “I don’t have my gloves but I’ll hold your hand all the way, so no more excuses and let’s go.”

Because it might be his last chance to spend his time with nothing but her presence filling his thoughts. He dreaded the possibility of having that dream sometime after the clock struck twelve. He didn’t want his heart to be taken by someone else—let alone, a stranger. And he knew he wouldn’t dream about her because she had found her soulmate and he was not him.

And if it was true—if having that dream changed his entire perspective where he could only love that one girl for the rest of his life then…

Just let me have this moment with her, where I can still love her with all my heart, even if she doesn’t love me the same way.

“Where are we going?” She demanded as they broke past the front door as quietly as they could since her parents were sleeping in their room.

“I don’t know—I don’t care—I just—” He breathed into the night air, puffs of warm breath painting the space between them. “Anywhere is fine. I just want to be with you.”

He saw her cheeks turning scarlet but he didn’t hope for too much. It was probably just the cold playing tricks on him.

“Okay, well then,” She tightened her duffle coat around her body. “Lead the way.”

He smiled, feeling blessed for having her putting so much faith in him, even after all this time.

There weren’t many places open at that hour, and it was fine because they already felt content just from walking side-by-side under the cherry blossoms that had withered all of their flowers. The way she held his hand reminded him of their younger days, both gentle and somewhat protective—like a sister to a younger brother and it made him feel both joy and sadness because he wanted to intertwine their fingers together as lovers, embrace each other under the dim glow of the streetlight, and connect their lips together while whispering loving words between chaste kisses.

“Haechannie,” she said, snapping him out of his reverie as she stopped them both in their tracks. “Happy birthday.”

Donghyuck blinked, not realizing how two hours just passed in an instant. “I’m as old as you, already?” He sneered. “I feel so gross.”

But she didn’t laugh the way he thought she would. Instead, she was looking at him with a glint of loneliness in her eyes which made him wonder why. “I bought you something.” She rummaged her coat’s pocket before she showed a little black box the size of her palm with a red bow wrapped around it.

Donghyuck faked a gasp. “No way, you’re proposing to me? But honey, I’m already carrying your child!”

She stomped her feet on his. “Shut up and just be serious for a sec, will ya?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He chuckled but he could hear how nervous he actually was from the little crack in his voice. He took the little present with a shy, slightly awkward smile. “Can I open it now?”

“Sure, as long as you don’t mock me for it.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her before he opened the box to find a silver oval locket necklace displayed inside it. He glanced at her. “Don’t tell me you have a picture of us taking our bath together as babies in it.”

“Interesting, but no. I did have something written on it, though.”

“Okay, but if you wrote something stupid, I will—” He froze, hands stopping mid-air after he opened the locket and read the words engraved on the silver plate.

To my first love, Lee Donghyuck.

“Okay, before you say anything,” she cut him off, fidgeting a little on her feet. “Let me explain about it first. I don’t want to come out as weird or anything because after this, we’re both going to find our soulmates and go our separate ways so let me assure you that I’m not saying I love you that way, but—”

He pulled her into his chest, wrapping both of his arms around her shoulders, his lips pressing against her hair.

“Haechannie—”

“Shut up,” he said, closing his eyes as he calmed his racing heart. “Just shut up and let me have this moment.”

She wasn’t sure whether he got her previous message but she no longer cared, because at the end of the day, he was her first love in every way—as a family, a brother, a friend, and even a lover once, though she never allowed herself to think about him like that. So she tangled her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, and closed her eyes for as long as he would let her.

Donghyuck wanted this moment to last forever but he knew time was running out even if he tried to stand still. It would be over the second he had that dream and fell in love with someone else. It would end the day she’d meet her soulmate, treating his existence merely as a bystander in her love story.

But for now… Just for now…

“I love you,” Donghyuck whispered so softly against her hair, almost inaudible by the sound of the wind passing through their ears. “I love you, Noona. So much that it hurts.”

She chuckled, embracing him tighter. “I love you too, Haechannie.”

Then why does this feel like a goodbye?

He pulled back, pressing his temple against hers. “There’s no life without you,” he said, a shy smile forming on his lips.

She cupped his cheek, rubbing comforting circles on his skin. “There’s no life without you, Haechannie.”

***

“So, umm, thanks for today,” Donghyuck said, as he walked her back to her house, rubbing his nape awkwardly as he said it. “And thanks for the gift. I’ll treasure it.”

“You better.” She playfully punched his arm. “It was pretty expensive, just so you know.”

“More expensive than a one-meter tall made-by-order alpaca doll I bought you?”

“Sorry, I’ll take that back.” She winced, and Donghyuck chuckled a little bit under his breath, patting her head and letting his fingers linger a little longer than usual on the soft strands of her hair.

“Well…” He retracted his hand, placing them in his coat’s pocket. “Good night.”

“See you tomorrow.” And she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek at the same time he was about to do the same and their lips grazed each other, soft lips meeting softer ones in the faintest of touch but carved something deep both in their bodies and minds.

They both took a step back at the same time, startled. He was busy looking anywhere but her face, and she concealed her lips with her fingers, bringing her head down to hide her eyes underneath her bangs.

There was a silence that made his skin crawl. “S-sorry, I was—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” she immediately said, forcing a smile before she hastily turned on her heels, her shaky fingers searching for her doorknob. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Donghyuck still had trouble breathing. “Y-yeah, sure.”

She timidly smiled again before she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Now that they were both out of each other’s sight, Donghyuck inaudibly cursed into the air, running a hand through his hair, feeling his heart ramming against his ribcages while she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and pressed her spine against the back of her front door.

The thought of their brief, accidental kiss was the only thing that painted their minds even behind their closed eyelids as they laid on their beds, hoping for exhaustion to take over their bodies. Once it did, they both fall into a soundless sleep where she began to think about another pair of lips but it wasn’t the case for Donghyuck.

Because, as he fell into his first soulmate dream, he was facing the same person—the girl who owned his heart, whose lips were just as soft as he’d imagined them to be.

Noona, he spoke inside the dream, staring at the sight of her, why am I dreaming about you?

***

829 notes · View notes