#so yeah. hence the poem. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

min-gis · 1 year

Text

chapter one — ps. i've waited for you.

a celebration, red wine and a new face. a recipe for a brewing disaster, it turns out, something you realize when you cross paths with park seonghwa for the first time.

series teaser ! series m.list ! chapter two

pairing. model!seonghwa x fembodied!reader

genre. strangers to lovers

chapter word count. 10.5k

warnings. they're all just really rich and successful, alcohol consumption, smoking (cigarettes), implied mxm (no mxm, just a misunderstanding really), smut ! mdni .

LOVE IS A FUNNY THING. IT COMES WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT, JUST LIKE IT LEAVES WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT TO.

Having a dancer as your best friend comes with a lot of perks.

Not only does it grant you free entry to some of the world's most important shows, which is great - you have to admit. Perhaps it’s Wooyoung’s determination that lets you slip in without paying thousands for a ticket, thousands everyone else has to pay, everyone but you.

Jung Wooyoung. A man you’ve seen grow, sprout into something bigger, bigger than himself - bigger than most things. Hongjoong had written a poem for him once, as a congratulation for completing yet another successful show, where he described him just like that.

Bigger than most things.

Wooyoung is bigger than every stage he steps his foot on, bigger than every audience that watches him with careful eyes; he’s both bigger, and louder, than the applause that follows.

He always has been, you realize, even back when his lanky teenage figure restricted him from moving the way he wished to. Maybe not restricted, because he’s never been restricted, never - maybe just held back. Merely.

Having Jung Wooyoung as your best friend comes with a lot of perks, but seeing him grow? That has to be the biggest perk of them all.

‘’We’ll be there in five, mhm, yeah,’’

Wooyoung is great at managing stress, and he’s always been. Perhaps it comes with the job, you think, because you’re nowhere as patient as him; but you’re not a dancer, he is. ‘’Just prepare some champagne, the most expensive one,’’

Expensive, a word that slips off his lips so effortlessly. Expensive. Just like he himself. You observe the way his lips curl into a small smile, almost a smug one, as he hums into the phone. ‘’Perfect. I’ll see you soon,’’

‘’Expensive, huh?’’ Your words come out mumbled as he hangs up the phone, and to anyone else, it sounds like you’re criticizing him. But not to Wooyoung. To him, it’s confirmation; a compliment. Even though he does pick up on the teasing tone lingering behind your words.

‘’Of course,’’ He lets out, small smile plastered on his lips as he reaches out to grab your hand in his. ‘’Only the most expensive champagne for the most expensive people.’’

A chuckle leaves the back of your throat. ‘’I wouldn’t call Hongjoong an expensive person,’’ You’re teasing him again, and he knows that. Hence the chuckle that rips through his chest, a chuckle filled with joy. ‘’If you only knew,’’ He replies, ‘’Those art supplies are probably worth more than your apartment.’’

Kim Hongjoong. An artist at heart, an artist that hasn’t quite succeeded just yet, but still an artist, nonetheless. He’s probably wearing something obscene tonight, you realize, something that only Kim Hongjoong would wear.

You just hope he at least dyed his hair, so the blue color doesn’t take all the attention away from Wooyoung - not that he has. You know he hasn’t. Because Kim Hongjoong is an artist, and just what is an artist without expressing themselves?

‘’There are other important people coming, too.’’ His hand slip out of your own, returning to his lap, ‘’Really important people.’’

You hum, ‘’Do I know any of them?’’ You ask, even though you already know the answer based on his initial statement. You don’t know them. ‘’You’ve met San, right? I danced with him back last year, the solo,’’

Right, you have met San. If you hadn’t spent years observing the way Wooyoung dances, you would’ve said San is just as good as him. But he’s not. He’s good, he’s incredible; but he’s not Wooyoung. You’ve met San, you’ve seen him dance, but you don’t know him. ‘’He’s going to be there,’’ Your friend continues from across the cab, ‘’I think he might be bringing some people with him, too.’’

They’re important people, you realize. Whoever it is San is bringing with him, they’re important people; because otherwise, they wouldn’t be there. Wooyoung is bigger than most things, and he’s picky. Jung Wooyoung is a lot of things, you realize.

You hum, ‘’So there’s important people coming,’’ You note, ‘’But there’s someone more important.’’

Wooyoung wouldn’t order the most expensive champagne, unless there was someone special coming. He opts to settle for the average most of the time. It keeps him grounded, he had claimed once, helps him not stray away from where he came from. Before he became Jung Wooyoung, when he was just Wooyoung - who dreamed of bigger things.

The things he now had.

Your friend hums in both agreement and satisfaction, satisfaction probably from you knowing him so well. You know him so well, to the point where he doesn’t even have to say anything. You just know. ‘’Who is this special person, then?’’

Your question brings a smile back onto his lips, his gaze landing on you. It’s a playful gaze, a gaze only Wooyoung could give - a gaze that makes you truly wonder just who the special person is.

‘’Trust me,’’ He lets out, the cab slowing down as he speaks, ‘’You’ll know once you see him.’’

Between Wooyoung hugging his friends and apologizing for being late to his own celebration, you notice that Hongjoong has, in fact, not dyed his hair. Not that that you excepted any less.

‘’You don’t think he’ll be upset about my hair, right?’’ He mumbles into your hair as he pulls you in for a hug, a tight one, so he can whisper without Wooyoung hearing him. You chuckle as you pat him on the back, ‘’Only time will tell.’’

The blue-haired man looks at you as you pull away, not mirroring the small but playful smile plastered on your lips. You know Wooyoung probably won’t mind, but it’s Wooyoung. And you never know with Wooyoung.

The big grin that forms on Wooyoungs lips when his eyes land on Hongjoong, however, confirms that it won’t be a problem. ‘’I love the blue hair,’’ He exclaims, and it might sound like a backhanded compliment to some; but it’s not. He’s genuine, something both you and Hongjoong pick up on.

‘’I was afraid it’d be too much,’’ Hongjoong nervously chuckles, to which Wooyoung just rolls his eyes before pulling him into a hug.

‘’Nothing is ever too much for Kim Hongjoong.’’ Ironic, you think, because you could say the same about Wooyoung himself. And so can Hongjoong, but he doesn’t - instead he just chuckles into the hug.

Sitting down, you realize that the other people surrounding the table are important people. San is indeed there, sitting at the edge of the table; offering you a small nod as you sit down. His slicked back hair and black suit prove to not only you, but to everyone else, that he’s important.

But he’s not important enough for the most expensive champagne, you note.

Neither are any of the other people San brought with him, people Wooyoung shook hands with for a little too long and possibly a little too hard. They’re important, they’re possibilities for Wooyoung and necessary for his next big step - but not expensive champagne important.

‘’I’m sorry for running a little late,’’ Wooyoung chuckles as he takes a seat, ‘’You can’t stress perfection, though, right, Hongjoong?’’ The wink he sends Hongjoongs way makes the table chuckle - even Hongjoong himself, even though he knows his friend is making fun of him and his precision. He’s an artist, after all. A very precise one.

None of these people are important enough for the bottle of champagne placed in the middle of the table. Not only can you tell, but Wooyoung hasn’t touched it yet; which means the star of the show has yet to arrive.

The star of the show, besides Wooyoung, of course.

And just as Wooyoung picks up his already filled glass of wine to take a sip, his eyes widen. He never got to take that sip, because it’s already placed back on the table and he’s standing up before he has the chance to. ‘’Ah,’’ He exclaims, a wide grin plastered on his lips. ‘’Now the night can really begin.’’

Your eyes land on whatever, or whoever, your friend was looking at. Only then do you realize why Wooyoung had ordered the most expensive champagne, and why none of the other people seemed to be as important.

‘’Everyone,’’ Wooyoung announces, ‘’Please welcome the most important person of the night,’’

It’s Wooyoung, and you know that. Wooyoung is the most important person of the night, Wooyoung and Wooyoung only. No one else, just Wooyoung.

And possibly the stranger everyone now had their eyes on.

‘’The man himself,’’ Wooyoung continues, the same grin - a grin of pure bliss - still plastered on his lips, ‘’Park Seonghwa.’’

Pretty.

You think just that, pretty, the first time your eyes landed on Park Seonghwa.

Park Seonghwa. Tall, elegant, almost angelic in the most wicked way - and pretty.

You weren’t sure what part of him made him pretty, perhaps it was the fact that he wasn’t exactly stunning, a little too plain to be considered extraordinary - remarkable, sure, devastating? Definitely.

But stunning? Not quite yet.

So you settled for pretty, he is pretty, and eventually he’ll probably be stunning to you, too. Eventually. You don’t know when, but by his bittersweet beauty, you’re almost certain he’ll be stunning in your eyes at one point.

Until then, he’ll be devastatingly pretty. Pretty. Devastatingly so.

”So I told him he’d have to find someone else,” Loud, that’s exactly what Wooyoung is - loud. He’s loud when he talks, he’s loud when expressing his emotions, he’s loud when he twists his limbs in ways you didn’t even know was humanly possible - all for the performance. That’s exactly what Wooyoung is, loud, in the best way possible.

“Did he give you a hard time?” San isn’t as loud, something you pick up on behind the rim of your wine glass. Wooyoung shakes his head, confident while doing so. “No,” Once again, confident, “He knows better than that.”

“You’re too confident for your own good sometimes,” You know your own words are a lie, and so does everyone else at the table; but they let you lie. Wooyoung is confident, something he’s earned and deserves - but that doesn’t stop you from teasing him.

His lips curl into a smile as he raises his glass, toasting before bringing it up to his lips. As to what, you’re not sure - yet you mimic his gestures, toasting.

Toasting to Wooyoung’s confidence that landed him the center role in the biggest show of the year, toasting to the familiarity of sitting around the table with your close ones.

Toasting to the new, devastatingly pretty face.

You let your eyes wander when bringing your glass up to your lips, and you know exactly where they’re wandering before you can even stop it from happening. Not that you would want to stop it from happening in the first place.

Park Seonghwa. His black hair almost looks too perfect, the way it falls over his forehead and slightly above his eyes. It looks perfect to the point where you wish to slip your fingers into it, slightly ruffle it, and sit back down like nothing had happened.

Like that would stop your gaze from wandering back to him, over and over again.

He really is pretty, you realize, as the candlelight reflects in his eyes. Just where has Wooyoung been hiding him?

“I’m glad you all could make it,” Wooyoung is the first voice that brings you out of your trance, your wine glass back on the table and your eyes back on your friend instead. Your friend, instead of the devastatingly pretty stranger.

“You really think we’d miss this?” Hongjoong is the second voice that brings you out of your trance, yet another excuse to not let your eyes dart back onto the stranger. Wooyoung’s laugh is loud, and you mentally thank him for it, because otherwise, your eyes would’ve wandered back onto him.

Park Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa, who had only uttered about three words since he sat down. Park Seonghwa, who you can’t seem to tear your eyes off.

“No, of course not,” He’s quick to defend himself, like Wooyoung always is, “But I know some of you have busy schedules, so I’m just thankful.”

This time, it isn’t just your eyes that wander over to the stranger. His eyes, however, remain on his friend. And you’re sure they sparkled a little extra as the corners of his lips curled into a smile.

“Of course.”

Four words. Park Seonghwa had uttered four words since he sat down, four words too little yet four words too much - four words that seem to satisfy his friend, nonetheless. “He’s a model,” Wooyoung states, and it all suddenly makes sense to you, “It’s not often he’s in town, it’s a miracle he’s even able to be here right now to be honest.”

Tall, elegant, almost angelic in the most wicked way - and a model, something you could see coming light years away. If it wasn’t his looks giving it away, it was the way he preserved himself. They seem to do that, models, something you had picked up on after meeting one too many through Wooyoung.

“Ah,” Hongjoong lets out and you notice the way Seonghwas bangs slightly move across his forehead as he looks over at him, “So you’re the international friend Wooyoung keeps talking about.”

You hope that Hongjoongs curiosity would get him to tell more about himself, so you wouldn’t have to keep guessing.

Does he like white or red wine more? He certainly looked like someone who prefers white wine, yet red wine goes more with his image, you think. Would he call a cab once the nights over, or does he have a driver already waiting for him? You think he drives a black car, definitely not a white one - it’s too flashy for someone like him.

Not only is he devastating to look at, but he most certainly knows how to catch people’s attention by just existing. Does he know? Is he doing it on purpose, you wonder, just like you wonder if he’s caught onto your lingering gazes.

“She’s my childhood friend,” It isn’t until your eyes meet his you realize the conversation is now about you. “She’s the Y/N I’ve spoken about.”

He’s most definitely caught on. And he’s sneaky about it, just like you expected him to be. Maybe he’s easier to read than you originally thought.

“Nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

By the fourth sentence that had spilled past his lips ever since he sat down, your name leaves his lips. And it isn’t until the waiter brings him a glass of red wine and he slightly grimaces as the liquid comes into contact with his tongue that you realize you might have him all figured out.

‘’Likewise,’’ You offer, even though you’ve never heard of him before. Which makes you wonder, once again, just where has Wooyoung been hiding him - and why?

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, almost like he’s letting you try to decipher him. Like he’s challenging you. You don’t. Not even when he allows you to look at him do you decipher him, if anything, you just find yourself growing even more curious.

He’s important, he’s incredibly important, yet he’s a complete secret. And the rest of the table feels the same way, you realize. No one knows who he is, or why he’s important. He’s Wooyoung’s international friend, and that’s all you know.

And that he most definitely doesn’t enjoy drinking red wine.

He’s a white wine type of guy, and you know he’s just trying to be generous when he tells Wooyoung that the expensive champagne was too much and that he didn’t have to. But just like you know, he also knows Wooyoung did, in fact, have to.

He knows Wooyoung, and you begin to wonder if Wooyoung even knows him.

‘’I was thinking about bringing this back to my place,’’ Wooyoung suddenly mumbles, slightly pulling down the fabric of his white button-up shirt to look at the clock decorating his wrist. ‘’Everyone’s welcome, if you have the time, of course.’’

Park Seonghwa is indeed a busy guy, you note - judging by the way Wooyoung glances at him after the words left his lips. Seonghwa just looks at him, just for a moment. Then there’s a smile forming on his lips, and you wait for his response.

You expect a no. No, that he’s too busy, too busy to celebrate his friend. His friend who has never even mentioned him, yet his friend who seems to hold him very close.

‘’I’d love to,’’ You wait. You wait, you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t.

I’d love to, and Park Seonghwa proves to you that maybe you hadn’t figured him out just yet.

Wooyoung visibly lights up upon hearing his words, a grin forming on his lips for the nth time that night. Almost like he doesn’t even care about the rest, their answer doesn’t even matter - because Seonghwa agreed to come, and that was enough.

It was enough for you, too. With a small nod Wooyoung’s way, you agree, and so does the rest of the table.

You don’t miss the way Seonghwa’s eyes linger on you for a while longer when he glances over the table, and you realize he was waiting to see if you’d agree. Just like you were waiting for him to agree.

Why has Wooyoung been hiding him, something you no longer feel the need to ponder about. You’ll know. Soon enough, you’ll know - and maybe, just maybe - Park Seonghwa won’t be such a devastating mystery for much longer. Still devastating, absolutely, but not a mystery. You hope.

You can’t help but watch with curious eyes as Hongjoong lights up his cigarette. Not necessarily watching him, but more the way the flame of his lighter lights up the dark alley right by Wooyoungs apartment building. It’s cold, and you want to go inside, but you can tell there’s something Hongjoong has to say.

So you stay. You stay with him, even when Wooyoung insists that he can just smoke off his balcony instead - Hongjoong stays outside, and so do you. He waves it off as him not wanting Wooyoungs apartment to smell of cigarettes, like the smell won't stay and linger in the fabric of his clothes and infiltrate its way through his apartment anyways.

He’s just trying to be generous. You think. Or he has something to say. You end up settling for the latter, judging by the silent gaze he had given you before the rest of the group headed inside.

So you stay, shivering as the cold night air engulfs both of you; waiting. Waiting for him to speak up.

‘’I’ve never seen him before,’’ He lets out, only after successfully lighting his cigarette and deeply inhaling the smoke. ‘’Who?’’ You ask, even though you already know exactly who he’s talking about.

Exhaling, he looks down at his cigarette before lightly tapping it using his pointer finger. ‘’Seonghwa.’’

You were right. Not only was Park Seonghwa a complete mystery to you, but to everyone else as well.

Hongjoong, who knew most people - and by that you literally mean most people - didn’t know him. Hongjoong, who has known Wooyoung for almost as long as you, Hongjoong, who has worked with countless models across the country, didn’t even know who Park Seonghwa was.

You hum, a hum of agreement, watching as he brought the cigarette back to his lips. ‘’You’d think we’d at least heard about him, considering the way Wooyoung looked at him,’’

The way Wooyoung had looked at him. Such few words, yet the perfect way of describing it. ‘’Or I have, I mean, I have heard of him before,’’ Hongjoong continues, exhaling through gritted teeth. ‘’He’s talked about some model friend before, Wooyoung, I mean,’’ He continues. You just watch, listens as your friend talks.

‘’But he’s never mentioned any names, you know?’’ He mumbles, his eyes darting up to look at you, earning a small nod from you. You can’t relate, but it does make you curious. ‘’Is it bothering you?’’

‘’Bothering me how, exactly?’’

‘’That he hasn’t told you about him,’’

Hongjoong treasures Wooyoung, you know that. Hongjoong saw something in Wooyoung before most people did, something it took years for others to see - and you know Wooyoung has a lot to thank Hongjoong for. If it wasn’t for Hongjoong knowing certain people in the industry, people that would later become very important, Wooyoung probably wouldn’t be where he is today.

So Hongjoong being worried, concerned - bothered even, by the new sudden face wouldn’t surprise you.

He stays quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering down to look at the cigarette placed between his fingers. There’s thought lingering behind his features, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. ‘’No,’’ He lets out after a moment, ‘’Not necessarily.’’

You can tell he has to think about your question for a moment. And the unsureness behind his words tells you he still wasn’t sure, despite giving you a response. ‘’I think I’m just curious.’’

Now you relate. You couldn’t relate to Wooyoung mentioning his model friend, but being curious? Absolutely. Questioning, even. You hum as you pull your coat closer to your body, an attempt to shield off the cold air.

‘’If it makes you feel any better,’’ You begin, ‘’I’ve never heard about him either. I’ve never even heard of him having a model friend.’’

There’s now shock lingering behind his features instead, his eyes darting away from the cigarette and up to you. You’re not surprised at the way he slightly raises his eyebrows, his lips parting; before they curl into a smile and he shakes his head. ‘’Damn,’’ He chuckles, taking one last puff of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground. ‘’I guess he really is special then.’’

Park Seonghwa was more than just special. You could tell, not only by the way Wooyoung acted around him - which wasn’t that different, Wooyoung always did look at his close ones with love and admiration after all - but by the way he carried himself as well.

Proud, and noble. Touching the border of almost coming across as arrogant, but not quite reaching the finish line to be considered smug.

Park Seonghwa was something else, something new; something you needed to figure out.

‘’Let’s head back inside,’’ Hongjoong mumbles, and you can tell he still has things left to say. But now isn’t the time, and he knows that. His questions would have to wait, and he knew you’d still be there to listen when the time was right.

You always found comfort in Wooyoung’s apartment. Big, spacious and luxurious. Almost like Wooyoung himself.

The marble counter in his kitchen mirrors him perfectly, you realize. Shiny, overly expensive and it certainly brings a lot of attention. It was Hongjoong that had recommended that he got marble counters when he was renovating, and of course Wooyoung agreed - he even decided to get the same counters in his bathroom.

The apartment in itself wasn’t very comforting. As a matter of fact, it was the rather opposite. The lack of furniture and the dark color scheme wasn’t very welcoming, but Wooyoung wanted to go for the minimalistic vibe - and so he did. Very minimalistic, at that.

But it is comforting, at least to you it is, because it’s Wooyoung’s apartment. Wooyoung, your best friend who despite living in what could only be described as a cement block with windows, managed to bring warmth to wherever he went.

His apartment, where you had spent countless of hours, was no exception.

Your fingertips glide over the marble counter, a small smile forming on your lips as you recall the arguments that it had caused. How Hongjoong insisted that he got a marble one, and when he did, he had gotten the wrong type. A type that Wooyoung wanted, a type Hongjoong hated. Not that it mattered, Wooyung was the one who was going to live with it - not Hongjoong.

It just didn’t match his artistic view, he had claimed. Not that Wooyung cared.

The chatter coming from the balcony echoed through the apartment, the chatter of the rest of the group. While everyone else found themselves enjoying the chilly night air after a few glasses of wine, you find yourself in Wooyoung’s kitchen.

You’re just about to reach for one of the bottles of wine Wooyoung had left on the counter, when the sound of someone entering the kitchen echoes through the room. You have to fight back a small smile from forming on your lips, because you can already tell who it is before your eyes even land on the figure walking through the archway.

So much for being mysterious, especially when you’re one of a kind. It gets easy, and it gets easy quickly to spot you when you stick out like a sore thumb. Park Seonghwa was no expectation, you quickly learned.

”Red or white wine?” He suddenly asks and you think how ironic it is that he’s asking.

Both because he hadn’t uttered a single word to you ever since you arrived at Wooyoung’s apartment, sipping on a glass of red wine while listening to Wooyoung talking all night - but also because you could ask him the same thing. You already had, technically. Maybe you hadn’t asked him, but you most certainly had asked yourself.

Your eyes wander to him as he walks around the counter before they wander back to the two bottles of wine placed on the counter, one red, and one white. You let out a hum, to make it seem like you’re thinking about his question. ‘’I don’t know,’’ You reply, “What do you recommend?”

You do know, you know your answer the second the question trails off his lips. “Red.” He’s quick to respond and he’s lying, because in the corner of your eye, you notice the way his eyes land on the bottle of white wine instead when the word slips past his lips.

The corners of your lips tug into a small smile, a smile you’re not sure he sees; and if he does see it, you’re certain he knows that you know. That you know he’s lying. ‘’Red it is then,’’ You let out as you reach to grab onto the red bottle, but not before Seonghwa has already curled his fingers around it.

‘’I do recommend red,’’ He lets out and you retract your arm, your gaze landing on him instead, ‘’But I can tell you’re more of a white wine person, so therefore, I’ll recommend white.’’

Huh. Not only does he look good, but he’s certainly good with words too.

You let out a hum, a hum that turns into a chuckle as he carefully scoots the red bottle away from you before letting his fingers wrap around the white bottle instead. ‘’Not gonna lie,’’ You chuckle as he twists the cap open, ‘’I’m kind of impressed.’’ His eyes are focused on the bottle of wine, but you don’t miss the small chuckle that leaves his throat.

‘’It’s not hard, you know,’’ He states, his lanky fingers grabbing onto the side of the bottle once again. He looks up at you, your eyes meeting before they land on the wine glass placed on the counter next to you - nodding his head, signaling you to give him your glass.

So you do, you gently slide the glass across the marble counter. ‘’To tell what kind of wine a person likes.’’

Oh. That’s a hint, you realize. A hint that he knows you tried to decipher what kind of person he was back at the restaurant. Maybe you weren’t as discreet as you originally thought, no, scratch that. You already know you weren’t. You weren’t really trying to be, either.

Silence falls upon the two of you as he pours the wine into your glass, a quiet hum of acknowledgment leaving your throat. ‘’How do you know Wooyoung?’’ You try to make it sound like you’re just making small talk, like you’re just trying to get to know him better. Which, in reality, you are; but it’s more just you being curious.

‘’Me and Woo?’’ He lets out, looking up at you as he scoots the wine glass back to you. You hum once again, muttering out a small ‘thank you’ before wrapping your fingers around the now-filled glass of wine as he grabs his own glass and begins to pour the same white wine into it.

So the red wine really was for his image, white wine more to his taste now when there weren’t people around.

A small chuckle leaves the back of his throat, ‘’We go way back, we have history together, I guess.’’

Another lie. He’s lying again, because you and Wooyoung go way back - and you’ve never heard of him before today. You don’t tell him that though, you don’t tell him you know he’s lying. There’s a small chance he isn’t lying, after all, and Wooyoung might just be more secretive than you thought.

So you decide to test the waters. ‘’So did you, like,’’ You begin, carefully watching him as you bring your glass up to your lips. ‘’did you ever date?’’

For the first time, you notice he’s taken aback. But he’s quick to compose himself, so quick that if you hadn’t been watching him you wouldn’t even have noticed the way your question caused him to stop in his tracks. Just for a split second, but for a second, nonetheless - before he’s back to pouring the wine.

‘’No,’’ He chuckles, ‘’Nothing like that,’’

This time you know he’s telling the truth. You would’ve known if they ever dated, because that, Wooyoung would’ve told you. You just wanted to test him, after all. You’re about to tell him you’re sorry for assuming, taking a small sip of the wine before; but you never get the chance to.

‘’I just don’t do one-night stands, you know.’’

Oh. You’ve been eyeing Wooyoung’s fuck buddy the entire night. That would certainly explain why you had never heard of him.

His comment almost causes you to choke on your drink, the wine threatening to spill past your lips as your eyes widen. ‘’Oh,’’ You choke out, perhaps too quickly. You’re sure he notices just how taken aback you are, using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth and putting the wine glass down in order not to spill it. ‘’I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume anything, I didn’t know you two, I didn’t m-’’

His chuckle interrupts your rambling and you’re kind of thankful it does. Before you can make a fool out of yourself, before you can say too much - before completely ruining all your chances of uncovering just who Park Seonghwa is.

‘’Wait,’’ He chuckles, his eyes landing on you and your obvious state of panic. ‘’You don’t,’’ He continues and he suddenly looks almost as frightened as you, ‘’You think me and Woo hook up?’’

You just stare at him. Isn’t that what he just said? You’re almost certain that’s what he was trying to imply, between his choice of words and his need to sound almost poetic - something only Hongjoong does - you’re certain.

As you remain quiet, another chuckle rips through his chest. ‘’No,’’ He laughs, and you can’t help but find his laugh cute. Kind of. It’s also kind of terrifying, considering the situation. You’re not sure if he’s laughing because he finds your assumption funny, or if he’s offended. ‘’God, no, we never hooked up,’’

Perhaps it's the latter, but you hope, you really do, it's the first option. That he just finds your assumption about your best friend and his relationship funny. Nothing else. Especially not offensive. You’re not sure why it would be, yet the fear of it coming across as offensive lingers.

‘’I was talking about you and me.’’

Well, that definitely took a turn for the worse. Much worse. Perhaps you would’ve preferred him being offended, at least over whatever he was currently implying. ‘’Oh,’’ You manage to choke out and you realize you sound like you’ve just been caught committing a crime, ‘’Oh, I didn’t,’’

Fuck. You’re stuttering and even though you can’t see yourself, you know you’re flushed based on the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

‘’I’m sorry, what?’’ You try to regain your composure. You, however, aren’t too sure you succeed. You’re certain he hears the confusion lingering behind your words though.

‘’Your gazes didn’t go unnoticed, you know,’’ The words lips past his lips too easily, too easily for your liking, ‘’I’m pretty sure the whole table noticed you eye fucking me,’’

You weren’t eyefucking him. Not really, at least. Maybe you were. You probably were.

But you wouldn’t call it eyefucking, more like studying. Yeah, studying sounds way better; even though you kind of were eyefucking him.

You really were eyefucking him, weren’t you?

He’s extremely upfront, something you couldn’t have known or seen coming. And you don’t like it, you realize. Not in the slightest.

You don’t just say that, not to someone you’ve only exchanged a few words with, and besides one mutual friend, is essentially a stranger. Not that it would stop Park Seonghwa.

Because he’s Park Seonghwa, something you’re starting to realize isn’t necessarily a good thing.

”Hey,” He must’ve noticed you zoned out, because suddenly he’s waving his hand in front your face. Like he didn’t just tell you he’s seen right through you the whole night. “Don’t worry, it’s okay, I mean, it’s not that I won’t hook up with you,”

It’s getting worse each passing second, and you realize you have to get the conversation under control. Quickly.

“Wait,” You let out, the word quickly slipping past your lips so he doesn’t have the chance to interrupt. He doesn’t interrupt, instead, he just slightly tilts his head. You definitely wouldn’t have anything against hooking up with him, too. “We’re not hooking up, and we were never going to either, where is all this coming from?”

You already know where it’s coming from. He looks at you for a moment, before reaching for his glass of wine. “I’m just telling you,” He shrugs, keeping his eyes on you as he brings the glass to his lips to take a sip. “I don’t do one-night stands.”

You don’t understand Park Seonghwa. And the dream, desire even, of ever understanding him crumble right in front of you the more he speaks. “Right,” You hesitatingly agree, “Good for you, but I still don’t see how or why that’s relevant to me or your relationship with Wooyoung.”

You’re trying to stir the conversation back to how he knows Wooyoung, not that it’s working. You didn’t think it would work either. You kind of don’t even want it to work.

“It’s not,” He shrugs once again, tearing his eyes off you as they follow his hand, placing the glass of wine back onto the counter. “Just thought you should know that if we’re going to do this, it won’t be just a one time thing.”

By the end of the sentence, his eyes are back on you.

Turns out Park Seonghwa and his devastatingly pretty face could read you like an open book. And you’re not complaining, at least not yet.

”I know,” You can hear Wooyoung groan, “It’s such a bummer Mingi couldn’t come,” It’s hard not to hear him most of the time, but especially after a few glasses of wine. “I think he’ll be back soon though, I’ll make sure he can come next time,”

You can hear the rest of the group talking, too, not just Wooyoung - even though he’s certainly the loudest one. You’d think he would’ve made sure the walls were more soundproof, something you’ve never really thought or cared about before, but is now realizing. They’re not really soundproof at all.

You should be out there, chatting and laughing with the rest of the group. You should be out there, celebrating your friend and his success. Meet his friends, his colleagues and then get dragged to the side when Wooyoung wants your opinion on someone - if he should work with them or not, like your opinion really matters. You have no idea if the people currently sitting on Wooyoung’s couch are worthy enough, but you know it’s just your opinion as a friend that matters.

A friend. A friend, who is currently tangling their fingers through Park Seonghwa’s hair. Not a friend who is out there celebrating, but a friend who snuck into one of the two bathrooms to get fucked - by someone Wooyoung had kept secret, for good reasons, too - you realize.

Soft, with a hint of roughness. That’s what you think when his lips collide with yours for the first time, and only then does it kind of make sense to you why Wooyoung had kept him a secret, because if you had gotten a taste of this earlier - a taste of him - you’re not sure you would’ve been able to let it go.

You’re not sure you can now either, now that you have gotten a taste.

All it took was one small nod from you, and he had already wrapped his hand around your wrist and led you out of the kitchen; leaving the two wine glasses on top of the marble counter. One small nod and you suddenly find yourself behind the locked bathroom door, and his lips are on yours almost immediately.

No warning, not that you think a warning would’ve helped prevent the small whine that trails off your lips when his collides with yours. His grip is gentle, even when he lets go of your wrist and grabs onto your waist instead is it still gentle. You’re not sure what to think, because this wasn’t something you had thought about - not something you thought would happen tonight.

You could kind of see it coming, though, looking back at it.

“I meant what I said,” He mumbles into the kiss, pulling away ever so slightly, “I don’t do one-night stands, really.” You just nod in response, not really paying attention to just what he was telling you. You just wanted him to kiss you.

His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s trying to decipher you the same way you had tried to decipher him the whole night. “So if you do this, with me, you know this isn’t going to be a one-time thing?”

Again, you don’t really think about it too much, brushing it off as him just trying to keep his image. Mysterious, hard to get - not like others.

Wooyoung’s international friend. Wooyoung’s busy international friend, who wasn’t in town often.

That much you had gathered about Seonghwa, so the chances of this happening again were slim. Nonexistent, practically.

So you nod again. You agree to his statement that somehow became a question, because you know it’s just going to be a one-time thing and Seonghwa is just trying to maintain his image. It has to be a one-time thing, because you haven’t uncovered who he really is yet - and this? It’s a crucial step.

Maybe not. On second thought, it might not be important to uncovering who he is. Uncovering what type of lover he is isn’t really going to help you decipher him. He might be completely different, you realize, most people are.

Maybe you just want to fuck him, and there’s no other excuse. You do just want to fuck him.

He looks at you for a moment, and you think he doesn’t really believe you when you say that you know what he means. He has every right to not believe you, because you don’t even believe yourself when you nod your head to let him know you do know what he means.

His lips are back onto yours, and you note that it's not as soft this time. It’s rough, rougher, and possibly even more delicate than the last. Your fingers slip back into his hair, pulling him closer to you - something that earns a low grunt from the man standing in front of you. You’re almost embarrassed when you feel a heat starting to spread across your abdomen, by nothing but kissing and a low grunt. A low grunt you’d like to hear again.

So you gently tug at his hair, hoping to hear it again - and you do. Another low grunt rips through his chest and his grip on your waist grows more firm before he takes a step forward, which you follow by taking one backward - your lower back suddenly colliding with the marble counter.

The very same marble counter that Wooyoung had in the kitchen, the same marble counter Wooyoung and Hongjoong argued over - the marble counter that you left your wine glass on.

The marble counter the pretty stranger now has you pressed up against. His hands slowly wander down your sides, his finger ghosting over your clothed skin and you almost let out a yelp as his fingers ghost over the inside of your thighs.

Delicate. Everything about Seonghwa seems to be delicate, and his touch is no different. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, how his fingers would feel. The way his fingertips ran over the rim of his wine glass throughout the night left little to your imagination, after all.

He pulls away from the kiss, just to press a soft kiss onto your cheek, before leaving another one on your jaw. “One more thing,” It’s almost a whisper against your skin, his voice so low that the soft kisses left behind across your jaw almost muffle the words, “I won’t fuck you.”

And just like that, the touch is no longer delicate - it’s rough. His fingers press into the skin of your exposed thighs, forcing them apart; quicker than you can register, quicker than you can react. “What?” You choke out.

You’re confused. You’re confused, because he won’t fuck you - yet he’s forcing your thighs apart so he can slot himself in between them. And it seems like he has no plan on explaining himself, not yet, because all he does is hum in response and his fingers stay pressed against your thighs.

“But,” You begin, and you’re not sure if you’re protesting; or if you’re just confused. Probably a mix of both, because you want him to fuck you - isn’t that why he dragged you in here? To fuck you, or was his idea of a one-night stand not the same as yours?

You don’t really get to protest, though. Because even though his fingers stay pressed against your thighs in an attempt to keep them separated, they wander further up; gliding across your skin. And it isn’t until his fingers ghost by the hem of your underwear you realize what he means.

“I won’t fuck you,” He presses another kiss onto your jaw, “Not now, not yet,” Another kiss. “Are you okay with that?”

A question he wants you to answer, an answer he practically gives to you as his fingers slowly creeps under the hem of your underwear. He isn’t going to fuck you, because he has other things he wants to do. Other things he has to do, before he fucks you.

So for the third time since you entered the bathroom, you nod. You nod because it’s the only response you can give, especially when he presses two of his fingers over your slit - not too hard, but hard enough for you to feel it. Hard enough for you to throb against his fingers, hard enough for him to feel you.

Another kiss onto your jaw, a firm one, and he runs his finger down your slit. The action almost causes a whine to leave your lips, but he’s quick to stop it from even forming in the back of your throat. “You’re also going to have to be quiet, but I don’t have to tell you that, right?”

He’s a delicate lover, with a hint of roughness. A roughness you’re not sure you’ll ever get to see, but a roughness you can feel lingering behind his touches, nonetheless - and he has a lot of rules.

No one nightstands, he won’t fuck the first time around and you have to be quiet. You’re certain there are more rules he has, rules you’ll never know about. “Yes,” You whisper out. You’ll be quiet, both because you don’t want the rest of the group to hear as you hook up with the pretty stranger but also because he tells you to.

Mainly because he tells you to. He hums against your skin and his fingers dips lower, the tips almost slipping into you as he does; but you know he won’t let it, not just yet. “Good,” He breathes and his finger runs back up your slit, “Good girl.”

You’re almost embarrassed when you throb against him once more, and you realize you’ve just unknowingly confirmed to him that you enjoyed that. Good girl. Two words that aren’t necessarily words that would normally turn you on, but when it leaves Park Seonghwa’s lips?

You don’t get to think about that, because every thought is ripped away from you the second his fingers start drawing small circles over your clit. Not fast, not hard - just soft, small circles. Circles that feels too good, even though he’s not even applying pressure. “If you don’t like something, you tell me,” He mumbles, “And if you do like something, you also tell me.”

Maybe staying quiet would be a problem, after all. “Yes,” You repeat yourself, and your fingers slip further into his hair. He keeps drawing circles over your clit, still small and soft, and you know he’s just trying to prepare you.

But you’re already prepared, and you have been. You’ve been prepared the whole night, you realize. From the second your eyes landed on him, you’ve been prepared, you didn’t know it then - but you certainly know it now.

“Did you like that?” He mumbles, his fingers still drawing small circles over your clit. “What?” You let out, because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. “Good girl,”

The way you grip onto his hair tighter upon hearing the words leaving his lips should be good enough for an answer, you think. But it’s not, because he wants you to tell him. “Yes, I liked that,” You breathe, and he finally applies some more pressure onto your clit. Almost like a reward, and you begin to realize just what type of lover he is.

He uses his other hand, the hand he uses to keep your legs separated, to grab onto your underwear and pull them to the side before letting his hand return to its original position. He has more space to move now that his hand is no longer restricted by your underwear, something he immediately takes advantage of.

The circles go from small and soft, to slightly quicker and he applies even more pressure. Not a lot, but enough for your eyes to flutter shut and warmth to spread throughout your body. A satisfied him escapes the back of his throat, his face now nuzzled in the crook of your neck. You can feel him breathing against your skin, teeth slightly nibbling on it and you have to grab onto his hair even harder in order to not let the pleasure consume you entirely.

You don’t think fingers have ever felt so good before. And he’s just teasing you, you realize. He’s not even giving you his all, and the thought of him giving you his all makes you feel slightly dizzy. Because if this is just him teasing you, just what is he truly capable of?

“I told you to be quiet,” He suddenly lets out, ripping you away from the thoughts of him giving you his all, “Not to be in your head.”

Maybe you are thinking too much. You had already established the fact that you’re in this position because you want to, not because you need to - the need to figure him out long gone. So there’s no point in thinking, not right now, you realize. “I’m sorry,” You let out, so quietly you don’t think he even heard you.

He did hear you, something he proves to you by slowly speeding up his actions. Something that causes a gasp to leave your lips, something that brings a small smirk onto his lips - a smirk you can’t see - but a smirk you can feel.

“Talk to me,” He whispers against your skin and you find it hard to. You find it hard to talk to him, because you don’t know what to say and you don’t necessarily want to either. You want him to speed up, to apply more pressure, to make you come. It’s not going to be that easy, though, and you know that. “Tell me what you like, what you want me to do.”

It’s a chase, and it’s always going to be. He enjoys the chase, you realize. He wants to be chased, and he wants to chase you, too; so he doesn’t speed up, nor does he apply more pressure onto your clit. He wants you to tell him. Something you can’t give him, not right now.

And he realizes this. And he makes it easy for you, something you’re thankful for; something you know you’re probably going to regret later on. It’s one of his rules, after all, that you tell him. You’re not sure what it means to break one of his rules, but you’re certain you’ll find out.

“Tell me,” He breathes again, his fingers not stopping, not once. “Do you want me inside, or outside?”

He really does make it easy for you. He lays it all out for you, letting you pick rather than telling him what to do. You’re not sure if he’s doing it to make it easier for you, or for himself; but making things easier? That it does. “Inside,” You tell him, “Please.”

You add the please at the last minute for safety measure, which seems to work; a pleased hum leaving his lips as his fingers stop rubbing circles over your clit and run down your slit instead. “You don’t like telling me what to do,” He notes as his fingers run lower, “But you’re supposed to tell me that, no?”

Right. You’re supposed to be telling him what you like and don’t like, you’re not supposed to let him figure it out on his own. It’s more fun that way, though, you think. “You prefer me taking control,” He really does read you like an open book. Or maybe it’s the arousal that slips out of you that tells him. “You’re not vocal,” He continues.

“You told me not to be,” Your voice comes out shakily and you realize it’s the most you’ve spoken since you sat foot in the bathroom. A small smile forms on his lips upon hearing your words, a smile you can feel against your neck, as his fingers tease your now sticky entrance. “And you’re kind of bratty.”

His fingers slip into you just as soon as the words leave his lips, and he’s already knuckle deep by the time a low moan leaves your lips. It’s a moan mixed together with a gasp, a sound so foul that you almost feel dirty as it leaves your lips. It’s too late to feel dirty, though, because it’s already been dirty for a long time. The whole situation became dirty the second you decided to slip into your best friend's bathroom with a stranger.

A stranger, a stranger who despite not knowing you at all, can read you like an open book. A stranger you fear you might need more of.

A satisfied hum leaves the back of his throat as his knuckles comes into contact with your sticky entrance, his fingers stilling inside of you. “And correct me if I’m wrong,” He speaks, “But I think you enjoy being fucked by a stranger while your best friend is right outside.”

The way you clench around his fingers is what gives it all away. He chuckles, and his fingers slowly begin to slip out of you. And he almost lets them, he almost lets them slip all the way out, before he parts his lips to speak again. “You do, don’t you? Your friend who you’re supposed to be celebrating,”

He slides them back in, this time a lot harder. “Your friend who just made a deal worth millions,” His thumb comes back up to rub your clit, “Your friend who probably wants you there with him, yet you’re in here,” Fuck. “Coating a stranger's fingers in your arousal?”

Park Seonghwa might be the devil, you realize. What a bittersweet way to find out, something you’ve probably known all along.

“Seonghwa,” You’re dizzy, even though he’s barely touched you. You’re dizzy and you stutter when you try to speak, mainly because his fingers are now thrusting into you at the most perfect speed. You stutter because his thumb rubs your clit just right, you stutter because his breath feels hot on your skin and you stutter because you’ve never met someone like Park Seonghwa before.

Seonghwa, however, takes your stutter as a warning. A warning that he took things too far. “Too far? Remember, talk to me,”

He sounds sincere, worried almost, he really does. And you almost believe him, and you probably would have; if it wasn’t because of his fingers still thrusting into you and his thumb still circling your clit, his pace never changing. Not even when he thinks he might’ve taken it too far.

“No,” You whimper out, “Perfect. It’s perfect,”

It truly is perfect. The marble counter feels cold against your back, a result of your skirt riding up your body the more you separate your thighs in order to give him more access. More access to you. His fingers feel warm, lanky inside of you and his breath against your neck feels welcoming almost. Perfect. It all feels perfect, and you don’t really want it to end.

But unfortunately, it does have to end and the end is approaching faster than you would’ve liked. You’re questioning a lot of things, and you realize it’s because of him.

You’re questioning why you’re not out with your best friend, celebrating him, you’re questioning if anyone’s even noticed the fact that both you and Seonghwa aren’t out there accompanying them; just like you’re questioning why Park Seonghwa is so good with his fingers.

So good that you can already feel the familiar knot getting ready to snap in your lower stomach, a knot that brings waves of pleasure through your body; the knot that signals that the end is approaching.

You’re not sure if Seonghwa notices the end approaching, too, but you think he might. Between broken whimpers spilling past your lips as you have rest your head against his shoulder in order not to let them slip out too loudly and you clenching around his fingers, he should notice. And you think he might slow down, because you don’t want the end to come around just yet.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t slow down, and maybe he doesn’t realize the end is, in fact, approaching. And it’s approaching fast.

So you go to tell him, or you try to, but you barely even get to utter a single breath before he’s curling his fingers deep inside of you; something that takes your breath away and brings the knot even closer to snapping.

“Come.”

He did know, and by the time the word has slipped past his lips, it’s too late to protest.

So you do, with one last whimper leaving your lips; you come, your fingers slipping out of his hair and onto his shoulders as you do. You’re not sure just how hard you’re gripping onto him as your orgasm washes over you, but hard enough to keep yourself grounded and to prevent yourself from collapsing in his arms.

He stills his fingers, but keeping them inside of you as his thumb continues to rub you through your orgasm. The hand he had just used to keep your legs separated leaves your thigh, and in the midst of coming down from your orgasm you feel him slip his fingers into your hair. He leans closer to you, pressing a small kiss onto your temple, a kiss that feels almost too intimate - like he hasn’t just made you cum.

He presses his lips onto your temple a couple of more times, and it isn’t until a shaky breath leaves your throat that he stops moving his thumb as well. His fingers stay in your hair, using his thumb to gently stroke your scalp. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize. And it’s most definitely working.

Because you find yourself melting into his touch, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you try catching your breath. You’re not sure if you’ve ever experienced an orgasm that intense before, and certainly not that quick, either.

What you are sure about, however, is that you might’ve just made the worst mistake in your entire life. Because now you’re not sure how you’re ever supposed to move on, move on from Park Seonghwa and his fingers.

You stay like that for a while, with his thumb gently caressing your hair and his lips pressed against your temple - still desperately trying to catch your breath. It isn’t until he slowly begins to slip his fingers out of you that you realize they were, in fact, still buried inside of you.

It feels empty, as he pulls them out. You almost want him to thrust them back in, and a part of you expects him to do just that. He doesn’t, he doesn’t thrust them back in like you expected - and you realize that’s all he had planned. No second orgasm, not nothing - just a taste.

A taste of Park Seonghwa.

While his hand gently tugs your now soaked underwear back in place, his other hand slips out of your hair and comes down your face before cupping your jaw. You slowly raise your head, and you almost start feeling dizzy once again when your eyes meet his. “You okay?”

He sounds sincere. This time, he really does sound sincere - his words not laced with the same playfulness as earlier and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod in response. His eyes flicker over your face, searching for any type of sign that you’re not okay. He can’t find any, because you are okay. You’re more than okay.

“Are you,” You’re the first one to speak up, “are you okay?”

Your question brings a smile onto his lips, a confused smile, but still a smile. “Me?” He asks, slightly tilting his head, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His hand stays cupping your jaw as you shake your head into his embrace. “No, I mean,” You begin, and you suddenly find it hard to speak about the situation that had just happened. “You don’t want me to, you know,”

It’s not just hard, but embarrassing. You’re not sure why it’s embarrassing, but it is - and the unsureness behind your words causes his smile to widen. “Oh, no,” He lets out, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, “Don’t worry about me, this is what I wanted.”

He’s most definitely a delicate lover, and a thoughtful one. This was for your pleasure, not his - even though you’re certain he found it almost just as pleasurable as you. “Are you sure? I can help you out, if you want to,” You still ask, to make sure, to make sure you’re not missing anything. You look for any hidden messages behind his words, to see if he’s just testing you - but there isn’t any.

Instead, his smile is warm as he shakes his head. “I told you,” He says, “This is what I wanted.”

You leave it at that. You nod, and he begins to loosen his grip on you; something you realize you don’t particularly want to happen. You don’t really don’t want to leave his warm embrace, but you know you have to, and a part of you almost aches when you realize it’s probably the last time you’ll get to be in his embrace.

Because Park Seonghwa is a stranger, a devastatingly pretty one, but he’s still a stranger - something he’ll remain as.

“I want you to come to my show.”

Or maybe not.

You hadn’t fully realized that he had let you go until the words slip past his lips and your arms fall down your side once again, leaving his shoulders as he moves to look at himself in the mirror. Your eyes follow him, watching as he leans over the counter to get a better view of himself. ‘’Your show?’’

His hair still falls perfectly over his forehead, and the urge to run your fingers through his hair still remains; and even though it would probably be more acceptable to do so now, you refrain. He just hums in response, his fingertips brushing over his bangs to smooth them down. Not that he necessarily needs to, they do still hover just perfectly above his eyes, after all.

‘’I’ll be in town for a while,’’ He mumbles, his hands coming down to fix the collar of his shirt, ‘’I have a show next weekend, I want you there.’’

Unbothered, casual even. That’s what he sounds like when he tells you he’ll be in town for a while, and when he unknowingly confirms that maybe - just maybe - Park Seonghwa won’t be a stranger for much longer.

‘’Oh,’’ You mumble, the small of your back still leaning against the marble counter. The same marble counter he had just a few moments prior been fingering you against. ‘’I’ll have to check, if I have the time, I mean,’’

Your mind flickers back to the events that had just unfolded and once again, you realize it’s a chase. A chase he’s enjoying, and probably the reason why you’re even with him right now. Because it’s a chase, and he likes to be chased. And he wants to be the one chasing, too.

You know for a fact you’re free the following weekend, but it’s a chase - so you lie.

A small smile forms on his lips, even though he’s still looking in the mirror. You’re not sure what kind of smile it is, if it’s a smile in agreement, or if he’s smiling because he’s already caught onto your small lie. If the latter, he doesn’t say anything.

You don’t need to explain yourself once you quietly slink back into the group. They already know, and they don’t care. If Seonghwa’s words hold any truth, they had already caught onto the lingering gazes you had given him all night. They all probably saw this coming, you realize, everyone but you.

Especially Wooyoung, who sits in one of his armchairs with a glass of wine in one of his hands, a glass he raises into the air once you enter the room once again; toasting. Toasting to the new, devastatingly pretty face.

#— ☆ seonghwa.#ateez smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa hard hours #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa hard thoughts #seonghwa hard thoughts #park seonghwa hard hours #park seonghwa #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #seonghwa x reader

359 notes · View notes

yanderefairyangel · 5 months

Text

So about those new FEH ocs.

We know that FEH stands out as being unapolegitically influence by Norse mythology.

However, there is a lot of peculairity that distinguish Norse mythology from the other.

Ratatoskr

It's a squirrell that lives on one of Yggdrasil's branch. They run up and down the tree and play the role of messanger between the eagle Veðrfölnir who live above, and the snake Níðhöggr.

Most notably mentionned in the Poem of Edda

According to the several etymology brough up, Ratatoskr means "tusk the traveller" or "the climber tusk.

It is usually linked to the idea of repeating the circle of ever- destruction and rebirth. It is in short a messanger character.

It also serves the role of messanger between the gods however OG Ratatosk is a bit of a mischievious character who will often transmit between the eagle and the snake gossip to push them in destroying Yggdrasil to bring chaos, especially in the mythos of Ragnarok.

So how does it link to Book 8 ? Well.

Ratatoskr can turn into a squirrel however, she in a way is the one carrying the role of messanger as she tells Alfonse about the plan that her father planned against Askr and Embla.

youtube

Her introduction in heroes begin by showing Ratatoskr running like a squirell down the tree of Yggdrasil, before falling down the branch.

Her sisters, Hræsvelgr and Níðhöggr are a reference to the eagle and snake OG Ratatoskr would deliver message and what do they hold in hands ?

Yeah...exactly.

The opening is a clear reference to the OG myth.

She is linked to Yggdrasil's specifically

Hræsvelgr

It is the name of a Jotung aka a Giant that can turn into a Great Eagle that is considered responsible for brining the cold wind from the north.

Most notably mentionned in the Lay of Vafþrúðnir

It's name means "corpse swallower. Whereas Ratasokr is linked to Yggdrasil, Hræsvelgr is linked to Jötnar, the realms of the Giant/Jotun.

Hræsvelgr is in reality unrelated to the myth of Ratasokr however, teh Eagle to whom Ratasokr would deliver message's name is Veðrfölnir.

Veðrfölnir either refer to the name of an haw who sit between the eyes of the eagle receving Ratatoskr's messages (don't ask) or the eagle itself.

It's likely they took the Jotgun's name because of the Eagle being nameless in the first place.

Hræsvelgr has demonstrated that she would actually target Alfonse and try to kill him using her hands.

Níðhöggr

It's a weird animal describes a being a dragon, a snake or even a worm.

According to the etymology reported of its name, "níð" refers to the name given to some individual in Viking society as a marker of social stigma, implying the loss of honor.

It lives under the long and deep roots of Yggdrasil, in Náströnd, one of the place in Hel. Níðhöggr feast upon the body of the people send there, those guilty of muder, oath breaking and adultery.

Because of the message Ratatoskr transmit, he is lead to eat slowly the root of the world-tree to cause it to fall. Its arrival is hence considered a sign of Ragnarok. Its name means Malice striker.

In game Níðhöggr is presented as always getting intoxicated from eating some special "apples". However, in Norse mythology, apples are guarded in Asgard and eaten by the gods to not age, yes, in Norse mythology gods are NOT immortal nor eternally young. Not only can they be killed but they can grow old hence why they need the Golden apple kept in a garden in Asgard.

That constant state of intoxication might be a play of word. The FE wiki remarks her design is remensicent of a doctor, the same way Ratatoskr and Hræsvelgr are based on a nurse and a surgeon respectively. Snakes are used to represent the ambiguity of the greek word "pharmakon" which means both poison and medicine. The fruit she is eating from can be both a way to heal or a way to kill. The fact she is trying to poison Veronica is a reference to that considering her constant state of intoxication is poisonning her own body, but being linked to the snake, she is probably immune to that.

Eikþyrnir

It's a stag standing upon Vahalla that feast over the tree Læraðr.

It's name means "throny oak" and he is linked to Valhalla

Heiðrún

A goat by the side of Eikþyrnir who grazes upon Læraðr's branch. She produces mead for einherjar in Vahalla.

Her name would mean "she who bring the rest"

Læraðr

It's a tree often identified with Yggdrasil, standing at the top of Vahalla. Its name is ambiguous as it can be read as either arranger of betrayal or giver of protection.

Læraðr's ambuiguous name is most likely the key of this book's theme. We have a group of Divine beast called the Healer Hands that are now trying to kill Alfonse and Veronica.

Like I mentionned earlier, medicine have this ambuguous nature of being able to heal you but can also be a deadly poison. Likewise, the incapacity to establish the proper meaning of Læraðr's name means that he is either one who protects, either one who kill, who plot, who will make other rise up against one another. After all, the book open up right with Alfonse and the Askt Guardians pondering on whether or not Embla is trying to attack them yet again, making believe that the kingdom are trying to destroy each other and plotting to kill all the remainin rulers, Alfronse, Veronica and Queen Henriette being the main target.

However Læraðr share this common trait with OG Ratatoskr who had to carry out message to the Eagle and Níðhöggr to create discord between each other and push Níðhöggr to eat the roots of Yggradisl to make it fall.

Hence this Læraðr's who used to protect other by sending his "children" to heal other all across the realms become a Læraðr plotting the ruins of the kingdoms by creating discord, like Ratatoskr did in the original myth.

Moreover, Læraðr being occasionally associated to Yggdrasil as the same being and the Divine beast being all inspired by the myth collected in the Prose of Edda, it's likely that this connection is waht inspired the choice to have Læraðr being the father of the Divine Beast and the Divine Beast being siblings to each other.

We are at book 8, each one based on the story of different kingdom however Yggdrasil bears 9 kingdoms.

This one myth is particular because it's one of the legends that lead to the event of Ragnarok or if you prefer, the end of the world.

Is it a sign that we will soon approach the end of the main story in FEH ? Or another big conflict to come.

heh, we'll see when we got the next chapter

#feh #fire emblem heroes #fe heroes #book 8 #norse mythology #Youtube

62 notes · View notes

raayllum · 7 months

Text

from a fic standpoint i know myself and many others have most often incorporated callum's memory being very good (especially with visual surroundings) but not perfect when it comes to word/conversations, in spite of post-s1 tweets that he has a photogenic memory, simply because we 1) see him forget things he tells other people ("who told you that?" "you did"), 2) forget things other people tell him (4x01 with the guard and council meeting"), and 3) look up spells he presumably read and wrote by hand in his spellbook (s4, s5) but i realized today his memory can't be perfect because of two emphasized examples in S5

1) Callum remembers he saw something about a spell that can restore bodies to lost spirits in the Great Bookery, but doesn't remember precisely what it is (hence why he has to take more time and subsequently risk their lives) and why even once finding it, Amaya has to drag him away from the page (which is mostly a picture and barely has any writing on it, anyway)

2) And if he had a literally perfect memory, he wouldn't have to try and peek at the Aaravos poem going, because just a second would've been enough. But it isn't, even if he's definitely smarter (and a little bit craftier) than Viren in trying to steal a peek to see if he can outsmart the magic rather than just giving up

And look at how cute he is!!

So yeah, canonically, Callum's memory is very good and definitely better at most people's (especially when it comes to turning visual things into art) but is not perfect

#still has to study his runes bless his soul #tdp callum #tdp #the dragon prince #s5 #arc 2 #been thinking about callum and startouch prophecies for TMHtNtBL and yeah it's a good time #if you perfectly remember the prophecy is it a blessing or a curse y'know?#is it better to misremember it or is that what dooms you #this makes me want him to bring the aaravos book with him and have the blocking spell #slowly fade the closer they get to the starscraper #i just think it'd be Neat

88 notes · View notes

an-otterly-adorable-being · 7 months

Note

If it wouldn't be too complicated for you, could you do Rocky Rickaby x reader enemies-to-lovers headcanons, please?

You've got it. Boy, I do love me some enemies to lovers. I may even follow this up with a one-shot when I get the motivation.

Rocky Rickaby x Marigold!Reader Headcanons

I'm back bitches!!!!!

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

• You shouldn't have even been there.

• For God's sake, you did the information part, not the "take care of competitor part."

• But noooo, the Savoys were busy with Mordecai so you had to fill in because why not.

• It was just supposed to be a booze run, not a damn arrest!

• Atleast you weren't the only one being handcuffed at the time.

• Rocky, the insane boy from the Lackadaisy, got to be your fellow captive that evening.

• You were not going to enjoy this. At all.

• You've been working for the Marigold for a while now, and you know better than most how much of a thorn the Lackadaisy has become.

• That's why you got intel so that the actually qualified people can take care of it.

• But now that didn't matter, because you're handcuffed and being dragged through the woods with a man you couldn't stand.

• He couldn't stand you too, hence why he was mocking you currently.

• You and Rocky had run into eachother a decent bit, and it became a habit for you to make fun of eachother instead of actually fight.

• That's not to say fights didn't happen, they were mostly just fought with fists and the occasional stick.

• Besides, the mockery was more fun for you anyways.

• Getting to make fun of his stupid pants and tie, his dumb, charming smile, his adorable, stupid face.

• No, no, you were a professional, you didn't allow yourself to think about the fact that Rocky was incredibly attractive didn't mean a thing to you.

• The fact that you were both pressed against eachother in the back of what was clearly not a detective's car.

• Yeah, by now you could tell this guy wasn't with the police, which was equally terrifying as well as relieving.

• On one hand, you won't get arrested.

• On the other, this is clearly a lunatic with a score to settle.

• Whether it was with you or Rocky, you weren't sure, but there was one thing you were sure of...

• You two had to get out.

• Luckily, the idiot didn't bother to cover your mouths, so you two were able to whisper to eachother.

• Well, you would, but Rocky was too busy talking the guy's ear off.

• You were going to get that (definitely not loveable) idiot to stop, and then he... winked at you?

• It took a second to understand what he meant. (And for the blush to leave your face.)

• Rocky was the distraction, giving you time to figure out what to do.

• Speaking of, what's that you spy on the floor of the car?

• You'd better believe it's a shiny little... key. Really?

• I mean, you absolutely took it, but this man clearly had no idea what he was doing.

• Next step, getting the cuffs off without Mr. Imbecile noticing.

• You signaled for Rocky to get a bit louder, and he immediately began to yell some romantic poem.

• It was definitely about you, by the way, and you had to take a minute to look at him.

• He seemed so sincere, even if it was just to make noise.

• Damnit, there was no way you could deny the love anymore.

• And now you were getting his cuffs off first, which you finished right as you hit a bump in the road and let out a little yelp.

• Of course, that's what made the guy turn around.

• Before you knew it, you were being dragged out of a moving car.

• After a lengthy chase, the two of you collapsed by a river.

• Rocky started laughing and, you couldn't help but join in.

• After a minute, though, you came to the realization that you were still cuffed. And you didn't have the key.

• Rocky, apparently, had picked it up during the initial scuffle in the car, and actually released you.

• And when he did, he gave you such a sweet smile. It wasn't the face of the deranged man you considered your enemy, it was the guy you fell in love with.

• Although, that difference didn't matter much longer, as you tackled him and peppered his face with kisses.

• Maybe Mr. Sweet would sic the Savoys, or maybe even Mordecai, but if he doesn't know about you hanging out with a cute boy every week, then he won't do a damn thing.

• Speaking of, you should probably get going.

• Afterall, Rocky said he wrote a song for you.

#headcanon #lackadaisy #lackadaisy headcanons #lackadaisy x reader #lackadaisy rocky #rocky rickaby x reader #rocky rickaby #rocky x reader #lackadaisy cats

70 notes · View notes

icarus-on-air · 1 month

Text

The Tragedy Of John Doe: a Da Capo Aria

(ao3, also under cut)

" A Da Capo Aria is a musical structure composed of three sections: the first could be a standalone piece with full accompaniment. The second contrasts with the first in style, musical key, and mood, often with only piano accompaniment. The third is a repeat of the first section, hence "da capo" or begin from the start. This section often has embellishments from the singer."

The first section is John's process of moving from the entity to John Doe, gaining humanity. (eps 1-20)

The second section is after 20, when he's in the dark world. It's an aria, a solo. The piano accompaniment is the memory/idea of Arthur persisting with John throughout.

The third section is a repeat of the first, with embellishments. Or, him learning how to function with humanity, but it's different because once upon a time he HAD that sense of humanity. So it's more remembering who he wants to be than learning anew. (eps 24-intermezzo)

start

Rise from the ashes, oh phoenix of gold

Remember your virtue from stories untold

Hold close your dear friend here for he's all you've got

But keep in your sins, friend, else all is for naught

You've stolen his eyes now his heart mirrors yours

Longing for sweetness yet gilded and cold

Trust comes in a poem, a promise, a song

He has deadly hope now but oh not for long

You're hastur's heart, yes? won't let you forget

Bring him, my king, up to the pulpit

Puppeted pleasantries shall end in strife

"I'll never forget you" he breathes as the knife

Cuts at his heartstrings with few simple words

"Goodbye" you whisper, the trigger now pulled.

aria

Awoken in darkness

Cold, cruel, constricting

My lungs that now expand with

Each beat of my heart as it remembers

Your (our) pulse under my (our) fingertips

A steady tempo to my new-old symphony turned refrain

Am i hastur's heart or yours? I yearn for the latter

But under threat of infinity, i'm once again the first.

da capo

Rise from the ashes, canary of gold

Remember your virtue from stories untold

Hold close your dear friend here for he's all you've got

But keep in your sins, friend, else all is for naught

You've stolen his eyes back, his heart mirrors yours

Longing for sweetness yet guilted and cold

Trust comes in a poem, a promise, a song

He has deadly faith now but oh not for long

You're hastur's heart, yes? it lets you forget

Bring him, "my king", up to the pulpit

Puppeted pleasantries shall end in strife

"I can't forget you" he breathes as the knife

Cuts at his heartstrings with few simple words

"Do it." you whisper, the trigger now pulled.

[basically kayne refers to his Offer in intermezzo as a Da Capo al Coda, and because i'm a sucker for musical symbolism in this podcast i started looking through the musical terms wikipedia page. in a cathedral. as one does. then the brainworm hit yadda yadda and here we are today. (yeah this is a musical thing but im not a composer just a shitty notes app poet)]

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #john doe malevolent #malevolent intermezzo #malevolent fic #poetry?

19 notes · View notes

wistfulweaverwoman · 11 months

Text

There’s been a few “Gale isn’t that bad posts lately. Yeah, he wasn’t evil, but he wasn’t good either. And that’s on purpose.

On a meta level THG trilogy is a retelling of Dante’s Comedies. Gale is Virgil, Katniss is Dante, and Peeta is Beatrice.

Virgil (and therefore Gale) represents human reason, while Beatrice (Peeta) represents divine love. Katniss is Dante, moving from Virgil to Beatrice, who then transcends to Paradise (or a world where Peeta's children can play in the meadow).

Here’s the gist:

In the opening scene of The Inferno, the first book of The Divine Comedy, Dante (the author, the main character, and the first-person narrator) awakens in a dark wood midway through his life’s journey, having strayed from the True Way. A shade (i.e., a spirit or ghost) of the Roman poet Virgil appears to Dante, having been sent by Beatrice to lead Dante on a journey through Hell, Purgatory, and eventually Paradise (Heaven). Virgil leads Dante through the various circles of Hell and partway up the ascent of Purgatory before Beatrice takes over as Dante’s guide the remainder of the way through Purgatory and on to Paradise.

So why must Beatrice take over for Virgil as Dante’s guide? Virgil symbolizes human reason in The Divine Comedy, the power and achievements of the human intellect left to its own devices without God, without the redemption offered by Jesus Christ, and without the influence of the Holy Spirit. Human reason is symbolized elsewhere in The Divine Comedy by the faint illumination coming from a citadel, what translator John Ciardi calls the “Citadel of Human Reason” in Limbo, the first circle of Hell (see The Divine Comedy, Canto IV), where the virtuous pagans and unbaptized souls, those who were otherwise virtuous but who lived prior to the incarnation of Jesus, and those who were unbaptized and thus unable to be redeemed and allowed to enter Paradise, reside eternally. Virgil explains to Dante that Limbo is where he resides as well, having both lived and died before the time of Christ. Limbo is a place of no punishment but still one of eternal separation from God’s love, and hence a place of no further hope. At the Citadel of Human Reason in Limbo, Dante finds the great humanistic philosophers in the history of philosophy: Socrates, Plato, Democritus, Diogenes, Thales, Anaxagoras, Zeno, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Cicero, and Seneca—even Euclid, Ptolemy, Hippocrates, and other figures symbolizing the great achievements of pure human reason. Because Virgil symbolizes human reason, and because of the general Medieval mindset that human reason alone cannot lead to salvation, Virgil, by definition, cannot lead Dante into Paradise.

For Dante’s journey into Paradise he must have another guide: Beatrice, Dante’s symbol of divine love. Beatrice, of course, was Dante’s principle love interest, as described in Dante’s La Vita Nuova, a collection of Dante’s poems with his own explanation of their meaning and symbolism. In La Vita Nuova, Dante recounts three key events in his interaction with Beatrice: when he first becomes enamored with her as an adolescent, when she rejects him nine years later, and Beatrice’s death at age 25. The fact that the first two events occurred at nine-year intervals, the number nine (the square of three, the number of the Holy Trinity) traditionally representing perfection, undoubtedly influenced not only Dante’s view of Beatrice as symbolic of divine love both within The Divine Comedy and in the structure of The Divine Comedy itself: nine circles of Hell, three books of 33 cantos each for a total of 99 cantos, etc.

Side note, a huge clue the the trilogy is a retelling is the format that the author used: 3 books, each has 3 parts, each part has 9 chapters…

Anyways, Gale symbolically represents man and man’s base desires. This is shown through his *slight* inability to control his sexual desire for Katniss

Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I’d spent with Gale — watching him talk and laugh and frown — that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn’t imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, “I had to do that. At least once.” And he was gone.

and through his understanding but lack of compassion for the “other” both at home

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn’t reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I’m sure she thought was a harmless comment. As we walk, I glance over at Gale’s face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression.

and during wartime

At some point, Gale and Beetee left the wilderness behind and focused on more human impulses. Like compassion. A bomb explodes. Time is allowed for people to rush to the aid of the wounded. Then a second, more powerful bomb kills them as well. “That seems to be crossing some kind of line,” I say. “So anything goes?” They both stare at me — Beetee with doubt, Gale with hostility.

“They could still escape through the train tunnel to the square,” says Beetee. “Not if we blow it up,” says Gale brusquely. His intent, his full intent, becomes clear. Gale has no interest in preserving the lives of those in the Nut. No interest in caging the prey for later use.

His character is not meant to be evil or good, but morally questionable.

Katniss started in a low place and transcended to a higher level of being, from survival to living with purpose. Peeta started high with a strong sense of self and a higher level of goodness, descends with the torture and highjacking, and then ascends again after a lot of struggle. Gale's arc is static. He is basically the same from the beginning of the book to the end, and while we can imagine that everything he's gone through must have changed him in some way there's no textual evidence to support such claims.

At the beginning of THG Katniss calls him the person that knows her best. Perhaps he was, for a while, but as she goes through her arc there is a wider and wider divide between the person she started as and the person she becomes, and I'm not entirely convinced that he ever truly understood her, just as she didn't totally know herself.

When they first meet Gale basically accuses her of stealing, it takes them forever to actually trust each other enough to become friends. Their relationship starts contractually, a give and take, and the spirit of that never really changes.

He shows a lack of respect of her opinions if they don't align with his own. He tries to bring up the idea of having a family one day, and she immediately shuts him down telling him she doesn't want that. She wonders why he's bringing it up because there's never been anything romantic between them. Then later, in the arena, she admits that things have been different between them for the past six months or so, implying that he's been different. We later learn that he realized he felt jealous when other men paid attention to her.

He never tells her how he feels, but instead kisses her weeks after she returned home from a super traumatic experience telling her he HAD to do that. That kiss really bothers me, because he didn't ask first, so it feels a bit like a violation of her trust. Their kiss in District Two also really bothers me. She has not been in a good headspace and making out with a grieving depressed suicidal girl is just taking advantage, even if he does stop once he realizes she's out if it.

She tries to warn him about Snow when she returns from the Victory Tour, and later tries to warn him about the weapons and the Nut, and he refuses to take her seriously, with terrible consequences.

It feels a bit like he's holding Katniss emotionally hostage, if she refuses him he will end their friendship (or that seems to be Katniss's fear, that she'll lose him). Halfway through CF and at the end of MJ she expresses relief that he’s not there, first because he will think anything she does with Peeta will be seen as an act and therefore won't hurt him (which makes her feel guilty, because really she doesn't have romantic feelings for him) and later because of his actions in the war.

He isn’t evil, he's an asshole. By design.

#wistfulweaverwoman #gale hawthorne #divine comedies #dante #thg #meta

66 notes · View notes

wooedbywonu · 2 years

Text

When it rains, I miss you

The video of Wonwoo’s beanie acrostic poem was all over my timeline and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I find it so sweet, so I decided to write this.

Pairings: wonwoo x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff (kinda), slight angst, slice of life

Warning/s: mentions of eating

Synopsis: when the rain starts pouring, flood comes rushing akin to the thought of you running through his mind.

I was listening to this song when I started writing this piece. I hope the song will give you the same warmth it gave me. If you're feeling under the weather when you find this, do know that I'm genuinely hoping for better days ahead of you. May all of you find a reason to smile and something to look forward to :)

•••••••••••••

Dark clouds were gathered in the sky, similar to the painting you have given him, it was unchanging. The space he was in is quiet, although he was used to it, it felt different this time. It was kinda eerie and cold without your presence. Soon after, his room was filled with sounds that were far from your melodious laughter. The rain kept tapping on his windows, but he remained still in his position, laying on his side of the bed.

Holding onto it tightly for too long, the cold object touched his ear while he faced the ceiling. Every passing second felt like hours although that’s probably because of his anticipation. Four, five, six rings later without response, he managed to tell himself to just try again next time. They’re probably just busy. He thought, trying to appease himself.

As much as he wanted to stay calm, intrusive thoughts kept disturbing his mind that is filled with everything about you. For some time, he allowed it to consume him, knowing it’ll eventually stop. It will, won’t it?

He closed his eyes for God knows how long. Breathe in, breathe out. That’s it. Just like that. He did what he remembered you telling him what to do when things get out of hand. So for a few more tries, he breathed in and exhaled, hoping that the air he lets out takes his worries as well.

Wonwoo was stuck, at least that was what he was feeling. The rain outside showed no mercy and so is the strange feeling that has been bugging him. However, he somehow found comfort in the rain. Quite thankful to the sky for empathizing with him, hence, wishing it won’t stop soon. The cold air due to the circumstance may give him shivers, but the downpour will always, always, give his heart the warmth he needs similar to the warm smiles you’ve given him during rare occasions he’d be cuddly with you.

Oh how he wished he could’ve been straightforwardly affectionate with you, shower you hugs and kisses to dissipate the trace of tiredness after having a long day, prepare instant rice for you so you could enjoy and munch on your dinner without being disturbed. If only he wasn’t shy and reserved, he could’ve done the same things you do for him, be it small or big things to show love and affection, but he couldn't. He doesn't have the guts to do so.

Wonwoo stared into space as his room gradually turned pitch black, illuminated from time to time thanks to the lightning which, someway somehow, livens the empty streets from outside his window. Like how he wished, the sky continued to cry. Hearing the sound emitted by the torrential rain, he was almost lulled to sleep but a familiar ring alerted his senses.

"Hi, Honey. Sorry for not picking up your call, I was in the shower earlier" the voice from the other line started.

"It's okay. Have you eaten yet?"

"Nope. Not yet" cabinets opening were heard from the other line. "I was thinking if I should order takeout but I might just cook something with the ingredients I have here." Wonwoo hummed in response and shared his plans for dinner when he was asked in return.

"The rain doesn't look like it'll stop soon" he muttered under his breath. "Yeah. But it's kinda soothing, right?" He agreed especially because you replied with a tone he's so familiar with. The tone you use when you're trying to get him do things he normally wouldn't do, the one he can't resist when you're using it against him, and the one akin to warm blaze of sun that melts his heart whenever you tell him what's inside your pretty head.

"Honey..."

"Yes?"

"You don't seem okay. Is there anything you want to tell me?" worry was evident in your voice when you spoke to ask the question. Wonwoo wasn't quite sure what to say or how to tell what he's been feeling lately but he surely knows he has to tell you something, at least, because you are his and he shouldn't keep secrets that involve you.

"Well... I... " Wonwoo started and then stirred in his position. He tried to open his mouth but nothing came out of it. He tried so hard to form sentences in his head but the universe must have been playing tricks with him to make his mind this foggy. "Y/N.. I..." and then complete silence followed it.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me, Wonwoo. Whatever it is, I just hope you're not beating yourself up. Though you can tell me anything.. whenever you're ready" you suggested before speaking again "and if you're thinking about whether or not to tell me what's going on, I'll be just here making my dinner, okay?" a chuckle left your mouth as you spoke those words. As soon as he heard what you're up to at the moment, he turned the switch of the lamp on his nightstand, making him squint. A few retouches after, he requested for a video call to which you gladly accepted. From his phone, he can see you chopping some veggies on the counter and your device probably situated on a free space in front of you.

He was busy intently watching you prepare dinner, and you doing something that looks so domestic pulled his heartstrings. He got so lost with your every move that he didn't realize you were done cooking until you called out his name, only to see you so ready to take your first bite of the food you've made. He had this dazed look on his face which you pointed out and told him how cute he was being. Blood went rushing through his ears but he didn't let it stop him from ogling at the precious person he was seeing.

By the time you were done with your food, Wonwoo was still on the call. He remained seated on his bed throughout your meal, and he remained there, seated, as you clean up and wash the dishes.

It's a pity you were separated by distance. His thoughts went to how it would be nice to be with you in that situation, how he could clean up after every meals instead of you. He's quite good at it, he thought. He felt helpless for he cannot do anything about it.

"You're done already?" He questioned when you got back to your seat.

"Hmm" you responded and then asking if he still has plans to eat.

"am not really hungry, I'll just snack if I get hungry" His eyes settled on you after speaking those words. Then again, you asked if everything's okay but he didn't verbally respond, instead, a staring contest ensue between you two. You weren't one to give up so you trained your eyes on him. Your will to become the winner on this game was nowhere to be found when he spoke I miss you so bad sincerely.

Him catching you off guard was an understatement. Heck it was. You were overwhelmed by his actions, in a good way, at least. He was never one to be this straightforward. Right then and there, you realized that this must be what he cannot tell you. It must have took him a lot of courage to tell you words he's been meaning to say.

When you didn't reply immediately, he was quick to think you didn't like what he just said so he tried to take back his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—"

"I miss you too, Wonwoo. I miss you so much too" as those words left your mouth with so much sincerity, you could see his eyes well up with tears. You told him not to cry as it will make you cry as well. He blinked the tears away before muttering an apology.

"Sorry for being emotional. I just miss being by your side and the rain didn't help at all to stop me from missing you" he explained, swiping his thumb on the part of screen where your face is clearly shown, imagining it was your cheeks he was caressing.

"You don't have to be sorry" you reminded him. "I miss you just as much"

Wonwoo curtly nodded before proceeding with more I miss yous. His act made you giggle. "You're surprisingly affectionate today. What's gotten into you?" you questioned from the other line.

"Nothing. Can't I give my baby affection?" the words that left his mouth gave your cheeks color. This time, it was his time to giggle after looking at your flustered state. Seeing your furrowed brows and pout made him erupt to laughter, causing you to whine. When he was done laughing, he smiled at you and scrunched his nose after, knowing exactly how that gesture affects you.

"I love you so much, baby. I can't wait to see you in 3 days"

You beamed at him before responding "I love you too, honey!" excitedly. "Days pass by quickly. It won't be too long 'til you're in my arms again... So don't miss me that much" you reminded him, a teasing tone evident in your voice as you spoke the last sentence.

Wonwoo didn't promise anything as he was sure he'd still miss you even after the call, he'd still miss you even if the rain would stop pouring, he'd miss you until you're finally there in front of him and not just a thought that was meant to stay inside his head during his days while on the road.

•••••••••••••

Hi! It's me again! I would just like to remind you that, again, this is yet to be proof read. I planned to post this yesterday but I was distracted by BeTS tour. Were you guys able to watch the concert? If yes, please let me know your thoughts! I was screaming internally during the whole concert. Everything was BOMB! SEVENTEEN proved once again that they are THE standard. I can't help but ogle over those 13 talented men. I'm proud to be their fan and I'm also proud to tell everyone that they are my idols 😭 anyway, I hope I could secure a ticket and attend their offline concert here in Manila AND I do hope ticket selling will start around August or September so I could have time to save money 🤧

Okay, enough with that. Hope everything's going well for all of you! ^^ Have a nice day everyone~

#seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #wonwoo imagines #seventeen x reader #Spotify #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader

308 notes · View notes

forgedcold · 1 month

Note

4, 13, 17, 27, 48

4. Favorite line

Oh man how to pick just one. I'm going with the one that comes to mind first which is this.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Become an Autobot maaaybe? I very much enjoy Autobot Megatron, however, I think it would have been better canon-wise if he had remained leader of the Decepticons and attempted to create a peaceful, unified Cybertron with the Autobots. If it didn't work, then yeah sure fuck off Cybertron and work through your generativity vs stagnation psychosocial stage of development. The way it's written, his reasoning for becoming an Autobot just makes it seem it was for shock value to get Shockwave to be so stunned he'd stop trying to destroy the universe.

I think they would've done better to lean into Starscream's failed leadership of the Decepticons, how it decimated the Decepticon empire, Megatron didn't have a lot of resources left when he did come back, and his hate boner was finally stroked to the max, so he was left with surrender or try to get something out of peace.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

In terms of quotes/poems, I think about the tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow speech from Macbeth that basically means there is no purpose in life and horrible things are justifiable because of the lack of meaning (very skewed POV from Macbeth). Life "is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." And I mean, Megatron's life essentially amounts to nothing - but it also isn't just him.

I associate most Five Finger Death Punch (especially All I Know) songs to him and I think about William Faulkner (and his book The Sound and the Fury) in terms of his writing style. Megatron feels like a very stream of consciousness writer to me since the idea of having his own thoughts and free-thinking was illegal (also the psychological aspect of being told he was 'sick' for having ideas), so I imagine he wrote everything that came to mind very quickly.

27. Their guilty pleasure

Doing whatever he can to piss off Prowl.

48. Scariest moment of their life

When he was nearly shadowplayed in his youth when he worked as a miner. Canonically, it was written very rape-coded with Trepan saying shit like "I know this is your first time" "I'll try to be gentle" "You might leak" the whole "ugh" of pleasure when he sinks his needles into his brain. And I mean.

It made him cry. Hence his fear of needles and his aversion to mnemosurgery.

#meme: random questions #tacticturn

8 notes · View notes

cassieno · 9 months

Text

Crowley, Aziraphale, William Blake and John Milton

Let me spin you a yarn. Well, not really. I’m going to preface this with: I did never study literature, I just enjoy reading the occasional poetry and my brain is currently relating everything to Good Omens.

So here goes nothing.

William Blake’s The Tyger has been a favourite poem of mine for a while. I go back to it every few months. This time i found myself comparing it quite a lot to Crowley. It goes:

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

Now the imagery here is playing into themes of revolting and revolution. (Frankly, it was about the industrial revolution at the time, but as far as I’m aware the religious imagery was used here.) Remind you of someone?

The use of the word “Dare” in the last two verses especially. How dare Crowley ask questions? but also How dare God destroy his nebula? How dare God destroy creation. How dare she create destruction.

The end of the poem goes as follows:

When the stars threw down their spears

And water'd heaven with their tears:

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

The poem very clearly involves themes of duality and violence. Did God make the lamb and the tiger? Did they make something innocent and something violent to destroy it? Did they smile upon their creation? Upon its destruction? Or maybe these are shades of grey?

Same with Crowley. We saw him struggling with his place in the world during S2. “Lonely? Yeah.” Was he only created to destroy whatever good was in the world? He knew heaven was wrong just as he knew hell was wrong, too. But it poses the overall question: What place did God carve out for him when devising the Ineffable Plan?

Now the Beauty of this Poem is that it has a pair called The Lamb. The Tyger was published as part of the book “The Song of Experience”. The Lamb was published before as part of “The Song of Innocence”.

For my purposes here i relate these titles to Before the Apple and After the Apple, or Before the Fall and After the Fall. Innocence and Experience.

The lamb is so contrasting to its views of God. It very much reminded me of Aziraphale in that way.

Little Lamb who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee

Gave thee life & bid thee feed.

By the stream & o'er the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing wooly bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice!

Little Lamb who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee

Little Lamb I'll tell thee,

Little Lamb I'll tell thee!

He is called by thy name,

For he calls himself a Lamb:

He is meek & he is mild,

He became a little child:

I a child & thou a lamb,

We are called by his name.

Little Lamb God bless thee.

Just looking at these poems next to each other shows the contrast. The Lamb has a very easy answer to the question: Where do I come from? What’s my purpose?

As it’s easy for Aziraphale to say, too )or at least it was before Job): God.

He came from God, God was good and hence everything else was in order and just and jolly good.

Anything else was bad and therefore opposed God. His purpose was to follow heaven and the Plan.

The Tyger then poses the same question we as the viewer got in S2: How far can you go along with that easy answer? Did God really have to test Job? Did she know beforehand that Crowley and Aziraphale would work together? And if so: Did she make the Tiger and the Lamb?

Now onto John Milton because this post isn’t quite long enough yet: Blake used a lot of metaphors in The Tyger from Paradise Lost. Mainly about the Fall of Lucifer

But. BUT when i started reading it the description of the Serpent in Paradise Lost hit me like a train.

I cannot post the whole part here, but please read the whole section for yourself.

Here’s my favourite parts:

The themes of rebellion, revolution, the fall, the sorrow in Hell, the pain, the description how the efforts were futile.

It just all fits so very well. You feel bad for the Serpent, you can feel the loneliness seeping through the lines.

And of course this reminds me of Crowley.

"He trusted to have equal'd the most High" is Crowley feeling safe enough with God to go and ask a question. Make a suggestion.

“With vain attempt” Like with Crowley, nothing changed. He had to take it into his own hands.

"With ever-burning Sulphur unconsum'd: Such place Eternal Justice had prepar'd. For those rebellious" is the juxtaposition of eternal damnation as a form of ‘Justice’. It’s Crowley’s “I only ever asked questions. That’s all it took in the old days.” It is not just

"O how unlike the place from whence they fell!" it’s that we saw the pure joy that is Angel Crowley.

"Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace. And rest can never dwell, hope never comes" is the only part that doesn’t fit.

Because for Crowley hope did come in the form of Aziraphale and Humanity. He clings to music and plants and fine wines and sleep and cars and love.

I don’t know if this whole thing has a point. I think it is fun to find parallels in media. I think literature raising these imageries of Eden, the Serpent, God and Morality are bound to raise the same questions.

Isn’t that wonderful to see? How humanity will always try to figure out the same things in new ways with the same metaphors and maybe not the exact same questions but it boils down to something similar, doesn’t it?

Or maybe Crowley sat down with Blake and Milton at a bar once and told them what he really thinks over a few bottles of wine.

#good omens #neil gaiman #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens theory #good omens thoughts #good omens season two #poetry #good omens analysis #william blake #john milton #snake crowley

23 notes · View notes

discodeviant · 1 year

Text

Cold

Billy/Steve | Teen | 2.5k Bakery AU, Cold/Comfort

Aight this one is very silly lol. Needed to get the frustration of my job out somehow and this was how :') Bright side is I get to leave soon!!!! Can't wait lmao. Also Mike is a little shit and I love him for it, but Billy does not. Anyway, please enjoy 😚

Read on AO3 Made for @steveharringtonbingo and @billyhargrovebingo!

The two-seater booth in the corner had been unofficially reserved for Billy since the day he returned to pick Steve up from the bakery after his first closing shift. He’d sold the Camaro after high school when it spent more time in Steve’s garage than on the road, and going from college to Chicago didn’t make much use of it either. So they just had the BMW, which Billy drove more than Steve did those days. Dropped him off at work before going back home to write in his dreamy little office, then went back and sat in his booth for an hour until Steve came out with a pastry and a kiss to ride home with. Still, the nights got lonely in-between, when Billy was home without Steve in the other room. Yeah, Billy had friends he went out with sometimes, but Steve not being there was such a drag, so he started showing up earlier. He’d wait for two hours, then three, then four, and soon he just stopped leaving altogether. It was nice to see Steve’s smile as he went between tables or came out of the back with flour on his sleeves. He spent his breaks talking to Billy in person instead of on the phone, gave himself a few minutes every hour or so to get distracted by his Malibu bombshell of a boyfriend. Billy loved it. Billy craved it more every night and knew just when to expect him.

Hence the shallow twinge of disappointment when Steve didn’t sit with him at seven-forty or seven-forty-one.

Still hadn’t by eight, and Billy didn’t want to think too far into it. He’d been promoted to manager by then and had other responsibilities than before, but that hadn’t kept him away. So Billy got up for another cup of self-serve coffee that he only got free on account of being Steve’s plus-one. His cup was still half-full, but he refilled it anyway. Topped it off with some creamer to make it look like he hadn’t just done that to have a peek behind the counter and through the sliver of hallway into the back. Robin, the head baker and Steve's best friend, smiled at him while she reorganized the pastry display, and he asked her for a little cup of whipped cream because he liked to eat it with a spoon sometimes.

Still no Steve, though, so he sat back down and kept at his poem and pretended it didn’t bother him.

An hour later, it was suspicious. Almost closing time, and Steve hadn’t made his rounds once—not even for a smile, not a glance in Billy’s direction. The last of his coffee had gone cold, but he was too jittery for another refill, so he stood and went to the counter again to ask the question he was really curious about.

“Hey, you seen Steve?”

Robin frowned in thought for a moment. “Actually… I have not.” She looked around, leaned way farther back than she had to, to see that he wasn’t around the corner either. She shrugged. “Probably took a smoke break or something. You know how much he hates inventories.” And Billy sighed because, yeah, he did. “I’m sure he’ll be done soon.” Her smile, as sweet and friendly as it was, did little to ease Billy’s nerves, and he figured she could tell when she dipped down and back up with a bag in her hand. “Cookie?”

Billy laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks.” Once again, he sat at his booth with racing thoughts and a poem to finish, but the tip of his pen clicked against the page and left more little blue dots than it did words. A smoke break sounded like a load of shit since Steve had been trying to quit. Maybe Billy’s own habits didn’t make it easy, but if Steve had smoke breaks, he’d have smelled like it more often. Then again, inventories. Counting and math and numbers, which Steve had always had trouble wrapping his pretty head around. Especially if he was tired, and especially if he was cold. The cooler was cold. The freezer was cold. Maybe he’d gone outside to warm up since it was a humid April evening, but he could have used the baker’s oven for that.

With a huff and his patience fully depleted, Billy packed his notebook away and stood up from his booth, giving it up for the night unless Steve decided to appear in front of him within the next four seconds—which he did not. Billy tossed his coffee, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked out with his half-eaten, orange-frosted, chocolate-mint cookie in its bag. He walked all the way around to the back, not bothering to drop his things off in the car, hoping with everything in him that Steve would be standing in the little alcove with a cig between his fingers, maybe his lips, maybe his pale blue manager jacket on if he was really cold. But Billy didn’t feel particularly good about it, because he’d developed a sense for trouble over the course of his life, and it very seldom misdirected him. Especially when it came to Steve.

Something was very wrong.

The back door was still perched open with the trash bin, which Steve had complained about the kids doing on more than one occasion. They were basically adults, he’d say, they should have known about safety precautions, especially after dark, especially when they were alone. If Billy thought it smelled like nicotine, it was long-evaporated. Whatever had permeated into the brick and built up over the years. If Steve had gone for a smoke break, it was a while ago. There was still trash lined up inside to be taken out, so nobody should have been at the dumpsters (which Billy also checked and confirmed that he was right). He stood at the doorway and tapped his foot anxiously for a while, rolling the bag in his hand, biting his nails, looking inside because he wasn’t technically allowed in the back, but something was very, very wrong, and he’d never cared about technicalities or company policies all that much.

So he stepped inside, closed the door, checked the little office that had no sign of Steve. The jacket was gone from its hook, and the light was off. No Steve, no anybody as far as he could tell, so maybe Steve had forgotten to close the door when he went back in for inventories. Maybe Billy had forgotten Steve mentioning a truck delivery coming, so they’d take longer to count, or he would have to put stuff away in the baker’s corner, in the cooler, in the freezer—

Then it hit him like an avalanche, what Steve mentioned two or three weeks prior. Inventories, they always sucked, but the freezer door’s hinge had gotten jammed or something, so he had to keep it open with the Designated Office Shoe that belonged to a manager that had quit sometime in the winter. Otherwise one of the kids would close it because that was what they were taught to do so the freezer stayed cold, and their product wouldn’t thaw and go bad. The shoe did the trick. Kept it just closed enough that the plastic slats remained icy and assured that it wouldn’t close fully and get stuck.

Billy’s blood ran colder than the fucking arctic, and seeing Mike Wheeler’s face turning the corner didn’t help thaw him out either. “Uh… are you supposed to be back here?”

“Where the hell’s Steve?”

Mike was the one Steve had the most horror stories about—the scrawny little asshole with the bitchiest face known to man. Careless and rude most of the time, but he knew Joyce, the catering manager, and she insisted that he was an okay kid, and he did his job, so whatever. Billy still wanted to slap him, though, just a little. “I don’t know,” Mike said as if Billy offended him by asking. “Probably still do—“ Then his eyes went wide, and his jaw slacked, and, oh, Billy wanted to wring his neck.

Whatever he wanted to say tumbled from the back of his throat in a growl as he threw his bag to the floor and stormed to the freezer like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. Just a little. The end of a black shoelace poked out, stuck between a tread plate door and sickly-white wall. “Steve? Steve!” He pulled at the handle, only half-listening for a response because he didn’t need to hear Steve to sense that he was in there. Billy’s fingertips buzzed with anxiety the longer it took to pull it open, and Mike gawking in panic behind him didn’t help. “Can you do something instead of fucking standing there!”

“What do I do? I can’t open it!”

“Fucking—get Robin, dumbass! Jesus Christ…” Once Mike ran off, Billy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, gripped the handle and pushed his boot against the wall. “It’s okay, baby, just hold on,” he said to Steve, though it was more of a prayer. Another deep breath and a few long, exhausting heaves later, the door opened with such a start that Billy smacked himself square in the forehead, but he didn’t have time to stumble when Steve fell right over his feet. “Fucking, Jesus Christ, oh my fucking god—“

“Holy shit, Steve!” Robin ran to help pull him to his feet, and it took the three of them to get him back into the office. “Were you in there the whole time?” she asked once he was seated, and Mike had gone back to take the last few orders of the night. Steve’s teeth chattered with unrelenting haste, and each breath came short and shaky.

“The—the door,” he said, arms still tightly folded against himself as Billy tried to pull them away. “It—it closed.”

“Baby, I gotta get you out of this, come on.” The manager jacket was like ice. Steve just pouted and relaxed his muscles the best he could, licking and sniffing at the mucus running from his nose. “Mine’s nice and warm, see?” Billy held an arm against Steve’s neck, into which he leaned and closed his eyes, and Robin went to get him a hot drink.

“Bil—Billy, you’re—“

“Shh, shh, just…” Billy unzipped him out of the jacket and let it fall to the floor, taking off his own leather coat and wrapping it around Steve’s shoulders first before getting his arms into the sleeves. “Better?” he asked, and Steve nodded, leaning into warm hands that felt scalding on his face and neck, into the fire pit that Billy was. He rubbed along Steve’s thighs to warm his jeans back up, then held his hands and breathed onto them and kissed every frozen fingertip. Steve could barely smile.

“I’m… sorry for—for worrying you.”

“Steve, we’re not fucking for a month if you start apologizing.” It was an empty threat, but it worked anyway; Steve laughed. “Shit, I thought they fixed that damn thing.”

“Me t—me too.” Billy reached over for a tissue on the desk and wiped Steve’s nose before laying a gentle peck on his lips. “Mmmm…” Steve whined when it was over.

“Oh, Jesus, c’mere.” Billy’s arms were around him in no time at all, pulling him tightly against the warmth of his chest, one hand through Steve’s hair while the other kept him steady. His breath against Billy’s neck sent the heat back to his face, and he pressed his nose in harder, so desperate for warmth. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay.”

“Mm, you’re nice,” he said, and Billy was relaxed enough to chuckle into the top of his head. Breathed him in deep, the frosty scent of hairspray and bakery sweat. That was when Robin returned with a steaming cup of tea.

“Don’t burn your tongue,” she said, handing it off to Steve’s trembling hands. Billy kept an arm around him and remained pressed against his side even as he took the cup in both hands. He just let it sit under his face for a while, pressing his knuckles against the side and gradually returning to a more human temperature.

“You—you put—“

“Yes, I remembered the vanilla and the honey and made it extra minty.”

Steve grinned. “Thanks.” She just ruffled his hair and let him warm up against Billy more, waiting for him to take the first sip in case he wanted anything else. But he hummed in satisfaction and nodded to let her know that it was just right, and she nodded back like a salute.

Billy said, “We’ll get you home when you’re ready, okay?”

“But I didn’t—didn’t finish.”

Then Robin interjected. “Steve, I’ll finish them. You just need to go home and wrap up like a little Stevie strudel, okay?”

“Mmmkay.”

And while it was hard for Billy to be mad when Steve was in his arms, it didn’t fade completely when they made it back out to the car. Robin walked with them to make sure they made it okay, to help Steve get situated in the passenger seat with the heat on full blast. Billy stood with the door open and said to her, stern and with the same fury burning in his eyes that Mike saw firsthand, “I want you to tell your piece-of-shit-fuckin’ manager to get that door fixed if he doesn’t want me to sue his ass for almost killing my goddamn boyfriend. You hear me, Buckley?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Alright. Also, tell Mike he’s an idiot.”

“Why, what’d he do?”

“I know damn well he closed it on him, so tell him he’s dead if he does it again.” Robin licked her teeth at that one, a little suspicious but not disbelieving. She nodded anyway. Billy looked up at the cloudy night sky to consider whether he’d forgotten anything. “Okay, that’s it,” he said eventually, sitting down on those plush leather seats he used to tease so much. “Also, he’s not coming in tomorrow.”

“What?” Steve asked from beside him, which he pointedly ignored. Robin understood and didn’t fight him on it. Steve wouldn’t either once he realized that meant a day huddled up with Billy and nothing else to do, but it took a trip home and a long, hot bath to make it to that conclusion.

Billy sat behind him in the tub—washed his hair, scrubbed his chest and arms, kissed him all over until he was thoroughly melting from the steam and Billy’s affection. In bed that night, he was clingier than usual. Kept his face firmly against Billy’s neck or chest, legs wrapped tight around stocky muscle, arms holding his lover close like he’d run and leave him in the cold otherwise. Half-asleep, he hummed something that Billy knew was his nightly declaration of love, and he returned it with a similar tune.

“Mmm… mm…”

“Mmmm… mhm…”

“Mmmmmmwarm…”

“Dork.”

#harringrove #steve harrington bingo #billy hargrove bingo #steve harrington #billy hargrove #fanfic #ao3 #.discowrites #billy x steve #steve x billy

30 notes · View notes

ceyrann · 2 years

Text

PAC 4 : MESSAGES FROM AN ESTRANGED LOVED ONE

这个世界，不只是单纯的黑白。更多的是我们不曾在你、在自己内心留意到的彩色。

The world is not only made up of black and white. It also includes the colours in you and me that we have never paid attention to.

Greetings. I’m back with a PAC that I’ve been wanting to work on for the longest time. This PAC is similar to the 1st PAC I did, where you pick a poem/art. This time, however, I did not include the poems in the art, as I did in the first. But I create the art with the poem in mind so... Yeah.

The piles go from left to right, top to bottom. Breathe in, breathe out, then pick one that calls out to you the most. I believe there’s a particular person appearing in your head or whose voice you hear the moment you saw this title, and I believe we all need some form of reassurance to move on with past hurt.

So here it is.

Once again, breathe in, and out. Make yourself some tea, or your own comfort drink. Calm yourself down and pick the pile or piles you’re drawn to the most. I hope you get the answers you seek.

Disclaimer: This is solely for my entertainment purposes. Take only whatever you feel like it. If it doesn’t resonate, it’s okay to just drop it. Original poems are by the respective authors, translation and art are by yours truly.

Decks used: Linestrider Tarot Deck, Luna Cat Tarot Deck (Major Arcana), Flower Petals Oracle Deck, Sweet Dreams Oracle Deck

Found your pile? Let's go!

Pile 1

此夜曲中闻折柳，何人不起故园情。李白——《春夜洛城闻笛》

How would one not be reminded of their home, with a tune of a willow nocturne resounding through the walls?

This poem talks about the feelings of nostalgia and homesickness when the author heard the melody of his hometown played by flute. Hence, the flute in the image.

Homesickness, nostalgia, a sad tune, and most of all, I feel there may be some fire in it. It may be symbolising hasty decision making, or the want to just end everything and burn them down to ashes, including connections and ties. Reason why I said so is that the first card that flipped out almost got burnt cuz it went straight to the candle I lit beside me. I was really scared but luckily it did not burn.

“How does it feel?”

“How does it feel? To burn our relationship to ashes, to disregard everything that we’ve been through? You have never talked to me, we have never talked things out, and this is where we now end up at. Honestly, there were a lot of opportunities, a lot of chances, a lot of nice timings where you could come to me and tell me of your insecurities, instead of brushing me away. We used to be so close, sharing so many moments and thoughts. Now we’re so far apart, even though we may live close to each other..”

“You mentioned that by seeing me, you’d feel scared and inferior. What was it that made you feel so? What was it that painted your insecurities greater than this bond we share? What was it that brought us apart? Don’t you see that I feel inferior to you too? It’s like I’m stuck here and you’re so far away, and I had to work extra hard to be able to catch up to you. I just want to be equal, to be someone who’s on your level, but you said that you’re jealous of me? Feeling inferior to me?”

“I’ve told you so many times that you’re burning yourself out, and that you’ll end up being impulsive and will start having a lack of sound judgement. I have told you before, that if you have no idea why you’re being stressed out, it means you’re Actually Stressed, and that You Needed Rest. It can be difficult for you to sleep at times, which was why I said you needed help. I don’t want to be the person who says ‘I told you so’ but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

“Please, take care of yourself. I know you want nothing else to do with me. But I hope you focus on working on yourself, take care of yourself. Keep going, keep growing into the person you’re meant to be. I’m no longer the person meant to be by your side, but I really hope that you can find new friends and create new bonds that can help you to become a better person, to become a happier person.”

“Most of all, I hope that you can be at peace with yourself. Challenges will always be present. Our relationship ending like this is also a challenge that we both need to face. It was a rocky path and I believed that you’ve arrived at this decision after a long while of thinking. Pfft. Remember to use your heart at times and let your brain take some rest.”

“Do yourself justice. I wish you the best in getting whatever you want. Work hard, manifest, whatever the words are. Do yourself justice, cut down whatever that no longer serves you.”

“Take care, and good-bye.”

Image in my head: Fire. Someone holding a flute and talking to you in a very… Empty tone? It’s like… Apathetic? Emotionless? But by looking at their grip on the flute, they’re just trying to control themselves. They’ve been hurt by this as well and have not been doing good. Both of you are equally hurt, and no matter how much you want to reconcile with this person, you both realised that you’re no longer doing each other any good. For some reason, this someone will leave with the flute, or they’ll throw the flute into the fire and leave.

The flute reminds me of music, so maybe you or this someone or the both of you play a musical instrument.

Pile 2

好是春风湖上亭，柳条藤蔓系离情。戎昱——《移家别湖上亭》

“Farewell”, I whispered to the winds of spring, to the lake I adore, to the pavilion I love. Yet willows and vines with how they swayed, holding me back, not letting me leave.

This poem talks about a farewell that cannot be turned away, and how the author feels reluctant in leaving, as though every living creature out there is stopping. There usually are pavilions in the middle of the lake, where poets and people would gather there for a nice view.

The pavilion is just in the middle of the lake, with no one in it. There’s a sense of loneliness but also a sense of feeling lost, letting the waters around drown your feelings. I have a feeling that some of you who picked this pile may be attracted to water, or may dream of bodies of water. Maybe the ocean? Going to a river? Kinda thing.

“It’s time to leave.”

“Your words, hung onto me, haunt me, not letting me be at peace. Oh, your words are like the Devil, resounding in my head, scorning and laughing at how weak I am. We used to be the best couple, the best duo, the best team. Until we stopped caring.”

“It’s not like we stopped for no reason. We stopped caring cuz anything more than that would mess us up, crush us like dirt. We couldn’t deal with it anymore. Through this, we realised that we needed boundaries. We’ve been riding and living along and upon the waves, letting it take us to wherever we go. Recklessness is fine, but we’ve been living on risk, letting the highs of adrenaline we’ve gotten from danger to charge us. Living the life like the Joker and Harley Quinn sounds romantic and all but boy, it eats us up more than we could ever imagine. Being unique sounds amazing, but also we realise this isn’t the uniqueness we should be going after.”

“Balance and boundaries have been recurring topics in our relationship. We’ve been looking at things from an outsider’s point of view, maybe even from an outcast’s point. I guess you’re right, that it’s high time for us to readjust our position, so that we can also see things from some other people’s view. We’ve been known for our versatility, it should be easy, right?”

“For fuck’s sake, letting go of the past is never easy, especially when you’re so used to the old habits. Fine, it’s me who’s used to the old habits. But do not deny the fact that we had fun. …… -sighs- We should be talking about growing anew and I keep going into the past. I can’t help but to reminisce about them. Those were the times that I experienced so many new things and learning about feelings, including the anger and apathy in me. It’s just so… Difficult…”

-breathes in, and out-

“People on the internet, spiritualists, psychologists, and even our friends told us to start healing. They never told me that healing will need me to tear open my wounds, redress and tend to them before actual recovery can take place. I wish there’s some sort of pill for me to take so that I can just forget about the pain. They also mentioned about reconnecting with my inner child and to nurture them? What even is it lmAO. I feel like I’m The Child Who Needs Nurturing instead.”

“......”

“Wait, actually it may be that? Lol I’m amazed at my understanding of random stuffs ahahaha oof. Well, I suppose it’s as what you’ve said before, that it’s time for us to start anew, to step on a new path. It still hurts, it hurts as though my insides have been sucked empty, like there’s nothing in me. But we’ll still get through this.”

“We’re crazy fighters, and we fight.”

Image in my head: The other person seems like they want to stretch out their hands to hold you, but they pulled back and just,,, keep their hands to themselves. Fidgeting with their fingers, looking hella anxious and may stutter. Too many thoughts running in their head to the point they can’t even keep their words coherent at times. They wanna hold you but they couldn’t.

Pile 3

相思相见知何日？此时此夜难为情！李白——《三五七言》

The yearns, the longing; yet no days promised. How do I endure this for another night?

This poem talks about how the poet misses his friend, but has no idea when they will meet each other again.

Not gonna lie, I honestly thought it’s a poem about lovers being unable to meet and the poet is just missing them badly. Maybe it’s cuz of my misunderstanding but you can’t blame me, okay.

The art for this pile is the acacia beans. The reason I chose these for this pile is because of the word “相思” that’s in the line picked. 相思 generally means the feeling of yearning and missing a particular person, and the acacia beans have been known as 相思豆, also known as love beans. The explanation and its folklore can be found here.

“Hey, it’s been a long time.”

“How have things been? I don’t see you active much these days? It’s like you’ve been hella exhausted and overburdened with whatever that’s going on in your life? Chillax. Haha it was you who kept telling me to chill and relax in the past and guess what? I’m now the person who’s returning these same words back to you. It’s like you’re blinded by all the earthly things that are happening around you, and you lose sight of what you actually wanted, who you wanted to be.”

“You wanted to be happy, didn’t you? It can be difficult to return to the past to enjoy that bliss that runs deep in us, the untainted lightness in our hearts. But it’s not impossible to get back that joy. You’ve taught me that. You’ve taught me to trust in my inner wisdom and intuition, told me to go along the flow at times is not a bad thing. So go!”

“Look around you, open up your hearts and eyes. You have so many people around you who are willing to support you. Their hands are outstretched and you’ll know if they’re trustworthy because your vibe-check is always on point! They’ll be there to help you out of your slump, help you to see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Ride the winds! Fly a kite! I don’t know, just do some dumb shit and make yourself happy! Explore the various choices out there, reach for the skies and move forward! If you really wanna reach out to the skies then maybe try skydiving lol please don’t. Practice courage each day, take it at your own pace. No one’s rushing you. Lemme know if there’s anyone rushing you, I’ll fight them.”

“When unexpected changes come for you, I hope you still have the same ol’ courage as in the past to beat that shit down. Sometimes you may ask why all this nonsense is going for you, but knowing you, you won’t have time for all those questions, solely focusing on solving the problem at hand. Things prolly will wanna hurl themselves at you, but you can kick them back away. If there are things that you realise are your responsibility, I pray and share part of my strength with you to embrace those changes and adapt to the new tasks. Tho I’d prolly still fight.”

“Have faith! Idk about spirituality or whatever those are, but I know good things will come to you. Stop staying up at night to finish your tasks. Maybe once in a while to look at the stars and the moon and know that you’re not alone. Remember to be fair to yourself and let yourself rest when you need them!”

“We are fighting dreamers!”

Image in my head: This person sounds like someone you’ve not talked to for a long while, but they still remember you as someone special. You have been with them through their darkest moments and y’all probably have found different friend groups and have grown apart. They’re still pretty chill and talk to y’all at a comfortable distance. There’s some awkward smiles here and there, but some nice chuckles were present. Sincerity is as bright as day in their eyes, and you can feel both of y’all slowly getting closer again.

Pile 4

桃花潭水深千尺，不及汪伦送我情。李白——《赠汪伦》

The bodies of waters may be deep and heavy; yet incomparable to the depth of farewell from a friend.

This poem is dedicated to the poet’s friend, Wang Lun. That’s… just all. This line talks about how the poet, Li Bai, treasures Wang Lun, that the feelings for each other are just in depth.

For some reason, this pile gives me the feeling of a friendship problem. Maybe it’s cuz that there’s a word “friend” in the poem, maybe because there’s some heaviness and brooding with a friend you thought you were close to.

The flowers here are peach flowers, since in the original work, the peach trees grow by the waters and the flower petals are floating on the surface of water. Which is why this pile is represented by peach flowers. They are soft and beautiful flowers, calming and soothing too.

“Recklessness has been a theme in our relationship, huh. There’s always this weird tension between us, and boy, the times that we have yelled our heads off each other, competing against each other, charging towards our own goals and making sure that you don’t catch up. … I’ve slipped up, haven’t I?”

“Yes, this competition is one-sided, I’ve always seen you as my rival. You’ve been a threat to me all these while, making me feel so left out from our friend groups. Yeah sure, I definitely have gotten defensive. Could you ever imagine how tiring, how energy consuming it is to be on edge constantly? No, it’s not paranoia. I know myself. This is just normal fear. Just the fear of failure, the fear of being unknown.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know if we’re meant to be friends or not. You’re an amazing person, undoubtedly so. But constantly being with you means that I have to be under your shadow. I have no choice but to climb up from that and let the light shine on me instead. I wanted to wear the crown, so I’ll bear the weight of it. I am constantly reminded of who I wanted to be, I believe you are, too.”

“Dealing with me most probably wore you out quite a lot. I’m not sure of anything but knowing you, you probably have been polishing yourself and been practicing courage each day. Seeing your transformation is… Giving me mixed feelings. You being good means I’m supposed to be better. Yet I know that you’ve been working hard. Probably that you’ve been transitioning into a better phase in life.”

“... How do you even have that much energy? To be reaching your highest good, to be regenerating yourself and constantly to be better and better? -scoffs- Yeah right, my heart is closed up, not open to love nor any possibilities. Don’t talk to me about manifestation. I only believe in my actions and own efforts. Nothing will come to me if I don’t work hard.”

“Anyways. Enough of the talks. Not interested in being an energy vampire, I’ll get tired too. Just a word of advice: Pay close attention to your surroundings. I know that you’re sharp enough but just look around, no fault staying on the safer side. You may not know there are people out there who hide themselves better than me. Be smart. Don’t fail both you and I.”

“Oh well, the past is over. You’re on your way, and so should I be on my way too. I should also try welcoming changes into my life, just like you. Not sure if the doors of magic will open to me but no fault trying, I guess? Hopefully, I’ll find my own strength, just like you’ve found yours.”

“We must go on.”

Image in my head: Both of you standing at a very guarded distance, bodies stiff at first and then relaxing as the conversation went on. It’s not like you’re afraid of the person, but just… Uncomfortable. But as their monologue went on, you’re slowly letting yourself relax because whatever they say is something that you’ve already known. You still listen to them, manners and courtesy purposes. But most of all, you’re slowly letting go of whatever you’ve been holding against them. You know that it’s time for you to transition into a new phase of your life and you’ve decided to focus on what pleases you, instead of what stresses you out.

Pile 5

人到情多情转薄，而今真个不多情。纳兰性德——《山花子·风絮飘残已化萍》

When one loves many, their love runs shallow. Now I deeply regret not loving thee.

This poem talks about the poet and his regrets. Even in his marriage with his wife, he still thinks of his feelings, his love for his cousin. He regrets after his wife’s passing due to a miscarriage, recognizing that his love towards his wife has been shallow. The pain he felt was as though getting his insides pierced and torn, and he could only hide the tears as he could no longer compensate for his lost love.

The image is supposed to be a camellia and I hope I did it justice. I couldn’t really think of a suitable icon for this pile and decided to go with flower since the word flower appeared in the title. This flower probably grows on the mountains and it feels like the flower petals flew and covered the mountains with its colours.

“Stand up.”

“You’ve been very conscious and clear of what you have wanted, and I do not blame you for that. Vulnerability and frailty exists in every single one of us, and we succumb to them. It’s human nature, you were still young, you were still learning. You were, and you still are holding a lot on your shoulders. Please, put them down, let your shoulders rest. You don’t need those loads, as they are no longer yours to hold on to. The shame, the guilt, other people’s expectations of you; these are not yours. So, let go. The past is over, let your true self step forward, and welcome the new beginning.”

“Be kind to yourself. Open your arms and wrap around those that need nurturing, starting with yourself. Try something new, try something you’ve wanted to try for a long time. You’ve wanted to learn drawing? Do it! You’ve wanted to write a story? Write it! Care for yourself, do what it is that you want to do. Open up yourself to inspiration and let creativity flow through you. You may have lost the chance when you were younger, but you are now allowed to do things that pleases you. Remember, what pleases us shapes us. Communicate with your work of art, show love to it, and it will reward you with happiness and pride.”

“It sounds like I’m putting a lot on you, but remember to go with your pace, take baby steps. Do not rush yourself through things, my child. No, you are not running out of time. In fact, the timing is just right for your dreams, desires and goals to manifest. Sit back, make some tea, enjoy ten minutes looking out the window and be at peace with yourself. Patience is a virtue.”

“You’ve been such a smart and bright child, and you’ve only grown brighter. Yet, the fear in you also grew along with it. Worries and failures have clouded your eyes, making you unable to focus on the beautiful things that are still with you. It is difficult for you to put your failure aside, I understand. In this case, try focusing on resting and getting yourself on your feet to face the challenges head on again. Sleep, and rest. Who knows you may receive some insights in your dream?”

“You’ve been forced to grow up quickly, and I’m sorry for that, my child. But fear not, for the best is on its way to you. You’ve grown stronger, and things will be better. The universe rewards those who are deserving of them. And you, my child, deserve it more than anyone else.”

“I’m sorry that I’m unable to accompany you on this journey, but know that I’m always rooting for you and wishing you all the best.”

“You are deserving of all the good things life has to offer. You deserve them.”

Image in my head: A kind and lovely elderly person patting your head as you rested your head on their lap. They’re sitting in some sort of wooden/rattan chair, rocking it slowly as they slowly caress you, soothing and calming you. You were not used to this sort of affection at first, but you slowly let yourself succumb to the warmth and by the end of their talk, you were not really willing to let go of them.

Pile 6

离人无语月无��，明月有光人��情。李冶——《明月夜留别》

Goodbyes were said, as quiet as the moon, its light on us, gently soothing our hearts.

This poem talks about separation and goodbye between a couple. The poem revolves around “moon”, where it talks about the goodbyes under the moonlight, from silence to murmurs, describing the depth and determination between the couple where they won’t be apart as their hearts are still together.

A more accurate depiction of the poem should be a full moon but I have problems drawing a circle without any guidance so y’all have to settle for a crescent moon. But since the poem generally is centered with the moon, it is the best choice to be a symbol for this pile.

“I’m sorry that things have to end like this.”

“We could’ve been the best duo, but things just never seemed to work out for us, huh. Maybe it’s because we are too similar to each other, which is why we keep noticing each other’s flaws?”

“Keeping secrets from each other had never been a good idea. And no matter how much we’ve emphasised on being open and communicative, we just don’t seem capable of doing that. Sure, we talked. We talked a lot, on various topics and our opinions can align most of the time, and I think it’s because of that we start to have expectations that our values are supposed to be the same, and we end up forgetting that deep down, we’re both very different individuals.”

“We had very different childhoods, but neither were sugar or candy coated. You probably had it even harder, which was why you still are unable to let go of the wounds you’ve carried ever since you were a child. Letting go has never been easy, but somehow, you still have this air of wisdom, able to guide people through things. You let flowers bloom from your wounds, making it look prettier and more acceptable to the human eye. But deep down you’re probably in a lot of pain, since the roots of the flower are now deep in your veins.”

“Flowers are pretty, but make sure that you’re not letting them feed off you. Set boundaries to make sure that you’re growing well. Like what Marie Kondo has said, if it does not spark joy, then it’s time for you to remove it from your system, from your environment. I’ve stopped focusing on what makes me unhappy, so you should try that instead. Find out what pleases you the most, focus your energy on it, and perhaps, you see yourself becoming the type of person you wanted to be.”

“Pfft. Am just randomly reminded how people have talked about us. … Okay, more like how people have talked about you. They probably have had a bunch of expectations on you, wanting you to act a certain way to them but then you did not do what they hoped for. I’m sorry that I used to be one of those who talked behind you. After some time, I came to terms that we’re just holding on to different values, which I really shouldn’t be blaming you for. In the end, we’re all different beings with different life experiences.”

“It’s probably time for us to move on, to properly go on the journey we’re meant to walk. Talk, open yourself to communicate. You’re an excellent communicator and I know you’re capable of talking to almost everyone, including yourself. Maybe communicate with your inner self, your higher self? Not sure if that works, but just try.”

“Remember to take breaks to balance yourself? The entire thing with us has left us unwilling to build new relationships like this again, I believe. But life goes on, and we should also go on too.

“Remember to colour your hair if you feel like it. It’ll suit you. You’ll prolly shine brighter than the sun lol. That’s you. Keep going, keep growing. Be unstoppable. One day, who knows, we might be able to look at each other and be at peace.”

“And maybe, we may be able to talk to each other peacefully again?”

Image in my head: This pile… There’s no face to face interaction in this. There’s someone writing a letter to you, pausing and thinking at times, striking out some words, and deciding to just write a whole new letter. It happened at least twice, and the not-so-nice ones became draft papers for them to doodle and to recall the spellings of certain words. They took breaks in between, looking at the stack of letters in front of them and placed them aside. Occasionally, they returned to the letters you both exchanged in the past and read them.

Pile 7

萧萧梧叶送寒声，江上秋风动客情。叶绍翁——《夜书所见》

Autumn wind against the leaves, cold and shivering, Bringing along memories, remembering one’s home

This poem was created when the poet saw the seasons changing, realising how much time has passed and that he’s still away from home. It’s a scenery-describing poem, where being alone in a quiet autumn has reminded him of the loneliness and the cold wind that has been accompanying him.

The picture representing this pile is a boat. In ancient China, there used to be boats that are like... Inns on waters? Where patrons can enjoy the scenery of the lake and the trees by the side. The original poem talks about patrons and the huge river, which was why I thought of the boat-inn being fitting for this pile.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“You may not see the crops, the fruits of your labour, but fret not, because they are all there. Some may require a longer growth time, depending on the soil and water you used. They are there, so worry not. Use those times of worrying to focus on other things perhaps?”

“The water looks calm but remember that fearsome monsters lie beneath calm waters. Nature is always being portrayed as the Nurturer, yet many forget the destructive powers these ancient beings hold. We depend on nature, not the other way. Never attempt to challenge them.”

“Change will be coming, and you can’t run away from them. Stop running, stop rushing. What is meant to come to you will eventually come to you. The more you run, the more fear you’ll have in you. Sit down, breathe, have faith. Embrace change in this new day and adapt to what is to come. Do not fear distract you, or doubt the new paths ahead. ”

“I know you never liked hearing me nag, but things still need to be said, and hopefully they’ll get their way through your thick skull. I know you’re still mad at me but please, look around you. Remember the person I said who’s not a good influence? Look at them again, and maybe get some other people’s insight on them. I know you hate people saying the words ‘I told you so’, but for the sake of God, please open your eyes to see the truth that’s slowly uncovering. There were whispers in your heart and you never listened to them just to piss me off. You knew something was wrong with them but you ignored the warnings just to go against me. Now that I’m away from you, can you acknowledge that this person is doing you more harm than good?”

“They’ve been hiding their real intentions from you this entire while, which you know. You’ve never bothered listening to me, and that’s alright. Just that… From now on, listen to others. Listen with care, speak with kindness. Your words hold so much power, power that you don’t even know. Listen to your heart as well, as it will guide you with the wisdom of nature. You’re strong, that’s how you have been living fearlessly. But please, love more. Love yourself and the other people around you, open up your heart and allow the world and its kindness to enter you.”

“Remember to be fair to others. You’ve been having too much anger in you and it’s time for you to let go of them. Clear your mind of all negativity and allow your spirit to be refreshed, welcoming a hopeful tomorrow.”

“I’m with you, you’re not alone on your journey.”

Image in my head: For some reason, I feel that this is some family member? Or someone who’s been with you for a very long time. They may not have the best choice with words and may have hurt you in the past, resulting in you cutting them out of your life. They’re looking at you sad, begging you to listen to them, as they want only the best for you. Beg is the right word because they look very desperate.

Pile 8

夜月一帘幽梦，春风十里柔情。秦观——《八六子·倚危亭》

The breath of spring flutters against us; Under the moonlit night, into our dreams.

This line talks about the softness and adoration that has been carried by the spring winds into the hearts of the couple, where they enjoyed the night with each other. The words used in the poems vividly describes the unwillingness to leave, how they wished they could cling to each other when the world forbids them doing so.

This pile is actually an extra pile I decided to pick. It did not fulfil my criteria of having seven characters per line, but the entire line made me soft and mushy. This line sounded clingy, but not the overly sweet kinda clingy. Instead of clinging on the arm, it’s more like linking the pinkies as they walk. A tingling feeling. The curtains talk about night, shielding the couple from the wary eyes of the public, enjoying a tranquil moment between the both of them.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you so fucking much that I would not hesitate to travel across the world for you, just to hold you in my arms. Oh so many times I wished I could’ve thrown this current life I’ve built aside just to be with you, just to call you mine. But I couldn’t. There are responsibilities being put on my shoulders, and many more I’ve chosen to carry. I couldn’t.”

“I feel like I’m slowly driving myself crazy with how much thoughts are running in my head. I feel like I should’ve taken the leap with you, but at the same time I know life has never been kind, and that I can’t afford to go through the same shit as in the past. I know I’m not ready. You’ve been the bigger person, and me being the coward, I chose to run away.”

“You’ve told me that I should listen to my heart, to stop letting the voices in my head run wild. It’s so goddamn hard for me because of the bunch of ‘what if's' that have been yelling at the top of their lungs. I- I couldn’t, I have no idea how!”

-sighs-

“I… Yeah, if there’s a will, there’s a way. I should’ve really tried. I wasn’t brave enough to take those few steps out. You’ve been there to support me, help me, to provide help in any means you could. And yet, I just chose to turn away; to run away. You were there with your hands outstretched, but I just put on the freaking mask again to pretend I’m so cool and strong and just… Just refused your help, your heart. Why was I such a dumbass. I really chose this path, huh.”

“Enough about me. It’s gonna be the same shit again and again. I am undeserving of you, this I know. You’ll probably be better somewhere else, with some other person who can give you the joy that you deserve. No worries, I’ll still work on myself. I can’t afford to continue being stagnant like this. It’s not fair for you to be helping me all this while and I’m still a piece of non recyclable garbage. I should at least evolve some biodegradable ones. At least, contributing slightly to the world.”

“You’re still in my mind, in my heart, in my soul. There’s this part of you that I keep in my head, to remind myself that it’s because of you that I’m now learning and growing into a better person. It’s hella difficult to accept certain things, but I’m learning. Acceptance is the final stage of the Five Stages of Grief, and with that, hopefully, I’ll be able to walk and act on my passions and dreams.”

“You’re my love, my dream. That will never change. But I need to work on myself to find my own purpose, to learn to create strong emotional connections with the other important people in my life. And I certainly hope that you’re doing so, playing and laughing with the people you care and love.”

“I do think that it’s difficult for us to meet, but I certainly do hope that I get to meet you in my dreams. Maybe, just… Maybe… You can dream of me at times? And if that happens, I hope that it would be a nice dream, one that gives you the feeling of relief and peace. I’m never your responsibility, so don’t worry about me.”

“I promise you that I’m working on myself, and I always am in debt and am grateful for your love and patience. Gosh… I can’t believe I finally let them all out. Time for us to turn the wheels of time and continue with whatever we’re working on?”

“I wish for peace to be on you, that you may continue shining and being the you who loves yourself the most.”

“Take care, I love you.”

Image in my head: Someone and you in an infinite space, where an illuminated clock is below your feet. That someone looks like in pain and keeps clutching their chest as they shout out whatever they have wanted to tell you. You were standing there and listening. You did not approach them to hug or pat their back, but just there, listening to them quietly. You were really listening, and there’s this small smile on your face. A smile of relief, knowing that they’re working hard on themselves. After the yelling session, you both looked at each other, ready to put down the past and walk towards a better future.

#ceyrann #4th PAC - Message from An Estranged Loved One #i really REALLY wanted to do this PAC for the longest time ever #i've had ideas about this like heck i'm not even kidding #i couldn't proceed with this cuz i had no energy to do the art #then i've decided to change the artstyle to something like this and #i can tell you that i fucking love it #also i tried doing this reading in a different style #it's obviously very different from what i used to do #but i enjoyed doing it #and i hope y'all enjoy it too

147 notes · View notes