#stay like this so i have a model to craft my own body then we can fuck
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Source - YONGBAE2372
#gay furry#gay furry pecs#gay furry bulge#gay furry belly#gay furry lion#artists twitter above#KING YOU ARE PERFECT#stay like this so i have a model to craft my own body then we can fuck#im just a hole
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more harsh truths about life that will prob hurt your feelings and get me cancelled lol
1. scripting, visualizing, using crystals, affirming, etc. all don’t work in the real world. do the work. we’re not anime characters or superheroes— using your “brain powers” while you sit there doing nothing to get what you want is a delusion. script, visualize, do whatever you wanna do but thinking that’s the secret sauce to what is gonna solve all your problems is insanity
2. no one is responsible for your triggers. getting mad at someone because they forgot to put “tw” in the title next to the LITERAL EXACT TOPIC that they’re going to discuss is your own fault that you read it. you knew what it was gonna be about. if you know you’ll be triggered, move on. getting mad at people for talking about things that they had no idea you’re having a hard time with is no one’s fault either. you’re never captive to stay somewhere. if it’s triggering, you make the decision and the choice to move on and get away.
3. attractive people have the advantage of making anything look cool. for example (and no offense because my brother loves this stuff) but if you like anime, a lot of people think it’s weird. but if you’re an attractive person that likes anime, then it becomes cool because an attractive person likes it. looks = status and anyone with status could make anything look cool and be a trend.
4. girls, it’s better not having hairy legs and armpits. sorry but someone had to say it and i’ll be that person. you’re not creating a movement, you’re not proving anything to anyone. everyone grows hair, we get it. but if your body hair makes a statement and expresses yourself, then maybe you need to develop a personality.
5. speaking of personality; some of you are too nice. the nice guy finishes last. always. they seek validation, temporary satisfaction, and it reeks desperation. being too nice makes you look weak and a target to manipulation and weirdness.
6. models, actors/actresses, singers, anyone in the public eye are MEANT to look good and MEANT to look like a fantasy/dream. these people are not meant to be role models and they didn’t sign up to be role models. they were good at their craft and all of you as regular everyday people forced them to be role models because they had a public image. these people are contracted to always look good, set trends, and stay relevant in the media. then you guys started pressing for “inclusivity” and ruined brands like victoria’s secret, hollister, abercrombie, etc. because it got your feelings hurt. those brands sell stories and fantasies. those models sold those brands. STOP TRYING TO MAKE HIGH STATUS PEOPLE INTO EVERYDAY PEOPLE. work on yourself if it bothers you. it’s show biz, baby.
7. if you want anything in life fast, then you either have to have money, good looks, or great manipulation/bribery/communication/people skills. being skilled is a good thing, but don’t expect results overnight like you would if you had money, looks, or people skills. again, this is if you want something FAST.
8. listening to subliminals is a waste of time. wanna change your subconscious mind? get your mind used to living and acting the way you wanna be. do that for 3-6 months and boom, you’re a new person. *high five*
9. it’s cool to gatekeep. why are we telling everyone our beauty secrets and where we bought our clothes? i’m not trying to have anyoneeeeee have anything i have because when people catch on to something, it becomes a trend, then it becomes basic. so no, i’m not telling you what perfume i’m wearing. “i forgot” or “it was a gift”. let me be me.
10. ladies, men want to do things for you. no, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the capability to do it yourself. stop with the equality mess because a man wanted to hold the door open for you. JUST BECAUSE A MAN OFFERS TO DO SOMETHING FOR YOU, DOES NOT MEAN YOU LACK THE MENTAL OR PHYSICAL CAPABILITY TO DO SO.
#harsh truth#wellness#wellness girl#that girl#that girl aesthetic#clean girl#clean girl aesthetic#leveling up#femininity#self care#green juice girl#self healing#self help#self care aesthetic#self improvement#self development#personal development#self growth#self love#high value woman#hypergamy#hyper feminine#hyperfemininity#hypergamous dating#hypergamous#advice
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I've been thinking a lot about Lunar's different designs, and would love to ramble about them a bit, if you don't mind!
All of this is, of course, completely self-indulgent, and my own interpretation!
Now, Lunar has three official VR models. There's the most iconic one, with the crescent moon, the cuter version of moon, and of course his current one!
For simplicity, I will refer to them as "Crescent", "CutieMoony", and will call his current one "Pastel".
There was one other design, his very first, which was shown in the thumbnail, though in the actual show was just a very pale recoloring of moon, and only shown in reaction videos.
Though it was never canon, I do still have my own interpretation to that as well!
This one, I will refer to as "Pale".
"Crescent" is most important design, as it brings meaning to the rest.
It lays the foundation for everything else, as it is his real design.
It's what he automatically glitches into when he's under high stress.
Most importantly, it's what he's been shown to look like in every other universe.
Lord Lunar, Lunara, swap Lunar, all of them are the same.
Crescent is universally shown to be his real self.
"Pale", on the other hand is, simply put, what Eclipse wanted him to be.
Something easily pushed into the background, something mild.
Something to sit by quietly, to take what is thrown at him.
Pale is the opposite of who Lunar actually is.
Interestingly enough, his design in the thumbnail changed the day Moon returned, the day Lunar finally decided to cut off his puppet strings and reject Eclipse.
That day, he rejected the image Eclipse had crafted for him,
and his design, pale and barely there at all, bloomed into something bright, something noticeable.
Lunar finally became themself, no longer bound to their purpose.
"CutieMoony", is the opposite of Pale, as it's what he chose to be. This design, to me, truly underlines Lunar's relationship and appreciation for old moon.
He already has an actual design, one designed by his brothers, one that's truly him, in this universe and every other, and he can change into everything he wishes to be, yet he chooses to look like old Moon.
Old Moon, who knew him best, right after Monty.
They have shared the same body, and old Moon has seen the dents and hurt left in Eclipse's wake.
He is the one Lunar ran to, when they couldn't bear the abuse anymore, the one they cried their heart out to.
And despite what Lunar did, even under the influence of someone else, he met them with nothing but care and concern.
He listened to them, and visibly tried to reach out, only to hesitate and hover instead, for his hands were only ever used to hurt before, something Lunar knew.
He didn't force them to stay outside, and took their place, didn't even hesitate when Lunar asked him to be his brother.
He is the first one who tried so hard to be a loving brother, arguably trying to be what he couldn't be for Sun, at least not in the beginning.
He actively supported their interests, remembered what they liked.
When Sun scared Lunar in a horror game and made them cry, Sun panicked because Moon would hear, showing just how much of a protective barrier old Moon was for Lunar.
By taking his appearance, Lunar truly showed how much they looked up to him, and how safe he made them feel, considering they took this appearance while they were trapped by KC.
Another thing to note is the red and yellow accents, very reminiscent of Sun, showing how much their bond has grown since the rocky start.
Last but not least, there is "Pastel".
This design definitly has a lot of interpretation to give, but my favorite to focus on is the raw wrongness of it.
Because we know what Lunar looks like. He's supposed to be vibrant and blue, yet this body is purple and mellow.
Ironically enough, it's very similar to "Pale", the very personification of what Eclipse wanted him to be, showing the permanent mark he has left on them, as well as their mental state.
Their energy isn't genuine anymore, it's a distraction and exaggeration to run from the mess left in their head.
There is also the divinity inside of them, reflected in their eyes, showing them that now, they are more than just Lunar.
They are part of something much bigger than themself.
This body, in every sense of the word, is not their own.
It's something they might never see as a home either.
Another irony is how it once again links them to Eclipse, who himself is in a body not his own.
His body is a literal copy after all, not to forget that his "real self" was universally shown to look like Solar, minus God Eclipse.
This was a rather long ramble, but I really needed to get it out of my system! The brainrot's been growing steadily-
Thank you for reading!
-Stardust
BELOVED STARDUST ANON I'M GOING TO START DOING FLIPS OVER HOW EXCITED I AM ABOUT THIS OH MY GHOD
I don't even know what to say other than these are all a fantastic observations and that I am wholeheartedly accepting these into my soul forever I think
#asks#stardust anon#anon#THIS IS ALL SO IMPORTANT 2 ME....... U JUST DISSECTED THE FUCK OUTTA THIS LITTLE ROBOT I'M GENUINELY SO ENAMORED#i'd kind of rotated before the fact that lunar had /also/ gone thru multiple bodies/designs like eclipse had and how there's likely some-#-fun ideas you could make outta that but i never actually like#/THOUGHT/ ABOUT IT#I KNOW I SAID THIS ON UR LAST BIG RAMBLE BUT I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW ABSOLUTELY HUGE YOUR BRAIN IS FOR THIS AHSJWBSJSN#ghooooddd could you imagine if part of lunar's arc is learning to comfortable w/ themselves again#and it leads to them having the Crescent body/a new body that reflects more of who they are now#and they're Happy and Okay and Nothing Goes Wrong 🙏 GDJWHDJS#sun and moon show#the sun and moon show#tsams#sams lunar#lunar sams#laes lunar#lunar laes#lunar and earth show#the lunar and earth show#tlaes#lunar#long post#other's thoughts and rambles
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Decided to make a little introductory post to a very particular crossover AU (for ABZU, The Pathless, Journey (2012), and Sky: Children of the Light, to be specific) that @abhorrenttheorizer and I have made art for over on Discord. As there's a lot of ground to cover, I'm putting it under a read-more for courtesy.
Introduction
Welcome to Earth! Specifically, thousands if not millions of years in the future, after at least one cataclysm has claimed the lives of every human on the planet. But not to worry!
A little before the end of humanity arrived, two bird-like gods arrived on Earth, settling in the eastern and western hemispheres to establish their own followings.
Off to the East, we have the goddess affectionately nicknamed "Megabird," who landed on a mountain and began constructing her own unique ecosystem centering on light and flight, creating the Rythulians as her worshippers. (AT's more in charge of this portion; he's got a lot of interesting ideas about the "slugbirbs" as we like to call them.)
To the West, we have the goddess known to her own people as Mother Eagle. First, she got to work producing five eggs, which would hatch into their own unique gods and goddesses: Cernos, Sauro, Nimue, Basilla, and Kumo.
Basilla, the shark goddess*, was the one who crafted the people who would become their worshippers, taking remnants of humans and mixing them with seals and sharks to create the Basillan species (my specialty, based on my personal headcanons for the TGS games).
*(based on the Great White from ABZU being referenced in The Pathless and the mysterious stele that got edited out in an update)
The original Basillan kinda looked like this (these being the "humanoid" forms of the Tall Ones, Basilla included).
However, they wouldn't stay united for very long. Differences in religious views and lifestyle got heated, and eventually the mortals banished Basilla and her followers from their island home, with the Basillan cult setting up shop in an underwater territory a ways away from the Eagle's Island. Over time, the more land-focused followers of the Mother Eagle and the remaining four Tall Ones became the Vokara subspecies, and the more aquatic followers of Basilla alone became the Nanshen.
Here's a really old drawing of the differences!
(Did I forget to mention this AU has been in the works since 2021? Man my art's changed since then.)
Anyways, average Nanshen guy on the left, average Vokara guy on the right.
The Nanshen are more suited towards an aquatic lifestyle, with wider gill slits, darker skin due to heightened sun exposure, shorter and more compact body type, a flatter nose more suited for passing water to the gills, and longer barbels on the ears to allow for greater olfactory sensation underwater. (They're based off of the murals in the ABZU game, as well as probably unintentional environmental storytelling with how unnavigable the map would be without a lot of diving underwater; it only made sense to me that the lost civilization was probably amphibious.)
The Vokara have lived mostly in the mountains for generations, so they're more suited for terrestrial life, with a broader chest, smaller gills to focus on breathing air, lighter skin due to weather conditions providing less light, a more opened up nasal passage for ease of breathing, and smaller barbels due to less of a need for underwater sensory measures. (They're more based on the Hunter's appearance in The Pathless, given that she is way too gray to be a human. I know it's probably just to make her aracial like what they did in Homestuck, but I'm running with it damn it!)
(Anyways, here's a nicer comparison drawing from a little while later. Behold the specbio lesbian wedding!)
Fun Bits I Forgot to Organize
Tusks
Adult Basillans grow tusks like boars (based on the Godslayer's ascended model having these wicked tusks among his rows of fangs). They only really develop towards the latter portion of adolescence, around one's late teens to early 20s, and are regarded for the males as the sign that one has become a proper adult.
Of course, the downside is that these things are continuously growing and have to be trimmed every now and then in order to avoid poking oneself in the eye or scratching people with it.
The Vokara are especially finicky about covering their mouths for... not quite modesty reasons so much as baring one's scary teeth at another person is considered rude and aggressive. The Nanshen, living far more amphibiously and thus not really comfortable with more cloth than is comfortable underwater, don't care about that as much, though if you grimace at somebody they might kick you in the shins.
Barbels
A general rule I keep when designing out-of-water clothing for these guys is to cover the ears. In universe, it's because their barbels are very sensitive to differences in temperature and UV radiation out of the water, so it's deeply uncomfortable to have them uncovered for these guys. Out of universe, it's because The Hunter did something like this in her game, in addition to the ABZU people also covering most of their heads but not their chests for some reason (so probably not quite a modesty thing), and I decided to make up a silly specbio reason for it.
For some examples, here's a spread of different Nanshen city states and their different fashions:
History
The games are still canon here! But there's a little more to it.
The Nanshen had always been travellers, more keen to explore and establish their own territories far and wide. But after those dwelling in the Crown began messing with the Abzu, the life energy of the ocean itself, the ecosystem around the capitol collapsed and the population fled the area. Their former empire collapsed, and in its place, a number of different city states off the shore of their various old territories were established in its place.
Some time before, or maybe simultaneous to that, the Vokara had their own little collapse in the form of the Godslayer's rebellion. Many had read the writing on the wall and fled the Isle before he successfully slayed the gods and took control of the whole Island, leading to a number of villages and kingdoms being formed on the nearby continent, which would eventually spawn the Last Hunter, who would defeat the Godslayer.
There's more to it, but I think I'm approaching Tumblr's picture limit, and I've got more, sillier pictures from the AU. I'll add those later!
#metamorphoverse au#crossover hell#abzu#journey#sky children of the light#the pathless#long post#my art#headcanons#there's like three years of worldbuilding in this
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Book description
From USA Today and Amazon Charts bestselling authors Kerrigan Byrne and Cynthia St. Aubin, comes their latest Romcom featuring a quirky cast of characters who represent the hilarious absurdity of life while making you fall head-over-heels in love. This steamy, laugh out loud, opposites-attract small town romance reminds us that we don't have to be perfect to deserve our own happily ever after!
Gemini "Gemma" McKendrick knows just about everything about everybody in Townsend Harbor. When she's not serving on one of the many civic positions or leaping headlong into another hobby, she's hosting the Sunday Stitch 'N Bitch at her yarn and craft shop, Bazaar Girls. With her quirky boutique in big financial trouble, she makes a snap decision to rent out the basement of her cozy craftsman to Townsend Harbor newcomer Gabe Kelly. A man with a past as colorful as his tattoo sleeves, who has become an urban legend since he blew into town. And who better than Gemma, Townsend Harbor's own gossip guru, to answer the rumor mill's most pressing questions? Like whether the silver-tongued mechanic is as good with his hands as he is with a socket wrench.
Gabriel "Gabe" Kelly wasn't born into a family so much as a criminal enterprise. Taught to lift, chop, and rebuild cars since before he could tie his own shoes, he's obliged to pay his debt to society before deserting South Boston for Townsend Harbor, Washington. Surely he can stay out of trouble here, right? He immediately finds the only position an ex-con with prison muscles and neck tattoos could easily find in a town like this, and buys the vintage car mechanic shop from it's retiring owner . Moonlighting as the only tow truck in a thirty-mile radius, he rescues the absent-minded hottie who runs the local yarn shop. But he quickly discovers that a toy-sized car with a dashboard lit up by Christmas isn't the only thing in Gemma McKendrick's life desperately in need of maintenance. Gabe, who is uniquely qualified to diagnose and fix complicated mechanisms, finds his sexy landlord is impossible to figure out. Looks like he'll have to take a peek at her undercarriage to find out what makes her purr before he hits the road again.
Because women of her caliber don't take home guys with his make and model...
But he knows she wants a test drive.
Order link: https://amzn.to/47rIQSV
My Review
5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
One of the most entertaining series I’ve read in a long time! So many laugh out loud moments, sexual innuendo, secrets and with a great group of strong-willed, independent, women, who all have their own unique problems. These women have bonded together to support each other, any way they can, as they find their way through life…and love! Townsend Harbor seems to be the perfect place with its quaintness and quirkiness for all these characters to blend and live in. This is Gemma and Gabe’s story and I never saw this sizzling relationship coming!!!! And it is an eye opener! Just saying Gemma really surprised me in this opposites-attract romance!
Gemma McKendrick lives in a constant state of clutter and disorganization due to her inability to stay on task for any length of time. Thanks all to her ADHD’s delightful bonus, of body betrayals but also because she constantly overextended herself in Townsend Harbor. But when her father and sister start questioning her, regarding her quirky boutique and its profit margin, she suddenly decides to rent out the basement of her house to Gabe Kelly. The same Gabe Kelly that happened to be the most soul-crushingly beautiful man Gemma had ever met. But when her identical twin Lyra and her fiancé Harrison shows up unexpectedly, and catches her in a rather awkward position, what will her family think of her attraction to the hot bad boy? Her family surely wouldn’t approve of him, if she brought him home for Sunday dinner. But she wants so much more out of life and she was willing to finally reach out and take it.
"If experience is what you want, I'd be more than willing to help you with that. Anything you want to know, anything you want to try, anything you want do. No strings attached."
Gabe "The Babe" Kelly was an old friend of Darby's from Boston, who had made his Townsend Harbor debut in a duet on aerial silks that left neither eyes nor panties dry. A man with a past as colorful as his sleeves of tattoos. Born into a family of criminals, he’d learned at an early age to lift, chop, and rebuild cars. Gabe was full of a past filled with darkness and danger, Southie trash with a rap sheet to prove it. As an ex-con he decides to buys a vintage car mechanic shop from it retiring owner in hopes of staying out of trouble in Townsend Harbour. But when Gemma McKendrick offers him her basement to rent out, he knew he was in deep trouble. Because he hadn't been able to get the image of her out of his head, since the night of Darby's benefit. Which was exactly why he couldn't get tangled up with her. Gemma was sweetness and light, the girl next door with a heart of gold. Until she needed him!
"I'm attracted to you," she said, her voice barely audible above the waves. "Like, a lot. Like, so much that it's basically an obsession”
These two are so…HOT! Sexy, charming and totally head over heels in…lust with each other. Their relationship is so sweet and captivating, I loved watching these two opposites come together and be exactly what the other needed. With Gemma, Gabe was starting to imagine a real future together. But when trouble shows up again, will Gemma and Gabe get their HEA? Or will family cause the end of their future together? You will want to read this one to get all the spicy and sexy details!
I received an early copy and this is my honest review.
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@ your previous anon: please stay away from social media. I’ve done that too as a girl who is not attractive I have some injuries and scars and stuff that I won’t get into here. The world especially men online are particularly cruel to us that aren’t models.. and that makes the idea of dating terrifying and avoided. You can curate your media social accounts (if you have to have some) to what you like. Like I like to bake and I’m learning to sew. Seeing that content helps much more. It helps to remember too that you don’t have to get married or be in a relationship if you don’t want to. It’s a weird paradox I’ve seen when girls decide to leave dating altogether so they’re shamed for it. But then we’re also shamed for dating because we’re not enough either. then we’re threatened to settle with a guy that doesn’t even like you or else he’ll just date some younger girl. Makes no sense to me. Like just go date her? but whatever. They make it seem like older single women are a threat to society like how single men are. But I’ve never heard of a single older woman shooting up a public space or stabbing multiple people. They just keep to themselves. It’s double hard I know if you have parents that want grandchildren to hurry up and marry. I have that lol.. but I think those parents aren’t really aware of how dark dating has gotten. A lot of men just aren’t nice or like women in general. Yet they’re told to get one like we’re some item to pick up at the store. To sum up - delete social media if you can. Reddit isn’t a place for women honestly. If you can’t delete all accounts, block any content that you don’t want to see. Your mental health matters
I totally believe that humans were meant to be as much scrutinized as we currently do. Whether this is in the form of self voyeurism (selfies) or comparing ourselves to other's physical appearance. The fact that people are showing more their body than they ever did before doesn't help. I am sure how ancestors weren't fixating over scars or pimples or keeping their hair silky or whatever narcissist crap is getting shoved onto us.
I already said the reason so many people felt so insecure and hollow was because they didn't entertain an actual hobby. And when I say hobby, I'm talking about doing something of your hands. Whether it's gardening, doing ceramics, textile creation, illustration.... I'm a firmly believer that humans were meant to create & learn, not consume. Today most people come back to their house and watch stupid shows on Netflix. A whole agenda set of value and "culture" is getting shoved into their heads. Teenagers didn't start to starve themselves, have reckless sex or lookup porn stars out of a vaccum... People don't have room were they can express themselves.
So yes, curating your media does help A LOT. I never had a TV ever since I left my family home, don't have Netflix or music service subscription. I make my own music playlist on YouTube and practice my crafts (fashion & illustration) whenever I have free time. I don't have personal social media beside Tumblr (I have an Instagram account for my brand but I refuse to have the app on my phone). I also unfollowed/stop visiting websites making me anxious or with toxic communities (even on discord I left a bunch of toxic servers - I only kept a japanese language and pro life group). Result? I don't compare myself to other anymore (mental health improved). Creation is the best medicine against feeelings of inadequacy or FOMO. And the only fields I'm comparing myself to other it's for work (other artists) not aren't immutable traits about myself that I cannot change, which is precisely what breeds so much anxiety and desperation ; you can improve your craft, but you can hardly change your body structure, social status or 'personality'....
Women not killing people or shooting up places for whatever reason is yet another proof that the "women are more emotional then men" is a myth no rooted into reality imo. It's just pure gaslighting lol Not too long ago I've seen a post debunking the claim that women did actually have less car accidents than men and that the saying that women couldn't drive wasn't rooted on objective reality lol Once again, men project their own shortcomings onto other.
#i love when anons do support each other lol#i also have another one that I've yet to answer to I hope she's going to see this ask#I've got the best anons!!🤍🤍#answered
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Jini's Interview for Cosmopolitan Korea Nov 2023 Issue
Q: How does it feel to start anew as a solo artist?
I'm extremely nervous. As it's my first EP album, I've really prepared diligently. I kept practicing and re-recording, staying up all night, to create this album. It's my first step, so I'm nervous, but I hope you all will like it!
Q: The album title is unusual, 'An Iron Hand In A Velvet Glove.'
It conveys the idea that within the soft and beautiful velvet glove, there's a strong hand made of steel. We believe that not only appearances but also the solid inner self that we've been preparing for a long time is important to show.
Q: The overall album art has a strong and cool vibe, but what does 'Jini's 'pursuit' mean?
I may appear chic in terms of my looks, but personally, I have a preference for a ballet core-like girlish mood, just like the photoshoot we did today. So, I enjoyed it! (laughs)
Q: Is Jini also strong inside and out?
In reality, when it comes to personality, it's the opposite (laughs). Based on looks alone, people often describe me as having a very cool and cold image, but in reality, I'm quite gentle. I'm quite sensitive. Everyone says it's a surprise when I start talking.
Q: Do you have any favorite features on your face?
The sharp angles. When I was younger, I used to be self-conscious about it. However, now I like that feature because people around me say it's more attractive.
Q: What type of song is the title track 'C'mon'?
It's a song that I want to listen to every day. The lyrics, which invite you to come to me, are charming, and the melody is addictive. With my favorite artist Amine featured in the song, the rap part creates a rich atmosphere, making it a captivating track. World-renowned choreographer Kiel Tutin has crafted a fantastic dance for it, so you can also look forward to the performance. Perhaps for fans, it might feel like, "Does this kind of music suit Jini?" It's a side of me that I've never shown before.
Q: How did you come to collaborate with Amine, who featured in the song?
He's been an artist I've liked for a long time. "Caroline" is my favorite song of his. Our company's CEO pitched the song I recorded, and I heard that Amine liked it and readily agreed to participate. I actually met Amine yesterday, and he was so kind and enjoyable to be with!
Q: You participated in the lyrics for 'Bad Reputation,' right?
I had tried my hand at writing my own rap lyrics in the past, but this was the first time I had written the lyrics for an entire song. I was nervous and had my moments of contemplation while writing. I expressed my emotions honestly in line with the story of the demo track.
Q: Do you have any artists you consider as role models?
Blackpink's Jennie sunbae-nim! Her solo performances always fill the stage even when she's alone. I have so much respect for her. I hope I can deliver performances like that too.
Q: Are you a hard worker?
Yes, when the choreographer comes, I practice until it's ingrained in my body, and I don't sleep. I continue practicing even after returning to the dorm. I keep at it until I get it right. I have a strong determination.
Q: What were you like when you lived in Haeundae as a child?
I was a cheerful and lively child. I used to play in the sea every weekend, swim, run around, build sandcastles, and collect seashells. The beach was my playground.
Q: When did you start dreaming of becoming a singer?
I've been dreaming of it since kindergarten. I watched a performance video of KARA's 'Mister' on TV and thought, "They're so pretty and cool; I want to be like that." So, I learned ballet and belly dance, and I ended up going to Seoul after auditioning at a dance academy. I've been living in Seoul since I was in the 2nd year of middle school.
Q: It must have been challenging to pursue a trainee life at such a young age, away from your parents. What gave you the strength to come this far?
It wasn't easy, but I kept my heart set on my dream. With a determination to become a singer, I made it this far. I think I'm in this position now because I didn't give up in the face of difficulties and didn't crumble even when things got tough.
Q: What does turning 20 mean to you?
Turning 20 means being at an age where I can try new things, take on challenges, and grow. Right now, I'm working harder than anyone, getting ready for the album release!
Q: What do you consider as something cool or impressive about yourself?
Something cool about me is experiencing things I haven't encountered before.
Q: What do you think makes someone a professional?
Is it kicking the hair tie away when it falls during dance practice? (laughs) I think being able to adapt flexibly to any situation is what makes someone professional.
Q: What do you consider as uncool or not impressive?
Spending a day without meaning, giving up without even trying.
Q: What are you currently into these days?
These days, I've been oddly craving overripe watermelons. I've been ordering and eating a lot of watermelons.
Q: Please name one song that feels like it sings your heart.
"꽃길" by Kim Sejeong sunbaenim. It's a song that understands my heart and provides comfort.
Q: What are your aspirations for the new start you're embarking on?
I don't have big ambitions. I just want to meet more fans right now!
Q: What do you believe in?
I believe that if I earnestly wish and vocalize it, eventually it will come true. I will succeed. (laughs)
Source: 솔로 데뷔한 지니, "성공할 거예요, 저는." || 코스모폴리탄코리아 (COSMOPOLITAN KOREA)
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Working on Haruka 2.0
I decided on a plan: I'll (probably) wear Haruka to Desucon, with the more updates the better. I’ve had trouble taking on the work, but I think now that I have the halfway checkpoint in sight it helps me stay in motion.
Of course I'd like to make a new costume for Desucon instead, but I've done enough hurried cosplays in my first ~10 years of cosplay and overwhelmed myself, I won't take risks anymore 😅 Right now my priorities are, in chronological order:
Taking care of the stage shows I am producing for Desucon (mid-June). The shows are my responsibility, so any personal cosplay whims lose to it in importance.
Getting ready for NCC finals in Närcon (end of July).
Lowkey preparing for a dance gig (RIGHT after Närcon, early August). And not only for the dancing, but I’m in charge of making us brand new outfits too. Madness never ends!
I’ve made a list of Haruka’s things that need an update and divided them:
things I’m definitely doing before Desucon
things I will maybe do if I have time (and probably will, but I have to play very gentle mindgames with myself okay?)
things I can peacefully leave as is until after. There is still more than a month from Desucon to Närcon, so I’ll have time to continue then.
So far I’ve taken apart the old headband and started making a new one... and possibly accidentally killed a magnet in the process, whoops. Let’s hope I can make the magnet still work because otherwise I’ll have to take the second headband apart too and make a third one... 😭
The first headband above. I didn’t want a hard, plastic-y headband. I also wanted to be able to use the wig without the headband, in case I cosplay some other versions of Haruka. So the main material is rigilene bone (plastic corset bone, bendy but not hard) covered with satin ribbon. It attaches to the wig with magnets in three places.
It was very much a trial and error process, so the inside is not as pretty as I would hope. My biggest issue was the bumps where you can see the magnets.
For the second version, I replaced the magnets with some thinner and stronger ones and added some craft foam to hide the magnet bumps. I tried gluing the satin ribbon on this time, instead of handsewing it.
The base of headband 2.0 below. Much smoother! The problem is, I used an iron to flatten the wrinkles on the inner side, and completely forgot there’s a maximum heat level that magnets can take. Shit. I call it a learning experience!! If the magnets still work, the next step is painting the band and reattaching the decorations, and then it’s done.
The original magnets on the star I had on my skirt were not strong enough, so the star took a few falls in Tracon and several of the pointy ends broke. (Yes, magnets again :D I’ve grown to love them – it’s really useful to be able to take things apart for safer transportation – but I’ve also learned they need to be really fucking strong to actually hold their own. Strength of 1 kg was not nearly enough, especially on a body part that moves a lot.)
Poor baby :( And you were so carefully slanted by hand, too... This time we (me and my partner, who helps me with the printing) are trying to see if we can make the slant without adding as much weight. On the first version we used a heavy-ish filler material and molded it by hand.
What’s with the slant, you ask? The star in question is attached to my skirt and needs to stay put at the end of the ”shooting star tails” as I call them, but it’s somehow also supposed to be on top of my vest. That works for a game character model because on her, everything stays in place at all times, but an actual human body moves in more complicated ways and so do the clothes on it. So the back of the star needs to be slanted in a way that allows the vest to move underneath it. It works well when I just twist my midriff. Below you can see a stage photo that demonstrates an inevitable problem though: when I raise my hands or just straighten my back, the vest raises. When I go back to default posture, the vest comes down, often falling over the star. Even with the slant. Curse this reality we live in!
Yesterday I visited the local library to 3D-print a base for the new star. That was also not a completely smooth process, but at least something exists now.
My biggest problem with Haruka is the vest fabric. My old one (which I found after weeks and weeks of painful searching and despair) turned out to be a poor material that easily catches some runs, which infuriates me. All that work and then the threads in the fabric decide to break under a needle and create some lovely visible lines across the whole piece. Excellent. 🤪
Sooo I’m remaking the vest from scratch but I haven’t been able to find a good replacement fabric yet. I could barely find ONE fabric I was happy with, because the tone of pink is utterly impossible to find... And now I have to find ANOTHER. I think I’ll just have to accept I’m not going to be 100 % happy with the colours. 🥲
The old vest material is the unevenly cut stripe on the left, between the dark purple and blue ones. The top one on the right is a replacement candidate, but I’m not sure I’ll use it. It might be too dark.
But oh well, I’ll take my time with finding the fabric, as I’ll still use the old vest in Desucon and make the new one later.
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Bottega Veneta
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The Things We Don’t Tell
Summary: You were sure your life was written and directed to fit a sketchy Rom-Com and nobody could convince you otherwise. First, your boss was too hot to be true, and burning with desire didn’t even begin to explain the tingling sensations he left on you. Second, your coworker (a.k.a. Ex-About-to-be-FWB) insisted in turning your life into a living hell, which wasn’t the exact kind of hotness you were into. And if having these two hot men around you every single day of your life wasn’t enough to prove it, maybe the threat of your slutty secret identity about to be busted would be… But you couldn’t let this happen.
WC: 7,5 K
Genre: Smut, Humor (?)
AUs: Office, Enemies to Lovers
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Bang Chan
(Not really a love triangle as Hyunjin is the Lead. However, Reader wants to Bang Chan)
Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List
Warnings: Language, Thigh riding, Public space (Office), Exhibitionism, Possessiveness, Pet Name (Baby girl), Sir Kink
[If I forgot anything, please let me know! I’m kinda sleepy right now]
Notes: There will be at least one more chapter but I won’t do a tag list post for now, only if someone wants it, cuz I’m too lazy to think about doing it right now. This fic is an attempt to experiment with some writing style things that I’ve been wanting to try. I don’t think it worked, tho SUHAHUSAUHSUHA But that’s life
- I’ll quite possibly change the title in the future-
///
You are a superhero.
Okay! To be honest, you may be exaggerating a little bit ─ a tiny harmless little bit ─ but that was how you felt every single day of your life, alright? You had this glorious and mysterious side of yours that you hid from everyone else in the world… That mask that you couldn’t let come to the ground and would fight for dear life to protect… That side to your persona that no one was allowed to meet… The fierce, bold, and dark aspects of your soul that—
“Y/N! I want those papers on my table!”
“Yes, sir!” You shrieked in an embarrassing (not even slightly bold) way.
— That you couldn’t show at your work.
Yeah… So maybe no one actually thought of you as a superhero, but you really believed someone should start to. Was there something that different between your life and those low-budget TV shows people seem to enjoy so much? You didn’t think so.
To be fair, sometimes you felt like someone wrote a questionable script and poorly directed your life to fit you as the leading lady of a sketchy rom-com. As if they just focused on checking out every point on a bullet list made up with rules for a successful superhero office drama that wasn’t even that good…
… And speaking of which…
Rule Number One: The stern (maybe kinda attractive) boss!
If you had to define Bang Chan with a couple of adjectives, you would choose undeniably beautiful ─ extremely professional of you because the right words to describe him were fucking hot ─ and committed. Fortunately, it wasn’t an “I have someone waiting for me at home and a bunch of kids I must put to sleep” kind of commitment, which would destroy your hopes of having this man one day. Unfortunately, it was an “I’m better than the header and gonna run this company by tomorrow night” kind of commitment, which destroys your hopes of a peaceful day at work.
Now, it’s not like you don’t want to do your job! It’s just that you didn’t sign up to be Bang Chan’s perfect little toy ─ definitely not the better words to describe it ─ and you didn’t expect to be joined by the hips ─ really? ─ with him or any of your coworkers. The thing is that Bang Chan wants to be on top ─ someone has to stop you ─ and he believes the only way to get there is to work as a team and be as perfect as one can be. In other words, Bang Chan wants absolutely everything and everyone to be neat, tight, and ready to be used ─ again… Not the better way to put your thoughts into words ─, but this just wasn’t who you were.
It also wasn’t the point right now.
The point right now should be the fact that Bang Chan was striding to his office looking like he owned the whole damn place… If this was a movie, the camera would be focusing on his expensive, black leather shoes before scanning all the way up to his waist in slow motion. The scene would zoom in on his fine ass only to go a little bit up and catch the shiny, black belt wrapping around his figure. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but you had a hell of a productive mind… You could think of a few things you shouldn’t really be thinking about right now.
Bang Chan didn’t seem to understand he was at work either.
He rolled his sleeve up in a sexy motion that should be illegal. It isn’t. You can tell by the way there are no cops bursting inside the building and arresting this gorgeous son of a bitch.
The lack of any authorities to stop this atrocious moment had you lowering your gaze to your desk ─ a vain attempt to ignore the way his forearms flexed as he gestured and ordered people around. If you were a little bit less professional, you would have some ideas of how he could do it in bed. With you. But you weren’t some kind of creepy perv who would be fantasizing about riding your own boss from dusk till dawn.
Not at all.
“Do you need me, Sir?” His secretary asks politely.
A question that you would love to ask him too… In a totally and strictly professional way, of course.
Rule Number Two: The (extremely unnecessary) nemesis!
The shiver running down your spine could mean only one thing: Hwang Hyunjin ─ your obnoxious coworker ─ was standing right behind you, just like a bloody damn ghost. There was no need to turn around. You knew he had his mocking eyes glued on Bang Chan’s figure, and you could feel the air shifting as he tilted his head in a silent sneer before leaning on your desk.
You refused to turn around and acknowledge his presence; painfully aware that he would flash a wide grin while looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. You wouldn’t give him the taste of seeing in your face that he was right; that you were staring at your boss as if you were a starving vulture. So you did the only thing you could do in this situation: You started to work. The sheets scattered over your desk wouldn’t walk by themselves to Bang Chan’s room, right?
And neither would you if it depended on Hyunjin.
The attempts to swipe the papers in your direction and gather everything you needed ─ to finally get rid of Hyunjin ─ proved to be vain as his hand took root on the desk. You pursed your lips in annoyance while glancing at his prominent knuckles and slender fingers; wondering if he would be so collected if he knew you wanted to crunch them. Probably not. But he gets off so fucking much on upsetting you that he might just want to take the risk anyway.
“What do you want, asshole?” You hissed; stopping your motions before turning around to stare blankly at him.
The face of an angel was the most accurate way to describe the sight in front of you. Plump, pink lips molded into a sweet smile and dark brown eyes morphed into cute crescents. None of those features fit his true self, though. Underneath the angelic façade, there was a demon called Hwang Hyunjin ─ who was resting his free hand on your shoulder for no reason besides driving you crazy.
It would be easier if he was just a pretty face, but Hyunjin had a good body too. The guy looked just like a model ─ slim, tall, and classy ─, and even though only his collarbones peeked out from down his shirt, you knew that there was much more than the eyes could see.
Well, you never saw it, but you had felt it.
As far as you could remember, each curve on Hyunjin’s abs was craft by God himself. The way his chest was built for you to caress would be forever craved on your mind. You might never forget how soft his lips were in contrast to his lap… How his thighs flexed just right when you pulled his hair… How reactive he was… How his moans sounded… And how he put everything to waste.
“Oh, nothing” He shrugged. As usual, his voice was just like sweet, hot honey; still, you could wipe the poison dripping down his chin, “I was just wondering if you had enough time to do your job while fucking your boss inside your head” He clarified sarcastically, cracking you a smile.
Sometimes you regretted not putting his mouth to good use… He really needed to learn how to shut up for a while and stop being so… Unbearable. The silence he met had him scoffing; body leaning even closer to the point his face was practically hovering over yours ─ smugness plastered all over it. You held his gaze to confront him; breathe mingling with his in a heated mix that matched the anger under your eyes.
Was he licking his lips as he stared at yours? Oh boy… He definitely wanted to get laid. It was your time to scoff as the frown on your lips turned into a smirk; eyes twinkling mischievously as you looked into his in a silent teasing. As if sensing that he was in trouble, Hyunjin tilted his head to look even more obnoxious than he was; face coming closer to yours to defy your newfound confidence.
“You know what? If you stared at him any longer, I think his balls might have fallen off…” He whispered in a tone loud enough for just you to hear “Unless he saw the way you were looking at him… Then I guess his dick would go straight up” He assured you with a ‘friendly’ pat on your shoulder as he finally let go of your papers and straightened his back.
“Are you saying it from experience?” You sneered; grimacing at him.
“Are you telling me that you want me to fuck you too?” He retorted gibingly; not even thinking twice about it.
“No” You tilted your head, trying to stay composed, “I’m reminding you that you couldn’t even kiss me without getting a boner… Just like a teenage boy” He arched a brow at your statement; pursing his lips as he hummed in wonder “I’m surprised you never came in your pants like the pathetic thing you are” He laughed; poking his cheek with his tongue before squeezing your shoulder in a silent warning.
“I must have been quite a sight if you can remember it so vividly” You pretended not to notice the way he sniggered, pushing away the urge to punch his face.
Nemesis was just a classy way to call him a pain in the ass.
Rule Number Three: The (plain and uninteresting) secret identity!
It would be impossible to miss the moment Hyunjin’s devilish smirk morphed into a bright, friendly smile. The snarky comment on the tip of your tongue was swallowed back in a bit; grimace dissolving into a wide grin as if you weren’t about to throw your fists at him. He giggled as his arms spread open before snaking around your body to pull you into a tight hug; holding you close and rocking your body side to side as a soft huff fell from your lips.
If you didn’t know any better, your knee would be buried between his legs.
“Way to go, Y/N!” He chirped, loosening his grip to take a better look at your face; eyes smiling as if the both of you were the bestest of friends in the entire world, “You’re awesome! I’m so proud… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you as my teammate” He pursed his lips; dimples showing as he offered you nothing but affection in his gaze.
You did know better, though, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out who was standing behind your back as you opened your mouth to answer him: “There’s no one I’d rather be with!” You reassured Hyunjin in a sweet, mirthful tone; tilting your head to return the fondness in his look in an act worthy of an Oscar “We’re a team, you know? You can’t get rid of me so easily” He laughed wholeheartedly at that; ruffling your hair before leaning closer to you again, resuming the hug.
“We’ll see about that” He whispered in your ear, making you scoff.
“What are you gonna do? Cry to Daddy so you won’t work with me anymore?” You hissed back; breaking away from his hug with a tight grin before turning around to meet Chan’s gaze.
The surprise plastered over your face was millimetrically calculated; just like the way you pretended to be flustered as you stared into your boss’ eyes to see the pride shining on them. You brought the papers closer to your chest in what was meant to be an innocent, coy way ─ a technique mastered over the months you worked for him ─, and Chan seemed to fall for it as he giggled in delight. The poor guy had no clue all of this was as fake as your camaraderie towards Hyunjin, and he wasn’t about to discover it anytime soon if it depended on you.
Luckily, it did! You had taken some acting classes; just enough for your next words to be naturally convincing: “I’m so sorry, Sir! We’re just so happy that –” The words were deliberately drawled to give him enough time to interrupt you. Just like you knew he would. And it was a good thing that he did because you had no idea of how you were supposed to finish that sentence anyway.
You were a good actress, not a professional improviser.
“Don’t mention it” He cut you off giggly; detaching himself from the doorframe he leaned on as he watched the friendly scene taking place.
The amount of cuteness this man could deliver in his smile wasn’t fair, and it didn’t match the sensuality a simple gesture of his overflowed with, enchanting you. You gulped down as he gave both of you a silent order to follow him into his room, wondering if the duality he had in the office was remotely similar to what he could do in bed ─ a thought that shouldn’t be having a place in your mind right now.
Hyunjin seemed to pick up on it pretty quickly too, and as soon as Chan turned around to head to his office, he bumped his shoulder onto yours. The obnoxious action was followed by your elbow diving into his ribs; a retaliation that took you less than a second and, luckily, Chan ─ or any of your coworkers ─ didn’t seem to notice. Neither of you gave away your silent quarrel as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, smiling at you when Chan finally took his seat.
“It’s good to see that you guys have such chemistry” He confessed, and you had to suppress a scoff when you looked into his eyes. He had no idea… The chemistry between you two was enough to make you want to blow each other, “You know what I always say, right?” He boasted on a sing-song; much more at ease than he seemed to be earlier.
You weren’t about to put that on the line, though.
“You can’t have teamwork if you don’t have a team!” You warbled in unison.
“That’s the spirit!” Chan gurgled, heading to his desk in a visibly good mood.
What was going on? He wouldn’t be so happy just because you and Hyunjin were being friendly… Were you missing something? He didn’t seem in such a peaceful state of mind when he came in… It had to be something that happened after that. Perhaps he got some good news from his secretary? Or maybe… You narrowed your eyes as you caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s hands fidgeting in front of him; his foot tapping the ground rapidly but quietly before moving slightly to step on your toe.
Or maybe Hyunjin had something to do with it…
“As I said in the email, Sir, I happened to hear some stuff around and… KQ managed to get an exclusive with Han Jisung” The sentence sounded just like a normal introduction to a report, but you knew it wasn’t. Hyunjin’s eyes darted to meet yours, glinting with anxiety and despair. He was informing you of what was going on, not Chan, “And as we all know, Jisung is a rising producer star, which is bound to raise their sales and might get in the way of ours…” He continued, swallowing dryly and widening his eyes ever so slightly.
He was definitely trying to warn you of something.
“Yes, I read the e-mail, Hyunjin” Chan agreed sternly; smile disappearing as his fingers intertwined to serve as a support for his chin. He looked classy and incredibly sexy, but your mind couldn’t afford to focus on it right now. You had to figure out what the hell Hyunjin suggested to Chan before blowing everything up, “You also said that Y/N might have the solution for this…” Oh, so that was it, you thought when Chan arched his brow; eyes connecting to yours.
And now what?
“So?” He encouraged you, detaching his chin from his hands so he could rest them on his desk “I’m waiting” He smiled gently; a closed-mouth smile that was supposed to calm your nerves, even though you could see how tumultuous his gaze was right now.
It was practically a silent threat.
In a normal situation, the predatory way he was looking at you ─ resembling a wolf when you were nothing but a sheep under his radar ─ would get you… Thinking.
Your job wouldn’t be at stake in a normal situation, though.
The pressure on your toes increased; the subtle way Hyunjin found to snap you out of your mind, despite your silence hanging in there for just a few seconds. It was obvious that he was freaking out just as much as you were, and you couldn’t help but blame him for this. Couldn’t he have told you about it earlier? What the hell was going on inside his mind?! Instead of taunting you about wanting to fuck Bang Chan, he should have warned you about that shit!
That’s not the time for this, Y/N.
The muscles on your face tensed as you tried to not give away everything going through your mind; lips twisting in a tight smile as you looked at Hyunjin: “Yeah, he was right” You answered calmly, even though your stomach was settled on becoming an Olympic athlete right now, “As I was telling him before coming here, Sir, I have someone in mind…” The relief washed over Hyunjin’s face; a genuine smile adorning his features as he withheld a sigh, “I happen to know I.N, and I think I can get us an exclusive” You confessed, shifting your gaze from Hyunjin to Chan.
“The writer?” He blurted out, astonishment plastered all over his face.
“Yeah… They’re a friend of mine…” You trailed off, embarrassed to say it out loud “They’re in the top trending now since their novel will become a drama and…” You cleared your throat, lowering your head to avoid his gaze. There was just so much of acting you could handle for a day, “I mean- It’s… Adult stuff, right? But they never—”
“I know! That’s perfect!” He beamed, getting up from his chair to walk your way “They’ve never been seen! Nobody knows anything about them, Y/N” He laughed ─ he genuinely laughed ─ while clasping his hands together “Han Jisung is good, but I.N is better! This is hot news… FrontPage… How come you never told me about that?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your shoulder “Rest assured that when I get my promotion, I’m gonna have you right here in this room” He promised you in such a serious tone that a shiver ran down your spine.
Rule Number Four: The (kinda horny) true self!
There was not a single soul in the office as you made your way down the hall; eyes focused on the mesmerizing view outside. The sky was colored in purple shades, so deep that you would have mistaken them for black if it weren’t for the dazzling, sleepless city and its dozens of skyscrapers lighting everything up. Not even the full moon would be able to compete with such a beautiful brilliance, but it wouldn’t be necessary either as your gaze was abruptly torn away from the night.
The darkness surrounding you didn’t allow your brain to connect the dots immediately, and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened when you bumped into something. The surface was much softer than a wall, yet firm enough to have you wincing for the impact; eyes snapping to meet the unlucky bastard that stayed until so late. The moonlight kissed his skin just enough for you to recognize the sharp features of your boss; clenched jaw revealing popping veins that distracted you for a fraction of a second.
Your eyes trailed the path from his jaw to his neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it tasted like; if you could savor it like the sins you wanted to commit with him. The closeness didn’t work in your favor, and the hint of his scent intoxicated your senses as you connected your gazes. Something must have given you off ─ maybe your hesitation, maybe the lust glinting in your eyes ─ because the next second, Cristopher had his hand placed on your lower back.
The warm sensation grew to a burning feeling as his eyes darkened while diving into yours; his stern, cold gaze contrasting to the feeling of his touch and sending a shiver down your spine. Could he have noticed the way your legs trembled as his grip tightened around you? The look on his face was indecipherable, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel too exposed and vulnerable to keep looking for an answer, so you averted your eyes away from him.
“Weren’t you supposed to come as soon as you got his answer?” The way his voice made its way to your senses had the embarrassment washing over you. The huskiness in his tone made you gulp down ─ throat dry from thirsting over him ─ and the calmness in his sentence alarmed you as it didn’t match the disapproval in his eyes “It’s so late that there is no one else here anymore” He added nonchalantly; mixed signals getting you confused to what he meant by it.
Was it just a way to scold you or was it an invitation?
“I’m sorry, Sir” Despite not having anyone around, you whispered the words as if you could be caught at any moment now, “It took me longer than expected, but we—”
“We?” His eyes were sharp enough to cut you off but the real reason why you couldn’t manage to finish your thoughts was the way he pulled your body impossibly closer to his “Were you with him this whole time?” He hissed right into your ear, letting his hot breath fan over your cold, sensitive skin in a silent threat.
“Working” You corrected, even though he didn’t say anything.
“Working” He hummed in agreement; hand going to tuck your hair behind your ear “As in how we work late at night?” He sneered, manhandling you to press your back against the cold surface of the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the place “Or is it as in how he wants to work you on his desk?” He scoffed; soft huff almost as degrading as the way he held your cheeks with one hand and guided your eyes to his.
“Neither” You guaranteed breathlessly; voice quivering in excitement.
“Are you going to pretend that you didn’t notice his looks?” He narrowed his eyes at you; his knee making its way to the gap between yours before slowly rising to your thighs, “That you don’t know how much he wants to fuck you?” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “You better not, ‘cause I know you love it” He warned as he kicked your legs apart.
“He could never fuck me as you do” There was such seriousness in your tone that it had him chuckling, and he nodded in approval before burying his nose in your neck, “I-I’m yours only, Sir… I know my place” You promised quietly, trying not to give away how aroused his jealousy made you feel.
�� “Yeah…” His raspy laughter tickled your skin, and you muffled a whine as he grazed his teeth over your neck teasingly “But you like being reminded of it, don’t you?” He taunted, taking in your scent in a way that made you feel too small and helpless. He groaned as soon as you let a whimper fall from your lips, and you couldn’t help but struggle to stay still while knowing what was about to come, “Do I have to spell it for you, baby girl?” He snickered before sucking on the tender spot of your skin that he knew too well at this point.
“N-No” Somewhere inside your head, you acknowledged that your reaction was insanely humiliating. He just needed a couple of words spoken in a sultry tone and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence. That was the power he had on you. And you loved it. “Only yours” The rushed tone made him smirk against your neck, stopping his path of kisses for a second to look into your eyes “Sir” You panted; returning his gaze with just as much intensity as he had on his.
“Claim your place” His order was so tantalizing that you didn’t even blink before you finally let your knees give away, losing the support of your legs to earn the support of his thigh, “That’s right… You do remember your place” Somehow, this sounded like the best praise he could ever offer you, even under his amused tone, “But you have been such a bad girl lately…” He pouted as he caressed your cheek; hand stopping to grab your chin gently “And I don’t like bad girls… You know that, right?” He let his thumb reach for your lower lip, fiercely staring at it before grazing his finger on your teeth.
Your answer was as silent as his request; tongue welcoming his thumb before you sucked on his digit. He hummed in appreciation, pushing it inside your mouth as you looked at him with big doe eyes to show a coyness that wasn’t really there within you. The action was followed by a swirl around the tip of his finger; as if to leave in his mouth the taste of what he was missing and prompt him to give you what you really wanted: Him.
If he picked up on your plans, he showed it by giving like for like.
He didn’t say a word as he pressed his thigh against your heat; leaning closer to let his breath fan over your neck once more. He stood like that for what could have been seconds, maybe minutes, but nonetheless time enough for his warmth to creep into your senses. He was like a poison to you; the intoxicating presence clouding your better judgment and destroying any will you had to have him losing control. You didn’t even mind the way he scoffed as you started to grind his leg; brows twisting to shout out a needy plea for release.
“That’s a good girl” He approved, catching your earlobe between his teeth. The moan that fell from your lips was muffled by his finger and he didn’t seem to appreciate it, “I don’t hear you, baby girl” He complained, moving on to your jaw with a path of open-mouthed kisses that weren’t enough to distract you from his other hand “There’s no one here… Be loud for me” He allured you as his hand found its way under your shirt.
The temptation was great… Scream his name as he fucked you senseless in the office... No risk of being caught… Just you, and him, and your dirty little secret…
Your thoughts were all around the place, and you had no hopes of grasping them back as his cold hand brushed your side, contrasting to the warmth under your clothes. The way he touched you made shivers run down your spine; his slow, delicate motion enhancing your senses to every single second of his caresses. You held your breath when his finger finally managed to reach its destination; grazing over your nipple to have you succumbing to his wishes.
You fought it as you could, but you were never much of a fighter.
It was too easy for him to have you under his control, and he knew it. You could tell it by the way he chuckled as soon as you gave away how lost you were at this point. The moan that left your lips came all the way up from your chest, sounding crystal clear in the room as you let your mouth fall agape. Sucking on his finger and following his orders were the last concern you would have for this moment. The only thing worthy of your attention right now was the fact that you couldn’t get as much friction as you needed, and you had to do something about it.
So you grind on his leg for dear life.
“You’re so needy” The mockery didn’t have much effect on your mind anymore, so you just kept sliding up and down his thigh as if that was the only thing that could keep you going “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” He huffed in disbelief; thumb leaving your mouth so he could cup your face “That’s all you can understand, right?” He taunted, pinching your nipple to get your attention again, “Are you still there, baby girl?” He leaned closer to whisper in your ear.
“F-Fuck me” Was the only answer he would get.
“Manners” He warned; licking the sweet spot next to your jaw.
“Fuck me, Sir” You corrected yourself; wrapping your arms around his shoulders to look for some support as you practically bounced on his leg, “Please, fuck me, Sir” You repeated, forehead resting on the crook of his neck as you clawed his back, trying to bring him as close as possible to you.
“Louder” He demanded, and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was grinning, “Louder…” He instructed in a tone so low that you could barely hear him over the rustling sounds of fabric against fabric. Your breath hitched as his hand gently caressed your hair; moving some strands away from your face to take a better look at you. However, he didn’t get to see your teary eyes, “Come on, baby… Look at me” He asked in a tantalizing tone, alluring you to try and meet his gaze.
There wasn’t much you could see through your hooded eyes; vision too blurry for you to grasp what was going on inside his mind. You could tell he enjoyed it, though. He always did. That moment when he could pinpoint you had given up on your control, that you weren’t yourself anymore and would be willing to do whatever he asked… He lived for it, for that rebellious flame of self-control extinguishing from your eyes.
For who you become when lust overcomes you.
The grip on his hair wasn’t unexpected, and Cristopher offered you a small, wicked smile before you connected your lips. The kiss was messy and hurried; tongues exploring every corner they could find while your hands were occupied on getting rid of your clothes. Neither of you cared about anything else but feeling each other’s bodies as you ripped your shirts. The cold breeze hitting your bare skin wasn’t enough to cool down the heat consuming you, but it was enough to have you squirming and whining.
“Beautiful” Was the only thing he said before pushing your back against the glass and adjusting his grip to take your nipple between his teeth. The groan that escaped your lips was almost animalistic, prompting him to answer with a grunt of his own as he sucked on your skin. The vibrations ran from your flesh to your core, enticing another moan that seemed to fall into deaf ears, “Louder, baby… I want him to hear you…” He pleaded, letting go of your breast just to grope it and give you a kitten lick on the next second “To know who made you like this…” He added before sucking on it again.
Perhaps it was the fact that he thrust on you, just to tease your senses and make you thirstier. Perhaps it was the fact you had to support yourself on just one leg as he pushed his hips against yours and you tried to seek for your balance by involving his leg with yours. Perhaps it was his hand sliding to meet your clothed core; finger pressing against your clit to add a delicious, needed stimulus for your orgasm.
Perhaps it was the words that slipped through his lips.
“W-What did you say?” You panted; hips faltering as you tried to keep riding him, but steading their pace as his finger circled your clit to goad you “M-Mhm… S-Sir” You cried; hand burying in his hair to pull it and translate the utter bliss waving down your body. The string of mewls and urgent pleas spilled from you like a chant, getting him more eager than before, “P-Please” You whined, even though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.
“Hold it” He ordered; straightening his back to look right into your eyes, but failing as yours rolled back to your head. His hand made its way to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with a soft shake to catch your attention “Look at me” It sounded like a warning; stern enough for you to try your best to focus on him, “You’ll only cum when he walks right through that door… Do you understand?” He searched for any signs of stubbornness in your eyes, but his smile showed he didn’t found any.
“W-Who?” You managed to ask; body trembling as you tried to hold every single string inside your mind in place, even though each one of them was ready to snap and unravel the crashing pleasure that was building up.
“Why does it matter?” He scoffed, quickening his pace as the unmistakable ring of the elevator sounded on the room “You love being seen, don’t you?” He chuckled, watching as your body shook violently and your knees started to give away to the sensations running down your body.
“Y-Yes, Sir” You could bet your voice echoed inside the building, and Christopher seemed to agree with you as he grinned in approval.
“So look at your guest, baby… And scream my name” He instructed, pushing your face to the side. The doors opened slowly, revealing the lights inside the small cubicle right in front of your eyes “Let him know who you belong to” He whispered in your ear; hand pushing your underwear aside so his finger could come in contact with your core.
The mysterious figure detached from the corners of the metallic walls to finally reveal himself. You met his eyes for a half of a second; enough time for you to recognize the one who worked with you every single day of your life. For the past few years. Someone who would be your partner for years to come, and who would witness and engrave your face in your most vulnerable moment.
You came hard; probably the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever had in your life. It was impossible to hold back your voice, and you couldn’t help but howl his name; legs shaking and body collapsing into your boss’ arms. You squirmed and whimpered as you tried to recompose yourself; letting him help you ride you out of your orgasm and occupying yourself by staring into your coworker’s shocked eyes.
“Thank you, Sir…” You breathed out, gripping his arms for dear life while the shame sank into your soul.
Rule Number Five: The (grateful and satisfied) fans!
And… Post.
Oh, well… You did it. Again. There was something about displaying your deepest fantasies for anyone to see that was kinda thrilling to you. Your heart raced inside your chest just like a drum ─ well, if a goddamn drummer decided to do a solo but was too offbeat, to begin with ─ and you couldn’t help but stare blankly at the page without a clue of what to do now. It was out there… Why didn’t anyone say anything yet? Was it that bad? Should you delete it?
Well… People have to read it before commenting, you know?
Yeah, right… You just posted it.
Chill.
You licked your lips before biting them; feeling the rush that was posting about your boss online when no one else knew about it. If you were being honest, the best part of this wasn’t having the chance to live your fantasies throughout your writing. No. The best part was knowing that only you knew the true identity of Christopher… Or what you really wanted to do to him while he walked down the hallway. The best part was that no one would ever figure out that you were the author of the bestselling novel of the moment… That this steamy romance between boss and employee was nothing but your rawest desire.
Who would think that the boring, shy girl from the office would be a smut writer? Who would think that you would have a horny, interesting secret identity? No one else but you.
And this was priceless.
Or maybe… It was priceless.
As far as you knew, every single thing you cherished about being a secretive horny bitch could go down the drain tomorrow. It would be all fine if it was just a… Well, actually everything would suck. How would you look at Chan’s face if he knew you were writing about having sex with your boss while he was your boss? What would you do if they decided to fire you because of it? What would you do with your life from now on?!
Don’t panic, Y/N.
You had everything under control… Tomorrow morning you would be going to Jeongin’s house and interview him as if he were you. No one would ever suspect you after that. You would save your ass, Hyunjin’s ass, and Chan’s ass. And that was it. The perfect plan. Nothing to worry about. Just trust Jeongin to follow your script and make sure everything would go as planned.
Flawless. Totally safe. Perfect.
That’s right…
You just need to take a deep breath and rela—
The sudden sound caught you off guard; eyes focusing on the screen once again so you could understand what was going on. All of your worries vanished away as soon as you saw the notification on the top of it; announcing that you had just got a message from a fan.
Finally!
The weasel icon was so familiar that you chuckled while opening the message; a smile plastering over your face as you let your eyes wander around the words. There was nothing more fulfilling to your writer ass than seeing the way Weasel always had something to say about your story. Sometimes, he’d give you some feedback on your style. Other times, he’d freak out about how much he wanted to “try those things out”, as he usually said. There were also times when he’d just get excited over the characters and their conflicts, which always got you laughing.
It was fun to talk to Weasel.
He was just as mysterious as you… There was no name to his face, and also no face to his icon, but both of you were friends anyway. He had been keeping up with your stuff from such an early stage that it felt natural to have him around and getting his feedback. It was so comfortable, that you didn’t even mind when he slid in your DMs, embarrassed to let anyone else know that your smut made him… Feel things. There was no need to elaborate on what he did about those feelings or those things. But it was kinda hot to know he enjoyed himself throughout your fantasies.
His fantasies.
Well… For the number of times that you used them to write your stories, it was some sort of shared fantasies by now. As a matter of fact, you never intended to make Christopher a jealous character but Weasel made the idea seem too hot for you to ignore. Sometimes, he’d open up about that girl from his work that he really liked and how jealous he was of the guy she liked and then… Well, it felt… Interesting.
The thought of being desirable to the point a guy would want to claim you as his like this? Not that Weasel did it. He actually just mentioned that he hoped she was into this as a kink. You couldn’t help but picture the way he would touch her in such a greedy way… The possessiveness blinding him for a second… The grip tightening… The mean words and the humiliation… Oh, the sweet humiliation that would crush you as he whispered how much you would cum for him… How he was the only one who could make you like that… How he would ask you to say his name… To tell him that you were his…
You could drink holy water and still be shaking just by picturing it.
“That was such a good chapter… I didn’t expect you to use her friend like that. I thought it was a given that she’d end up with Chris” You read out loud, chuckling when he reached for your DMs to talk to you “Will we get a threesome or something, miss? 😏” He joked on the next line and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this “I’m waiting for it”
“You’re just a horny bitch, aren’t you?” You typed, smirking as you stared at his messages “No spoilers for you, though, baby boy… You’ll have to wait like everybody else” Teasing him was always funny, and he never failed to amuse you.
“I’m not the one writing porn online” He pointed out, and before he could write anything else you shot him.
“Yeah but you’re the one getting off to it” You retorted, getting a whole set of gasping and shocked emotes that had you laughing.
“I have no words to express how offended I am” You chortled, shaking your head in disbelief.
“Alright, Drama Llama” Why was it so fun to mock him? You wished you could actually meet him offline and banter like this in real life “To fill your horny ass, I might write a dom!reader next time… I was thinking about torturing the 2nd lead a bit”
“First of all… I don’t think I want my ass filled, thank you for offering tho” Why was he like this? “And I was just joking” You frowned at that, confused by what he meant “Don’t you think that a threesome doesn’t go along with the characters? Her friend likes her a lot and Christopher is just a kinky son of a bitch… I thought he’d just show him that she was his and be an ass as usual”
“What do you have against Chris, dude?” You rolled your eyes, although he wouldn’t be able to see it, “He’s way better than her friend! At least, he does something about her”
“I have the 2nd male lead syndrome! You know that!” You chortled, very aware of this, “And isn’t that the perfect opportunity for him to do something about it?! I mean… I don’t want to be nosey but having a threesome is way out of character for them” He pointed out, and you had to admit he was right.
“No, you’re not nosey…” You sighed; shoulders dropping for a second “It’s just that I’m upset about something that happened at work today and you know that projecting my problems on those characters is my thing” You pursed your lips, staring at the keyboard for a few seconds before deciding to continue “Besides, I’m about to spend an entire day with a guy that kinda inspired the 2nd lead and… I don’t really want to think about a sex scene with him, you know?” You confessed.
“But thinking about torturing and having a threesome with him is easy” He mocked you.
“That’s because that threesome would never happen” You sent it before you could think about what you had just written.
“Ooohhhh!” Holy shit… The amount of emotes he had just dumped on that chat couldn’t be a good sign, “So having sex with this guy is something you want?! And that could happen?! ” Great, now you would have a Drama Llama-Weasel trying to get some juicy gossip about your inexistent sex life… WORSE! Your sex life with your nemesis! “Why don’t you go for it? I’m sure he’s into you if he’s anything like his character” Poor thing… He had no idea.
“Shut up, it’s not like that” You brushed it off.
“If you say so” You could almost hear him snickering, even though you didn’t know how his voice sounded like “I’ll just have you regretting this for the rest of the night” You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. He was unbearable! “I have work early tomorrow but I’m gonna come back with questions, Miss… Wait for me”
“What I meant is that it’d be easier to happen than having a threesome, not that I want it to happen, moron” You defended yourself but he didn’t even get to read it as he logged off right away.
Great… He would never let you live it down.
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Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List
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#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#skz smut#stray kids smut#hyunjin smut#bang chan smut#skz x reader#hyunjin x reader#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#bang chan fanfic#chan fanfic#hyunjin fanfic#hwang hyunjin fanfic#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader
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Apricity
yandere!albedo x (gender neutral) reader
art credit - miHoYo
cw: nsfw elements, yandere, captivity/restraints, unhealthy behaviors
note - please come home to me and take care on the journey, albedo! :D also kindly heed the warnings. thank you!
His eyes are unnaturally pretty. Like twin crystals glittering in an expansive, dismal cave, searching for secrets unheard of within Mondstadt. Somehow you’re always in his peripheral, not too close and yet impossibly far at the same time. The distance is harrowing, terribly so, and Albedo knows it should be nothing short of a coincidence. When he shows up at your quaint stall with Sucrose, claiming to be in need of the exact wares you happen to sell, you pay it no mind. After all, you’ve met your fair share of regulars, and their support is what keeps you afloat.
But there is more to those beautiful irises than he lets on. Whether it’s intentional or not, you can’t exactly say. You suppose you would rather run into someone as well-respected as Albedo as opposed to an unlikable stranger with ill intent. And it’s always great to see a familiar face, especially when he chooses to peruse your stall rather the others around you. It isn’t all that strange; you’ve even become friends with Sucrose during your short interactions. Albedo has indulged in stiff conversations with you before, but most of them were meaningless. Simple throwaway chatter between two acquaintances.
Oddly enough, Albedo finds himself wanting more. He doesn’t want to talk about the weather or the transitioning seasons; he wants to listen to you explain how your day was and if you made more profit than the day before that. He wants to stand there and immerse himself in your pleasant voice, ignorant to the hustle and bustle of the people around him. And yet he just can’t. For a variety of reasons that pull him out of the haze of intrigue, you’ll always remain in the background. And he simply can’t bear the thought of that.
It’s rude to deteriorate a relationship that’s only just begun to blossom. If your meager acquaintanceship with him were to wither away into dust, he would feel obligated to keep it going—as if he were simply beating a dead cow with a stick. Although your hobbies differ from his, it’s nothing he can’t handle. A genius must familiarize himself with other areas of study if he intends to craft solutions that are outside of the box.
“Albedo?”
Your tone is meek and small, tinged with the slightest shiver. Part of him feels bad for lying to you, but you were just so trusting. It’s almost comical how easily you fell into his trap. If he gets to see you in such a delicious way all the time, he’s more than willing to forsake the truth to meet his own desires. A selfish wish, yes, but it’s absolutely wonderful.
“What is it?”
He eyes you from his spot behind the easel, and even though you can’t see him you can feel his piercing gaze. Like the sun shining brightly in a wintry afternoon, his eyes smolder with unbearable heat and yet his expression is cold with brilliant focus.
“A-Are you almost done? It’s really cold.” Your bare back touches the wall and you flinch, an instinctual response that makes Albedo’s brow quirk. “And this is sort of...weird.”
“How so?”
He says that in such a dismissive manner, acting as if your current position isn’t compromising. As if this was a normal exchange between friendly strangers. You have trouble finding your voice in this situation, especially since talking seems like such a chore. You’re worried you’ll say the wrong thing and then it’ll leave a false imprint of who you are on Albedo. But you’ve always been nice, unable to refuse those who are kind in return, and so you’re forced to endure the discomfort that comes with modeling nude for this peculiar alchemist.
“Think about it.” You distract yourself with a ramble of an explanation—certainly more than what’s necessary, but Albedo doesn’t mind. He finds solace in your voice. “You’re looking at me and I’m...n-naked. And we don’t really know each other. I’m not trying to vilify you when I say this, but I don’t want you to do anything bad to me. N-Not that you would! It’s just—this is really weird. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Hm.”
“And do I have to be tied up like this?” You shuffle in your bindings, fingers scrabbling over the cuffs and chains that jingle like horrible sleigh bells.
“You were moving too much earlier. I won’t be able to get your anatomy right if you’re constantly fidgeting.”
But it’s uncomfortable, you think, chewing on your lip out of habit.
“I guess I understand. It must be an artist thing, right?”
“You could say that.”
His work on the canvas offers a display that’s just as lewd as the real model, down to the way your nipples perk and harden in the cold. He’s not even close to finishing and that’s a blessing in itself. He could stare at your figure for hours on end, committing every inch of your flesh to memory, and he wouldn’t grow weary.
“Do artists normally blindfold their models? I don’t really know anything about this stuff, but it’s okay if it helps with the process.”
“I find it to be interesting,” he answers, simple and vague as ever. “It adds a mysterious touch to the finished piece.”
“So you draw the model with the blindfold?” You’re used to gazing upon paintings of flowers and portraits of influential historical figures rather than blatant nudity. “Artists are definitely unique.”
Albedo hums in response, secretly reveling in your naïveté. At the end of the day, you’re just a normal citizen of Mondstadt, who stands behind a wooden stall every single day and happily chats with potential customers. You excel in business, but when it comes to the inner workings of art you’re at a loss. And that makes it all the more easier for Albedo to spin all sorts of wild tales. He fears that gullible nature will harm you in the future, yet there isn’t a threat in sight. Not when you’re here in front of him, no longer confined to his peripheral. And you’ll stay there for however long it takes him to finish this painting.
It’s a twisted infatuation. Albedo knows he shouldn’t take too much of your time or else he’ll become addicted and it will be impossible to focus on his studies. But he can’t stop himself or his wandering gaze, which trails up your midriff. Higher and higher until he’s staring at your face, eyes obscured behind the soft fabric of a blindfold. Your body is a temple he wishes to worship, and perhaps that’s a sacrilegious thought that ought to have him consider the weight of his emotions.
And yet you’re far too irresistible. His thoughts are dangerously potent, swirling within his brain like a maddening hurricane. Surely your missing presence in the market won’t be questioned if he were to keep you just a little longer. Longer than the boundaries of sanity will allow, that is. There are other vendors who sell the same things you boast; the economy won’t shatter if you’re not there to provide.
The paintbrush moves along the canvas in even strokes and suddenly Albedo’s mind is wandering between subjects. From art to alchemy, love to lust, and the wondrous crevices in your anatomy that call out to him. The brush stills in his hand. If he’s not mistaken, Sucrose will be stopping by to assist him and the last thing he needs is staining his appearance in a suspicious color.
“Albedo?” His name rolls off of your tongue in such a delectable way; it’s almost sinful how his thoughts race and race in an endless track. “Are you almost done? My back is sore and the floor’s really uncomfortable.”
“Sorry. This will take longer than I thought.” He sets his brush and palette down, and you listen to his footsteps as they draw near. “Something has come up, but I promise I won’t be long.”
“Wait. You’re not going to leave me, are you? I need to get back to the marketplace!”
Before you know what’s happening, the blindfold is coming off and you’re locking eyes with Albedo, who peers at you with intense scrutiny. Certainly the look of a genius studying a textbook. You grow flustered all at once, just now coming to terms with the fact that he looked at your body for longer than you’d like to admit. Shyly, you shut your legs to obscure your private parts, but it’s not like that will help the embarrassment that claws its way onto your expression like a persistent beast.
“You’re better off waiting here.” He shrugs off his coat, draping it over your shoulders as if that’ll keep the dreadful chill away. “As much as I would like to finish this now, I have other work that must be taken care of.”
“I get that, but you can’t just leave me here! That’s practically kidnapping!” you protest, hoping he’ll heed the desperation in your trembling vocals. “At least, that’s what this feels like.”
“I wouldn’t kidnap you,” he says, amusement flashing in his eyes. “You’re too funny.”
Yet he isn’t laughing and neither are you as you helplessly watch him depart. The floor is too cold for your liking and the idea of entrapment settles under your skin like a million maggots feasting on a decaying, chilled copse. Devoid of warmth and carrying an air of measured grace, Albedo doesn’t spare you another glance.
He doesn’t need to. He’ll have all the time in the world to study your body like it’s the finest artwork, and you’ll be powerless to object.
#genshin impact#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#genshin impact albedo#albedo x reader#yandere albedo x reader#genshin impact albedo x reader#yandere genshin impact albedo#yandere albedo#albedo#genshin impact fanfic#he's so handsome :0#in writing this i hope it will bless me with luck
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Head Over Heels
Part I—
Next →
Pairing: Wrecker x reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: Mentions of sex, this chapter is pretty much nothing but fluff
Summary: A feisty little mechanical engineer and a massive clone trooper
The last few months have been rocky to say the least, with the way the war is progressing you have to take on more and more work to pick up the slack left behind from fallen troopers, and enlisted men and women alike. Which means you were suddenly promoted up to senior mechanical engineer on this base, leaving you with five permanent squadrons operating out of this base to look after, as well as any pit stops made by any of the other six hundred some odd battalions in the GAR.
You never thought you would be in a position of command, in any form, being the senior mechanical engineer made you the second most senior person in charge of this base. Base Commander, it sounded stranger with your name in front of it. You always thought you’d be glossed over for a position like this, given your overly enthusiastic and rather sunny disposition. A stark contrast from the clone commanders, and high authority military men that were now your peers. But then again, no one knew GAR technology and space craft mechanics like you did.
Your newest permanent squadron stationed at your base was an odd combination of men, who clashed deeply not only with themselves but also with everyone else around them. Clone Force 99, or The Bad Batch as they had dubbed themselves. You didn’t find them to be all that bad.
Hunter was a bit intimidating at first, any man with half of his face tattooed with a skull could be considered intimidating. But he wasn’t all that bad, he was respectful and tried his best to keep his ragtag squad on their best behavior.
Tech wasn’t so bad either, though he did have a nasty habit of trying to get you to slip up in your technical knowledge and execution. He may be genetically engineered to be smart, but that doesn’t mean he knows everything. And besides he hasn’t succeeded yet in getting you to make a mistake.
Crosshair… okay, there is something to be said for him. He could be horrible sometimes with the things he said and the way he treated people. Even the other members of his own squad.
But the last member, Wrecker. He was something else entirely. Loud, boisterous, funny, incredibly sweet and kind when he wasn’t actively trying to blow something up. You figured since they seemed intent on break every rule they encountered anyway, being in a relationship with Wrecker was worth the risk of getting in trouble with higher command.
It started out fairly innocent, he just liked being around you. Watching you fix various parts of the ship, listening to you talk about whatever it was you’re doing… even if it all went over his head. He just liked to hear your voice and see you get excited over things. As time went on, he liked sitting with you while you ate when taking breaks from your work. Holding your hand and marveling at how itty bitty it was compared to his massive one. Everything about you was smaller and softer than him. But your spirit, your passion, and your smile were larger than life.
He couldn’t seem to get enough of your small, soft hands. Any chance he got he’d pull you away from whatever you were doing to come down to your height and steal a kiss, or snatch you up to come to his height to cuddle you close. When he was sure you really wouldn’t be caught, he’d sneak off with you to explore more of your soft skin. Long nights spent in your private quarters on the base, exploring each other’s bodies and giggling through the effort of trying to keep quite. Being with Wrecker meant being patient. Waiting for the right moment to sneak away, waiting for him to come back from mission, and patient in your love making. Taking a man his size is a challenge for you, but patience pays off, every single time.
Every time they left for an assignment you triple checked their ship, The Havoc Marauder, to make sure it was up to whatever perils they were about to put it through. Usually Tech would hover around, inspecting every little thing you touch. Eventually you’d call out your preflight check complete, and Tech would have to resign himself to accepting your clearance. Crosshair would largely ignore you, or more often find something rude and unpleasant to say. Hunter would usher him on, and remind you of their designated return date. Wrecker always lingered, waiting until his brothers were safely on the ship and not gawking so he could bend down and scoop you up for a hug.
“Bye Tiny,” he’d always say, giving you a squeeze.
“Bye big guy, I’ll see you soon,” you always give him a kiss on the cheek before he sets you down gently and steals a quick kiss on your lips.
They’d usually be gone for a couple days, sometimes a week or two. If they had to stop off at another base, Hunter would usually contact you to be aware of a new return date. You hate getting those calls, not like you don’t have enough to keep you busy when they’re not around. But still, when you’re in a new relationship, the only thing you really want to do is be around them. You missed your loud, energetic mountain of a man.
This time, Hunter had commed you not once, not twice, but three times to push back their estimated return date. Apparently they’d been roped into helping a couple other squads in nearby systems.
“It’s good for our image,” Hunter had said “we don’t exactly have the greatest reputation in the GAR”
“Yes, and I wonder how that came to be?” you laughed knowing Hunter would understand your meaning. Their squad truly wasn’t so horrible, but between Wrecker’s collateral damage and Crosshair’s incessant need to antagonize literally every other member of the GAR, it’s not hard to see why others have such a dim view of them.
“Oh you know, people are just hard to please.” he joked
“Well… stay safe. Don’t break too much on that ship you’re so attached to,” you said, Hunter paused for a moment.
“You wanna talk to him?” he asked, you could hear the grin in his voice.
“Can I?” you asked hopefully
“He’s not provoking Crosshair when he’s talking to you, take as long as you’d like” he said “try not to get him too riled up though, not a lot of privacy on the ship,”
You laughed a bit “No promises Sarge,”
Hunter shook his head and left the cockpit, leaving the com channel open, you could hear him walking away. Heavy footsteps rapidly approach the comlink receiver, even though you can’t see him with the holovid feature turned off you know he’s got a big grin on his face. The door to the cockpit slides shut, and there’s a soft sound of him sinking into the pilots seat.
“Hi Tiny,” he said excitedly.
“Hello handsome, causing trouble?” you asked with a giggle
“Me? Trouble? Nah, I’m a model soldier. Poster child for the Grand Army of the Republic,” he replied.
You spent nearly two hours that night talking to Wrecker over the comlink. About the mission, about how things were going on the base, about plans for when he got back, plans for the future, and nothing at all. Eventually, your eyes were beginning to droop and your responses interspersed with muffled yawns.
“Think it’s time for you to go to bed Tiny,” he laughed
“Hmmm…. you’re probably right. Can’t keep my eyes open,” you mumbled “guess that means it’s time to say goodbye,”
“Goodnight Tiny, see you soon,” he said
“Goodnight Big Guy…. love you,” you realized in your sleepy mind, that was the first time you’d said that to him. Maybe this wasn’t the right time, but you’d been thinking it over and over the last few weeks it just slipped out.
“I love you too baby,” he replied before switching off the comlink.
Wrecker sat back in the silence for a moment, letting the gravity of what you’d just said wash over him.
She loves me! He thought to himself She loves ME!
Tag List: @escapedthesarlacc
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POLENDINA, Peri
After the destruction of the original PENNY unit, Dr. Pietro Polendina was urged to construct a new prototype for the project. Rather than building an exact copy of the PENNY unit, Dr. Polendina crafted a more mature chassis that bore a more striking resemblance to himself. When asked about his choice in redesign, Dr. Polendina simply said he was not creating the same person. Complimenting the change in appearance, this new prototype was given the project name “Peri”.
Along with a more mature appearance, Peri has been given several upgrades to her combat system. Chief and most obvious among them is the addition of gravity dust-powered thrusters, allowing Peri to fly through the air and increase her evasive abilities and speed. To her weapon, Floating Array, the ability of the wires connecting the swords to Peri’s control box to be detached automatically if they become outwardly influenced has been added, as well as deposits of gravity dust, enabling some manner of control even after detachment, though with far less accuracy.
I promised a Purple Penny, and I give you Purple Penny... and a new Polendina.
As I looked at my original edit, I realized that the red hair didn’t really suit this color scheme. I decided to try give her more suitable hair, picking a shade of yellow from Pietro’s shirt and tinting it to a more golden-brown to go with her gold accents (I’ll put this and an alt Peri below). Doing that made me wonder; what if I also changed Penny’s skin tone to look more like Pietro’s? This lead to the switch from simply a purple Penny to making a different character all together out of my recolor. Let me explain.
I had always headcanoned before V7 that if Penny was ever brought back, it wouldn’t be as Penny, or at least the Penny we all know and love. Death was something that hadn’t been reversed in RWBY outside the will of a god, and the fact that Penny was called out as having a soul of her own made me believe that even if she was robotic, her soul had moved on when her body was destroyed. Any rebuilt Penny would then, logically, have a different soul and be a different person. There was also the idea that this Penny wouldn’t have any of the memories from Beacon, as it seemed unlikely that her body and therefore her memory banks had been recovered (I also had a pet theory that Penny’s plan to stay at Beacon she mentioned was to upload a version of her AI and memories to a Scroll or computer on Beacon’s campus, but let’s forget about that) - so even if she had a similar personality from her AI, her memories wouldn’t be there, and she wouldn’t be “our” Penny. But that idea too was crushed when Penny returned and was the exact same Penny, just in a brand new body.
Well, taking this headcanon, I formed an AU for V7.
The original Penny was modelled mostly after Pietro’s late wife, representing the child that they weren’t able to conceive for (fill in a reason, any reason). After watching Penny get literally torn apart, someone designed to resemble his beloved partner, Pietro refused to go through the pain of seeing something like that again, modelling the next version of Penny after himself so that imagery could never be recreated (and so he wouldn’t be constantly reminded of the sight of his first daughter lying in pieces every time he sees the new robot), giving her massive upgrades in her defensive and offensive capabilities. With no memory core and with no guarantee that this girl would be anything like the original Penny just because the seed of their aura was the same, Pietro gave her a new name - Peri. Basically, more Penny’s sister than a new version of Penny, and now resembling her “father” more than her “mother” to spare Pietro the pain.
This allows RWBY to have a Penny-like character with more identity crises than ever (:D) back in the show, while respecting the rules of life in this show and keeping the original Penny dead. All the angst of Penny’s death can be brought up, Peri can struggle with the weight of a) knowing she was literally made to be a replacement, b) having to deal with someone that regarded Penny as a good friend, c) have the same “am I real?” questions that Penny had without it seeming like the writers are rehashing something that had already been resolved, and d) tack on the question of “am I just Penny reborn, or am I really my own person called Peri?” for added twist~
Btw, “Peri” comes from “Periwinkle” which, while commonly a shade of blue, can also be a shade of light purple. Periwinkle flowers are also associated with winter and ice - a less on-the-nose name for a Winter Maiden, perhaps~?
As a bonus, here’s the Purple Penny with blond hair and an alt of Peri.
This Peri’s eyes are less glow-y. I eventually decided I liked the more glow-y eyes better and made that the “official” one, but this one is still pretty~
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hate everything
— summary: the heir of a fashion brand and a modelling company has nothing to do with a duchess, but xu minghao spends more time in her castle than anyone else she ever knows. perhaps, his presence is so perpetrating that even after falling in love and breaking her heart a thousand times, he stands. she may hate everything, but she doesn’t hate him.
— title: hate everything
— pairing: xu minghao x reader (ft. joshua hong)
— genre: heir!au ; duchess!au ; royal!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; slowburn!au
— type: angst ; fluff ; romance ; drama ; suggestive ; humor (with a happy ending though!)
— word count: 25,984
December 17th. Five years ago.
To wear a dress is a tradition. No matter how harshly the fabric tightens around her ribcage, or how badly her legs ache whenever she has to bend over and place another faux kiss on a person’s cheek. To have something as expensive as the cloths that drape over her should be a blessing, the quartz pink lace of her sleeves falling off her shoulders, a corset placed on her waist to become an image to look at—a product, maybe. The skirt leaves more to the imagination, flared and eccentric, and she’s starting to wonder if someone would realize if she only slipped away from these hells that should’ve been crafted in Hell—
Royals are used to this. The children of those enigmatic individuals train the entirety of their lives to be three things: charismatic, beautiful…and fake, overall. One would know when she’s an outsider; part of it but also a branch of the many more important people in her family-line. Therefore, her Father being a Duke and his daughters becoming, inherently, Duchesses of their own shouldn’t be of higher importance than anyone else in this goddamned party, but they are. Because, over everything, they are there for something—to be coquettish and courted, find a man of wealth of the highest society to decide either of them is worth their time.
She pushes her chest forward when her Mother steals a glance at her, quirking an eyebrow in the process, silently telling her to act like a lady. Maybe, Princesses are used to this, but she’s not quite ready to call herself anything remotely close to that. Instead, she brings her cup of lemon water up her mouth, opening her lips a bit wider so her immaculate lipstick doesn’t get ruined and scrunches up her nose as delicately as possible in the process. The children’s table is filled with snacks and sodas, and she can’t help but feel envious of such exquisiteness.
The high ceilings showcase twirls of gold and blue, curling onto themselves to give the view of a wider space. Instead, the white and champagne walls are covered in pictures of the real Royals. Her family, though not as close, definitely more wealthy and more important than she is, mingling and chatting as if it’s their job. It probably is. Some people stay at the center, dancing with glee, finding more people to talk to, all of status. Not that she does anything other than stay seated on her designated table and let her sister do her job.
Socialize, in this case.
Socialize and find some connection that will leave her family in a better position.
She breathes in softly, her fingertips playing with the itchy fabric of her skirt, feeling the strands of her hair start to hurt against her scalp after holding up such hairstyle for so long. This is not who she is, but it’s who she is designated to be. Normality has not been set for her, neither has fame made its way towards her. She is nothing more than just another dot in a world where she doesn’t quite fit in—Royal, but never a known Royal. It’s up to her to make herself become a paragraph, more than the simplistic end of a sentence.
When she feels the presence of someone behind her, she doesn’t think much. Around five hundred people, if not more, have attended the main castle’s grand event and, of course, there is not of space left. But when a soft breath mingles on the back of her neck and a manly scent, almost musky, makes its way through her nostrils, she realizes whoever this man is has decided to get close to her specifically.
“Why aren’t you enjoying yourself?” There it is, that voice, dulcet, soft, breathy into the air as he tries to whisper only to her over the music. It reminds her of words written on the back of her notebooks in high school and crushes that were destroyed by the imminent existence of graduation. The schools she attended to, since the beginning of her life, had been considered the best of the best but the only good thing she remembers is—
“Joshua.” The name comes to her easily, and she doesn’t even have to turn around to see one of the many Princes of a land not too far away from hers. Well, not hers—her family’s, or something of the like. Joshua is, technically, perhaps the fifth in line if he were to ever reach the throne, and he spends most of his time out of his small land than doing Royal work. “What are you doing here?”
Joshua holds a glass of what seems to be wine on his right hand, his brown hair pushed away from his youthful face. Only twenty and looking like he owns the world, and perhaps, he does. A fitted suit falls on his slim body, his waist accentuated, the back of the jacket trailing a bit downwards, its rich black color contrasting well with his olive skin. His eyes fold romantically at the same time his lips curve onto a smile. “Hi.” He says first. “Well, uh, I was invited? Isn’t that the only reason why I would be here?”
“I haven’t seen any of your brothers here.” And most people would say that they don’t know the names of all the Hong brothers, but she does. It comes with the number of times she has spent keeping her sighs locked in front of Joshua, a daydream that has been unattainable for the entirety of her life. “That’s—I figured you wouldn’t be here.”
“Now I’m here.” Joshua breathes out, taking a sip of his wine. “Why the long face?”
“Ah—” Her hands indeed come grasp at her cheeks, eyes widened as she tries to come up with an excuse. “I don’t really like parties, that’s all.”
The statement has his eyebrows raising, youthful above all. “That’s a big statement.”
“There’s a lot of people here,” She says, hands coming to rest on top of her dress, curling around one another only not to reach out for him. Not that she has ever heard of Joshua being a lover of many girls, but…he has never quite shown signs of wanting to be with her. “And no one really wants to talk to me, so. Also, the drinks…I don’t like them. I’m hungry, too—”
Joshua’s smile transcends into full-on laughter, throwing his head back just as he extends his hand forward. “You just haven’t gone to a good party.” He says, waving his fingers into the air. “Come on, stand up.”
The feeling of his hand sliding into hers feels like the satin covers of her bed, slipping away from her in a rainy morning when the maids ask her to join them for breakfast. When her family is not around and she gets to enjoy the solitude of being both warm and cold. Joshua does as much as interlocking his fingers with hers, and she both wants to smile and die at the same time. “What—? Why?”
“I’m taking you to a good party.” Joshua decides out of the sudden, walking with grace as they move towards the entrance, but she has to stop him at that moment, heels digging onto the tile flooring in a way that almost has her falling.
“J—Joshua…” She chuckles a bit when he looks at her over his shoulder, finishing the last few drops of his wine. “My family is here with me. I just can’t leave like that—”
“Tell your sister to cover up for you.” Joshua says, shrugging his shoulders. “Come on, we both know we’re Royals…but we’re not that important in this event. If we leave now, we still have the rest of the night to enjoy.” His words are calm, like everything he does, never does he look like he fears the world may eat him alive for his actions. “Besides, I’ll make sure to take you home safe and sound.”
One of those opportunities that falls from the sky, graced by heaven, suddenly seem to be covered in a veil of doubt. Her family would love for her to go out with someone of importance like Joshua—but parties aren’t her kind of thing. She has gone to many of them as she has grown up, drained herself of all possible social skills because of how tough it is to try to be liked by everyone. “…Are you sure this is a good party?”
“Listen,” Joshua breathes out, a pout on his lips. “My oldest brother is going to get married in January and my friends want to throw a birthday party for me before I have to go back to my land. That’s all that’s going on.”
“But, your birthday is on December 30th—”
“And I’m leaving on the 21st.” He tugs at her hand then, and maybe, this is enough to tug at her heart strings, as well. “Come on, we haven’t hung out since I graduated and that was almost two years ago.” Knowing how to speak, because someone like Joshua Hong has taken charisma classes since the day he was born, perhaps, he adds: “I’ve missed you. It’s all up to you, of course, no pressure.”
Missing him is something she has done, as well. With every arranged dinner with someone that she doesn’t like, and every moment she spends wrapped in between her blankets watching romantic comedies, in the rare occasion that she exchanges her historical films and enthusiasm for something more of the like of youth. Joshua Hong is someone she met when she entered her teenage years and has become, instead, her longtime dream.
“…Only if you take me home before three in the morning.”
Joshua nods. “I can do that.”
“And if you promise we’ll grab something to eat on the way there.”
“My friends are waiting for me outside. I can ask them go get some drive-through on the way to the mansion we’re hanging out at.” He always has a solution to life, so simplistic and sure of himself, and maybe that’s what drags her closer to her sister, asking her to cover up for her as her heels click against the floor. Now, the least of her worries is how pompous this dress is, but how nice of an opportunity has settled on her lap instead.
Throughout her entire life, she has had a conceptualization of love that feels like a fairytale. If she didn’t get to live the entire fairytale of being a Princess, then she may as well expect to get a Prince in return. The way the wind blew on his hair as he talked to his friends, taking small bites of the fries they shared, his eyes glistening when he looked at her—it all felt like love. The young kind. The one that makes her feel like she only has one more day to live and he’s willing to give it all to her. His jacket rubs her skin when he gets her closer to her, music blasting loudly, and for once, she’s not the daughter of the Duke and Duchess, or another Duchess in that raunchy Royal stance—
She’s just another person in this world.
“…Hey, you okay?” The question breathes in between the two, the limousine able to take up the group of six people. Joshua, however, only seems to have eyes for her. Maybe, it’s that little string of hope that tells her that the butter-like words and the fluttery feeling inside her chest mean something. They have to. “I’m here for you if you need anything, okay? If you want to leave, we will.”
So far, nothing seems to bother her. Instead, she lets him wrap his fingers around hers, sending a hum his way. “I like this. They’re nice.”
“They are.” He conquers, looking out the window once again. Petrichor and a Prince, the sprinkles of the unwelcomed rain now becoming a mere memory. His lips wrap around a tranquil smile when he says: “You’re an adult now. People become nicer as you grow older.”
But that’s not what she has heard the maids at her small castle say. People only grow worst with time, like weeds—they hope someone falls so they can hold onto them. Twenty and ready to bite into the world with expertise, she accepts his words as truth. “I see.” She conquers. “Maybe, I’ll get to know people like that now that I’m going to university.”
“Didn’t you want to go for history in university?” Joshua asks, and she remembers the talks that they used to have when he was a senior in high school.
“That’s the dream.”
“Say: That’s the plan.” Joshua corrects. “If you make it a certainty, you won’t have time to hesitate.”
That may be the key to happiness—not hesitating, not doubting, not blinking twice when a man like that offers her his jacket and holds her hand like he never wants to let go of her. Joshua has become a plan, not a dream. “That’s the plan.” She whispers, earning a chuckle from Joshua.
“Good.”
###
The wicked, Mother used to call them. Those who live their lives for anything other than socializing in the most antique of ways are considered to be outcasts. From Royals, one can only expect utmost beauty—from normal people? The raunchiest. Those go to cheap parties. Those drink horrid alcohol. Those embark in love stories that only last mere months, and drop their secrets out at the appearance of whatever person seems trustworthy enough. Mother always considered people less than her, but she never understood her. Why is it that out of this group of six people she should feel better? Because she doesn’t enjoy a party? Because this mansion is bigger than her own and hence, she has to find something she is better in than the owner of said house?
The son of the owner of the house, Zhang Wei, barely pays attention to the pristine flooring or the worker that trails right behind him to serve him another glass of wine. He’s twenty-one, the oldest of the group, and somehow, so lost in his own world that he doesn’t notice anyone but his own phone. According to Joshua, he’s not as much of a lightweight as others, and the frown perched on his enigmatic and perfectly crafted face comes from the longing of his lover, living seas and seas away from him. Zhang Wei is a sight to look at when he’s seated on the red, leather couch of his living room, the clean wood under his feet looking dirty with how shiny his designer shoes were.
Heejin is the drunkest, as of now, twenty years old just like Joshua, long hair cascading down her back as she insists on holding onto Kyle, one of her closest friends, whose bottle-like glasses make his brown eyes look much smaller. Finally, Seungcheol has lost himself to the karaoke machine nearby, taking the bottle from the worker’s tray to bring it up his lips, taking a nice swig of the alcohol before smiling brightly. Life is good for all of them, so why should she judge?
“Let me help you out,” She doesn’t notice the reason behind Joshua’s words, or why he places his glass of rosy champagne in between her fingertips as he drops to kneel in front of her. His fingers softly glide across the bottom portion of the fabric of her skirt to showcase her feet. “You’ve been fidgeting since we got here. I’m sure Zhang Wei’s sister has a pair of flats that is more comfortable for you.”
“Ah, they were supposed to make my legs look better.” Though, that doesn’t seem to phase him, lifting a thoughtful eyebrow that reminds her of the times she would catch a glimpse of him studying in the school’s library. She’s free from such place as of now, thankfully, for the only memories she wants to keep include Joshua and some history classes in between.
“No one can look at your legs with this cupcake you have for a dress.” He jokes and her laughter rips through her even when Seungcheol’s singing voice covers all sources of it. “Besides,” Joshua starts again, throwing her white shoes somewhere on the wood, clicking obnoxiously. “Your legs are already good as they are.”
It’s in the magic of acceptance that a true gentleman earns a heart. Somehow, Joshua reminds her of the men in the shows her maids watch. Damn, she spends a lot more time with them than she does with her Mother. “You say?”
“I confirm.” Joshua finishes, settling himself down on the seat beside her before taking his cup once again. “Besides, it’s not like I could not notice. You always dress the prettiest for all the events we go to.”
She has to giggle at that. “Thank my stylist.”
“Why do you doll yourself up so much?” Joshua asks, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not like it matters. What other people think of us, that is.”
Oh, and that’s only one of the many things she loves about Joshua. How in syntony and acceptance he seems to be with the fact he’ll never reach the throne. “Mother says we should always look our best. You never know who you’re going to find.”
“Are you looking for someone?” Joshua asks, eyes inspecting her vision, lips wrapping around the glass in a way she wishes would rest upon hers. A first kiss from him would be a symphony to dance to, a bite onto the cleanest of apples. “Like—”
“No.” She replies quickly, interrupting him in the process. “Well, no—ah, not really. Depends…”
Joshua chuckles. “Depends on what?”
“On, well…” On you, Joshua Hong. “Depends on the situation. I’m not looking, rather…waiting.”
“Waiting,” He repeats, a gush of air blowing towards her face straight from his mouth—alcohol in his scent. “Yeah, that sounds like you. You’re the person anyone would love to wait for.”
“Am I?” She asks, trying not to sound impressed. Flirty, she aims to be, but she sounds far more robotic than intended. “Oh, wow.”
A laugh that doesn’t make it out his mouth accompanies his next statement. “Go look for a pair of shoes with Heejin. At this point, we all have to dance to Seungcheol’s singing.”
“Okay, but wait for me, okay?”
The connotations of such sentence only fall on her later, opening her mouth to say something before Joshua smiles widely. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing for a while?”
Heejin doesn’t even have to be called by the time she wraps her slim arms around her shoulders, placing her cheek against hers as she speaks loudly. “Ah, I love all of you guys so much.” Her voice trails with the amount of alcohol inside her body, her cheeks tainted in a deep red, her nice profile cold to the touch. “Who are you again?”
She has to give a tight-lipped smile then. “Care to help me find a pair of shoes? My heels were killing me and I need something comfortable.”
“Ah, of course!” Though, even through her drunken hues, her sweet personality comes through and shines a light. “…I know exactly where to find shoes here.”
“Good.” Heejin clings to her hand with glee, moving her to the spacious and curved set of stairs as she throws a glance over her shoulder to look at Joshua. The man, however, simply lifts his hand to greet her, leaving her with a small—
“Have fun.”
She’s meant to be having fun, she reminds herself as she roams the mansion for the third time because Heejin can’t quite concentrate when she is this drunk. She’s meant to be having fun, she says in a low breath, when Heejin opens as many doors as possible until they reach the one that belonged to Zhang Wei’s sister, apparently not there at all. In the faint distance, she can hear Joshua’s voice singing into the microphone, epitome of youth, somehow calling out for her attention because she should be there. Wasting ten minutes of her time with him just for a pair of shoes just doesn’t sound like the best idea.
“Shua never mentioned you. It’s the first time I hear about you.” Heejin says, and she doesn’t know if her words are meant to prick or not, but they do. For someone as important to her as Joshua not to care enough to talk about her hurts. Maybe, this group of people are just not close enough to him, and that’s why he doesn’t talk about her. “Are you a Princess?”
Heejin trudges inside the sky-blue room, bumping onto a few things, dropping her jacket on the bed and she immediately picks it up. They can’t leave anything behind that tells anyone they were there taking shoes, after all. “Ah, no,” She says, following after her towards two huge, white doors. “I’m the daughter of a Duchess. That technically makes me a Duchess, too—”
“So, a Lady.”
“Yes, a Lady.” The doors open gleefully, gates to heaven that welcome a spacious wardrobe. Shelves in pristine white, bathed in bright lights, hold different types of jewelry and shoes, all organized by color and by brand. “What about you?”
Heejin may be surprised about her curiousness, twirling her brown hair in between her fingers after absentmindedly trying to put it up on a ponytail. She fails, too drunk to even do that. “I don’t have a Royal title.” She starts. “None of us besides Joshua do.” But she doesn’t forget to put some penny for her thoughts. “My dad owns four hospitals in different continents. My mom is…I don’t know, I think she’s a fashion designer. I haven’t talked to her in so long.” Though, the champagne in her system must not let her linger on the thought.
“…I see.” She mumbles, a smile on her face. “Ah, and what happened to Zhang Wei’s sister?”
“She’s at university.” Heejin replies, moving away from the walk-in closet and towards the balcony. Opening the doors wider, she now starts to unzip her dress, her eyes widening in the process. What the fuck is this girl on? “Uni…it’s overrated. It wants to make us all feel dumb. I failed my exam—”
“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t get naked.” After rushing towards her, she trails the zipper up once again, keeping the red, taut fabric against her body. The harsh breeze of the balcony moves her just as much as Heejin does when she pushes her off her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I want to go for a swim.” Dare she point towards the pool some good meters down that balcony, on the fucking second floor, and definitely with a good space in between its railings and the pool itself. The lights must be catching the attention of her drunken mind. “It’s going to be fun. Come on, I’ve bungee jumped, this is going to be just as easy—”
“Heejin, no.” She says, tugging at the woman’s arms when she leans her weight against the railing. “It’s dangerous. You could fall and—”
“I’m not going to fall. I said I’m a professional—”
“Heejin!” She never raises her voice. The last time she did so, she ended up being told to act like a Lady, anger flaring through the room. This time around, however, fear replaces the highness of her tone. “You could split your head in half. Don’t. I’ll take you to the pool if you want to.”
“I’ve done this before. Don’t be a prude—!” The whine on Heejin’s voice gets more persistent, and even when she pushes Heejin’s back towards her chest to bring her away from the balcony, the young woman’s toned legs flimsily move to push herself away.
“Joshua!” She calls out in a scream, in hopes of having someone support her with whatever the hell Heejin, the now discovered daredevil, wants to do. “I’m calling Joshua and we’ll take you to a swim, just—” More moving around from Heejin, perhaps trying to get away from her grasp. “Joshua! Come help me out here!”
Why is it that he’s gone when she needs him the most? Fear clinging at her throat, heart beating, eyes staring at Heejin as she slips away from her hands and works on taking her dress off again.
“Stop it, Heejin! Get over here!”
The doors of the room open with a harsh bang, thoughts of Joshua listening to her clouding her mind in a second, still battling to keep Heejin’s dress up the woman’s body. Instead, she watches a young man barge into the room. The short strands of his black hair done a mess from the sleep that still lingers on his features, a straight nose and plush lips that accompany somewhat aloof eyes, that only manage to widen a fraction when he watches Heejin on the balcony, using only one hand to tug at her wrist and bring her inside the room.
“I was trying to sleep and you were being loud, Heejin.” The soft timbre of his voice is surprising, the black t-shirt on his body reaching his hips, the rest of his legs covered in pajama pants in plaid figures. He must know Heejin far better than she does. “What did you think you were doing?”
Heejin stares at the man in front of her when he sits her down on the soft, almost cloud-like mattress, bringing one hand up before waving it across his face. “Minghao, I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”
“It’s been a year since I started living here, Heejin. Use another excuse.” The man says, putting down Heejin’s hand with a soft touch before turning to look at her. “She was causing you trouble?”
“She was trying to throw herself into the pool from the balcony.” She says, well aware that it sounds like an atrocity, but she can’t bring herself to say anything but the truth. Her fingers twirl against one another under the weight of his watchful gaze. “I’m sorry we woke you up.”
“…You better.” He breathes out, though the initial annoyance of his entrance seems to be dissipating. “I’ll make her something to eat and then, I’ll ask Zhang Wei to take her home. If he’s not too drunk.” Minghao seems to be deep in thought at that, shaking his head in the process. “Who am I kidding? I’ll call a cab.”
“Okay.” She adds, a small smile on her features as she moves towards the door, shoeless, with her hair done a mess, and with the sleeves of her dress somewhat disorganized after so much tugging and pulling with Heejin. “I’ll go look for Joshua and ask me to take me home.” Though, she stops herself, turning around to look at Minghao. “Wait, why should I leave Heejin with you? I don’t even know you…”
“…I’m Zhang Wei’s cousin.” Minghao indicates, asking Heejin to stand up soon after before walking behind her, as if dragging her away from the room. Though, what surprises her the most when the door closes behind all three of them is that he manages to say her sister’s name, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Yeah, you both look alike.”
With Minghao walking in front of her with more certainty, definitely knowing this mansion like the palm of his hand, she stutters out an answer. “And how do you know my sister?”
“I’m good friends with her.”
“I have never seen you with her.” She retorts, not quite trusting how knowledgeable this man seems to be about everything. Even Heejin grew quiet when around him, following after his every step.
“Your sister says you’re not around much.” She can’t deny that, either. For her, she’s always being prepared to find someone that betters her title—and that takes a lot of socializing and going around with her parents. “Shouldn’t I be the one who is suspicious about you? You were inside my cousin’s room and I don’t even know you.”
“I came here with Joshua and Heejin was looking for something there.” She excuses herself, leaving out the obvious—she was there to look for shoes, and Minghao may have not noticed just because of the length of her dress.
Just when they reach the bottom of the stairs, she expects to see Joshua already there—at the edge of his seat, ready to know what happened. Instead, he’s laying back on one of the many couches in the living room, his glass on one hand and his phone on the other, avidly talking to someone in a low tone, even over the music.
“Tell you something,” Minghao instructs, taking this time to show some expression on his youthful, innocent face. He may be eighteen or nineteen at most. “I’ll call a cab for you two, as well, and you’re going to go home. It’s late and you’re too drunk. This can only go wrong.”
She thinks about it for a moment, and she crosses her arms over her chest when she calls out for— “Joshua!”
The man pushes his phone away from his ear, smiling softly when he asks: “Yes?”
“I want to leave.”
“We were going to an after-party, though—”
“I want to leave.” Something of the like of pride flashes through Minghao’s face when he takes his phone in between his hands.
Joshua breathes out softly, blinking at her as if he’s trying to study her, before saying something on the phone and hanging up. She’ll never know who he was calling. “Okay, we’re leaving. There’s no need to get harsh.”
With one arm around her shoulder and a kiss to her temple, she figures out she forgives him for not appearing at the balcony.
Because Joshua is that. A silent conversation in a cab as he texts someone for an after-party, mainly because he wants to enjoy his youth as it barely begins. He’s the promises he breathes out, the words that he says, the comfort that comes with being with him—because he’s known, and he’ll always be. One day, he could even be her home. It leads to nothing, as of now, but something about this night tells her that the quietness in between the two will sort into something else. Tranquility, maybe. The tranquility that she has never gotten in that castle she lives in.
His fingertips trail down her arm when he presses one last kiss to her cheek, opening the door to the cab and getting back inside after she stands in front of the castle. The fountain by the entrance welcomes her as quickly as the guards do, and she can’t look at Joshua without needing to go back with him. Instead, she stares at the time in her phone.
Three in the morning.
Three in the morning and she watches Joshua leave to another party, and the Duke’s car parking out and way from the castle. Once again, she’s left in solitude—it’s in her blood to wait for people to arrive to her, for her nights to be filled with the questioning of what could have been. What’s not enough, and what does not meet the expectation of those around her, for them to always want something else.
It’s three in the morning when she gives a smile to the guards, trying to forget the feeling of the concrete under her bare feet, and once again, she’s greeted with the usual. A compliment on her liveliness, even at such a time.
It’s three in the morning and she’s lying.
###
August 3rd. Three years ago.
Dinners always go like this.
First, a sip of the richest drink. Fruit directly from mother nature, crafted by the hands of those who work for her.
Lips moistened, the fork and knife cut through whatever is served. In the rare occasion her Mother is not looking at her, she mixes the vegetables with the main course, adds a bit more of sauce. She lets herself enjoy it at those times.
Two chews, slow, steady, and she nods at whatever the Duchess says. The table is long enough for her to feel like she’s miles away—in this family, it always feels like that.
When she swallows, she always tries to look for a middle ground, something that doesn’t make the food go up her esophagus out of nervousness. When her eyes connect with her sister’s, she finds it. The only person in that entire table that knows her well.
Then, it’s inherent. She looks for the Duke, her Father, blocks every thought of her mind that wonders if his long trips and getaways include another family, an affair, or if he’s simply doing his job. Trust earns itself, and it lacks, thereof.
The process repeats itself until her plate is finished and she can excuse herself away from the table.
Her name is called, catching her attention away from the plate underneath her. Tomatoes sliced to perfection are left on the white ceramic when she connects gazes with her mother’s—eyes the same shade as hers, but much colder. “…How’s everything going with Joshua, my love?”
Maybe, her family was never of a higher stance in the Royal timeline because they deserved it. The only way she becomes a loving matter in this castle is when Joshua’s name lingers in between, and she can’t hate him for it. Kisses shared underneath the moonlight sealed their relationship long ago—after that December they saw each other last, and he continuously texted and called her, opting to go visit her on January to make it official. A relationship that most called expected, while she thought of it as a blessing.
Placing the fork and knife down, she interlocks her fingers together, catching a glimpse of her favorite maid and, perhaps, her best friend, Hana, standing a few meters away from her mother. Instead, she decides to answer as simplistically as possible. “We’re doing excellently, Mother.” Though, that much is not a lie. Joshua’s been working on investments to depart, or grow away, from the Royal family, and that has made him spend more time in her land rather than his. “Two years and still going strong, that has to say something.”
“It does not say much.” The Duchess says, extending her gloved hands towards her Father before resting it on top of his extended hand. “It feels like he’s not so sure about you, honey. Your Father asked for my hand after nine months of dating. If a man is sure about what he wants, he’ll make it happen in a second.”
The shots are fired, then. Though young and full with the will to keep up with her duties as a Lady, her Mother aches for more. It’s in the line of women like them—marry someone of importance, and after her relationship with Joshua became serious, all the hopes of marriage fell on her shoulders. Her sister, on the other hand, had managed to go for university…just like the two of them had dreamt of doing. History slipped away from her hands, and she doesn’t think she’s making history of her own.
“Mother,” Her sister says, an eye-roll to her statement. “Just let her be. Not everything has to end with marriage.”
“I—I think…” She stutters, wetting her lips with a bit of the orange juice in front of her. It does nothing to ease her nerves when under the gaze of the Duchess. “I think Joshua and I are fine as we are. We still have to live this part of our lives and marriage is such a serious thing—”
“Love.” Her Mother interrupts, cutting through the air with certainty. “You need to be someone of importance. I’m not going to be here for you forever…and you must find the strength to keep going. Richness. A kingdom. Something. We have given you education, now you must harvest your future.”
Though, she has never thought of her future as one that revolves around a man. It shouldn’t be like that. For, the times that she doesn’t spend with Joshua, she does a lot more than what anyone can see—study in the library, bask herself in books, do some appearances in the local schools to teach about history. The real kind. The kind that teaches people to be kinder, to want to change the world. Their land may be small, but while she is there, they won’t lack the proper information to continue growing as a society.
“Right?” The Duchess asks the Duke, and the man can only hum.
“That Joshua guy…he’s nice, but if he hasn’t asked for your hand in marriage, at least as a promise, I can’t see this going anywhere.” But, what does the Duke know about relationships? He’s barely even here to start with—
“That’s why you should try to be better. Make him notice how good of a wife you could be.” That’s what she has always been—a trophy. Words that are knives and cut right through her. No matter how much she takes in one morning with the stylists to doll herself up, or how precisely she tries to speak, there is always something else to try out. A new posture. A new class. Anything to be able to take a man’s attention. Sometimes, the tip of her tongue itches to just say: fuck that.
“I think he likes me as I am, Mother.” She replies, her hand tightening against the fork and the knife to continue eating. She’s hungry, so she may as well continue biting on her food even if she’s talking with her family. “I don’t have to be better.”
“Then, he’ll leave you.” Her mother says, as if it doesn’t hurt. As if the thought of Joshua just taking his things and going back to his land, for real, doesn’t pierce through her and leaves her breathing ragged, obstinate. “Darling, he’s always going back and forth. Business stuff, sure, but still…in one of those many trips, he’ll find someone he’ll deem better.”
“If he loves me, I’m his only option—”
“Men don’t work like that.” The Duchess spites, though she is quite thankful that she has vegetables inside her mouth, moving softly with her chewing, because she would have inherently said what everyone knows in this castle, even the workers. It’s not men that don’t work like that, it’s your man. “He’ll get bored pretty soon.”
“If that day comes, I’ll move on.”
“And do what?” The Duchess asks. “Recite the entirety of our land’s history to children for the rest of your life? Come on, darling, I taught you better.” But most of the things she learned came from the workers, the maids, the butlers, the people that lingered around her while her family was socializing— “You have to seek for a title. A Prince’s Wife, and he has been making far more money recently—of his own, too. Joshua is the perfect image of the man you have to marry.”
“Can’t we just stop talking about this?” Her sister questions, throwing her napkin on the table. “Really, it’s fucking annoying. She can do what she wants—”
“Language.” The Duke mumbles in between bites of his meal, never once lifting his gaze. Not like he cares. She continues staring at her mother, the woman shrugging her shoulders.
“It’s her choice.” But those words don’t sound like they would come from the Duchess. “But that man is the only man that she has loved, and the only one that has loved her. If she doesn’t get married now, she’s going to lose it all. Richness. Love. Opportunities. I’ll just sit back and watch it happen, then.”
Hana clears her throat, moving towards her side before dragging the plate away from under her gaze. Not that she does much, leaving the fork and knife in the air as she tries to think of who she is. What she has become other than a people pleaser, leaving all thoughts of her dreams behind to live for others— “Lady, you have finished your plate. May I give you another serving?”
She hadn’t even realized, but instead, she stands up. Moving the fabric of her black dress down her thighs, she juts her chin forward. “I’ll eat in the kitchen.” She replies, lowering her gaze when her Mother quirks an eyebrow at her. “May you please ask the chef to make me some mashed potatoes? I’m craving that.”
“Of course, Lady.”
Though, she can’t give more than a few steps behind Hana before she hears her Mother calling out her name. “You’re not leaving like that, are you?”
Sometimes, she likes to believe there is regret in the Duchess’ voice, that something in her strict way of being means that she cares. Probably, she does—cares about the status of her daughters, more often than not squinting her gaze at her slightly younger sister for being…in love with too many people. Instead, she tries to follow after her words, lowering her face the slightest to press a kiss to the crown of her head. Her scent doesn’t feel familiar. “May you have a nice meal, Mother.”
Her heart only feels heavier after those words.
###
September 20th. Three years ago.
His breaths mingle in the oxygen around her, though not clear under the golden lights of the event hall’s bathroom. His chest presses against her back, each muscle curving and contorting to match hers—and it has always been beautiful, how Joshua seems to be made just for her. With his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed to utter perfection, his teeth do wonders on his bottom lip, capturing it until it turns red, only letting go of it when he opens his eyes and pulls away from her, leaving her vacant. His lips flutter against her neck, that spot that he knows makes her ticklish, but somehow always slips his mind.
Joshua, over everything, prides himself on how good he is at hiding. Living a normal life while being a Prince comes easily for him—never once missing the opportunity to be young and free. With the mirror right in front of them, she tries to remind herself that she is a Lady. Golden, creamy dress falling off her shoulders, the see-through sleeves loose yet tightening around her wrists, small dots littering around the fabric. Her boyfriend pulls the skirt down after he zips himself, up, as if that does something to hide the fact that her hair is done a mess, her pink lipstick has suddenly disappeared (if she doesn’t count the remaining bits on her chin), and there is the tiniest layer of sweat on her forehead when she clears her throat.
The image on that mirror is of a woman sedated by a physical connection. Not of a Lady, per say. Not of the conceptualization that the castle has given her.
And she loves it.
It was not something she had done—afraid that someone would walk in, too much of a pillow princess for her to ever think about even doing anything outside of the bedroom, but trying it out just came to her head. There, in Joshua’s land, visiting a ball and not being the center of attention of people’s judgement, the thought of conversations they had in the past slipped inside her head and she ended up dragging him to the nearest bathroom. For a moment, Joshua seems to be happy, arms wrapping around her waist as she does quick wonders on her purse to grab her lipstick.
“…The best part is that I had to listen to Chopin as I did that.” The joke appears in between them as a whisper and she can’t help but chuckle, taking the tube of lipstick and smearing a bit across her lips.
“Nothing sexier than Chopin.” She speaks out, not quite remembering the moment that said piano expert’s music played from the ball on itself. Whatever. Instead, she concentrates on making herself look more presentable. “But we have another issue at hand.”
“What?” Joshua asks, chin pressed to her shoulder as he stares at her. With time, he has only gotten better—eyes more profound, lips rosier, voice more of a lullaby than anything.
“You need to stop doing this.” She instructs, lifting her upper lip the slightest to show bite-marks, the most subtle of darkening spots that come from the deepest of his kisses. “It’s hard to hide and it’s embarrassing because anyone could notice.”
“It’s not noticeable.” Joshua conquers, a pout to his voice. He pulls away the slightest then, fixing the collar of his shirt, silence falling in between them until he frowns deeply. “Babe, what the fuck?”
Annoyance lingers on his tone, and she has to look over her shoulder to see what bothers him. One glance at his face says nothing, his neck is not littered in hickeys—for, she is not much of a fan of marking him in any way. Lower, she realizes what the issue is, her pink lipstick ended up on one portion of his white button down. “Oh shit, sorry.” That’s all she can manage to say, but Joshua sighs instead.
“This is an expensive shirt, babe.”
She has to roll her eyes at this. “Everything you own is expensive, Shua. I’m sure it’s fine—”
“I have to talk to some investors in, like, twenty minutes. This is not a good look.” One last glide of her lipstick should be enough, she tells herself, sparing Joshua a look over her shoulder before sighing.
He wasn’t saying that when they got to this bathroom ten minutes ago. “I already said sorry,” She starts. “Besides, we have water here. We can just pat it out and see what happens—”
A smile appears on his features when she opens the water faucet, droplets cascading in a rapid motion before he closes the tab again. “Babe, this is a Louis Vuitton.”
She quirks an eyebrow then. “And you’re Joshua Hong. They’re just names, what’s the matter?”
“You don’t just pour water on it.”
Though, she has spent enough time with the maids to know the basics about washing clothes or taking a stain out in a rush. “Joshua, how do you think they wash clothes? With water—”
“I’m sure it’ll only ruin it more. Like, drag the stain or something.” Joshua replies, always thinking ahead of himself as he closes the buttons of his golden jacket, staring at himself in the mirror. He fixes the strands of his black hair that had fallen out of place in his forehead before clearing his throat. “I’m sure that would do.”
He’s not wrong, but— “Then, why start that whole drama about your Louis Vuitton shirt?”
“It wasn’t drama.” Joshua whispers, turning to look at her before running his hands over her arms, her legs trying to regain their composure to walk in those high heels. “I just—I’m very nervous, okay? I’ve been doing well with my investments, but it’s the first time I try to invest in something that isn’t music related.”
She lets him touch her, because there is something magical about Joshua. Knowing that he was a first—that she was lucky enough to get the person she liked on the long run, maybe the comfort and familiarity of him. Joshua spends days in his land and days in hers, basks in her presence in both sides, makes it known that he is trying to secure his future, build an empire for himself. Not a single minute goes by without the man thinking what to do next. He’s always had it together.
Crossing one leg over the other, she grasps his face in both of her hands, inspecting who should be hers. What, sometimes, he calls hers. Why is it that the name itself seems to sound lovely to her but doesn’t fit him at all? Joshua Hong is not hers. He is inherently his.
“You always do great.” She whispers, one step forward before meeting her lips with his. Kissing him always feels passionate, like he can’t get enough of her—but time passes too quickly when he does. Rushed, he is, eager to taste more, to have more. For someone as quiet and posh as him, Joshua knows what he wants. When she pulls away, breath taken away, she hears the soft lull of the piano outside. “Besides, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ve gone over what you were going to say a bunch of times and you’ve met up with them before. This is only the last step.”
“The last step is always the hardest.”
“But whatever the outcome is, you can always say you tried.”
Joshua opens the door to the bathroom then, the apples of his cheeks lifted when he asks: “Since when did you become so wise?”
Maybe, the words of the Duchess had gotten to live inside her head—what if Joshua did not feel the same as her? What if all those kisses, nights of passion, comfort, were only livelihoods for him? Ways to spend time in her land? Ways to feel like he has a home to go to even when he’s always around, from lands to countries. “I don’t know. History books make you sound posh sometimes.”
“Remind me to start the habit of reading.”
He always says the same thing, a resolution of each year they’ve spent together—but it never happens.
The public loves them. They adore the way Joshua seems to shield her from any eyes with a hand around her waist, or how he seems to take care of her utmost necessities—if her glass is empty, or if she’s hungry. What they don’t know is that this is not the realistic version of them. It’s the happy one—that one that bathes in longing after not seeing each other for an extended period of time, the happy couple that is not so happy because they avoid arguments at all cost. They don’t know that she’s wary of the eyes that linger on him or the way he talks about his life as immaculate. He hasn’t gone back to his castle in years. There is a part of him that doesn’t speak about the heartbreak that came with knowing he was last in line when it came to being a possible King.
He never talks about that. Closed-off. Perhaps, masking it as something he’d rather ignore. Joshua likes covering it up with a veil and let it dust, while she loves talking about her utmost feelings whenever she can. Hana, for example, is an excellent listener as well as a storyteller.
She wishes she had a better dress by the time they get to the center of the room to dance, burgundy walls and brown tiles, gliding against her heels and leaving her legs to touch the coldness of the atmosphere surrounding them. Something longer, perhaps, to feel like a Princess when Joshua is looking directly into her eyes. He smiles then, pulling her closer to whisper something onto her ear.
“Hey, you’re stepping on me.” He says, a chuckle following after his statement before pulling away the slightest. “Skipped those dancing classes, didn’t you?”
“You’re just invading my space, that’s all.” She replies, a bit of embarrassment in her tone when she pinches his shoulder. “Stop talking like that. You’re also not Prince Junhui from the eastern lands.”
He shrugs, something that irks her endlessly. What’s with this overconfidence tonight? “It doesn’t matter.” He conquers, looking down at his feet after. “Try not to ruin my shoes, too, okay?”
“Shua!” She yells in a whisper, eyes widened. “You’re being an ass right now.”
But, as per usual, Joshua gives her one of his enchanting smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips that sneaks a few gasps and sighs of content from the couples watching them. One of the most gorgeous and awaited lovers for the night. “You know I’m just joking,” Though, sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. “And I love you just as you are.”
“I love you, too.” She tells him, a flutter to her chest, but why is it always hard to believe him?
###
September 25th. Three years ago.
“My Lady!”
Hana’s dulcet voice has aged with time, she realizes, a tad different from the unrestrictive strength of her energetic self twenty-something years ago, when she was assessed as her maid and protector. She’s a little bit over her fifties as of now, her short hair bouncing with each step she takes towards her, the length of her black skirt making it difficult for her to walk through the green fields at the entrance of her castle. With wrinkles covering her features and a thin layer of sweat living on the bridge of her nose, her eyelids and her neck, she realizes one thing.
Or two, rather.
One, she really missed home.
Two, she really missed her mom—Hana. The only woman that had grown alongside her, heard about her crush on Joshua when she was a teenager, gave her advice when she went on her first date, and would click her tongue whenever she spoke about some of the issues they had and pushed to the very back not to be talked about.
“Hana!” She breathes out, letting her luggage fall down on the floor to be taken by the butlers, arms extending to encage the taller woman in between her grasp, basking on the familiar scent of oil from the kitchen. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Though, the woman pushes her weight away from her, a mocking smile on her rounded features. “Ah, I doubt it. You were with your boy, the apple of your eye, Prince Joshua.”
“The love is different.” With one arm around her shoulder, she starts to walk forward. “How have things been in the castle?”
“Pretty dull without you, actually.” Hana includes, lowering her body when a few branches come across their way. She rests her hand on Hana’s head, just in case, aware of how important this woman is for her. Not a single line shall shatter the vase of stone that is Hana, fundamental to anything she does. “Though, we have had visitors to keep us entertained while you were gone.”
Some days that she is not unhappy about missing, actually. “Visitors? What were they this time?” She prompts. “Another businessman? Are we talking aristocrats or—?”
“An heir, actually.”
“Like Joshua?”
Hana hisses through her crooked teeth, licking something on the inside of her cheek in a way that brings a smile up her features. They are getting closer to the park by the side of their little castle, perched there for the two sisters to enjoy while they were younger—thus, nowadays used for the gossiping and chattering needed to coexist in such a harsh world like this. “Not to make you feel bad, my Lady, but I would not compare this young man to Prince Joshua. I don’t make the choices in your life, but Prince Joshua is as bland as the chef’s chicken water after he washes the meat.”
For a second, she tries to think how others would. What about Joshua Hong seems to be bland? His lack of expression, perhaps, his preparation, the way he always seems to fit in with everyone. If a lot of people like him, that must be that Hana is on the wrong.
“He is not bland.” She says, letting her dress trail on the green grass, not caring if the fabric gets stained. “Mind you.”
“Oh, I am minding me.” Hana says, moving her neck slightly as she lets go of her. “There is nothing substantial about the man is all I’m saying.”
“Why?”
“Darlin’, I know you love him…” The maid says, twirling her fingers around the necklace that rests on her sternum, all the angles of her body highlighted by the action. “But I have this little patting, bickering bird on the top of my head that gives me the feeling that he’s not the love of your life…and you’ve given up so much for him.”
Rather, she has given up a lot for everyone. Mother was over the moon the moment she confirmed her relationship with Joshua, fingers threaded with his, promises made a reality. Father? He didn’t care much—said what he had to say, only to leave. Education be forgotten for the duties of a Lady, for becoming the perfect example of what the real Royal family should have been like. That meant that her dreams of studying history went down the drain, replaced by endless hours of eternal love for Joshua Hong.
Sometimes, it is tiring.
Tiring to a plus-one.
To be the woman of a man. Someone’s someone.
She lets it go. If she has to be someone’s, she’d rather be his.
“That’s what I always tell her.”
The sound of her sister speaking to her has her perking up, a smile appearing on her features to cloud any moment of rainy thoughts that translated onto her face. Eyebrows well raised, shoulders way back, she extends her hands to grasp her sister in her hold, only to be met by crossed arms and a strong frown.
“And it fucking disgusts me that we planned on going to university together and now I see her beyond happy for spending some days with her long-distance boyfriend.”
She spits it out as if it is venom, as if every meter that separates Joshua and her physically have becoming everything and the factor of their issues. “I’m sorry,” She puts her hands down, a bit of a bite on her tone. “I hate that I have been pushed to be like this, but this is what I was meant to do—”
“S—Since when going after a man is what you have to do?!” Her sister asks, the wind moving the flowers on her dress as she steps forward, fingers curling around the air like a vice, a threat to their conversation. “I expected you to come here having broken up with that asshole!”
“He isn’t mean to you, why call him an asshole?” Born under different circumstances, her sister never waited a second to speak back. She always thought of her as the light of her days because of that—a word would never go unspoken by her. However, this time around, it hurts. Expected romanticism has translated into real love, what was once looking for a man has now become expecting for him to come back.
It’s devastating for her sister, apparently. “Because he took my sister away.”
“What are you talking about? I’m here.”
“Barely.” Her younger sister spits out, curling an eyebrow on her forehead. “What is it about you right now that connects to your old self? You spend every given second trying to follow after Mother’s awful rules of marriage and it’s starting to look pathetic.”
“Don’t talk to me like that.” One step forward has Hana grasping her by the forearm, but she tugs at her. “I’m your older sister, I get to make my decisions without having you question me as if I’m some fucking child.” She spits out, looking up and down her sister’s features before the woman scoffs.
“And what? Are you an example for me?” She asks. “You’re nothing like an older sister anymore. It’s about time you wake up and realize the world is not going to change for the better if you marry a man just because you have to.”
“Who said we’re getting married? He hasn’t even asked—”
“Has he talked about it?” Her sister asks, only to have her shaking her head.
“I don’t see why—”
“Has he talked about the future with you? The longtime future when his cheeks are saggy, his hands are wrinkly, his voice can’t sound the same—?” She stops, jutting her chin forward to further emphasize her words. “Has he?!”
Her chest heaves up and down, trying to recoil in a memory that doesn’t exist. Joshua has never talked about such thing. He doesn’t even know if he wants to get married or not.
If I ever get married, he has said.
It has never been: if we ever get married…
When we get married? No.
“No.” The answer rips through her throat in a way that makes her ache, though her tone is soft. Her sister smiles sadly then, flaws pointed out to her when she shakes her head.
“Then, he’ll never ask.”
“Give your sister a break, she just arrived here.”
That voice sounds oddly familiar, but the time in her head doesn’t go back to the time it sounded against her eardrums until she looks up at the man that pulls her sister away from her. The oxygen goes back to her lungs, only to be stolen by him—wavy black hair curling against his forehead, straight eyebrows and monotone eyes still looking breathtaking on him. Something about the guy that saved Heejin, Xu Minghao, as tranquil as ever, relaxes her on the spot, beauty beyond what transcends through him…but in the lake that patters each drop to create him, mellow and peaceful.
His jacket moves with him, black as coffee, his oversized white button down on his chest making him look more elegant. Since the last time she saw him, perhaps hanging out with her sister like he always does as her best friend, he has grown quite a bit.
“Minghao, you’re a guy.” Her sister says, turning to look at her friend, much taller than her. “A man will make plans with you only if he wants to keep you long time, true or false?”
Minghao keeps his straight expression, though a glint of pity appears on his irises when he interlocks his hands behind his back. “Ah…I’d say true.” An answer from a man has her heart dropping to the floor. Not that she wanted to get married right now…but knowing that Joshua did not even consider an option, according to popular opinion, made her feel undesirable. "But, then again, that shouldn’t be something to criticize her for. Every sailor decides which ship they want to sail."
At times, she wonders if the ship that has already sailed will make her happy. “He is right.” She includes, finally connecting her gaze with Minghao’s when he turns to her. “Thank you, Minghao.”
“Just…this is none of my business,” He raises his hands in the air momentarily, letting them drop to his side in a gracefully dance. “Be careful.”
His cousin is good friends with Joshua, and the sentence alone scratches at the insecurity inside of her. “Why should I?” She asks, trying to keep levelled, though her eyes feel like they’re permanently blinking under the weight of her tears.
“Sometimes, when a man doesn’t express a lot of emotions is because he doesn’t actually feel them. It’s the same for both men and women—overthinking is just too much thinking at times.” The advice rushes through his lips, though his voice is calm. One step forward brings him closer to her, pulling the sleeves of her dress down to keep her warmer, fingers barely skimming over her skin in a way that has her looking down at the connection in between the two. “Welcome back, Lady.”
She breathes out her name, looking into his eyes in the process. “You never call me Lady.”
“Maybe, I’ll call you Princess one of these days.” Minghao retorts, a shrug coming after. “Does it change you as a person? Whether you’re a Princess, a Lady, or just plain old you?”
She thinks for a moment, shaking her head. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Then, it isn’t worth it to marry someone just for a title. Or push it, rather.” Minghao finalizes, lowering his face to smile up at her, soft and strong, something so inherently him. Epiphanies, perhaps, made into a person—contradiction over contradiction that complexes him beyond her understanding. She’s an intelligent woman, just not intelligent enough to figure him out. “Come on, a smile?”
His voice is much too soft, and it’s only broken through when her sister scoffs. “Come on, Minghao.” She says, nearing them with dragged steps. “I think I’ve bothered her enough. The smile won’t be real if you get it out of her like that.”
One look at her sister tells her that she’s sorry, but instead of awaiting the moment she says so, she gives a small smile. “I’m here to prove you wrong, aren’t I?” She retorts to the youngest.
“Much to my distaste.” The youngest answers, tugging at her friend’s blazer. “We’re going to study, want to tag along after you’re done unpacking?”
“I’d love to.”
###
October 10th. Three years ago.
He’s out again.
And it’s not the fact that hundreds of people get to see his smile, the brightness of it and how blinding it can become, that has her seated in front of the castle, phone placed in between her fingers, grasping it to her chest as if one simplistic ring of the device could make her feel alive again. It’s not that Joshua has the most beautiful set of eyes she has ever seen—and she has always wondered if they’re emotionless, or he’s just really good at controlling what he feels. That’s not what has her jealous.
It’s not that Joshua always dresses to the nines, loves feeling like he is the most watched man in the room—but never says it. Mighty may be the person that gets Joshua to confess something with much of a reaction, even a surprised gasp. He relishes in keeping levelled, while she feels too much. Another press of the button on her phone tells her that it is twelve at night and Joshua is still out.
He has been out all day.
She counts the texts again. Sent by her? Twenty-three. Sent by him? One.
It was seven in the morning, and Joshua had the audacity to send a picture of himself, sprawled in his bed when he’s here, in the same land as her, one hand covering his forehead, fingers threading through his dark locks, half-closed eyes and a dizzy smile. He said ‘good morning’, and the burn in her stomach told her that she had fallen in love again.
He never answered to her ‘good morning’, her ‘good afternoon’, her ‘hey, you just saw my message, why aren’t you replying?’. The ‘haven’t you eaten?’ that mocks her.
Keep sucking ass, Lady. It looks wonderful on you.
Wealthy enough to throw the phone against the concrete under her, she wishes she had the lack of composure to do so. To feel all the hatred and uselessness that racks like books inside of her, mocks her for being able to stand so much. A boyfriend of years that doesn’t even answer her texts, that had planned going out with his friends upon landing on her land just because he wanted to meet up with them. Now, when he said he’d be with her at seven, he continues to be in some raunchy club with his friends.
Seven is the worst fucking number in the world right now.
Doubts clash against her ribcage when the flimsy fabric of her nightgown clings to her skin. Her hair, less from perfect, suddenly becomes an insecurity. Her eyes. Her nose. Her lips. The way she had let go in comfort for him—in the feeling of acceptance that he had once bathed upon her but now bites her back. What if he’s in that club with one of his friends? What if one of those friends are interested in him?
She swallows thickly, trying not to scream when she hides her face in between her legs, but she does. Harsh enough to be heard by someone, but not someone in the castle. What kind of Duchess is waiting for her boyfriend in front of a castle, dressed and ready to sleep, only to be left behind like some toy?
She grabs the phone again, and types with all the will in the world—
To: Shua.
I deserve better than you.
But she deletes it.
She can’t tell him that.
She doubts him, but questions the jealousy that creeps up on her as well. Maybe, he is just having fun—his world shouldn’t revolve around her.
When she stands up, her mind is only set on grabbing something to eat. Call it a third dinner, perhaps, but she needs to concentrate on something else. The entrance doors of the castle open up for her like magic, all thanks to the guards, as she makes her way towards the kitchen. A good cardio away from her, but the smell of the leftover baked potatoes that lay on her refrigerator calls out for her attention even from meters away.
Though, upon entering the kitchen, someone else has half of his body placed inside the refrigerator, long limbs grabbing something in his hands that he can’t quite decipher. Not her refrigerator, but the one designated for her sister’s food instead—used by her chef, and apparently, by Xu Minghao.
Her body splays against the marble island by the middle of the kitchen, the low yellow lamps making her eyes hurt…or is it that, maybe, Minghao in his university-student form is really a sight to look at? His hair is pushed away from his face, haphazardly in the process, like he didn’t have time to do it. Some glasses rest on the bridge of his nose and the red turtleneck sweater on his body is as bright as the apples that he holds in between his hands. Two on each hand.
“Am I getting robbed by Snow-White?” The question leaves her, though in a badly joked manner, before she could fully think about it. Maneuvering his feet up, Minghao closes the refrigerator’s door with one swift motion before laughing at her words.
“That’s your sister’s fridge, and we have a final tomorrow that I feel like I’m going to fail.” Minghao confesses, putting the apples down on the island before leaning his weight forward. Everything about him feels like a silhouette of what could be in an art museum. “Something about math being part of a business major’s life just doesn’t sit well with me.”
For what she can remember in the times she has seen Minghao and her sister studying together, he is— “You’re excellent at math, though.”
“…I guess.” Minghao says, biting down on his lip. “I’m good at a lot of things, if I do say so myself, but there’s that gut feeling that tells me I’m going to fail.”
“Why so?”
“The professor hates me, for one.” The enigma instructs, extending his palm on the island to draw little circles on the surface. Had his hands always been this pretty? “I told him that one of his equations was wrong and that was all it took for him to have my head on the next test.”
Shaking her thoughts away from Minghao’s hand, she looks up. “But you corrected him, that means you were smarter than him.”
“It means he made a mistake. We all do.” He finalizes, ready to grab the apples on his hands and say his goodbyes until she interrupts him.
“…Do you think we should forgive people just because they make mistakes?” She asks, making Minghao stop on his tracks, his back turned to her as she plays with her hands. “As in, forgive them every time they do?”
“Not always.” Minghao, always one for an answer, debates as he turns around. “Some mistakes are worth standing someone for. Others are just not.”
“What kind of mistakes would you apologize?”
“Forgetting something, for example.” Though, he doesn’t seem to be thinking deeply about it. “Or…if someone accidentally ate something I left on the fridge or something like that. I’m not one to forgive people for deep shit.”
“Conceptualization of deep shit?”
“Mhm, depends.”
“Not everything in life is relative, Minghao.”
“But, oh why, it is!” The heir conquers, looking at her for a second before smiling softly. “What we see is not what we really think it is.”
“And how do I know what it really is?”
“You listen to what your gut says.” He says. “Life is difficult, but we have the answers inside ourselves to make the right decision for us.”
For a moment, she wants to pretend like her gut has always told her Joshua is the right man for her. But, that’s not the truth. The right man didn’t open doors for her, but loved to be with her whenever he could. The right man didn’t spend every single second with her, but made every minute they spent together the reason why she misses him when being with other people. The right man made her feel unique—like that one imperfection on her skin isn’t worth that much thinking from her, or that the curves or lack of in certain places aren’t something to hold onto as if they conceptualize her.
The right man doesn’t spend an entire day not answering to her texts.
The right man chooses to visit his girlfriend first when he has spent weeks without seeing her.
The right man doesn’t leave her standing, on her nightgown, inspected by a man that studies her eyes from too close, shoulders going up and down with each breath before his smile erases and he says—
“This is about Joshua, isn’t it?”
Not having the heart to deny it, she nods. “He hasn’t answered in the entire day.” She admits, hard to say it out loud without feeling judged. By his actions, nonetheless. “…And, well, he did say yesterday he was going out to the beach with his friends from here once he arrived, and that he’d be going to the club after that, but he said he’d be here by seven—”
Minghao’s jaw tightens, placing his hands on her shoulders to make her turn around. “Then, go to bed—”
“What if he comes home?”
“He will not.” Minghao boldly replies for what he thinks of Joshua’s thoughts. “Not only has he stood you up, but he preferred going out with his friends than meeting up with you, his girlfriend, when getting to your land. I think that’s enough for you to go to sleep or cut ties with him immediately.”
That makes her stop on her tracks, no longer moving towards the stairs but instead, thinking about his words. Leaving Joshua, that is. “…I can’t.”
“Can’t you or don’t you want to?”
The question weights her down. Both sound pathetic at this point. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you what it is,” Minghao stands in front of her, fixing the glasses on his face before sighing. “You’re waiting for him to change. That, one day, he’s going to wake up and choose you over the world. You think about all those things that people say about people just needing to go through phases, and you think this is a phase—”
More than anger, disdain bubbles up inside her. “He is young, maybe this is a phase—”
“It’s not.” Minghao says. “He chose them over you. He chose partying over you. That has to say a lot about what he thinks of you.”
“…I guess.”
“Think about it.” The heir concludes his advice with that, putting an apple up to his mouth before giving it a big bite. “I’ll go study. See you later.”
With that, he leaves.
###
October 11th. Three years ago.
She liked delicacy, but that never meant she liked it when people thought she was made out of glass. Invisible, easy to break, easy to taint when breathing against it—she’s strong, even if the hits of life have left a stain on her one too many times. Punches to be taken just for the sake of it.
Let the glass that represents her be broken, at the edges that people managed to ripped but never broke her entirely. Her first friend, a young boy that flew away from the land when he was six, and left her with the memory of him. Her second friend, a young girl when she was nine, that pushed her around to make her feel miniscule—always better than her, prettier than her, smarter than her, with nicer clothes than her. It was over after four years. Then, five years went by of people that were not that good either, always coming back with that sense of hope that told her…one day, the right people will come around.
What if they never did?
Because the right man is standing in front of her at this moment, the smell of lasagna cladding the room and making her feel disgusted. Thick sauce, white and red, with meat. It all deserves to be trashed down, like the rest of the gifts Joshua carried all the way here on his forearms, his face void of any imperfections even when he must have knocked himself out yesterday with as much partying as he did.
The right man, Joshua Hong, has taken a piece of her. That edge that keeps pricking her whenever she passes by, and she never falls asleep like how it happens in fairytales. Needle-deep, it makes her wonder of his whereabouts. Makes her tighten her fists against the fabric of her dress, cross-legged on the bed as she watches him open one bag.
“I brought you something—”
“You never answered.”
Joshua stops then, leaving the plastic white bag on her cream sofa before smiling at her. Once he nears her, seated in front of her, Joshua places both of his arms around her waist, face to face with her. “But you didn’t speak, babe.”
From the moment Hana let him inside her room, just five minutes ago, she had not been able to organize her thoughts. Her guts tell her that there is something inherently wrong with this—with Joshua and how he is acting.
“Not speak?” She breathes out, each word more pointed than the other, looking up at him from a tilted position. “Is my lack of speech really an issue when I texted you like crazy last night? Called you just to see if you were okay and alive or breathing? Is that silence to you?!”
Her voice raises, enough to have Joshua pushing himself away from her, eyes widened when he replies: “Hey, I told you I was going out. That’s not—”
“What kind of boyfriend goes out with his friends when he had not seen his girlfriend for weeks and she’s right there, waiting for him—?” She asks, willing to break at that moment. If Joshua has to smash her body into pieces with one throw of reality at her, she’ll take it. “Really, Joshua? Don’t you have some sense of guilt in you?”
“I was doing business.” Joshua says, always too little, never enough, returning to the packages of gifts before scoffing. “It’s not like I didn’t remember you—”
“What?” She asks, getting closer to the bags on her sofa. “Some gifts are supposed to make me feel better?”
“I guess. I was thinking of you when I bought them.” Never does he lift his tone the slightest, and it irks her.
Placing both hands on her hips, she nods. “I’m at the wrong here, because my boyfriend ignoring me for an entire day and, over that, deciding to make business in a beach and a club is supposed to be a normal fucking thing—!”
Before she could lift his hands to grasp her head, Joshua connects his fingers to her wrists, keeping her in place to look her in the eyes. “Stop it with the dramatics. I don’t have to ask you for permission to go anywhere.”
“Oh yeah, you don’t.” She says, voice inherently low. “But it’s really low of you to prefer that over spending a night with me. An entire day, even.”
His back faces her at that moment, taking the gifts out of their confines as he speaks. “Well, I’m here right now, I don’t know why you don’t settle for that.”
Settle.
When has he ever settled for her?
Instead, she covers her eyes, tugging at her skin in a way that would have had her mother swatting her palms away. She can’t do it right now. “Joshua Hong, listen to yourself for a second. This is unfair for me.”
“Don’t you think I want to see you every day?” He questions, though she can’t see him she feels his lips resting on her momentarily. “I want to see you at every given second of the day…but I have other important things to do.”
Other important things to do.
The worst part is that he says it as if she’s not important.
Though, that’s not true. The worst of it all is when she lets go of her face, vision filled with stairs and blurriness, but mostly the picture of him in front of her, finally, when she says:
“I understand.”
But her gut feeling tells her she doesn’t.
###
April 23rd. One year ago.
The birds chirp freely for an early celebration, sunflowers mingling against her cream dress. Today, the big gowns are changed for something more simplistic—a prideful sister that embarks into a new road of success when looking at her sister graduate. In something that she likes, first and foremost, and definitely as if she was a Princess with the big celebration that Mother prepared. Though, for someone that complained that her youngest studied too much and lacked a man because of that, it surprised her that she had even planned anything at all.
Yesterday was the real event, students gathered together for one last time to close one of their chapters of adulthood. The last one in the educational stance, for those not approaching further education. Her sister preferred something more private then, asking her to tag along with Minghao to have some drinks and talk about life with people with as much power as them, given the university that she goes to, but with less of a stick up their asses. Good was an understatement for how well the night went.
Taking the cherry from her drink, she tosses her head back, relishing on the dulcet taste as the shadows the sun creates on her skin rest on her chest. Dress in the color of cream, off the shoulders, just tight enough to make her look like the adult she is, but loose enough to let her breathe. People mingle by the center, children bustling around, parents talking in between themselves, and Mother making herself the center of attention, even when her youngest sister is by her side.
A lot has changed for her sister. Meanwhile, nothing has for her.
One can only take so much scolding from their parents about not getting married, but like her sister had once said, Joshua is not quite ready. She doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready, but letting go makes a tingle go down her spine—perhaps, one day, he’ll want to. The possibilities are what make her stay, but it’s what makes her doubt the most. Downing the rest of her drink, she tries to think of something else other than the man talking business with some people in the corner, pristine as the day she met him and promised herself that it’d only be a tiny little crush.
“Enjoying yourself?”
The sound of that voice is oddly familiar. She remembers it more slurred yesterday’s night, throwing his gown somewhere on a couch to relish on drinks and good memories. Now, Minghao voices out his thoughts like he normally does, as if he had not been hungover this morning.
Letting the birds do their music when she looks at him, she shakes her head. “My juice is finished. Joshua can’t stop talking business with those men and you…my friend,” She lets her gaze go up and down his body, the sunflower shirt making her smile widely. “Are probably spring made person with that shirt.”
Tugging at the black fabric of his blazer to show the shirt, a few buttons opened to showcase his sharp collarbones and the hint of curved, yet slim pecs, Minghao looks down at himself. “I wanted to look the least professional I could.” He confesses, returning his gaze to her, though a bit squinted because of the harsh sun. “Your boyfriend may be perfect with business talks, but I am not. I can only pretend I am interested in what someone in saying about themselves until I actually tell them straight on that their lives aren’t that important.”
Hiding her laughter behind her glass, she drops the seed of the cherry inside before sighing. “Well, you’re a heir. You were prepared to be a businessman. I think that’s what makes you less interested in that.”
“That and years of studying.” Minghao finishes, taking a bite of a cookie he found on the food table nearby, munching for a few seconds before talking again. “Besides, Joshua has expanded far more than I have. My family owns an haute couture fashion brand and a modelling agency, it’s way different from Joshua’s musical takes.”
And then again, she has always wondered why she has never seen Minghao with some tall, skinny model that hangs on his arm like a beautiful match for him. “I don’t know…” She answers, puckering her lips when looking at Joshua. “At least, you don’t like the socializing but love the fashion aspect of your business. Joshua…he loves socializing with people nowadays, even if he doesn’t speak much. He just has to hang around people.”
“That’s what going out to too many parties does to you.” Minghao says, grabbing another cookie before offering it to her. “Cookie?”
“With chocolate chips?” She asks, already taking it in between her hands before taking a big bite. “I imagine how disturbed those businessmen would be if I went over there to hug Joshua and they’d saw a piece of chocolate on my teeth.”
“Devastated, perhaps.” Minghao says. “I doubt they have ever had a woman actually show themselves naturally to them. No posing. No falseness. Just plain old reality.”
“Do people really show themselves as they are in the business industry, though?” Rhetorical at most, she questions, shaking her head in the process.
“They don’t.” But, something seems to glisten in his eyes. “But you do.”
“Not really—” She tries to defend, heart picking up at the way those brown eyes look at her as if she’s different. “Mother has made my life miserable until I became the perfect image of what she wanted. Well, not really, I am not married yet but—”
“Even so,” Minghao interrupts her. “You may have to go around and throw some pleasantries to other people, but that doesn’t make you faux in any way.”
“It does.”
“No, you’re one of the most genuine people I have ever met.” Those words have her looking at him as he walks backwards, pushing his hair away as he chews on a new cookie. “It just so happens that you think being nice is not a personality trait a person can have, even yourself.”
“Well, I haven’t met a lot of nice people—” And still, she keeps around them.
Minghao, on the other hand, waves his hand in the air. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Xu Minghao.”
The smile on her face is forever petrified after that.
It must be a pleasure for Joshua’s business associates to see her smile so brightly, his hand placed on her waist as she holds onto his chest for leverage. Perhaps, she loves the way he sees her the most when he is around people—as if he has seen the answers to all his prayers on her very own irises.
This time around, Joshua impresses more than usual. A bowtie, hair pushed away from his face by some gel, and a black suit that leaves everything to the imagination. Nothing quite creative there, just plain old classic that makes him look good enough to desire.
“You two seem to have a great relationship.” One of the businessmen says, his beard practically connecting his chest to his jaw, rounded glasses on the bridge of his nose, wrinkles giving his age away, perhaps making him look older. “I remember when I was like that with my wife. Lots and lots of good times, you know?”
Joshua looks at her chuckling, pleasantries over all, and she stares back as he lets go of her waist. “Well, then we’re lucky, Mr. Kim,” Joshua says. “Because she is going to be my wife soon.”
Her face falls then, just like Joshua’s hand does to search for a box inside his pocket. People around them start to go quieter, watching the movements he does as he opens the velvety box with carefulness.
“J—Joshua—”
Both of her hands come up to her mouth when Joshua shows the ring. Rose gold with one big platinum diamond in the middle, surrounded by medium sized speckles of brightness. She’d count around thirty diamonds, all engraved around the ring that reads his name on the inside.
Her name is breathed out, as if it’s poetry—never one for romanticism, it takes her aback that he has gone back to that breathy tone that once enamored her. He doesn’t drop on one knee, instead pushes the ring halfway into her finger before asking.
“Will you finally become my wife?”
Say no, her guts say, wrenching, wanting nothing more than to run away. The right guy would have never done this—
But the time she has waited for him, the years she has spent liking him and the will to continue with this just for the same of accommodation has her nodding slowly, extending her hand even more to let the ring fully engulf her finger. Fit like a glove.
“Yes, Joshua, of course.” She says, cheers coming soon after when Joshua wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the curve on the bridge of her nose before leaning down to capture her lips in one of those overly-passionate kisses of his.
The last person she sees before closing her eyes to kiss Joshua is Minghao, a tight-lipped yet tranquil smile on his face as he claps slowly. It almost feels like he is saying…
Glad you found the wrong one for you.
###
August 1st. One year ago.
Joshua’s land has always been different to hers.
More up North, this time of the year welcomes its freezing cold, perspiration coming from every window, words tangled by the smoke that leaves people’s lips, and, of course, how to forget the marvelous fog that barely lets her look out of the window to sip on her cup of tea as people rush around to show her yet another color scheme for the wedding.
Greeneries are mostly what she is used to seeing. Not mountains, not hills, definitely not the lack of flowers that has her pushing herself away from the window to look at one of the workers in Joshua’s castle. Upon her visit, the wedding preparations have resumed, and with Joshua somewhere in the castle preparing for a presentation tomorrow, she’s left to make decisions on her own.
“Lady, Lady, Lady!” The overexcited, chirpy, and tall woman with the fringe in front of her moves it away to showcase her color scheme, all tones of the rainbow making her squint her eyes harshly. God, she’s tired of this. “You said you wanted yellow for your wedding.” Of course, because it reminds her of sunflowers, and there has never been a flower more beautiful. Home has sunflowers. Her grandmother’s castle had sunflowers. Hell, sometimes she likes to pluck one inside her hair. “But I need to know which shade you want for the overall theme—”
“Sunflower-toned yellow.” She says, bringing her cup up to her lips only to be met with lukewarm tea. She likes it piping hot, but no one seems to listen to her around this castle.
“So, is that like a toasted yellow?”
“Have you seen a sunflower before, Yerim?”
“Of course.” The older woman says, pushing her hair off her shoulders before looking down at the color scheme. “But are we talking Dead Sunflower-toned yellow or—?”
Okay, fuck this.
“Just—” Raising her hands in the air, she takes one of the many papers that Yerim had displayed. “I want this yellow.”
“That’s not sunflower yellow, My Lady.” Yerim instructs, going after her as she tries to get out of that living room. Not that it should be called that way, each and every single moment of certainty she had to get married to Prince Joshua now seems to die down upon the appearance of the wedding preparations. “That’s pee-colored yellow.”
“…Yerim!” She speaks a little too loud, startling the woman when she places one hand on the railing of the stairs, ready to go up to Joshua’s room and embark in a trip down the sets of history books he keeps in his shelves. “I don’t mind if it’s pee-colored yellow. I just want it to be yellow.”
Yerim puckers up her lips then, perhaps annoyed but unable to say it. “Well…don’t come around and tell me I didn’t tell you when all your invitees tell you your decorations look like pee.”
“I’ll be glad to hear them say it.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, releasing a sigh that has her feeling guilty. The woman is only doing her job, but the doubts of not knowing how this wedding is going to go—or perhaps, that she doesn’t fully believe Joshua is settling down for her, has her fuming internally. “Yerim? Sorry for acting like this. You know better than I do, and I am so thankful with your job.”
“Not to worry, Lady. I dealt with each of the Hong weddings and you have been the kindest.”
Damn, she can’t imagine how the others are. Instead, she decides to give her a soft smile. “I’ll be up in Joshua’s room if you need me.”
“Check his pee and see if that’s the color you want!”
“Yerim…”
“Yes, My Lady?”
“You’re pushing it.”
Missing her land is something she would have never thought she’d do. She doesn’t miss the situation she normally finds herself in, trying to please her parents and the landers alike, but that is far from what makes her ache when she looks around the castle, trying to remember the way back to Joshua’s room. Hana would have already been by her side. Her sister would have come visit, finally independent and away from the castle. Maybe, Minghao could tag along, her best friend over everything and anything—
Through the elongated hallways, with white walls and squared floorings, she finds the door to Joshua’s room on the far end, near the elevator that would have made it much easier to go up instead of using the stairs.
Instead, she opens the door with quick motions, not surprised to see Joshua seated in front of his personal desk, spacious enough for it to be considered the size of an office, a contract up to his face as he sports his best set of glasses. With the buttons of his shirt half undone, and his trousers hugging his legs nicely, she guesses he must be done with his online presentation.
“How was the presentation, love?” She asks, not missing a beat to go to the shelves next to Joshua’s office, surprised to see the width and tallness of some of them. Dark wood, bright under the sunlight, and filled with books like a library would have them.
Joshua finishes reading something on the contract before looking at her. “It was fine, babe.” He says, though, something in his voice tells her he is about to complain. “I thought I could make myself clearer, but I am not very good with introductions.”
She looks through the history books, trying to get to one she hasn’t read. Maybe, she should catch up on his land’s history. “You do just fine. You just get nervous.”
“I just don’t know what to say—”
Her fingers graze the spine of each book. Read. Read. Read. Read. “You’ll learn with time. You’re still young.”
“I’ve been in this business for years.”
“Well, you started extra young, and you’ve gotten so much better.”
“I guess, but—”
The spine of one book stops her from listening him, Joshua’s name written on it. She gets it out, surprised to see another book fall backwards, the number two following his name. When looking at the cover, she realizes that this is his diary—written there, only for her to see, is Joshua’s diary. Followed by a sequel, and then a third book, and then a fourth—
“Joshua, I didn’t know you used to write diaries.”
Those words are enough to have him up his feet, perhaps a little bit too slow for seduction, but quick enough to have him closing the book before she reads the first page, lifting her chin with his finger when he moves forward, making her walk backwards in the process.
“Old, stupid things that I used to write when I was younger. I stopped writing them years ago.” Joshua instructs, a movement on his eyes to sense his nervousness, though his lips are distracting when they land upon hers. His arms grasp around her waist, bringing her closer until he was waltzing around with her, sending her closer to the bed. “I used to write about you, too.”
“You did?” She asks, the voice of hope that comes when she realizes she likes Joshua for a reason. Most of the time, she doesn’t get to see it—but it exists there.
He hums, biting her bottom lip before letting her fall on the bed, the mattress jumping a bit at her weight, though she doesn’t pay attention to it, vision centered on him when he whispers. “Yes, about how beautiful you are…” His knees plant on the bed, right in between her legs, arms extending on each side of her head. Now hovering over her, he looks down at her lips. “And how much I wanted to do you on my bed.”
“Joshua!” She chuckles, hiding her face in his neck when he says those words. “You don’t get to say that!”
“I do.” He replies, pecking her cheek before descending for another kiss. Somehow, those diaries are left forgotten for a moment—whatever he has written in there is his business, after all, and with some chapters about her in those books, she can’t ask for anything else.
###
August 4th. One year ago.
When sunflowers rest in between her hands to pick the organic, natural decorations of her wedding, she doesn’t expect her human sunflowers to have surprised her with a flight to Joshua’s land.
Minghao. Hana. Her sister. All in that order.
Truthfully, she has never been more thankful for Hana. For a woman that only got to marry once, only to lose her husband soon after, she surely knew about wedding preparations. Everything that she had not been able to explain is now being jotted down by Yerim, seated on a bench in the corner of the flower shop, not once losing focus.
Her sister, however, despised the atmosphere—giving the excuse of going to grab something to eat before disappearing completely. Perhaps, she’s doing something she really loves doing, playing tourist and rummaging around the land of the Prince she hates so much.
However, one person fits perfectly in this boutique-like flower shop, his white t-shirt something simplistic for him, but the brown pants reaching his waist and the beige cardigan something to remember. His hair moves thanks to his hand, picking up another bouquet of flowers—roses, this time around—, smelling them, and putting them down.
“How’s the family, Minghao?” She asks, far more comfortable with him than she was four years ago. Minghao raises his head then, giving one of those smiles that make his cheeks plumper before shaking his head.
“Mom and dad love the retirement; I can tell you.” Minghao whispers, the adoration in his voice not making her jealous. She wishes she had a relationship like that with her parents, but over everything, she is happy for him. “And I am absolutely thrilled to be picking up calls like crazy.”
“Those people are lucky they get to talk to you.” She says, looking at the cherry blossoms in one little vase before clearing her throat. Better swallow her pride now before he leaves. “I missed you.”
Minghao remains quiet for a few seconds, his hand rubbing against her back soon after. “I missed you, too.” He replies, a sweet lullaby when he sighs softly and goes over to pick another bouquet of flowers. “How’s Joshua?”
“The question of the day.”
“It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t ask.”
“Why?”
“Because Joshua is the reason you’re here. And you’re the reason I’m here. It’s a connection.” Minghao instructs, elbowing her side to get a few words out.
There is only so much she can take out of their relationship right now. No fights, thankfully, but the lingering voice inside her head tells her that it is not enough. Spending hours in his bed, twisting and turning, breathing out his name like a mantra, letting him kiss her until her lips ache isn’t exactly what she imagined for a lover. Conversation, silence even, can be even better at times.
“Ah…alright, I guess. We haven’t had a big fight in a while.” She says, letting her fingers play with the flowers as she walks sideways, followed by Minghao. “But there’s this lingering feeling that tells me there’s something he is hiding from me.”
“How so?” Minghao asks, studying her expression as she speaks. She will never understand how observant he is.
She stops on her tracks, Minghao’s chest colliding against her back and making the two of them stumble a bit. His hands wrap around her waist, keeping her in place as they both apologize at the same time. When he lets go of her, perhaps a bit nervous at the same time, she can’t help but chuckle. “Well, I—I discovered some diaries in his bookshelf. His. Like seven. The moment I mentioned them to him,” A snap of her fingers has Minghao looking down at her hand, the rose-gold band making a wild appearance. “Boom, he was trying to shut me up. Whenever I bring it up, I end up…” She pushes her lips together, not wanting to say much.
“You two end up fucking.”
“Minghao!”
“What, can’t a Lady fuck?” Minghao questions, laughter shaking her when the man shakes his head. “But that’s not something he should be doing to shut you up. Tell him that.”
“But what if it’s nothing?”
“Then, why wouldn’t he want to tell you?”
“Ugh, Minghao.” Pressing her index and middle finger to her temples, she sighs. “You need to stop making sense. You are too intelligent for my own good.”
His tan skin glows under the rare sunlight when he chuckles, shining brightly when he shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m just trying to be a good friend. That’s all I can do.” Though, the last sentence seems to have something else to do with them. She breathes in deeply, biting her bottom lip when Minghao rubs one thumb against her cheek, once, before pinching her cheek. “Check those diaries, or get it out of him. I don’t trust it.”
“Don’t you trust it or him?” She asks, trying to bring a smile up her face but Minghao shuts himself up.
“I think you know the answer.” He finalizes. Instead, he turns to the set of flowers. “Maybe we should go for white flowers for your bouquet? Since the wedding is going to be yellow themed and all. Bring some contrast—”
###
August 10th. One year ago.
The picture was flawless in her head. One of those dreams that she can’t recall if had been a reality or were just part of her imagination. Joshua, the new boy in the school, would fall so head over heels for her one day that he’d kiss the ground she laid upon. He’d make a rose out the words he told her. He’d turn chivalry into his way of speaking, love her for who she truly was, with so much adoration that each year would be stronger. Each and every single year, they’d grow into a sweet tune of comfort that could only come with so much love that she’d feel at ease. Not complete, for that was all her doing, but something of the like of that.
Then, years later, she should have imagined that there were risks to take with such a happy ending. Seated on that spacious desk, with Joshua fast asleep on the bed, she uses the light of her phone to illuminate all seven diaries. Three in the morning and a good reader, she thinks she can get through them—or, at least, skim through the most important stuff—, before he wakes up. It’s that sense of craziness and curiousness that bleeds out now that Minghao is back to her land that she truly feels like she needs to act upon the words he says.
The first few readings are cute. Joshua at fourteen, a bit dreamy eyed, a ton of stupid, and clearly not in love with anyone. She even finds herself trying not to laugh at some of those, at the notes he wrote on paper for his love for music, and all of the like.
Though, when Joshua turns sixteen, everything changes…and it’s not the presence of someone like her that does it.
Heejin comes up a lot in the first few pages. Beautiful, delicate, daughter of a businessman Heejin who owns a bunch of hospitals. Long dark hair, a beautiful smile, and carefree nature. Heejin who stole his first kiss. Heejin who went out on a date with him. At first, she believes that this truly comes with the passage of time. So what if Joshua had a little thing when he was a teen with Heejin? Now they’re much older, still friends, but he has been in a relationship for so long—
Second book, Joshua is seventeen. He has his first time with Heejin.
Third book, Joshua starts his relationship with her and it’s at this moment that she can’t stand reading that woman’s name—
“I wonder if I will ever feel like how I felt with Heejin with her.”
Joshua tends to make a lot of mistakes on his diaries, scraping them over with lines before continuing, but this one line came with so much confidence that she finds herself looking for more. That’s only the third book, there needs to be more.
Her eyes itch by the time it’s five in the morning, going through the fourth diary and feeling tears welding up quickly. Joshua speaks about not getting over Heejin, speaks about the uncertainty of his feelings—writes his name down with what seems to be love, initials and all, thinks of her as beautiful. As the most beautiful. Lusts and loves, adores and worships. Joshua’s goddess has always been Heejin, and it only further intensifies the feeling of hatred inside of her when she continues reading.
It’s by the sixth book that she realizes Joshua does not only love Heejin, but he also started seeing her again on the 8th of October, last year.
Seeing her like he would when he was younger.
Even better, now he’s wiser, a bigger liar, a bigger asshole.
She doesn’t know what takes over her, but she questions a lot of things. How dare he? First and foremost. How dare he take her first kiss, her first time, her entire train of thought? Make her lose her dreams, concentrate on him, lead him on as the front-man while she was in the background? How dare he write a hundred texts to her saying how much he missed her, how he wanted to kiss her, how she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid his eyes on, when he had always wanted Heejin?
How dare he keep bringing Heejin to every event? And how does Heejin even dare ask her for updates on her wedding preparations when she has seen it all? Seen the man she is about to marry fall so deeply in love with her that he’d risk a long lasting relationship just to be with her again, that he’d use her just to get over her, just to get over the fact that Heejin wanted to be free and while that was what made him fall for her, it’s also what kept them apart?
How dare he say that he had written hundreds and hundreds of pages about the beauty of her when there is only two?
The chair clanks against the floor when she stands up, abruptly, taking those two pages and crumpling them at the same time that she hears Joshua gasp away.
“Babe, what are you—?”
He doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence, the ball of paper ending up in between his lips as he fidgets to get away from her, whining in the process. “Shut the fuck up, I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit.” For the first time, she forgets she is a Lady. Tonight, she is someone sleep-ridden and heartbroken. Enough tears had been dropped for this man. “Thank you for those two little fucking pages in your diaries about Heejin, I very much appreciate my goddamned fiancé being head over heels for someone else.”
Joshua gets the crumpled paper out of his mouth, throwing it to the side as he stands up. “I can’t believe you read them—” And above all, there is a bit of resentment in his tone. “What about my privacy?”
“What about my dignity?” She asks, tears brimming her vision, but she won’t let them drop again. “You and your best friend have been having fun behind my back, but that’s not the worst part—you’ve used me to get over her.”
“I—I didn’t use you!” Joshua tells her, extending his hands forward before sighing. “Babe, can we just talk about this? I swear I didn’t use you.”
“Don’t swear.”
“But, I really do swear—”
“Don’t swear!” She screams, her throat hurting at the ripping motions of her vocal cords before shaking her head. “Don’t swear when I know it’s a lie—”
“Everything with Heejin has always been impossible—”
Yet, he still wants it. It has always been her. “So, you decided to be with me instead? I was the second choice?”
“No, God—” Joshua says, lowering his weight until he is kneeling in front of her. Never had he kneeled for anyone, a Prince above all, not even for his proposal, but now that he has been caught, he’s crawling like an ant. “I’m so…so sorry.” Kisses scattered across her thighs, enough to have her eyes closing tightly.
How many times has he done this for her?
“You were always the first choice! I just…I didn’t know how to…You…You were so in love with me, I didn’t know how to react.”
“So, instead of telling me you didn’t feel the same, you went on and cheated on me.” This time around, she pushes at his shoulders, soft enough to pull away from him before giving a few steps back. Her fingers wrap around that band, the one that she had been so doubtful to put on, and for a reason. “Take your ring and never talk to me again, Joshua Hong.”
“Hey, no, no—!” Joshua says, for the first time in his life lifting his voice, tears clouding his vision when he reaches for her wrist. “Don’t leave me, babe, you have given me everything.”
“And you gave me shit in return.” She finishes, shaking her head as she rushes out of that door. She can hear footsteps behind her, quickened, but she moves with the need to breathe. If she doesn’t get out of there as soon as possible, get on a plane and go back to her land, her lungs will contract so badly they will stop working—
When she reaches the entrance, she doesn’t hear Joshua rushing behind her anymore. He has stopped searching, stopped running, and it doesn’t surprise her.
It was never her he had been looking for.
###
December 22nd. Eight months ago.
The only time she has gone out of her room since arriving from Joshua’s land has been to grab pen and paper.
In fairytales, when a member of the Royal family locks themselves up in their rooms, it’s for a Prince to find them. What a surprise, it is, that she has locked herself to avoid anyone seeing her after making a fool of herself with that man for so long. The first few days, her Mother complained about Joshua calling her and telling her that she had broken off the engagement, calling her stupid for even letting go of such a man. Chivalry is dead, she said, and she believes it may be. With the passage of time, the only people that tried to get to her were Hana, her sister and Minghao. Only Hana managed to greet her, for she didn’t have the ability to face those who had seen her such in love with a man like that.
The pen glides across the paper with ease, her utmost desire coming to life now that she has become a mess of reading and writing. She knows what she wants, knows that it isn’t what she had. Being Joshua’s plus one had never been her thing, but the parties before and the pleasantries were much worse. This time around, she lets those professional words and charisma that she had been taught speak for herself, opting out of the Duchess position.
Perhaps, no one will care. It’s a certainty that not a lot of people remember her anymore, but she doesn’t want to be a Royal anymore. She will live here as long as she can before moving on to something else. That’s as much as she knows, but it will be more difficult once the news goes along. With one final movement of her wrist, she signs the letter, putting it inside an envelope before turning around to look at Hana standing by the door.
With her hands interlocked in front of her, Hana looks at her with worry. “Don’t mind it,” She says, standing up and letting her pajama pants drag against the flooring. Fuck all those dresses she used to wear. “I personally asked for you not to be fired. I know you need the job.”
“I—I won’t go anywhere if you don’t go.” Hana says, voice much stronger than intended before cowering onto herself. “You’re like my daughter, I can’t leave you now that you’re all saddened—”
“Ah-ha.” She tuts, moving her index finger from side to side before giving her the envelope. “I am not going anywhere without you. I’ll see what I can sort out for us with the money I have saved until I can give us the life we deserve. No more of this bullshit we have gone through.”
“Language.”
“Well, I am not going to be a Lady for much longer so…” Once again, she drags herself inside her bed, her home for the past few months, plopping her thumping head down on the pillow before smiling dizzily. Hana opens the door to the bedroom, and she watches the shorter woman about to leave until she asks her. “Hana?”
“Yes, sweetie?” Hana retorts, turning around with a much more dulcet expression than the worried one she had sported earlier.
“Will I ever feel better?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Hana says, taking the brief time to go over to her to press a kiss to her forehead, speaking against the skin. “You’re only one step away from happiness.”
“How about a hundred?”
“One big step, then.” Hana concludes, moving over to the door and closing it with some last few words. “But closer than you were before, honey.”
###
August 15th. Present day.
She has figured out that not a lot of people look up at her window to see if she’s there in that damned castle. It’s as though once she became an invisible matter, no one cared.
Books read, words written, and she still has a lot of work to catch up with. While locked in that room, she has managed to do something different with her life—past the drama that followed her departure from her title, and some speech through the walls to be able to stay for a few months while she gets her life sorted out, a new light has appeared in her life. Not that new, if she’s honest, she has always imagined herself doing something like this, but being a teacher’s assistant in one of the educational spots in the land wasn’t exactly out of her mind even when she was a Duchess. It’s tiring, revising tests is starting to worsen her vision, but it’s so worth it.
Most of the time, she spends it by the window, seated on the straight couch there, legs extended as she feels the weather of the day bask her. Today, it’s awfully gloomy for her land, fog coming up to people’s faces and blending them in when they enter the castle. None of them stare at the opened curtains of her window, neither do they care about her existence. With a sigh, she returns to the task at hand, revising one more test before she gets lost in the real dream that had always been part of her.
Studying history, technically, as a career.
Honesty is the best policy and she knows she got this job, partly, because she used to be a member of the Royal family. She still is, in what blood consists of when pumping against her arteries and keeping her alive, but she no longer holds that sense of pride on it. It’s been months since she has last seen her sister, not because she doesn’t want to, but because she needs to heal. Become the woman that would be powerful enough to eat the world alive, contrary to her brittle self.
Signing herself for a university interview feels odd. It’s been a while since she has been out in the world, and perhaps, she doesn’t miss it as much as she makes herself believe. She had put herself out there too many times before, fired by the bullets that ripped straight to her heart and made her recoil to herself. What are the odds of everything going alright if she tries again?
When she looks down the window, she sees two figures that she misses deeply. Her sister, whose hair is longer, sporting an all-black outfit that makes her look both professional and youthful, lips tainted a deep red. Minghao, by her side, is speaking to her as she rushes towards the entrance, holding an envelope on her hands that she can only imagine is something for her Mother. Nonetheless, Minghao is left behind, enough for her to inspect him from afar.
Minghao’s hair is much longer than remembered, a green shirt under a gray suit that somehow looks great sported by him. From a distance, she can see him inspecting around, from the gardens to the entrance, to the people bustling around before looking up. His eyes connect directly to hers, the first person on the passing days turned months of her solitude, on lockdown.
Had his lips always looked like petals of roses? She questions herself, watching him purse his lips as he lifts his hand to wave at her softly. Glasses cover his eyes for the most part, tainted thanks to petrichor, but he sees her. Knows exactly where to get her, texts ignored by her as a way to put the pieces of her heart together and he waited.
She doesn’t wave back, instead resting her hand against the window, tapping her fingers against the surface as if she was able to touch him. Minghao had always made her feel better, no different in the way a smile sneaks up on her features and sits there to stay.
The man mouths, pointing at the place he is standing by: “Want to come down?” She reads, concentrating on the flower on his lips, the noir poem of his existence that somehow has turned dulcet.
Though, she is not ready, shaking her head in hopes of slowing down the process of Minghao getting too close to her. She still needs time. “Not today.” She says, lips parted enough for him to understand every word before he nods.
“Some other time?” He breathes out, only understood by her when he repeats it again and without the hint of doubt, she replies:
“Definitely.”
With that, Minghao sighs deeply, a cloud of smoke gathering by his nose before giving a few steps forward, opening the weighty doors of the castle and closing them behind him. Her heart is racing by the time she looks at the empty spot he left behind, suddenly much brighter than the gloomy day.
###
Minghao knows where she is, and he makes it known.
Somehow, studying feels even worse when there is pressure on her shoulders—trying to get into university like a normal student, not like the Duchess she used to be. With her back hunched, she sits on her bed, readying herself for the moment three weeks from now when she’ll have to face the world again, and not only that, get judged by it again, but for something else, her intelligence, perhaps.
Breathing the answers into the air about this certain question, she stops when she realizes she has forgotten someone’s name. It passes her enough to have her closing her eyes tightly, cursing herself for not being able to remember. She used to be so good at this, but it seems like she has lost some of the talent she had, or the confidence that had once been within her when it came to history.
Two taps at her window make her lift her gaze, heart shaking in fear of what it could be. Birds passing by, perhaps, her room is high enough in this castle for it not to be reached by anyone, but the persistent sound follows her even minutes later, something thrown at her window before leaving her in silence, repeating the action only seconds after. It’s only after the fourth time the noise comes by that she stands up, anger raking through her when she goes to the window.
Opening the window, she looks around, lowering her weight the slightest to be able to inspect the sides. Left, nothing. Right, nothing. The castle looks the same as it did earlier, birds gone to other portions of the garden, but just as she’s about to push herself back inside her room, she hears her name being called, a tone not dulcet enough, but somehow warm in the way he speaks.
When she looks down, she is not surprised to see Minghao. Well, part of her really is—whenever he has the time, he makes himself be known, reminding her that he is there for her. Notes left under her door, that she reads when she gets the time. Books that he places outside of her door, never once knocking, but mouthing to her from the window to check the outsides of her room. It has been like this for days, perhaps even weeks, she has lost the passage of time when it comes to him.
She leans her weight against the windowsill, quirking an eyebrow at him. “What were you throwing at my window, Minghao?” She asks, not a single tone of annoyance in her voice anymore, and Minghao takes this moment to cross his arms behind his back, the yellow sweater on his body highlighted because of this. Yellow has always been her favorite color.
“Pebbles.”
“You could’ve broken my window, then.”
“If that’s what it takes to get you out of there, I will.” Minghao shrugs his shoulders, always too honest for his own good, and that’s what she adores the most about him. He pushes one of his legs forward and back, a dance of nervousness that only goes past his lips when he decides to let it go. “It’s been months. I want to see you.”
But she doesn’t feel quite ready. What if he suddenly realizes that she has played with time for far too long, that each step she takes she doubts, that right now, she doesn’t know where she starts or ends, or if she even started at all? “I’m isolating myself until I get my mind together—”
“I understand that, but—” Minghao lifts his hand to cloud the sun that basks on his face, making him glow. He has always had that with him, that’s for sure. “I could help you if you’d just let me.”
She chuckles at that, interlocking her fingers as she speaks to him. “Why?”
Minghao doesn’t hesitate, and that’s something to envy. Hardships of her life, all the pain and tears, suddenly seem to be left in the past when he smiles softly at her, like he does, never quite showing his teeth and yet, saying everything she needs to hear. “Because I miss you.” He tells her, loud enough for the people around them to hear, or perhaps, no one cares about them. It’s better if they don’t.
“I miss you, too.” She breathes out, wanting nothing more than for it to be heard. She misses one of her closest friends, her sister’s best friend, her confidante. Over everything, she mixes Xu Minghao. “…We’ll see each other someday, I promise.”
“Someday soon?”
“Sooner than you think.” She tells him, lowering her gaze to avoid his penetrating gaze. “I’ll text you…ah, we can text and sort something out.”
“I’m okay with that.” Minghao says, though, when she looks at him again, he is looking down at his watch. “I have a meeting right now, so I have to go. Check outside your bedroom, okay?”
Patience follows after him as he moves away from the castle, but she isn’t quite as patient anymore. Scrambling to close the window, she walks over to the door, opening it in one swift motion, being met by one of the workers in the castle, holding up a tray filled with her favorite food, two red apples reminiscent of him, and of course, a note from him.
“Until we meet again – Xu Minghao.”
She can’t wait.
###
Never was it her virtue to wait for the right time, the perfect moment. This time around, it isn’t any different. Instead of waiting for the day of her university interview, she texts Minghao much sooner—asking him how his day went, thanking him for all the pleasantries, gratefulness above all, and when he answers, there is nothing that stops the conversation.
It was only a matter of time until she decided to meet him again, and when he said he planned on having a picnic meeting with her—not a date, mind her—she thought it was perfect. With the moonshine draping against the curtains of the castle’s living room, the world in silence as it’s well over dinnertime, she tugs at the fabric of her dress. It has been a while since she has worn one of those, even when she hated them to bits, but this one makes her feel at ease. One that Hana made for her when visiting her sisters, the time away giving her inspiration for her favorite Duchess. Short, yet flowy, in a daylight sky blue that has her feeling a bit too bright for the night.
Everything on her is much cheaper than what she was set to wear as Duchess, but the movement of her feet is more lightweight the more she reaches the door. Minghao had said he was waiting for her outside, but each step falls harsher than the last. Not only will she meet with Minghao, who has very much grown onto himself as a person, physically and mentally, but it is the first time she will be out of the castle in months.
Maybe, she should stop.
Shame is an emotion she tries not to feel, but her life has been set, plotted, written and read according to what other people said. With her hand connecting to the doorknob of the entrance door, a few guards sparing her glances before looking away, she wonders what people would say. The Duchess is out again. The ex-Duchess. The one that left Prince Joshua for a supposed cheating scandal. Maybe, too old to study in judging eyes, or too privileged to do so.
It almost makes her stay, but she tugs at the door before she could even think in any other way.
There, in the usual spot that gives her a clear view of him from the window, is Xu Minghao. A businessman by now, owner of very big companies, an heir that knew how to divide his life perfectly. With his back turned towards her, he only notices her when the door closes, the moon making perfect shadows on his face. Maturity had taken over his features, his hair falling down his forehead, and surprisingly, a full smile appears on his face when she nears him, arms taking a mind of their own to wrap around Minghao’s slim frame.
Never had a hug felt this good, as if she belongs in these arms—unjudged, unashamed, without a hardship in this violin tune of line that only dizzies her. Minghao doesn’t waste much time to wrap his arms around her body, hiding his face on the juncture of her neck before breathing in deeply. His eyelashes flutter against her skin, as if taking all of her in, the tickling sensation nicely welcomed when she tugs at the fabric of his white sweater, tucked inside a pair of stylish, painted jeans, with figures that she hasn’t quite detailed.
“I’m so happy you’re back.” He breathes out, taking her face in between his hands when pulling away and, as always, his thumb rubs against her cheek, pinching it soon after when he lets go.
“I never left.” The confession weights with guilt on her chest, because she did. Months of not talking to him just for the sake of healing, when he could’ve been there by her side while she did so. “…So, picnic time?”
“Yes.” Minghao replies, extending his arm for her to take before walking side to side, the fabric of his sweater rubbing against her bare forearm. “Read the books I gave you?”
“All of them.”
“What did you think about—?”
Lips pushed together to keep himself silent, Minghao is not a man of many words—not until he is interested, and what a surprise it is that not a single moment in that lake, as they gave bites of each other’s foods, he seemed to stop himself from talking. It’s at that moment that she realizes she is necessary for some people in this life, and likewise with him, or rather, not necessary…wanted, desired, wished to be there.
There’s no better feeling.
###
Water always makes her feel better. In all forms and shapes. Knowing there is something deeper than what she feels, something stronger than her and yet, feeling so weak against her fingertips, gives her the force to know she has been through worse than waiting for the response of a university. Though, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t spend most of her time helping the maids around the castle, trying to find something to do that distracts her before she goes absolutely crazy.
Hana has always been a bit strict when it came to certain fabrics, and only now she realizes how difficult it is to wash a gown by hand, much more her Mother’s, that seems to be never-ending as four people, including her, try to get it washed. She knows Mother won’t use it again, but she doesn’t have the heart to remind that to the groups of people working for her. It would only make them feel worse, and she’s there to feel better.
The laundry machine roars behind them, though she pays more attention to the faint sound of music playing in the background. Water drips down her hands when she rubs the fabric against itself, trying to get rid of any stain or smell, though there is a party in between the staff. Candles lit up, cake sliced, a song too upbeat for her danced by her workers. Some are buzzed, even in this early moment of the day, for it’s the ex-Duchess’ birthday.
Her birthday and it doesn’t quite feel like it.
In the past, she liked her birthday, but today, she feels nostalgic. Only getting older, but not getting anywhere—well, she’s in the process, but it feels like her growth will last forever, and she’s too impatient to wait for it. Smelling like smoke, detergent and soap, she thanks the few people that gave her such pleasantries, that congratulated her as if they were part of her family, because they are. Careless, she isn’t, and even though the smile on her face is weakened, it means well.
One day, she’s going to hold onto every birthday as if it’s the last—one never knows, but somehow, today, celebrating is not in her vocabulary. It hasn’t been in a while.
“I think someone is looking for you.” Hana says, already reaching for her hands with a towel to wipe them away from the soap and water. She widens her eyes, unaware of why Hana is so rushed to get her out of the laundry room and towards the living room. “Oh my, darling, why are you this untidy?”
“I was doing laundry, Hana, that’s why.” She replies, looking down at her black tank top and leggings, not looking like how she used to be on a normal day, always prepared for an event. “Why? I get to be comfortable on my birthday—”
Hana stops her as they are reaching the living room, turning around to release her hair from its confines on a ponytail, tugging her shirt down to show more of her cleavage and using that towel to wipe all the droplets of water from her body. “Because you will want to look good for this visitor.”
She scoffs. “I don’t want to look good for anyone other than myself.”
Hana stops rubbing at her skin then, lifting her hands in surrender before looking at her pointedly. “Okay, look like a mess, but when you do regret looking like one in front of this visitor, I am going to say that I told you so.”
“If that happens, have my heart.” Her hand extends on top of the left portion of her ribcage, moving forward with her slippers sliding against the tiles, resounding obnoxiously as she reaches the main area by the entrance. Spacious enough to be considered a house of its own, but the closer she gets, the more noticeable the person by the door becomes.
She stumbles back slightly, though the smile on her face is more taken aback than angry. Minghao stands there, a bouquet of sunflowers in between his hands and a small black bag holding tightly onto his fingers, turned white under the pressure of his gift. With a deep green turtleneck, a leather jacket and a pair of ripped, oversized, light-washed jeans, he looks more like the birthday person than she does.
“Minghao? What are you doing here?” She asks, once again retreating at the sound of her slippers. Fuck, once they’re wet, they sound like they’re smacking against the floor far more than usual. Still, she keeps walking forward, Minghao giving her a once-over that goes unnoticed, mostly. “Not that you’re not welcome, but you said you had a meeting with your PR team.”
“I did, but now I’m here.” Minghao finalizes, giving the bouquet of sunflowers to her before she looks down at it. One note reads her name, written in his expert handwriting, a brief ‘happy birthday’ wit a heart making her feel more at ease than ever. Who cares if she looks a little bit unprepared? “Happy birthday.” He says, one arm wrapping around her shoulder to rest his cheek against her head. She chuckles at that, enveloping her arm around his taut waist to take the warmth of him, the hug sideways and yet, meaningful.
“Thank you. It hasn’t been exactly the happiest, but it hasn’t been sad either.” She conquers, pulling away from him before pointing to the kitchen. “Want me to serve you some coffee?”
“Do you have tea?”
“I do.”
“Let’s have tea while we wait for the cake I ordered for you.” Minghao replies, going after her towards the kitchen. Though her grin is perceptible, she can’t help but groan.
“Goodbye to my night of sleep with the amount of sugar I’ve eaten today, and it’s not even night.” She says, going over to the shelves to look through her repertoire of tea. “Black?”
“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’, the chair creaking under his weight when he splays his gift on the island, unable to stand straight. “But, before you start, I brought you something—”
She stops then, moving towards him before taking the black bag in between her hands. Gifts are not something she enjoys regularly, much more because she was bathed in them instead of being given sentimentalism, but from Minghao, she finds it hard to deny that she is head over heels with the idea of him giving her something.
“Thank you.” She says, opening the bag as she speaks. “It must be heavy; your fingers are all red.” Though, her words come to a halt when she gets a canvas out of the bag, the plastic falling on the floor when she inspects it in front of her line of vision. Blue merges into a moonlit sky, railings of a balcony crooked yet enigmatic, strokes made from his heart and soul, a pool underneath, the doors open ajar. She knows this place.
Minghao explains it for her when she can’t find words to say, reminiscent of the first time they met. He was, what, eighteen or nineteen then? “That’s the place in which we met,” Minghao whispers, pointing at the canvas. “Well, where you met me. I always saw you around the castle, but you never paid much attention.”
How could she not? She will always blame herself for not getting to know Minghao sooner. Still, she lifts her gaze, unable to voice out what she truly feels. Adoration. “Why didn’t you just try to talk to me?”
He shrugs, pulling the sleeves of his jacket down before taking it off, draping it on the island in the process. “Way back then, I thought you’d never connect with me. We wouldn’t be, well, good friends or anything, in my head.” Minghao tries to come out with proper answers, crossing one leg over the other. “I am glad I woke up that night.”
“Because you met me?”
“That,” Minghao says, resting his hand on his palm, his index and middle finger parting on his cheek. “And that you noticed me.”
“You painted this?” She asks, only to receive a nod from him. Looking at it once again, she can’t believe he remembers the balcony of his cousin’s house that perfectly. He moved away from there years ago, after all. “Minghao, I am the lucky one for getting to know you, not the other way around.”
“Ah, perception. Another thing of life that is relative.”
“…There you go.” She chuckles, knowing fully well that said words belong to Minghao. Always thinking ahead of what is in front of him, so realistic that it almost becomes complex to understand. She puts the canvas down on the island, taking the time to wrap her arms around his shoulders and rest her chin on his shoulder. His hands hesitate to rest on her waist, getting closer and closer until he engulfed her completely. “I’ll put it up in my room. Thank you.”
The tea that brews later will never be as warm as his presence, as his smile, the way he seems to remember things about her that she even forgot telling him. Xu Minghao is not only a realist, but the only reality that she is happy of living.
###
While she had never noticed just how loved Minghao was around not only businesspeople, but with normal individuals as well, it seemed like the world had put him on a pedestal. A deserved one, at that. Earning himself the opportunity of a documentary for his strenuous, gorgeously planned work in the business industry as one of the richest heirs in the entire continent. Not that she was told beforehand, but when Minghao texted her to join him while he recorded around the land, she took her textbook and followed after Minghao’s staff for the rest of the day.
The sun beams down on him, in the middle of the bustling city with the cameraman, Jeon Wonwoo, on one knee as he tries to get a good shot, the rest of the team working with the lights, with the microphone, making sure that everything Minghao wears is still on place. The high-waisted striped pants and the button down a standard for fashion just by looking at it, yet so incredibly creative that she finds her breath stolen the moment she saw him earlier. Never had she been able to look at Minghao this closely, or this sentimentally, when he raises his head and answers one of the questions one of Wonwoo’s team has as he walks, showing the land that had welcomed his business after he moved in here.
Small as a land, but productive for him as a businessman.
This time around, Minghao doesn’t have a camera hanging from his neck and she has long forgotten the textbook that rests in between her arm and her ribcage, walking behind the team to hear Minghao’s answers, must of them have been simplistic enough, something for him to showcase how it was to move in here, how he grew internationally, what he wants for his future and what he imagined in the past. All equaling to something Minghao could respond easily, his own photographer taking pictures of him from afar for the previews of the documentary.
He props his sunglasses down on the bridge of his nose, quirking an eyebrow when Wonwoo, instead of one of his team, is the one to ask him a question: “What is the most important lesson you have learned in your life?”
Minghao giggles a bit to himself, as if a million thoughts crossed his head and he couldn’t pick one. When that smile settles on his face, she details him. Rosy lips and brown eyes that capture her when the apples of his cheeks become prominent and he answers: “Be patient. Work hard for what you want. What is meant to be for you, will come to you even if it’s the last day of your life.”
The way he looks over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling behind those expensive yet flimsy pink sunglasses, tells her a million things and none at all. Not that she minds it, this uncertainty doesn’t dull in insecurity, but rather blinks with curiousness. Her heart, against her ribcage, begs for an answer…but maybe, in another life, she’d let that one voice inside of her speak with confidence. This time around, she knows better than to ponder, than to hang onto that smile that makes her feel a thousand things all at the same time. For once, she doesn’t think Minghao as a friend that she wishes to keep by her side, but she sees him as something else. Attractive, for once, a pull so strong that she finds herself stopping when he looks ahead once again, taking the questions like a champion.
Bullshit.
This is absolute bullshit.
She’s not this kind of fool, but why is it that she now realizes that Minghao has one of the best eyes she has ever seen and that, when with him, this feeling of attraction doesn’t make her feel disgusted? It doesn’t make her feel brittle or insecure, but the experience tells her not to give that step forward.
She doesn’t like Minghao. It can’t be.
She’s not able to like anyone after what happened to her.
Whatever this is, it isn’t what she is thinking. What’s the use of falling if it’s not going to be real? Minghao was just looking over his shoulder, there is no way he would have waited for her—
Love never waits. People never wait. They’d rather have someone than not have anyone at all.
Besides, it’s not like Minghao is not a handsome man. There is no way that his heart kept with only one person for this long.
Yeah, she’s just assuming, and assuming is never good. Minghao has his heart well reserved, given to someone that she doesn’t know, and she can’t feel that way for someone who has treated her so fairly, such like a friend. She doesn’t need another reason for a headache, not when her life is sorted out or halfway there. Love is a waste of time, just a touch of lips, souls and bodies that brings to nothing at all. A game that no one wins.
With that in mind, she keeps walking, listening to Minghao and feeling each portion of her heart ripple with electricity. He’s a charming man, she’s not the only person that sees it, and definitely she isn’t thinking of him in any other way that isn’t as friends.
###
The first test in university is always the worst. Just seeing her classmates’ grades has her throat getting dry, seeing all the people who have failed—and those who have barely passed is just enough of a headache to have her closing the laptop momentarily, only to have the person beside her sighing deeply, taking a seat next to her on her bed to open the laptop again, pressing on the spacebar with rapidness as he wraps one arm around her.
Minghao is not her leverage—she has learned never to lean on someone, but what a blessing it is to feel him next to her when she is at her worst. Woken up at night because of the worries for this one text, he’d always reply to her midnight worries, albeit a bit annoyed at times, but caging it in because it’s her. She’ll never understand how he does it, being this nice and not asking for anything in return.
“Come on, whatever the grade is, it’s not a definition of who you are.” Minghao says, pressing his index finger to her adjacent temple, looking for her name through the masses of people in the picture. “Besides, what you learned will stay here and that’s what will keep on with you. No matter how many people did better or worse than you, you still learned, and that’s the important part.”
She lays her head on his chest, the fabric of his simple shirt rubbing against her cheek when she breathes out through her nose. “Yeah, but I studied so hard.”
“That’s what matters.” Minghao says, leaning his weight forward before pointing towards the laptop screen. “Besides, you’re the best grade in your class.”
The sound of those words shadow everything that has gone wrong in her life, light like him, in the way he says it so plainly but means the world to her. She lifts her gaze then, tears that she planned to drop gone in a second when she takes his face in between her hands, her head still pressed to his chest when she pulls his face down to look straight into his eyes, showing a lot of her teeth in a smile that plasters her happiness into the air. “Minghao, are you kidding me?!”
“I would never.” Minghao smiles back, looking down at her lips before returning his gaze to her eyes, clouds of pink rain scattering across the apples of his cheeks and if she is not mistaken, the lullaby in the ballad of Minghao’s heart turns into an upbeat tune. Something that she would hear in a club or in a party, rushed beyond her understanding, making her raise her eyebrows when she lets go of her face and his face stops flushing.
“Your heart is racing.” She says, awfully aloof in her deliver and Minghao can only let out one of his nervous giggles, nodding in the process.
“I am usually good at controlling my heartbeat.” He confesses, one of his hands resting on her shoulder, rubbing circles there yet not moving her from her spot. “But I am not doing so great today.”
“Why do you have to control your heartbeat?”
“…Well,” Once again, he smiles, this time around pulling himself away from her to take one of the cushions on her bed, playing with the fabric, fisting it in between his hands. “I normally have to do it around you.”
Does Minghao have to control his heartbeat around her? Why would his heart race on the first place?
At the mention of such words, she opts not to take the answer out of him. If Minghao said what was possible that existed between them, she wouldn’t know how to act. Her gut tells her to step forward and place his hand on her chest, show him that it has been weeks since her heart has started to go crazy for him. Instead, she goes for the easier route, the one that isn’t accompanied by heartbreak.
“Either way.” Minghao finishes, pushing his weight off her bed before clapping his hands together. “Now that we know you’re a genius, we should go and grab something to eat, don’t you think?”
Is that something else falling from his eyes? That glint that she has always talked about, always gushed about internally, perhaps it could mean something…just like it could mean nothing at all. Who knows? She doesn’t answer.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
###
Three months pass and her heart doesn’t want to shut up. It dances to its will whenever it sees Minghao, just like it does now that he is seated across from her in the sofa of her new mansion. His hands extend on each side of his body, inspecting the place with certainty, with the eye of a critic because he was the one that helped her the most with the decorations. All props should go to him.
Hana has her own room, locked away and excited to be able to start anew and not have to work for anyone in the process. Not that Mother was too pleased about her decision, but she could not bring herself to care, not when Minghao nods to himself and hums in the process, a big smile taking over his face.
“It’s perfect for you.”
The rows of bookshelves, the vintage atmosphere, the delicacy that meets both feminine tones and real masculine ones, they all come together with pinches of yellow, her favorite color. Minghao doesn’t notice it, the way she isn’t even inspecting the mansion but looking at him instead, taking the seat beside him and placing her arm over his abdomen, taut and contracting thanks to the action.
“And it’s all thanks to you.”
“No, no. I helped you decorate,” Minghao corrects, turning to look at her before sighing. “This was all your doing. You bought the mansion. You planned what you wanted. This is years-worth of dreaming given to you by yourself.”
Always finding the perfect words, Minghao manages to engrave himself inside her head. Not that he has ever left, the cause of her dreaming, also the cause of her absolute denial. It’s in the fact that she fears getting hurt that keeps her away, that ignores the way his eyes trail down to her lips from time to time, how he stops himself each time is beyond her. Maybe, he senses more than what she actually realizes, and it’s at this point that she notices that Minghao won’t ever talk, do anything, even remotely speak about what he may feel about her if she doesn’t get it out of him.
She has known him for years, and never had she felt this…lukewarm. She used to think that love was meant to be feral, rip at her, bite at her heart, make her feel heartbroken but in love at the same time. It’s what she saw, it’s what she believed in. However, with Minghao everything has always been different. She doesn’t hate herself in the process of liking him, neither does she think of herself as less when being around him. All the kisses she has given in the past seem to be forgotten when she tries to think of giving him a kiss.
If she has to die, she wants her last kiss to be with Xu Minghao. Those petal-like lips engulfing hers to give her hope of knowing that whatever life she got to live, she made the best out of it.
Which is why, for the first time, without thinking and with an intake of breath, she whispers out the words that she had not even internalized. Certainty clouds her, it’s so full of confidence even in its mumble, that she finds herself surprised by what she feels, the way her eyes want to concentrate on everything about him.
“I like you, Minghao.”
She is a woman of words. It’s what she has read, what she has expected for her. Big confessions, grand apologies, bunch of excuses and lies, people that kiss up to her even if they don’t mean it. Minghao loves the silence of patience, waits for the right moment to let those words fall down on him like rain, his features softening, the slightest bit of surprise passing his wide eyes before he leans forward, just a breath away from her, but he stops.
He stops because he knows she likes words, and they both compromise silently at that moment.
“I’ve liked you for a long time.” He tells her, lowering his weight slightly until their lips are centimeters away from each other. “Can I kiss you?”
With a nod of her head, she realizes the difference between the kiss of love and the kiss of desire is huge. Not a lot of pressure, he seems to melt against her, softly parting his lips to relish on the sentiment more than the quickness of it all. Minghao splays his hand on her waist, bringing her closer when he uses his other hand to touch her cheek. A rub of his thumb against the skin, and a soft whisper of her name against her lips once the contact is finished.
It doesn’t take a lot of words to know then Xu Minghao loves her, and after all this time, she may say one thing…
She hates a lot of things, but she will never hate him.
#the8 scenarios#minghao scenarios#seventeen scenarios#seventeen#minghao#the8#seventeen au#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#minghao au#minghao fluff#minghao angst#heir!au#duchess!au#there we go one of my best tries at modern royal!au lol
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:: Two Girls Dominating SuperM
↳ NOTE: Since sharin’ is carin’ 😋 Happy holidays! Get the list Santa cuz here go seven kinds of naughty. PS: I use different POVs here, whatever fits best.
words. 3.3k
warnings ⚠️ bondage, pegging, flexibility kink, sex toys, some switch!kai, rough sex, harnesses, oral (m giving), possessiveness, taemin’s evil lady kink, ice cream
⎡Taeyong⎦⇁ I think it’s time to reveal an unspoken truth about the pop industry. You ready? When Rihanna did S&M, a vision of Taeyong from the future whispered the lyrics in her ear. I swear to god. That’s exactly how it happened. Just the way we’d expect, dear Taeyong is gonna float in paradise. Not one domme ready to shake him up, but two? He can retire. Boy doesn’t need anything else. Except maybe a bit of cash to buy harnesses he can model but they’ll treat him to that anyway. That being said. Knowing that two fly madams in latex are ravaging his body at every chance they can get is gonna make him know he can die happy one day. Like, he truly lived. He won’t really hold back with restructuring a lot of parts of his life to let this dynamic unfold all the way. We’ve heard of his DIY skills. This sounds funny but Taeyong will design, paint, decorate, and maintain a special area for their play. Not necessarily just one room, he varies that. We know how gifted he is with interiors and domestic ideas, so. Prepare to get blown away by his sheer efforts. And man, the amount of spare time he can stretch to get a quickie out of that time window. Incredible. Even more interesting is gonna be the range. Taeyong can handle girls that dress up super differently every time, he goes along with any roleplay or character they come up with. He’s gonna be their little prince, their hotel boy, their waiter, their flight attendant, their Jack Dawson incarnate. And their dream boy altogether, cuz that’s what Taeyong is.
His frustrations are bound to work up over weeks if he is busy at SM, so finally seeing them again will have him so excited. And nervous. And so involved with preparing things for them, the perfectionist comes out. Can you imagine Taeyong donning his apron and preparing a four course menu for an entire afternoon? You bet he’ll pull that off. Butler Taeyong will be at full throttle. He’s gonna end up getting viciously fucked in the kitchen anyways. Like to the point where all his hair is a mess in his face and everyone ran out of breath. And seriously, he’s the type to completely surrender and place all trust in the girls. Which they know, and they’ll reward him so well. With things Taeyong loves best aka getting whipped and plowed. One of you could be binding him to a fucking machine and controlling the remote, the other marking his legs and upper back. The little bun gets terribly turned on if you push him on all fours for that and hold the nape of his neck in place so he can’t go anywhere. Consider your carpet ruined with semen. While Taeyong is busy recharging for the next round lying on the floor exhausted, you take polaroids.
⎡Baekhyun⎦⇁ Okay listen, I’ll tell you the secret. You can pull a complete duality on him. Baekhyun, getting nuzzled and snuggled and squeezed from all sides because he’s so sweet? Absolutely his jam. He got two hands to hold, after all. And two mochi cheeks to kiss, my friend, two of them. But also, getting a full dose of freaky stuff inflicted on him with some good music playing? This loud little fucker is going to levitate. These two raging girls can take complete control of his body and fool around to their liking. Grabbing his butt, feeding him cake, dressing him up or stripping him down, riding his face to oblivion. Like not just circling your hips. Actual sharp thrusting and making him forget the light of day. And using some cute pink ropes to string his pretty wrists from the ceiling as a treat. Only a matter of time until he’s an arching mess. As you already suspected: A giant dose of ass destruction is only one step away. Any toy suffices. At best, when he’s trying to beat a new high score and has to concentrate on the game. Nice challenge for his focus, he likes that. He wants to feel how he’s getting stretched out from all directions until it hurts so good. Screaming „Ah!“ is his favorite word. Maybe not too straps in one hole, that’s Taeyong territory, and Baekhyun’s ass is really tight generally, but spitroasting? His favorite pastime. Stuffed up and getting a load of extra hard thrusts. He can suck and gyrate all the way, all at the same time like he never did anything else. It’s gotta be hard and fast. I’m telling you, he’ll make it sloppy anyway.
Did he ever think he could get fucked up like this by a sexy tag team? Nope, he squarely thought he was undeserving. Now that he’s getting regularly suffocated and earns the praise for being so cute, Baekhyun is actually starting to believe he can ask for and enjoy that glorious wreckage. Because if there’s one thing he wishes for, it’s drowning in his own spit. These two are gonna be so territorial and wild, his dick and tongue are gonna threaten to fall off every night. How many condoms Baekhyun’s gonna fill, those will be record numbers, it’s like the album charts. Baekhyun’s a straight-up cum bank dairy cow extraordinaire when it comes to milking him dry. Like what did you think if two mommies feed him with all sorts of delicacies, all that juice is going to stock up and get ready to blow. And the amounts and types of collars Baekhyun’s neck is gonna be in: Whole lot, even with leashes attached. Oh god, they’ll strap him stupid with some dog ears on as a reward. Baekhyun’s prostate is gonna be a constantly spongy ruined mess, poor mochi gonna end up waddling around the kitchen to chug a liter of water at 3 AM.
⎡Taemin⎦⇁ You know who’s gonna be in his element. You just know it. Taemin is ride or die when it comes to wanting someone to be the boss of him. He’s not just dabbling in all that jazz to experiment, he’s livin’ and breathing it. Taemin’s imagination is the 3D version of AO3’s finest fanfics. Hell, he even imagines the sounds over and over, it’s gotta be 4D! He’s already crafted the most intricate fantasies for some seriously action movie-like roleplay. But let's start from the beginning. What’s on Taemin’s ever-wicked mind when he goes to sleep at night? Two intimidating ladies ganging up on him. Arriving on their black motorcycle at his house, flirting the living hell out of him, raiding his fridge, grinding on his lap in their biker gear, licking his face, taking his luxurious clothes off, calling him names, making him dance for him (that one’s a staple), biting down on his torso wherever they please, and having their way with him until it’s all one big orgy. Hell, probably on that motorcycle in the garage. Taemin pretty much getting one dry orgasm after the other because it’s the time of his life. Like, they’re really spoiling him. And he’s giving himself to them. That kind of scenario going down? To Taemin, that sounds like his wettest of dreams come true. He’s like yes, yes, yes and yes. A dynamic duo of sadistic girlfriends, that’s gonna leave him so shook and utterly addicted. Like he wants to get backed into a corner, bring on all the kabedon, Taemin goes all the way the way we know him. Nobody loves that fantasy more than him.
Now… the trick is. They’re actually really fun and sweet and pet his hair incessantly. You know, casually, doing daily life things. Cooing at him and getting all the sweetest princely kisses from their angel. My god, they’ll be so gently in love with him. But in the bedroom, it’s raw business. Taemin is gonna take is so hard, he’ll be seeing stars. That he’s getting slapped around — the thighs included, he loves that — while getting a handjob has to be the most orgasmic experience ever. Taemin is gonna bust fifty-thousand nuts over having his hair pulled by one girl and being choked by the other. Boy is he gonna be hard even if the pants stay on. What if he’s not the one grinding around this time. Two scary girls riding his lap, cuffing and belittling him — wow. Taemin never wants that feast to end. Getting roughed up at any occasion makes his day. He is needy, but the girls have all the cruel shit could ever ask for, and he has the stamina to handle all of it. And the class, he never loses his mystery. A fucking marathon with some pretty brutal bondage and impact play involved, no problem, he’ll last it. You can torture the soul out of him, he’s gonna be winding and gasping for more. Except maybe that his voice is gonna be pretty hoarse if they don’t gag his mouth for the most part. Man, Taemin is so vocal. This will have the ladies all runny beyond imagination. Nobody who meets him casually is gonna suspect it, but Taemin has the wettest dick in all of Seoul (unless Lucas is doing an allnighter) and no pliable brain left because he’s got is fucked out hard daily and he gave it daily. Now you know.
⎡Jongin⎦⇁ Kai is gonna act smug about this right from the start. He’s gonna be the guy who’s proud to show you off, walking around arms over your either shoulders, him right in the middle. Like hello, I’m experienced. The entirety of SM Entertainment is gonna have rumors circulating but nobody’s gonna be surprised. Little does he know you’re down to make his naughty lyrics come true. Kai is gonna get pegged and punished holding onto his dear oversized teddy bear. Literally, these two will have him burying his entire face there. Whimpering and high-pitched moaning like it’s time for EXO adlibs. His couch is large enough for three people, so. Somebody is gonna end up horny and crying. With his album on repeat because there’s no better music to fuck to, don’t kid yourself, you likely don’t, anyway. It’s Kai we’re talking about. He has sluttiness for days. Getting your hands on all that tall dark and handsome goodness is just all that you need as a domme duo. Have you seen how this guy moves just breathing and walking and cocking his head on the occasion… I don’t wanna know how far he can go in the horizontal realm to put it carefully.
But you gotta be ready for Kai’s aggressive side that wants to make things happen. If you like a struggle for dominance, this is the address. You two are just too tempting and delicious not to move around on his bed to assume new positions. And if Jongin doesn’t feel like snapping his dangerous hips into either of you, he’s lying. Kai is ready to fucking dick you down like it’s your birthday. He has to be taught to request and wait like a good boy, on his best behavior and his knees preferably. Yep, I think that Kai is a case for some extended training because he’s so impatient, with good reason, but he still needs to be put in his place. Which Kai likes because it means you go harder on him without restraint. Was it his goal all along? I can see one of the girls taking the role of speaking to him with his head in her lap. Giving commands occasionally, checking in. And the other, getting freaky on him with her instruments. Kai’s body is so sensitive and reactive, it’s gonna be fun to see him twitch and beg. Even something as simple as clamping his nipples will already do the trick. That’s when you have Kai begging.
⎡Ten⎦⇁ Believe it or not. Out of all people, he’s gonna be the one with the most doubts and insecurities — at first. It feels a little overwhelming to Ten because he doesn’t know what’s coming. You know that kind of facial expression he does when he is uncertain. Mind you: Having a whole bunch of people around him isn’t new to him. Bitch, he’s in NCT! A threesome is peanuts against that neo energy. It’s more like, the coordination, he doesn’t know how to act. He’ll be shy and big-eyed and doesn’t know what to say. The king of comebacks and clapbacks: Speechless. Let that sink in. The girls are dealing with the kind of guy who needs a lot of clarity and talk beforehand because he doesn’t have experience with it. It takes him to really know what the program is and damn he’s right about that. Ten really getting into what he’s signing up for is big-brained of him. He asks a lot of questions with an open-mind, but also care. But then again, we know how Ten’s confidence can skyrocket, and that he’s so secretly curious about those things he’s bursting with anticipation. And he knows what to ask for to really get someone going. Touch me, tease me, feel me up, am I right or am I right? He adapts so well to almost any circumstance in his life, it’s admirable. Totally up to the challenge once it goes down, he really grows into that. And I promise that particularly the physical part is absolutely his forte, that’s where he blooms. Ten can be easily taught through the genius of his body and he’s gonna love that.
Once things get hands-on and he finds himself with two girls mounting him, and on go the cat ears, he’s like oh my god this is great. The surprise factor is the biggest in the group here. Ten is gonna almost facepalm because he’s been worrying himself where there was nothing to be anxious about. Because he’s in his groove! Smiling and laughing and having a good time. No stress, just feeling so damn good. Probably with several super-size vibrating toys employed on him because that’s how Ten rolls, always taking the challenge. What a twitchy mess he’s gonna be, I can’t. The two ladies are gonna have a blast themselves bending him around and getting the best of the best erections out of him. Ten is totally gonna snack something while they’re fooling around as three. Or they’re stuffing him with delicacies, he’s gonna be so eager. But that’s not even a glimpse of what they’re gonna do! Ten is ready for almost everything, my friends. Tag teamed while dressed up as Alice? Likelier than you think. With the wig, that’s right. Ten is gonna be their good girl for one long night and truly love it. He obeys so well, spreads his legs like its nothing. It’s all gonna be a hell of a mess on his outfit though. If there’s one person ready to have cum all over him, that’s the right address. He’s throwing peace signs and pose for their phone cameras. Oh Ten, the legend you are.
⎡Lucas⎦⇁ Wong Yukhei… the entire concept that is him literally screams for it. Two people handling all that fucking hunk. So much space to work with, that body is a drug. Xuxi is one staggering big boy, his forehead is making love to any door frame. Lot of waist to grab (…like why is it shaped like that. Offensive!) lot of wrist to tie. And those long fucking model legs, for god’s sake, you just gotta do something with those for once. Get those thigh harnesses! Plus he’s a literal baby who’s all down to date girls his senior. Yukhei is a sucker for mad girls acting possessive over him. And he’s a handful, one fucking tease, one chaotic man. Two times the payback is just so much more appropriate. He can just get fucked and fucked and fucked some more. As is two times as much stimulation. You can imagine. Yes, all over his body. Grabbing his necktie and guiding him around this that (good shit) and caressing his face, and his back, and his chest, and his stomach, it’s so sexy to touch him there.
But let’s not lie. A certain somebody has cock and balls for two people. Lucas is one hell of a stallion. Lot of girth to make hard and to edge. That needs a duo of two unhinged girls, forces of nature, someone shy won’t do. It’s their job to make him shy and docile, not the other way around. Because Lucas enjoys being teased and flattered right back, and is more than fine with being toyed with, even playfully beaten up. You know he loves to be on the receiving end of bickering. Doesn’t mean he suddenly forgets to be an active party or just leans back. He has giant hands and knows how to use them, he’s chartered some major clit territory as well, remember that. That’s gonna be three people losing their fucking minds. Imagine all those luscious, raspy groans. Lucas never holds back, no filter, he knows what the ladies like. Drenched in sweat is all you’ll gonna be. And probably a whole bunch of lube because that’s the other thing the entire concept of Lucas is screaming for. The more ye know.
⎡Mark⎦⇁ Alright my friends. Cute Mark vibes different but that’s no secret. Boy’s gonna admit he’s really intimidated and shy, but so happy he’s gonna get sandwiched once he agrees to try it. It’s all a matter of courage. The girls will be the ones approaching him because they bought him ice cream, and the conversation starts from there, but it’s up to Mark to really set the mood. Oh boy, he’s not gonna stop blushing. This nerd with a girl on each side, that sure as hell looks great on him, I assure you. And if Mark Lee is your trophy rapper poly boyfriend, you truly made it, so. This is gonna be a dynamic right here. And the most fun, imagine the mayhem. He’ll talk his mouth off like his life depends on it. Mark doing sexy talk with two girls at the same time would be so entertaining. They will own his ass. Like wow… they’re making out with him, alternate with french kisses and putting their hands all over him, and ruin his face with ice cream. Mark would be so sexy to pull close by his collar.
And you bet it’s gonna slowly escalate from there, he’s tapping into some sides of him he never knew were there. Ice cubes down his chest, tongues down his mouth, hands in his hair kind of afternoon. As a brief and hilarious interruption, a shivering, horny as hell Mark takes a phone call from Johnny. Who, as you learn, is completely unsuspecting. „Hey, I’m at IKEA, uh. The living room section, actually. Should I buy the blue pillow or the yellow one? I can’t decide. They both have the same print on them, so.“ Mark is gonna blurt out that blue is probably gonna be a good idea and ends the phone call before anybody can moan into the speaker. Johnny is left confused at the other end of the line. The girls will end up teasing Mark that he said blue because that’s what his balls are for sure. Freudian slips, always glorious. Mark is not gonna deny that and ultimately ends up with his face between two cleavages — talk about melons, are we gonna kid ourselves — and two hands down his jeans. This is gonna need a lot of towels. Mark has never gotten this fucked up in his whole life and he is grateful. Watch out people, he’ll write a whole mixtape about this.
#superm#super m#super m smut#super m x reader#super m scenario#super m imagine#super m x dom!reader#poly!super m#baekhyun smut#taemin smut#taeyong smut#mark lee smut#ten smut#kai smut#yukhei smut
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A/N: Request from @holacherrycola90. Finally! Here’s my Prince Nuada Imagine! Enjoy! ♥
Words: 2346
Warnings: angst, mentions of blood and corpses
He had come out of nowhere, seemingly. No, this wasn’t right. He had come bursting through the window. Burglary and assaults were common this way in your humble town, not however, when you were based on the sixteenth floor. There was blood, screams, debris and repulsion; a convulsion of pain, horror and violence, all senses mixing to a dizzying thick blanket that threatened to steal away your consciousness.
They were all dead. He had killed them. Nausea clawed at your guts and throat when you realised the gravity of what it was like to have witnessed murder, to have witnessed someone die right in front of your eyes.
The blood you were covered in was not yours. It was theirs. And he was still here, treading over the mangled corpses like he would overcome a rocky path.
He had white hair, so white it almost blinded you, his skin as pale as the moonlight. And his eyes… his eyes were red… orange… of a colour defying the beauty of a sunset. He was alien. Never before had you seen something so beautiful and horrifying at the very same time.
He could not possibly have spared you on purpose. You had been buried under two dead bodies during his killing spree, unable to and too terrified to sit up and flee. Now, you cowered there, on the ground in midst a pool of blood, wishing you had called in sick and stayed home. Was this the end? Would you be murdered by a man seemingly not of this world? You were by no means superstitious but you had long accepted that humans could not be the only intelligent species in this universe. If only the proof of this mindset of yours had come peacefully instead of violently.
His clothes were strange too, you realised when you dared another timid glare. Scars and fine lines defined his sharp face. He was wearing battle armour. Battle armour from another world, so it appeared.
“It is not here?”
His accent was otherworldly. Like he spoke a strange language long forgotten by mankind. You could not see the creature he was speaking to until it stepped into the light—an already broken light bulb already emitting sparks; a death trap for the puddle right underneath its weak beam.
Holding back a scream when you took in the creature’s appearance, you resisted, with all your willpower, to flinch back, yet you could not stop the subtle movement of your right hand subconsciously grabbing the shoulder of a dead body next to you.
You held your breath when the strange warrior spun around with a start, facing your trembling form on the ground and pointing his large spear directly at your panic-stricken face.
“Where is it?” It was a question. Directed at you. Your heart skipped a beat. “The crown piece of Bethmora. It was here.”
Any moment now he would dash forward and pierce your throat with the pointy tip of the spear—you would join the corpses surrounding you, bleeding to death and choking on your own blood within a matter of seconds. Your lower lip was shaking when you opened your mouth.
The crown piece. It had been taken away for an auction only yesterday morning. Your supervisor had approved of it after your examination. It was of unspeakable value, made of pure gold with an ancient crafting technique. It would sell for millions.
“It’s not here,” you whispered, unable to raise your voice out of fear of imminent death. “Not anymore. It was taken yesterday.” The warrior snarled. You forced your eyes shut. Darkness was more welcome than your murderer glaring at you through cold, blood-orange eyes as he killed you. But the fateful blow never came.
He was staring at you when you risked another peek up at him, your body still shaking like dry autumn leaves in the wind.
“Where is it?”
Swallowing thickly, you stuttered the name of the location, unable to form another functioning sentence. Not until he stepped closer.
“Don’t kill me… please…”
He crouched down and tilted his head. What was it that stopped him from chopping your head off like he had with all the other meagre and now massacred humans around you? Was it your trembling lips? Would they be soft if he ran his thumb over them? Would he feel the salty tears on his finger and smear them all over your mouth as he did?
You radiated innocence like a blooming flower. “Mr Wink,” he started, never taking his blood-orange gaze off of you as his smooth voice echoed over the murder scene. “Locate the crown piece.” The creature nodded—out of obedience, companionship or respect, you could not tell—and disappeared in the shadows. You did not dare let out a relieved breath though.
“I am Prince Nuada Silverlance.” He introduced himself then. “I am here to claim what is rightfully mine and I will not rest until it is in my possession.”
You dreaded asking what it was he was looking for. Treasure? Heirs? Political power?
“The annihilation of the human race.” He said, without so much as blinking. Your blood ran cold. So he would kill you. “The crown pieces, once re-matched, will allow me to awaken the Golden Army… and destroy human kind once and for all.”
“W-What… what are you?”
“I am an Elf.”
Your lips parted. Elves had looked so different in your fairy tales and stories from when you were a child. Cheerful and happy, not malicious and cruel.
“B-but why?” You regretted the words as soon as they escaped your lips. Nuada narrowed his eerie eyes at you.
“Why? My race was slaughtered by your people. We have been in hiding ever since, like pets in a cage. Your kind deserves death.” Your eyes widened, your mind unwilling to process his words.
“So you will kill me now?” You chirped. Nuada had noticed your tears before you had. They were streaming down your cheeks in a seemingly endless waterfall, worsening your sight. Yet, his response surprised you.
“No. I will not kill you.”
-
Nuada spent two weeks in hiding. The humans had learned about the incident and the murders, of course, and the police had been searching for the culprit ever since. You had read it in a newspaper a businessman must have abandoned at the station.
You were still alive, living, breathing. The question had been burning on your tongue ever since. Why? Why hadn’t he killed you? And most importantly… why had he kept you with him?
You were still afraid of him, of course—if only a little bit. Just enough to avoid asking him why he had not ended your life. He knew you had been awake the night he had taken you, on the edge of consciousness for your mind had soon shut down to not become a victim of madness. When he had told you—vowed—to keep you safe from his conquering.
You remembered it so well you could still feel his cool fingertips lingering on your cheeks and even your lips. He had watched you sleep for most of the cold night, wondering intently why he had kept you alive. Was it so he would have a reminder of what he would have accomplished soon, if he kept the last remaining human to himself? Was it so, if he so desired, he could mix his race with yours to humiliate humanity even further or was it to keep a trophy, a pet?
Blinking, you rose from the makeshift bed. It was no less than a collection of old pillows and a blanket on a handful of cardboard. There was no luxury underground. The place Nuada had chosen for his preparations was ghastly, yet it was perfect for his dark schemes.
He was training, practicing. His spear, so you learned, could shrink to an arm-sized knife if he wanted to. Gracefully, he whirled around half on the ground, half in the air, fighting invisible enemies. His bare body—pale und inhuman like his face—was covered in battle scars. There was a part of you that longed to trace every single one of them with your fingertips.
Prince Nuada was beauty. Not in the conventional meaning of the word and not in the way magazines would rave about make-up and models. Nuada was beautiful in his very own way. He was… fascinating. It scared you how much he enchanted you despite his racist nature, his wish to kill your kind because of humanity’s own cruelty towards his people. No one was just the victim here.
“It is almost time.” He said without turning around to face you. The sound of metal scratching echoed through the dark and moist underground station as he shrunk his spear back to a handy knife. Time for what? You thought. The ultimate destruction of this planet?
“Did you sleep well?”
“Uh… yes. It was a little cold.” You replied timidly.
“I can ask Mr Wink to obtain another blanket for you.” Finally, he spun around, his warm eyes boring into yours. “But it will not be much longer now. I am taking you to my home where you will be safe from the Golden Army.”
“W-where… where is your home?”
“Somewhere underneath New York City, approximately six miles underground.” Six miles. No wonder he found comfort and peace in being down here. But the thought of spending even more time in the dark, away from light and the outside world made you both anxious and nauseous.
“No… Nuada, I can’t… you can’t expect me to live under the Earth. Let me return to—“
“No. As soon as I give the order, the Army will slaughter mankind like my father should have ordered them to a long time ago. They will make no exceptions and spare you like I did.”
“What if I don’t want them to spare me? What if I don’t want to live like this?”
“I vowed to keep you safe, is that not enough?” He spat, sheathing his knife away.
“But why? Why did you do this? You keep me here, away from my life, claiming you are protecting me. Nuada… I am grateful you spared me… but you can’t keep me locked up in here with you forever.”
“Not forever,” he retorted quickly. “Once the last crown piece is mine, I will rise in this place as its new king. You will be by my side, safe.”
“You mean after you’ve extinguished my race?” You chirped. No, no tears. You had been crying so often lately. And you were worried Nuada would grow tired of your tears. “What is my life worth if I spend it in solitude?”
“You will not be alone. I will care for you.”
“Nuada. Don’t. I beg you.”
He snorted. “The humans must pay for what they did to us.”
“I am human too!”
“You are an innocent.”
“So are billions of others! Billions! Mothers and fathers and children and elders who don’t even know your race exists and who didn’t make the decision to harm you in any way!” You shrieked, blinking frantically to scare away the tears.
“You are testing my patience. There is always a price to pay. That is the burden of ruling.”
“I don’t think that’s how kings should act.”
“Silence now!”
“You don’t get to silence me! What is the point of all of this, Nuada? My begging tires you it seems but what would you do if an elf threatened to wipe out your entire race? Life as you know it? Friends and family?!”
“It is no less than what my people had to endure, (Y/N).” You shivered when he spoke your name. It was always special for he did not do it often. And he was calm—eerily calm. After you had lashed out at him like this, you should have worried for your life. Strangely though… you didn’t. Not even when he backed you against a destroyed pillar, his face only inches from yours—close enough to study every single unique line on his white face.
“I should abandon you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “What is it about you? You are only human.” If the situation hadn’t been so tense, you would have joked with him—flirted with him even, for you had definitely heard better compliments. In a twisted way, you were flattered by the way he treated you, wanting to keep you from any harm as if you were a princess of a faraway realm. But you were not. You were you, a young woman building a career in archaeology and antique trade.
“You are so fragile,” he continued hoarsely. “I cannot let them harm you.”
“Why? Nuada, why?” Your voice was but a mere whisper. You could feel his hot and moist breath on your lips. But you already knew the answer. He had feelings for you, had been growing them since he had laid his eyes on you in between puddles of blood and dead bodies, terrified and alone. Like a white flower they were blooming in his heart, mocking his motives and what he had in store for humanity.
A barely audible gasp escaped you when his cold lips brushed against yours lightly, like the gentle touch of a butterfly’s wings. Perhaps you had become his conscious all those days back upon your first encounter. Perhaps you had become his very own way of living with the horrible deed he was about to do. However, there was also a glimmer of hope. There was a reason your heart had pounded like a steam hammer upon his tender touch on your cheek; a reason for why his proximity did not repulse but excite you.
Before you could stop yourself, you brought your palms to his bare chest, feeling his hard muscles and those unique scars against your skin, allowing him, no, inviting him to kiss you properly. There was still hope he would spare humanity, you were sure of it—for you.
-
A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥
#prince nuada#prince nuada imagine#prince nuada x you#prince nuada x reader#hellboy#hellboy imagine#hellboy 2#hellboy 2 imagine#hellboy the golden army#hellboy the golden army imagine#luke goss#nuada silverlance#nuada silverlance imagine#nuada silverlance x you#nuada silverlance x reader
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