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whispereons · 9 months

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Oracle!Reader Part 11

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 10, Part 12

As always this is your warning! This au is dark, violent and sad at times. It's imposter sagau which is already yandere and stuff. Blood, graphic description of violence is in it.

The flower pin was rough under your fingertips as it's stashed away into your bag. A keepsake for Kuan now that the chances of her body being found without life were higher. If not certain already.

"The meeting must have gone poorly to say the least. Treasure hoarders are greedy by nature, they must have spiked the price to insane heights."

Xingqiu pushes the chunks of metal off the road as he comments on his theory. Tracks are slowly revealed leading both ways of the path.

"Which way now? They probably kept the victims together so should we split up or stay together?" Chongyun asks as you all stand together looking at the split path.

Both paths had multiple footprints, but it was hard to tell which were from fighting or fleeing. Xingqiu opens the tracking and hunting book as he flips through it.

"There was a chapter on footprints, it can probably help us know which way to go. And hopefully how long ago too."

Nodding absentmindedly, you carefully step around the tracks and compare the amount of child-sized on the left to the ones on the right. There were at least twice as many on the left than the right.

"Hey Chongyun I think they went left; can you see if the smaller footprints fade out or turn around on the right path?"

"Sure" He's gone quickly and Xingqiu joins you in the left path as he compares the text in the book to what he's seeing.

"The small tracks are digging deeper at the front meaning they must have been running. If they were just fighting, there would have been more of a bump. It would be easier to tell if there was less blood, but our best bet seems to be the left path."

"The left leads deeper into Liyue to the Minlin region, right? That's good since the mountains are too tough to get off the path with that many children but the path leads to Jueyun Karst too."

"Should I even ask how you're so familiar with the Minlin region?"

"Do you really want a repeat of the event earlier?"

"You both better not be fighting again." Chongyun butts in as he jogs back. He's holding something in his hands and stretches them out revealing the item.

"The footprints there were all grown so you were right about it being left Y/N. I also found this Fatui insignia." The blue and gold design of a sergeant insignia was stained with dried blood and dirt.

"I believe there's a good chance that the treasure hoarders managed to escape with the hostages. That would explain why the fatui agent tried to settle a 'debt' with us before."

"Then let's not waste any time, if we don't hurry, they might try to get off the path." Picking up the pace you all follow the left path and keep quiet for any signs of the victims.

As you continue past the scenery and occasional animals your mind lingers on the possibility of them going off the path or not. They definitely could if they knew the area well enough, but something is nagging you that you're missing something.

If the deal went well, the hoarders would have used the cart to drive away. It's doubtful that they would go back to the harbor with their crime so recent but going on the right path wouldn't work either.

The right path would have led them past Wangshu Inn which was like a game over since Xiao isn't all that subtle. Or to Mingyun village which was where the Fatui would have left to. They would have met up in that village and fight there instead of here so that's out too. That leaves only the left path which leads straight to Jueyun Karst.

That would be a bad option but unlike Wangshu Inn that's surrounded by water, they could escape south to the ruins. So, the hoarders would be going left either way. So whatever way they planned on escaping is canceled due to the hostages. Why did you still feel like you were forgetting something?

Your hand tightens around the strap of your bag as the path gets rocky. Maybe if you reread the commission you could remember?

Not slowing down you dig the handbook out and read the commission list. Your eyes stop on the commission that stands out the most.

Full Speed Ahead - The path is needed for a transportation vehicle moving people. Make sure the path is clear within the time limit. Defeating enemies may be necessary.

The path needed is the bridge that leads into Jueyun Karst. The vehicle in the commission isn't specified nor the reason. Did they plan to cross that bridge before escaping through the bottom mountain?

Right now, it was the only idea of what direction they could be taking, you had to get to that bridge. Stuffing the handbook back into your bag, you start to speed up.

"I think I have an idea on where they went! We need to get to the bridge that leads to Jueyun Karst."

The look they shoot you is ignored as you draw closer to the bridge. Even still, they match your pace before you all slow down at the sight of the bridge.

The bridge had multiple slimes crowding it as it swayed at the weight. Wasn't this bridge a safety hazard? Those gaps are big enough that a whole person could slide out.

"I see a group on the other side!" Xingqiu says loudly over the sound of the bouncing slimes. You look where he's pointing and can see a rough group of six people.

Chongyun takes a step on the bridge but is instantly pushed back by the slimes. Frowning he speaks with the slightest hint of worry.

"We can't cross with all those slimes but if we fight them, the bridge might collapse. We would need to go all the way around and that would not only put those people in danger but let the hoarders get farther."

"Then let's think outside the box, who says fighting is our only option?" Grinning with confidence you push past the guys and step on the bridge.

Trying not to look down the bridge you grip the rope tightly and watch the slimes start to crowd you. Unlike with the geovishap hatchlings, you didn't plan to just stay still.

Three cryo slimes tackle your legs at the same time but miss as you dodge it. The slimes fall through the wide gaps giving you more leg room.

With that you begin to quickly pick up the 'safer' slimes like the hydro and geo slimes before chucking them off. You were careful not to let the pyro or electro slimes touch you and simple dodged them.

"What are you two doing standing there?! Come and help me already!"

Your words seem to snap them out of whatever daze they were in before they ran to join you. As vision holders their bodies had some natural resistance to the slime's elemental bodies. You witnessed Chongyun pick up two pyro slimes with ease as you kicked a dendron slime off. He didn't even get a single burn!

The number of slimes dwindled down quickly till there only a handful of hydro slimes. You expected them to try to run away or charge at you but instead they simply circled you before gurgling happily.

Throwing off one of the hydro slimes you finally looked down to see that all the slimes were safely at the bottom. You did have the maximum world level 8 so fall damage must not be enough to kill them.

In your confusion you picked up the next one and bluntly asked. "Do you guys enjoy being thrown off like this?"

It smiled with 'closed' eyes almost exactly like you would see in the game as the last two hydro slimes jumped around happily. You looked up at Chongyun and Xingqiu who gave you an equally confused stare.

Shit this might have been another creator perk. If the slimes don't enjoy being thrown by them, then the guys will start to suspect you again. That means precious time and energy wasted, Yiran can't afford that.

"Can you both check up on the group while I finish these slimes. Clearing this path was also one of my commissions."

Chongyun stops mid-grab before nodding. Xingqiu is unfortunately less cooperative.

"We helped you with your commission, surely you'll let us take some of the prize too."

"Aren't you all for justice and chivalry? It's very unrighteous of you to try and steal from the poor and needy." You respond with a shrug as the last slime gets happily thrown off.

It may come from the perk of being the creator but it's still a bit creepy how much they like being thrown off the bridge. But the slimes are also quite cute, so it's forgiven.

The whole creator cult thing was a different story.

"Well then shouldn't you-" "That's enough, the bridge is clear let's get going."

Cutting off Xingqiu you begin to lightly push him across the bridge. Although he does stop talking, he begins to lean even more on your hands.

Man was he heavy, the game didn't exactly give the best body portions. Xingqiu looked quite slim, but sword training gives muscles and Xingqiu is not exception.

He even had the nerve to take out a book and begin reading leaving you with the job of pushing him.

A nice little prank is schemed as you pushed him quietly to the end of the bridge where Chongyun was waiting for you both.

Chongyun turns in your direction and sighs tiredly at Xingqiu's antics. Xingqiu begins to close the book and you smile secretively. With a quick sidestep, your hands leave his back and he falls backward onto the bridge.

The teens begin to laugh as the adults control their laughter better. You smirk down at the annoyed Xingqiu as he moves his book off his face.

"Since I did the manual labor of pushing you all the way here, I'm sure you'll let me keep the full reward."

"Fuck you" You simply flip him off before turning to the elderly man and adults with a pleasant smile.

"Hello, which one of you had filed this bridge as a commission?" Money came first, you didn't want the commissioner to slip away. You didn't even have to worry about the time limit due to the amount of slimes you had to throw off.

"That would be me, thank you for your work." The elderly man hands you the bag of rewards. You turn around to where Chongyun was helping Xingqiu up.

"You did help so do you want a portion of the rewards?"

"I only accept the base fee for exorcism jobs. It was your idea that made it possible to cross so I don't need any mora." He shakes his head firmly and you nod in acceptance.

More mora for you after all! Pocketing the money, you ignore Xingqiu who's holding out his hand for some of the reward. He tsk'd at your action as Chongyun sighs tiredly at the conflict between you two.

"I do have another commission about a kidnapping case. A group of treasure hoarders kidnapped two adults, some teenagers, and children. We followed the path here, are you part of the group that were kidnapped?" You direct your question to the adults and teenagers as they begin to sigh in relief.

"Yes, but we're only part of the group." The first adult who looks to be an older woman speaks with tears of relief. "After we were taken, we got to a clearing of some sort in Guilt Plains and the Fatui were there. We tried to escape when they began to fight but we were caught."

"When we got to the bridge the slimes were starting to crowd it, so they tied us on the other end and crossed the bridge with the children and a few teenagers. Thankfully Mr. Dao untied us, and we helped him cross the bridge." The second adult a man who couldn't be older than 20 explained with a hoarse voice.

"There's no way we could defeat the hoarders to save the children and the bridge was overfilled with slimes. But not only did you clear the bridge, but you all seem strong enough to save the kids. Please save them, my son is still with them too." The woman clasps her hands with budding tears as she looks at you.

"The information you gave us is invaluable. I can assure you that we'll keep working on this case." Carefully picking your words, you do your best to comfort the mother. Her gaunt figure and poorly maintained features are a clear indicator of her poverty. She's not the first mother you've seen suffer like this in poverty.

"May the creator bless you with luck in all that you do." She whispers pressing her lips against her hands. Muttered prayers are carried by the wind as you begin climbing up the path with the quiet vision holders.

The mood in your group is somber from the earlier conversation. Leaves flutter in the air with the rising height and birds circle the mountain. After crossing a small wooden bridge, you all get to an archway with a blue tile roof, and a large bell hangs motionlessly above. Small statues of frogs litter the area seeming to watch you.

There were also mini stone statues of you too. Fancy clothes adorn the small statues with a matching hat. It was cute but it seemed to remind Chongyun and Xingqiu that you were all entering the adepti area.

They both hesitate at the gate with conflicted expressions. Neither of them have the sigil of permission and you sure as hell don't have one. They probably could enter while you were playing as it was under the creator's command but that didn't apply here.

Even still you grab their hands and drag them past the gate. "Why are you two standing there like idiots? There are children scared out of their mind with no clue on whether help is coming or not."

"This is the home of the adepti, without a sigil of permission we aren't allowed to enter less we face punishment." Xingqiu speaks but he still allows you to pull him.

"What's more important? The lives of innocent children or the privacy of beasts that are meant to protect the lives of people of Liyue which would include those children. If the adepti can't forgive our intrusion, then they are shameful to the creator. And the creator's will overpowers all others."

You release their hands and continue hiking. Both boys walk at your swift pace with a seemingly fond look. It seems that creator perk of them becoming inclined to you is starting to affect them.

After a while you all find a man sitting on a small structure with an axe by his side. The sun is already starting to creep down, but you need a break. Chongyun starts walking to the man but not before saying, "I'll ask him for any information. You aren't used to this terrain yet Y/N, rest up in the meantime."

Were you really that obvious? In embarrassment you pat away the dust and dirt from your clothes. The snicker from Xingqiu makes you glare at him with a flustered face.

"Quit laughing before I push you off this mountain." Your mumble only makes him laugh at you more. Fed up, you shoulder him making him stumble at the unexpected action.

Now annoyed he moves to shoulder you back, but Chongyun is already pulling you behind him.

"Xingqiu can you stop fighting with Y/N?"

"Chongyun it isn't good to misunderstand situations like these. They really started it this time."

"I have no clue what he's talking about. I was tired and started to lean on Xingqiu. It's not my fault he wasn't strong enough to hold up my weight."

Xingqiu chuckles in disbelief at your innocent words as Chongyun shakes his head. "Xingqiu, you can't really expect me to believe you. You do stuff like this all the time to me."

You stick your tongue out at Xingqiu over Chongyun's shoulder as he smiles sharply at you. He silently fumes as you grin mockingly at him.

"Now back to the mission, the man Pan Guan'er is a lumbar jack looking for his axe. He said that he only sat down to rest recently and hadn't seen anyone passing by. We should keep hiking up and maybe we'll find more clues."

Nodding you all keep hiking but again you feel that sense of unease. It seems you aren't the only one as Xingqiu starts questioning Chongyun as you all cross a pond.

"A lumbar jack in the adepti area? How strange. That job requires a lot of strength so what kind of build did he have?"

"He was more on the slender side with muscles on his legs being the most prominent." Chongyun recalls as he stares down at the floor.

Muscles on the legs rather than the arms? There's no way he's a lumbar jack. You turn around first and freeze at the sight of Pan and two treasure hoarders sneaking up.

"Watch out!" One of the hoarders already has a crossbow about to shoot and you react quick enough to tackle both guys to the floor.

An arrow may have only done some damage while you played the game, but this was real life. You weren't sure if you could save either of them if they got hit in a vital spot. Let alone an organ like an eye.

The situation dawns on them as you all scramble up to avoid the attacks coming your way. A masked hoarder begins to load up another arrow as the biggest man charges with a hammer. Pan Guan'er slips a mask onto his face and readies a pair of throwing knives.

Chongyun defends you and Xingqiu from the hammer by blocking with his claymore. The heavy clang and subsequent swings of the hefty weapons in combat let you and Xingqiu go around and battle the others.

Xingqiu follows the crossbow hoarder as he backs away tactically from the agile boy. Your sickle is summoned, and your swing is electro-charged against Pan if that even was his name.

He dodges at the last minute and kicks your side making you bite back the groan. Knives slash at your clothes and are thrown at your neck as you dodge them all while being careful to avoid his legs.

You're unrelenting once you get an opening to attack. The blunt side of your sickle leaves bruises on his body as you cautiously leave shallow cuts. You can't let him die just yet.

The fight is so familiar that your body follows the movements easily. Reminiscent of all the street fights you participated while homeless. It's the jobs from your old boss that would get physical that seem to crowd your mind the most.

The fight is over before you know it with your sickle on his neck keeping him pinned down on the ground. Xingqiu climbs back up with a frustrated expression that softens at the sight of your victory.

"He fell off the cliff while I was chasing him. Who in their right mind backs up without checking?" He sighs as Chongyun comes over with blood staining the end of his pants.

"He lost too much blood and couldn't answer any questions I had. Hopefully, we get more luck with Pan." Pan gulps nervously at the sight of all three of you staring down at him.

"Why did you kidnap those people? What happened with the Fatui? But if you can't answer those questions then you better be able to answer where those children are now." The sickle presses against his neck harder letting a stream of blood trickle down.

"We heard that the Fatui needed people, so we agreed to kidnap some for them! The money they brought wasn't to the bosses liking so we fought. For some reason they retreated, and we took the people here to escape."

"And where are they now?" Pan avoids your eyes as he sweats. If he wasn't going to say more then you'll have to force it out of him. The loud crunch of bones breaking can be heard alongside Pan's screams.

Chongyun lifts his claymore and slams the dull side onto his leg mercilessly. It's surprising to see this sharp chilliness from him but it saves you the trouble.

Pan's arm swings up to hit your side, the knife glinting in his hand as he grunts angrily. "I'm gonna-! Hurk-"

His words are cut off as a sword stabs his arm back into the ground. The blood seeps through and spills onto the grass and pond as tears and snot dribble down his face.

Disgusting

What right does he have to cry? He's not the parent who's worried over their child with a dangerous fate. He's not the child stolen and at the mercy of adults with malicious intentions.

"We split up! I was staying here on Qingyun Peak to throw off any Fatui members that might come while the prisoners were taken to Mt. Hulao!" He sobs out and you draw your sickle back in disbelief.

Mt. Hulao? That was the mountain right across from here! You would have to climb down, cross the river, and then climb back up. They could go anywhere by then!

Shit, shit. What were you supposed to do?

Chongyun and Xingqiu seem just as conflicted as the draw their weapons away. Now free and bleeding, Pan begins to crawl away. Chongyun moves to detain him again, but you stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave him be, we got the information we needed. Besides, he'll bleed to death before he finds any help."

Xingqiu seems to be deep in thought as he stares off the cliff in the direction of Mt. Hulao. He talks with Chongyun about any possible paths to it as you stand a little farther on the side.

Warily you bring up the game screen and press the map quickly. You didn't have enough privacy or time to control one of your characters to save the children, but you could zoom in on the mountain through the map.

There you spot a flat area on Qingyun Peak facing Mt. Hulao. If you could climb higher, you could glide to the mountain saving loads of time and energy. You let that little flame of hope ignite and close the game window in a hurry.

"I have an idea, you both have gliders, right?" You ask with an excited smile as they nod in unison. Wordlessly they understand your plan and follow you up the mountain.

The path is littered with flat rocks and plants that your feet carelessly trample on. Trees, lamps, and archways are ignored as the sky starts to turn a soft shade of orange. Time is running out.

The clearing comes into view as the amber-imbued mountain stands proudly across. A huge stone circle is nearly consumed by the wildlife as you all walk to the edge.

Red ropes tied to the trees holding small signs are on your left and on the right is a strange device with two of your mini statues guarding it. A mechanical stone doll of yourself stands there with gold rings around the joints. Was that a pull-apart and put-back-together statue of yourself?

This was Moon Carver's Mountain, so it belongs to him. Maybe Cloud Retainer made it for him. You eye the path on the right that leads further up the mountain to his home. It was weird to think that even the high and mighty acting adepti worshipped you too.

The edge of the mountain makes your palms sweaty as you peek down. It's a long drop. Forcibly you activate the glider as Xingqiu and Chongyun stand next to you calmly.

"You look quite nervous Y/N, this must be your first time using one. Did you not get your license?" Too nervous to be annoyed you answer with a chuckle.

"Nope, but what the Millelith doesn't know, won't hurt them. Besides they're pretty crappy anyway." The soft breeze helps cool you down as you stare straight ahead.

"Just hold onto us if you're that nervous. If you're really scared, then I can just carry you." Xingqiu replies as he holds his arms out. It's teasingly in your eyes but he's very serious.

"Can't do that, I have to learn to glide by myself ya'know? But I will take you up on the first offer." You grab Xingqiu's right hand and turn to Chongyun.

His glare at Xingqiu softens when you look at him. Wordlessly with a shy look he holds his left hand out. Internally he's relieved that you didn't accept Xingqiu's offer to carry you. He knows him well enough to know that he was serious about that offer.

Hyping yourself up that this cliff wasn't as terrifying as you thought, you jumped off the cliff gripping their hands tightly. It's just like building parkour, it's just like building parkour. The chant is repeated as you keep your eyes closed from the wind.

"You can open your eyes now, Y/N." Chongyun's calm voice coaxes you as a playful voice continues. "Just don't flail around too much."

Slowly you open your eyes to the sight of the passing birds and Mt. Hulao slowly approaching. The wind is soft as it caresses your face while the wind pushes you all higher into the air.

"As long as neither of you let me go, then this will be a nice and easy flight." You direct your quip to Xingqiu. "And if someone does decide to be a dick then I'll let go of Chongyun and bring Xingqiu down with me."

"Real subtle Y/N."

"Aren't I always?"

"I have to thank the creator for keeping the wind in the direction we need. The faster we get to the mountain, the faster we can search for the kids. Plus, you two can stop fighting for at least 5 minutes."

"Y/N, do you see what kind of bad influence you are? Chongyun never acts this way."

"Don't blame me, it's not my fault he's sick of your antics."

Chongyun sighs softly as you and Xingqiu continue bickering until you all land on Mt. Hulao next to a chunk of amber. You mimic Xingqiu and Chongyun who mutter a prayer of thanks to the creator.

The orange-pinkish hue of the sky is now a soft purple as the amber seems to glow. You knock on the tall amber and listen to the hollowness of the mineral.

"Don't get distracted Y/N! We have to hurry or else they might get away." You jump at the sudden call and catch up with the duo. The cold air is starting to make you a bit cold as you follow the path.

"Isn't it a bit strange that there aren't any monsters here? I mean the adepti wouldn't bother killing elemental creatures or even any monsters unless they actively disturbed them."

"I think that's the answer," Chongyun responds quietly to Xingqiu's question as he points ahead.

Right at the edge of the giant hole in the middle of the mountain was a few bodies. No, a few corpses.

Treasure hoarders lay on the ground, against the wall, and even in the bushes with battered bodies. Claw marks, arrows, puncture wounds, and even arrows are inflicted on the bodies. The only explanation would be that a group of hilichurls attacked them.

Walking closer you touch the blood and let it drip off your finger. "It's cold but not dry. They were here not long ago; they must be up the mountain."

Walking up the mountain with the guys in tow you wipe the blood off on an amber chunk. As you all keep climbing, more and more bodies are found, thankfully none of them are of kids.

As the path turns to stone staircases amber chunks become more frequent. Xingqiu peers into one and bites his lip.

"The amber is also encasing some of the hoarders. That's usually the fate for anyone who climbs Mt. Hulao."

"We should leave them to the creator's mercy. They're either dead or going to die. Not to mention Mountain Shaper isn't known for his grace." Chongyun responds as you glance at the passing amber coldly.

Finally at the top of the mountain you stare at the big trees with burgundy leaves, Cor Lapis are rooted around the trunks. Yelling and crying can be heard as you climb the last few steps to finally see the situation.

Mountain Shaper stands in front of his cave in the usual form of a crane as he stares down at the only standing treasure hoarder. Multiple dead bodies lay in the shallow water as the water changed to red. The hoarder is yelling something but the soft cries on your left are the only thing you hear.

Yiran is kneeling in the water as she sobs clutching a boy's hand. His features so similar to the woman you met at the bridge. Yet the pink hue of the water and dull eyes make your heart clench at having to present her with his body.

"Mortal of treachery, you and your kin invaded my mountain seeking to hide your crime and escape with your lives. Let the amber of my mountain encase you till only dust remains!"

With a flap of his wings, the last hoarder is consumed by amber with a horrified expression clear. You stare in awe at the display of power as the amber crumbles into dust and scatters among the water.

Mountain Shaper turns his attention to your group with irritation. "Intruders left to right. At the very least you three have no scent of corruption and evil, I'm sure you came for the children. The others are on Mt. Aocang under Cloud Retainers care."

The mountain seems to rumble as he walks slowly towards you all with glowing red eyes. "Yet you all trespassed on my and Moon Carver's residence. Foolish and arrogant mortals you all are, your punishment will be swift and painless."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you promptly reply but not toward Mountain Shaper.

"Yiran! Your father Kuan is waiting for you at the city. He's been worried sick about you, he commissioned me to find and save you."

"Really?" She quietly replies, "Daddy sent you? I-I want to go home! I wanna see Daddy!" She sniffles before bursting into tears.

Mountain Shaper stands in front of you with narrowed eyes. "What caliber of schemes did you plan to follow through with such an action?"

"Do you or the other adepti plan to come to the city and find the people those children belong to yourself? How do you plan on calming down traumatized children?" He scoffs at your questions and glowers at you.

"The sole reason I have not imprisoned your form despite your conceited words is due to the scent of Teyvat that surrounds you. Your comrades will care for the children while we can investigate you."

He spreads his wing into Yiran's direction silently commanding the guys to care for her. Warily they move away from you and tend to Yiran trying to calm her down.

"Answer my questions and you and your team may live. Who are you masked trespasser and why does the scent of Teyvat surround you?"

It's strange, why doesn't he recognize you? They never accepted any gnosis so the corruption from Celestia should never have affected them. Nor would they ever forget the elemental worship due to their distaste for human culture, but wouldn't they remind Morax of it too?

The adepti are under Morax's command as they all fought under him. Plus, they must all have their own contracts with him. What if that was the reason? Maybe the corruption affected them on a subconscious level leading them to not realize how they were affected by the gnosis.

"I'm Y/N, and that scent is from my occupation. I'm the creator's oracle and as the creator's vast powers protect me, Teyvat protects me under the creator's orders."

Mocking laughter echoes around the area once you finish explaining. You already expected this reaction, what thousands of year-olds mystical beings would believe a mortal would be made into an oracle? Instead, you focus on Yiran's softening cries as she's comforted by the duo.

They seem to be instructing her to pray to you. Chongyun shows her a form as Xingqiu recites a prayer that goes unheard. It's something about protection, healing, and thankfulness. It almost makes you want to laugh if the situation wasn't so horrible.

"He protected me and now he's dead. It's all my fault, it's all my fault!" She breaks down again during the prayer as they continue trying to soothe her. This memory will stay with her forever, Kuan isn't going to get the same daughter back. If she wasn't traumatized by the kidnapping, this preteen's death will.

Doesn't make it any less fucked up that when something like this happens, everyone's first thought is to pray to you. That's probably why everyone is so fanatic about you. It happens on Earth with minor obsessive religions but here in Teyvat it's widespread.

"Interloper or rather Y/N the teller of falsehoods, the adepti as a group will decide whether you deserve to live in shame or die for your crimes." It's a shame that the fan won't work in this case but that never stopped you before.

"And what about my friends? You said that they may live if I answered, which I did, but I don't believe you're that generous. If anyone must face punishment for trespassing, it should be me as I dragged them along. They're not the ones who are receiving payment, I am."

It was the least you could do, they helped you a lot and they didn't deserve to die for your reckless decision. Even if you don't regret it.

"How noble of you falsifier. Those acolytes may live and bring those children back to their homes. I'll even wrap this body to be presented to whatever careless parent that let their child be taken."

Oh, hell no

"With all the disrespect I can muster, shut your damn trap. What right do you have to speak about careless parents? That boy's mom was taken alongside him, you have no idea what kind of sacrifices she may or may not have made for him! If we're going to speak about carelessness, why don't you explain why all you adepti thought it was right to fill Qiqi with enough adepti energy that it harmed her to such a horrible degree?"

The air went cold and amber rose around you in a cage-like form. He was furious but you were too.

"Oh, I will rejoice once your little story is exposed as the fabrication it is. I'll decide your punishment and seek out how you learned about this. I pray to the creator of all beings that your death will be as painful and long as when I was forced to incase that dying child in amber to prevent her destruction."

His condescending tone is paired with a fiery glare that you deliver right back. Chongyun carries Yiran who passed out from exhaustion. Xingqiu carries the now mummified body of the dead boy with a troubled look.

The heron stands in the middle of the pond and spreads both his wings. The pond alights with yellow and red forcing you to close your eyes.

When your eyes reopen, you find yourself in a different body of water. A small table in the middle, lily pads between the rocks in the water and the multiple eyes staring at you are a near comfort.

What a familiar scenery.

Chongyun and Xingqiu are surrounded by the rest of the missing kids as the stumble from the sudden teleportation. Hurt but thankfully unharmed, the children light up at the sight of the famailair Liyue figures.

Two cranes, a stag, and a very familiar goat-featured lady stand around you. You always wondered how Ganyu's hair stayed in a ponytail look without a hair tie.

"I regret to inform you all that this mortal has claimed to be the creator's oracle."

Shocked eyes are drawn to your imprisoned form with the exception of your teammates. The rising moon seems to shine on the water around you like a spotlight. Your face is neutral as your sharp smile hides in your heart.

Yet another situation where you'll make best with what you have. The more untrusting eyes, the more relief you'll feel when you trick them with convenient words painted under the guise of truth.

It has always been like this, and even if you're sick and tired, you'll still do it. At this point, it's the only thing that you trust. So, you'll keep spouting lies until even you believe them. Besides...

Lying always was your best skill.

I finished!!! There was so many obstacles! My house started going under construction so I took off work and spent this whole week moving stuff. Then moving it back, And then cleaning it. And then restocking it. You get the idea. The beginning of this chap is really rough due to me switching between moving and cleaning plus being a lil rusty. But I think I got back to the flow as it went on. Everything sort of worked out in the end but Y/N just can't catch a break. Now the whole kidnap case seemed maybe random to ya'll but how else was I supposed to bring Y/N into adepti territory? It's a fact that travelers are encased in amber or punished for going to Jueyun Karst. I just hope I fleshed it out enough that it was enjoyable. Oh and that scene with Pan Guan'er was inspired by the actual NPC that sits there. When you walk by, two treasure hoarders spawn behind you. I genuinely think that NPC is sus as hell. I also wanna direct anyone interested in what the mask could look like to this post. The wonderful @the-dumber-scaramouche made fanart of her version of Y/N! It's so beautiful! Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado

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my-name-is-bunnyfoxy · 1 year

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@glitchgaymer I'm so happy you asked!!!

I just speed run to finish my girl Scarlet's design!

I did mention her a bit at times in 2 of my posts. One was a drawing of what she would look like if she was in an TMNT 2012 AU I was following and the other time was in an ask that asked what kind of girl Leo would like. Plus I mentioned her in my Rise AU where I made a design for her and yeah. I really wanna show her off more often and art of her and Leo together.

To give some info about her:

Scarlet was an orphan and grew up at an orphanage since she was 3-4 years old. She wasn't fond of the orphanage so when she was only 8 she attempted to run away from the place and try to find and start her own life. She then ran into a woman called Naomi Zhang who took her in as her own daughter. Scar ended up being raised by her and was trained to be an assassin and kill people. Naomi was a notorious criminal who has her own gang of assassins. There is no reason or an explanation as to why she does this. Though it's mentioned in the story that she simply just enjoys people's suffering.

Some extra background regarding Naomi is that she often recruited young children and would raise them to become assassins and kill for her. She ended up creating her own secret company of sorts. Scarlet ended up being one of them. And she was raised to do whatever Naomi told her to and to never question her antics or demands. So Scarlet just followed whatever her ''mother'' said. She killed whoever her mother said she needed to. Scarlet wasn't though really fond of it but got used to it overtime.

One day, she was out with some of the members of Naomi's gang to go and kidnap a few people so they can bring them to Naomi and potentially kill or torture them. But were suddenly encountered by a gang of 4 weird humanoid reptile creatures and they ended in a fight with them. However, unknown to Scarlet and the leader of those reptile like creatures, they would end up having a connection of some sorts.

For Scarlet's personality, she is actually pretty calm and quiet and just doesn't get into altercations often times. She can however be rebellious and sarcastic and even attempt to get into dangerous situations. Scar is also a huge flirt and has a thing for attracting many people. Mostly men, who she ends up killing because of again, Naomi. She is often seen as strong, serious, bold and wise beyond her years. However by season 3, her personality changes quite a lot. After Leo's accident where he was yetted thru the window (wonder how much April and Kirby had to pay for that window-), she was genuinely worried and concerned for him. She became more light-hearted and nicer. Even helping Leo out and even trying to help out the others. Her soft side was shown more and she acted like a completely different person compared to how she acted before. She still kept many of her traits and personality but, she showed a lot more care then before.

That's all I can really say when it comes to her character. Might change a few things here and there but this is what she is so far.

Some extra and small facts about her:

Scarlet has some french blood in her and has some french accent to her. She had some familiarity of her ethnicity so she got herself some french books to learn how to speak french.

On that note she ended up teaching Leo how to speak some french. Also in exchange Leo taught her something about Japanese (kind of headcannon that if the turtles were humans they would be Japanese in 2012)

Scarlet has a collection of swords and always has a sword by her hand. Mostly because she ends up breaking a lot of her swords after a fight. She is capable of using other weapons but prefers swords or knives just because.

She actually dies her hair a lot. Her hair was originally a lighter shade of red (kind of like April's. I'd say a mix of 2012 and 87's red hair). But she ended up dyeing her hair to a dark color of red. She has been thinking whether she should return to her old red hair or keep some lighter red in her hair.

The other guys just proclaimed Scarlet and April as the red team. Raph is kind of included in the team but since he is bald uh yeah-

I've had a lot of scrapped ideas when it came to Scarlet that I might share at some point if anyone is interested or something.

Her and Karai would take a long while to get along but once Karai joins the team and is on the good side, the two end up bonding a lot. Plus they showed empathy and even some sympathy towards one and other since they kind of went thru similar things in life.

Behind Leo's back, Mikey is her actual favorite turtle and laughs at his jokes.

Her and Raph, similar to Karai and Scarlet, took a long while to genuinely get along because Raph didn't trust the idea of Scar being an ally to them. Plus he wasn't fond of Leo crushing on a girl that is a literal assassin and has killed people. The two ended up being genuine friends when Raph saw that she genuinely cared about Leo and was willing to help out.

Whenever Scar has the urge to genuinely hurt or kill someone, she ends up stabbing a bunch of fruits or any kind of food to relieve her stress.

I'll possibly make another post regarding her and Leo and some facts about them together. Again if anyone is interested let me know.

I know this took me a while to respond to and that was because I wanted to make some art of Scarlet but I didn't wanna wait to post this so here I am finally. Apologies for taking years to respond to this- But here she is finally lol

While I haven't finished any art of Scarlet, this is like the only drawing I have of her and Leo together. So here~

Also side views suck lmao. Also the design for Leo is kind of old since I changed his species of turtle in my AU.

Okay that's all. Have a good day and I think I'm gonna go now hang out in the Prison dimension or something-

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readwebcomicsgdi · 2 years

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woah look out

Here’s another little list of some comics! This is the fifth set, you can see the others here in the “roundup posts” tag~

Amongst Us (and Carciphona) By @okolnir

“Amongst Us is a slice of life / romance / comedy comic about the couple, Blackbird and Veloce.”

I’m going to be ten thousand percent honest with you and admit that I got into this comic because one of the characters really really reminds me of my Agatha and I’m gay (I don’t mean to be rude by comparing them, I am saying this in the rec because a lot of other people also seem to appreciate the Tall Socially Awkward Intimidating Lesbian character archetype and they’re hard to find, it’s a selling point lmao). That said! It’s lovely to look at and certainly stands up without any of my own associations, and it’s a very cute and simple sapphic slice of life story. Y’all are always asking for wlw stuff, here is one.

I do want to mention this comic is actually an AU the author is doing of their main comic, Carciphona, which is an ENTIRELY different project; it’s a black and white fantasy manga that I haven’t actually read yet, but some of you probably have! To be honest this artist is quite a bit more popular than the folks I usually like to feature here, BUT: they’re publishing their own books and steering their own ship outside the mainstream and man I am all about that shit so go give these a shot.

https://amongstuscomic.com/

https://carciphona.com/

Electric Bones By HAZEL + BELL

“Lucian has just been fired from his dream job. Irritated and aimless, he is invited by his friends to go on a cruise trip in deep space.Lucian plans on spending his time on board indulging in every illicit activity and substance in the galaxy, but his plans are cut short when he ends up crossing paths with a familiar face: A robot who has an uncanny resemblance to the co-worker who got Lucian fired.”

yeah yeah Aria likes the smutty robot comic, but also it’s just really good. It’s good! The art is lovely, the story’s in that sweet spot where it’s “harder” sci fi with lovely detailed metal things floating in space but it’s ALSO having a good time without making you read a doorstopper’s worth of political lore every five minutes, and while this bit is maybe a bit less interesting from the other side of the drawing table, the lettering is creative and engaging and suits the story perfectly. A lot of comics get the fonts wrong!! This one didn’t.

This website is also navigable with arrow keys, which is just so nice. Why doesn’t everybody do this. Go turn it on if you have a comic site.

https://electricbonescomic.com/

broken By @yubriamakesart

“broken is a fantasy/horror story about a psychic zombie kid befriending a fairy general and trying to deal with guilt, grief, and PTSD. This is complicated by eldritch abominations, a genocidal dictator, the dictator's wife, and a panic-induced exit from the last known bastion of civilization. Warning: this comic contains things like graphic violence (including suicide), body horror, and the occasional flashing image.”

The archive looks real big but don’t panic, this one’s broken up panel by panel so you’ll fly right through it. It’s maybe a weird thing to focus on but I super appreciate how much effort is put into the aesthetics of the website!! Even the backgrounds change along with the updates. The author clearly puts a lot of thought into crafting an Experience around their work, so it’s definitely worth reading it on the home site rather than on any of the mirrors.

https://broken.spiderforest.com/

The Secret Knots By @santapau

The Secret Knots is, according to the author, inspired by things like A Softer World; it’s a series of self contained nonlinear pieces you can read in whatever order you like. He speaks extensively about how and why he started making this comic, it’s too long to put here but it’s a wonderful primer.

It’s hard to talk about this one you just kinda have to jump in. That said I love this shit dude this is exactly what I wanna see, make weird genuine shit and put it up for other people to read yeah yeah yeah

https://thesecretknots.com/

Shot and Chaser By @bigbigtruck

“SHOT AND CHASER is a story about storms. Esoteric lifemates Tre and Olly set out together and experience a literal whirlwind of a day in the Texas panhandle. WARNING: This comic contains sensitive themes and is intended only for mature adults.”

You’ve certainly heard of this comic and this artist already (if not Shot and Chaser, you might be familiar with one of Weaver’s previous webcomic projects TJ and Amal) but sort of in line with the first one on this list, I’m just a real big fan of what they’re doing and how they’re doing it and it’s exactly the stuff I wanna see on this blog. I’ve reblogged it here before but I really wanted to put it in one of these posts because in addition to being a fun read it deals with Pentecostal stuff in a very like. Candid way, and I can always make room on my platform for anybody else making complex work about religious trauma.

http://tjandamal.com/sac/

as always, you can also read mine:

Kidd Commander by @shinesurge

“It’s a world at the mercy of uncaring gods, and Phineas Kidd is a heretic with a chip on her shoulder and enough fury to outshine a supernova. Armed only with aggressive enthusiasm (and an explosive left hook), Phineas sets out to gather up a merry crew and travel to Kairos Crossing to catch the sun, an urban legend that has tempted countless dreamers to a bloody end.”

Kidd Commander is a romantic comic that’s mostly concerned with ambitious characters doing cool anime stuff while being subjected to trauma and dealing with said trauma! Rated T for lots of (cartoon) violence and swearing, and a good deal of irreverence for topics some folks might prefer to leave revered. If any of that sounds like it might make you uncomfortable this comic may not be suitable for you!

http://kiddcommander.com/

If you’d like a comic (yours or otherwise) to end up in one of these, send me an ask or whatever and I’ll add it to my list of stuff to check out! The only requirements I have are I’d prefer for it to be a bit lesser known and it needs to be accessible in places other than tapas or webtoon because I am physically and emotionally incapable of engaging with either of those sites. Happy reading!

#roundup posts #sweet recs

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dreadlord-mr-son · 2 years

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re: Still unnamed Colony AU

Decided to throw everyone into a Minecraft world just to make it easier to map. This style of world may be heavily-familiar to a couple of the characters, depending on my final picks.

I don’t plan to have it heavily gameified. Things won’t actually be square. Food saturation doesn’t heal you. There’s not an “inventory”. There might be respawning? Haven’t decided yet.

I’ve already picked out a large biomes world and an area in it to drop people.

Now I just have to finalize my character list...

I’ve made two short lists so far. One from my Wynnverse timeslines and one from my older OCs and original projects. There are some canon characters from various media (anime) already in those, as Wolfwood and Roy are both heavily tied into a lot of Wynn’s timelines. But I haven’t yet made the “characters from various media canons and fanfic of those media that I like” yet.

To go briefly over my potential picks from my older OCs and original works...

Forest’s Shadow: A sapient non-human I usually list as a “youkai” when I’m writing character lists. Not because she precisely is one, but because it’s a better term for what she is than others available to me. She’s a horse-sized vaguely canid creature who was going to be one of the main characters in a book I never wrote, where her and a young boy from a Native-American inspired tribe(1) who lost his tribe for plot reasons together gather a following and start a new family that expands into a tribe. Oh gee look there’s those same interests that are leading me to write this very fic right now. (1) This would be set on an alternate earth so no actual real tribes that exist or used to exist on our world would be present. Also it would be set in a time period comparable to thousands of years ago on our world so...

“Roach” (Michael Bradley): Well-off pothead with the coloring of a super-saiyan. His plotline was about him no longer being able to afford his house payments on his own so he gets a roommate who ended up being my self-insert. Basically a dumb self-insert sitcom character. One of my very rare straight male characters. Kind of bland to describe? But I’m fond of him. Nicknamed Roach because of the “pothead” thing. I always think of him as Roach and have to remind myself that his actual name is Michael. His story actually has a title: “Fish and Houseguests”. After the saying “Fish and Houseguests stink after 3 days”, referring to people overstaying their welcome. Thus indicating my long pattern of many of my own characters being supremely unimpressed with me.

Three characters from the same story now: Nathanial Sebastian Creighton (prefers Sebastian, thanks). Keneth Weaver Darlene Gothe A trio of college students from a comic I never drew a ton of titled “Something About Slugs” (an intentional non-sequitur). Sebastian is a rich gay guy whose homophobic parents sent him to college in another country so he could go and be weird and gay and artsy over there where he won’t be publicly visible and embarrass the family. Basically, he gets an allowance to keep his head down and pretend he’s not related to them. Very angtsy. Tall and thin and has super strength. Is a pacifist precisely because of the super strength -- he’s terrified he’ll seriously hurt someone by mistake. Suuuuper pretentious artist. Avoids speaking with contractions and gets poetic when drunk. Favorite forms of art are theatre and painting. He likes to dress in a black trenchcoat with a black sweater under it, even when it’s hot. Always wears long sleeves to hide his self-harm scars from when he was younger. I don’t have enough words for how much I enjoy tormenting this boy and making him chew on his own complicated emotions. :p I have a whole comic where I just drew him talking to a crucified Jesus statue about how he felt about the concept of God and his opinion on “love the sin, hate the sinner”. He is. So fun for me. Keneth Weaver is one of the middle children of a large family with many siblings. Very good at deescalating between his two best friends who... do not get along with each other. :p Always dresses in a puffy winter jacket with a warm knit hat (which he tucks his long blond hair up into) because he frequently gets cold chills. Is an absolute sweetheart and is the one of the trio most likely to go feral and punch a mofo for messing with his friends. Has not yet realized that he’s bi and falling for his best friend Sebastian. Everyone thinks he’s going to get into some nurturing care field of study but ends up getting into law from an idealistic desire to defend the disenfranchised. Darlene Gothe is... aptly named. She’s got a “slutty witch” aesthetic, liking to wear black dresses with ratty bottom hems and her cleavage out and swirly black eye makeup. Self-describes as “playfully bitchy”. Sebastian thinks she hates him because she’s constantly insulting and teasing him because she thinks it’s fun to play with him because of his dry sarcastic whit. So she’s just having fun and he thinks she’s being intentionally mean. Keneth sometimes gets so exhausted dealing with these two, but he does love them both. While Sebastian struggles with his complicated feelings for his disapproving parents, her parents are very supportive of her, but she just doesn’t emotionally connect with them and struggles to understand why family is so important to Sebastian and Keneth. Part of her trouble with sincere emotional connection is from school trauma. She was bullied through grade and highschool and coped with it by becoming sarcastically disconnected and prickly (hence “playfully bitchy”). I’m never going to end up writing the comic for these three but I love them so much.

Um. I’mma cut this off here and reblog my own post with the next batch of characters because I’m not even halfway through.

#mr son writing #colony au #forest's shadow #fish and houseguests #something about slugs

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maatryoshkaa · 3 years

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between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

#cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #yeah I'm back #don't be weird about it

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dourpeep · 3 years

Note

OKAY time for a college au!!

You 3 know each other from before college

You and kazuha were seating next to each other during your first year of high school you became close enough to greet each other whenever you guys pass by each other

And you and Xiao were best friends from kindergarten to 2 grade but unfortunately you had to move suddenly you two tried to keep contact but the two of you made new friends and kinda lost contact with each other

So when you go to college you meet kazuha at the front desk when you're trying to get your schedule and yall are like "omg I'm so happy to see someone that I know here!" and when you guys check your schedules it turns out that the two of you have the same class during the first period

And you're like "we've got 30 minutes wanna go grab a cup of coffee and get lost together?" and kazu knows that you playfully flirt with your friends so he jokingly says "are you asking me out for a date? Because if you are then I accept!" and you guys talk on the way to class and the two of you barely make it on time

Class ends and you're sad to say goodbye to the only person you know on campus but then all of a sudden he hits you with a "by the way can I have your number?" so you two exchange numbers

Later you're going to your last class and it turns out that this class doesn't have many people you go sit in the back and someone comes up to you and is like "can I sit next to you? " you say yes obviously

But the thing is... there is something very familiar about this guy and you just can't put your finger on it so you kind of stare at him without realizing it

Of course he noticed how hard you've been staring at him and turns around and is like "what? Is there something on my face?" that's when it finally clicks

And you're just like "XIAO??! IS THAT REALLY YOU?!!" but the teacher comes in so you two can't really talk

But the moment class ends you tell him who you are and take a few minutes to catch up

Though I say catch up it was mostly you teasing him saying shit like "I can't believe the shy kid who used to tear up whenever his turn on the swing was taken would grow up to be this handsome!" (he's starting to think that maybe he should have sat somewhere else)

So you're like "hey how we go actually catch up I've got some coupons for this café I went to this morning with a friend"

He doesn't have a reason to say no so he just accepts the invitation

When you guys get there who do you meet? KAZUHA! This man actually works there!

When you see him you're like "kazuha why didn't you tell me that you work here?" but he pretends not to know you and is like "oh? Well who might this fine customer be?" you can tell he's joking by the way he's trying not to laugh so you decide to play along

Poor Xiao is starting to regret coming with you (but don't worry he got 2 plates of almond tofu as an apology)

-no primogems (I'll make another part later where you 3 become roommates)

YES I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS-

dhfaeiahe I realize now that I should've just posted this as is since I wasn't planning on adding to this but might as well add in some thoughts I've had about this lovely trio eh??? tbh I didn't add much I just slipped in a few little things hehe

Can you guess the roomates?? Also the bio professor is Albedo ehe

Anyway!!

Considering it's the first semester of college, you haven't yet decided on your major. Luckily, you have quite a few general education classes to take, so you register all in one night.

You'll have the time to figure it all out as time goes by, no?

The rest of summer is spent juggling moving into the campus' dorms, working, and keeping up with some friends from high school. While you've kept contact with a few friends, you definitely kicked yourself in the ass for forgetting to ask Kazuha for his number...how could you forget one of your best friends?

But, you suppose that he's far off in a whole other city with his wish to experience more. You can't help but wonder what he's up to.

Then, the first day of classes starts.

How did you not figure out where everything is first? Instead of moping, you trudge to the administrative building early to ask for directions and, even better, a map of the large campus.

Instead, you find a familiar head of cream-colored hair.

Immediately, you gasp and he turns around in confusion, only for a soft smile to spread over his features. It's only been a summer but it's a relief to see that you know another person. Comparing schedules, he points out that you both have Communications 1301 together.

For once, you're glad you have to take these mandatory courses...

But with an abundance of time (as Kazuha just so happens to know where the class is), he accepts your jokingly firtatious proposal to head to the cafe just across campus to grab a morning drink.

It's hardly been long since you've last spoken to him, but there's still so much to talk about! It turns out he opted to rent out a small studio apartment just a few blocks away from campus! Naturally, he invites you over sometime.

He's also admitted that he decided to major in English--something you're not surprised to hear. After all, Kazuha's a natural at the subject, exceeding the assignments and always so eloquent.

If you recall correctly, he used to tote around a little notebook full of little musings and poetry during high school. You wonder if he still does that.

You talk about how you've just moved into the dorms a week ago, how you're lucky to be rooming with two musically inclined (if not a bit rowdy) people. You're sure that he'd take a liking to them once everything is calmed down a bit. Kazuha just raises a brow in half-doubt.

Before you know it, it's been an hours and, to your horror, your first class starts in five minutes. Not to mention that it was back closer to the admin building and you were on the opposite side of campus.

But it's still fun, Kazuha laughing as you jolt up and tug him to stand, the two of you running to get to class on time. With heaving breaths and flushed faces, you make it just a few minutes late. Luckily, your professor didn't mind because it was the first day...

Following class, you have to make your way to Bio 1301, Kazuha having a major-specific English course to get to. Before you can speak, though, he offers his phone to you. It's newer than his old flip phone you'd tease him about all the time, the screen clean save for a few stray fingerprints.

After you put in your number, he beams and quickly sends you a call so you can have his too.

"Call me after you're done with classes, alright?"

You promise to and the two of you set off.

Biology proves to be uneventful, a full hour and a half of the (rather attractive) professor going over what to expect as well as passing out lab waiver forms. A necessary precaution, he said with a reserved sigh. You wonder what happened.

When the hour ends, you have some time before World History, followed by a Trigonometry course.

By the time you find your trig class, most of the seats are already taken, making that feeling of dread fill the pit of your stomach. Nothing is worse than being forced to take whatever seat is left. But, noticing a seat by the windows, it's not so bad.

You're in the back, though, settling your bag beneath your chair and picking out a pen and schedule book.

At some point, someone walks in and asks if the seat in front of you is taken. You don't bother to look up long as you fish out a notebook, letting him know it's free.

As class goes on, you realize that the guy in front of you most likely hasn't been paying attention. Considering that the professor has been rehashing stuff from Algebra...you're not surprised. But something about his dark hair catches your eye. Not to mention his striking gold eyes...hm.

It's not until you catch his profile as he stares out the window that it clicks.

"Xiao."

His eyes dart to look at you, a confused look washing over his face. You repeat his name.

"Yes?"

Part of him is just about ready to leave as recognition floods your expression, smile wide. How could you possibly---

"I can't believe the shy kid who used to tear up whenever his turn on the swing was taken would grow up to be this handsome!"

The tips of his ears turn red fast, something that you remember very well about him, and his gaze quickly flicks over to the professor still dragging on. When gold settles back on you, they're practically begging for you to lower your voice.

"It's been forever--I can't believe that you-"

"If you're going to talk, do it outside of class."

Ah. Oopsie.

Time seems to drag on while you buzz in your seat, excited to see your childhood friend after loosing contact. You've missed him over the years, always wondering what happened to him, how he's been. And finally, when class ends, he gets up and waits for you.

Naturally, you want to catch up, so you invite him to go to the cafe with you for a late lunch.

"You still like almond tofu right? It's all you used to eat when we were little." Laughing, you nudge his shoulder and the color returns to his cheeks as he mumbles a yes.

When you step into the cafe, a familiar voice greets you.

"If I knew a cute customer would be coming, I would've gone on break."

Kazuha leans on the counter, mirth in his eyes and you gasp. It makes sense now, why he's so well acquainted with the campus and why he'd already known what to order when you arrived for drinks-

"What can I get for you today?"

"Your number."

Xiao's face pales at the blatant flirting, wondering if he should've just declined the invitation to the cafe until the two of you burst into laughter. Though, it's hardly better.

"Sorry, sorry- This is Kazuha, one of my friends from high school. Kazuha, this is my childhood best friend Xiao."

With a day so filled with nice coincidences, you doubt that life can get any better than this.

Oh, how wrong you'd be.

#anon asks #no primogems anon #kazuha x xiao x reader #xiao and his two lovely dumb s/o's #college au #polycule #polyamory #meet cute #xiao #kazuha #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fics #genshin impact

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sapnoopy · 3 years

Text

Second Place. ;; Dream x Reader

genre: angst, soulmate au, enemies to lover au.

Will be split into two parts! ^^

Clay and I would always compete over the smallest thing. Whether who can read a book faster, or who can eat the peas on our plate faster.

As we grew older, it mainly became academics and our athletic skills. But I was always second place. Sure, second place doesn’t sound bad, but I hated how Clay was better than me.

My friends and the girls around talks about if they’ve met their soulmates or what kind of mark was on their arm. It was great listening and all, but I had more stuff to focus.

My ear catches a familiar laugh glancing at the dirty blonde hair sitting on the table, fooling around with his friends. I didn’t get it. I knew I studied more, I practiced sports more, but how is he better than me? Natural selection at its finest I guess.

I peeked at my arm seeing the mark for the 50th time. The mark was a smiley face.

Putting my focus on my notes, The bell rings and everyone goes back to their seats. The teacher enters the class holding a pile of papers.

"Goof afternoon students! Hope you're having a wonderful day. Anyways, I have a announcement for you guys! We will be having a big test in two weeks!"

Groans and the sound of disappointment fills the room.

Sighing, I listen to the teacher explaining how this is a big part in our grades. The teacher ends explaining, and starts with the lesson. Feeling a buzz in my pocket, I check my phone seeing that I got a text from Clay.

Clay: Our parents planned to have dinner together. Its at 7pm.

Me: kk.

Since we live next to each other, our parents get along. Here comes the getting compared time.

Stomach filling with dread, I focus on class while having a familiar pair of eyes on me.

Time passes, I enter my house noticing no ones at home heading straight to my room. Throwing my bag to the corner of my room, I flop onto my bed and groaning in exhaustion.

I hear a light scratches on my window lifting my head of to see Patches, Clay's cat. Putting a smile on my face, I crawl to the window opening it letting the cat come in.

"Hey Patches! How are you doing today?"

Rubbing onto my body I get a meow as a response. A giggle comes out of my mouth patting her.

Patches comes to my room after school sometimes for us to cuddle and take a nap. She basically became my emotional support.

I lay down opening my arms indicating her lay down with me. I check the time seeing it's 4pm thinking I have enough time to take a nap and get ready. Yawning, I gave Patches pats and fell into deep slumber.

Waking up to the cold air hitting my face, I've noticed I forgot to close the window and noticed Patches was gone. Slightly disappointed, I checked my phone noticing the texts from Clay.

Clay: Is Patches at your place?

Clay: We're going to the restaurant together. come out at 6:30.

Clay: I'm coming in in 35 more min.

Checking the time, my eyes widen and I immediately pop out of bed running to the showroom starting the shower and stripping. I have 30 more minutes. Taking a quick shower and popping out wrapping my body in a towel I dash to my closet grabbing a gray dress. Getting changed, doing make up, yada yada all that shit.

I check the time noticed I have 3 more minutes. Grabbing stuff that I need I head downstairs going out making sure the door is locked.

"Nice. You had 14 more seconds." I hear a voice and a car that was started up.

"Shut up." I mutter rolling my eyes heading to his car opening the door and entering into the passenger seat.

Clay does the same, putting on his seatbelt and starts to drive.

Silence fills the car and my eyes are looking outside. I've noticed the same pair of eyes again staring at me making me sigh.

"Can you like, not? Stare at me? Do I look that bad?" I grumbled.

"No no. Quite the opposite. You look stunning as usual."

Heat covers my ears punching his arm getting a small 'ow' from him.

"What's wrong with you?? You ate something weird today?"

"Hey, am I not allowed to compliment or two?"

"It's just weird to get one from you."

"Okay, okay."

Our conversation ends and I look back at the window. The window reflects on Clay making me notice how good he looks. Gasping at the sudden thought of mine, I slapped myself getting a questioning look from him.

"You ok there?" He asks.

"Yeah just thinking of something. Don't mind me."

"Okay. We're almost there by the way."

We pull up at the restaurant, entering the place trying to find our parents who seemed to already be drinking. We head to our parents who finally sees us.

"Good evening Clay and Y/N! Very glad that you join dinner today. Sit down, it'll be rude to stand forever." My father exclaims.

Clay pulls a seat for me to sit in giving him small thanks. He sits down next to me grabbing a menu for us to see. Trying to see the menu more better, I get closer to Clay getting a smell of eucalyptus from him.

Picking a dish from the menu, I called for the waiter telling her what I'm ordering. Clay proceeds to do the same. The waiter leaves our table and my mother coughs getting our attention.

"So Y/N and Clay. How was school today? Anything exciting?" She asks.

"Not much ma'am. Our exams are getting closer so we have to start preparing for it." Clay replies, getting a smile from her. She looks at me suddenly changing of how she stares.

"I wish my daughter was smart as you. Always getting second place, at worst third place, what a shame. I wish you were my son instead." She laughs.

I chew my cheek in discomfort. Clay awkwardly laughs trying to say something but I stop him by lightly bumping my leg at him.

The atmosphere slightly gets awkward but Clay's father starts talking about the economy which really helps. Our food comes and we finish it peacefully without any commotion.

"Clay, we plan to go to a bar after this. Please bring home Y/N safely ok? Don't be up to late and I'll see you tomorrow." His mother pats his shoulder and he nods.

I give my farewell to the adults and head inside the car. Clay starts up the car driving back. Our ride back was very quiet but a nice quiet. We get there and I leave the car thanking Clay.

"Wait." he stops me.

"What's wrong?"

"I- nothing. Good night."

Slightly confused, I give a good night back entering the house heading to my room. I get changed and as soon as I was about to head to bed, I remember what my mother said. Sighing, I go to my desk pulling my notebooks studying for a bit.

going to cut off here cuz its getting too long lmao

ALSO sorry for not posting for awhile ;; will be active again!!

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken #dream mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt headcanons #mcyt angst #fanfic #ao3

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neovisioned · 4 years

Text

♡ꜜ out of my league﹫mark lee

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums

pairing : mark x reader (f)

genre : tiny angst, fluff, smut with some plot, bestfriend!mark, college!au, best friends to lovers.

warnings : weed, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, praising.

word count : +4k

synopsis : your best friend Mark Lee tells you all the things he believed, you were always out of his league.

Mark Lee has been in love with the same person for as long as he could remember. It's something he took some time to understand, days to wrap his head around.

Where do you draw the line between deep friendship, platonic love between friends and a connection running deeper, a love that seeks more than the label "friends" ?

Laying on your bed, his right hand throws a tennis ball in the air, easily catching it while his left hand hold the rolled up paper between two fingers.

It's a shame, the smoke he's blowing out of his lungs is probably sticking to your bed sheets, ones he noticed you washed the moment he dropped his body on your bed.

Soft rose fragrance, traces of an exotic fruit he can not pin point, though Mark is sure he could recognise the perfume of your detergent between thousands of others.

Heavy sigh, smoke escaping his lips like a dragon dissolving in the air, heavy eyelids closing in front of his brown irises. He really should stop smoking, Mark thinks. It's a black hole in his wallet, it is not that good for his health and fuck, does it makes his mind wonder.

Correction, Mark should stop smoking around you. Because, whenever he does, his mind might search in the deepest, darkest folds of his brain for a new topic, he'll always, forever, come back to you.

Mark Lee has been in love with you for as long as he can remember.

It's something he's been aware of for some years now. It's crazy how he can pinpoint the moment his mind clicked, the moment he put two and two together. He can still visualise the moment his heart went from a friendship he'd die for to a love he'd die for, one so strong he, himself, was dumbfounded by his years long blindness.

It happened right before prom, second to last year of high school. Mark Lee remembers when you stepped out of your father's car (he doesn't trust any other boy but Mark, he insisted on driving you to your school's dance).

Pretty deep blue dress, it's his favourite colour on his favourite person. You did not do anything special to your hair, only added a bit more makeup. Though, it's not your appearance that made everything click, you've always been pretty, it wasn't the first time your friend noticed.

Rather, it's when your date shows up. It's when one of the school's popular kid shows up and makes you dance that he understands. He wants it to be him so bad. He wants to make you twirl, he wants to make you laugh.

Mark understands it isn't just him being mad that you're not answering your phone, it's love. Jealousy, green monster eating away at his heart when he wonders if you're still with him, it's a hand tightly wrapping around the muscle when he wonders if you're going to fall into someone else's arms.

Mark remembers it, it was five years ago. Late summer night where he stayed on his phone for too long, love sick kid scrolling through pictures and pictures of his prom waiting for a text from his best friend.

He didn't say anything, maybe Mark was a bit of a coward, and you were out of his league.

“Mark ?”

From all the things you best friend loves about you, if he had to pick, it'd be the way you say his name. No matter the intonation, no matter the context, the men loves the way it sounds coming out of your lips.

He thinks he won't ever get enough of it, it's intoxicating, makes him think he has the prettiest name after your own.

Eyelids slowly open, tired smile stretching his lips. You're steading in front of your bed, freshly showered, hand turning your small projector on.

“Hm ?”, he doesn't bother answering with words, humming softly. His head turns to the side, following your movements around the bedroom he knows like the back of his hand.

“This one or...That one ?”, you ask, playing with your remote to show your best friend two animation movies you both saw too many times.

“First one.” You've noticed over time, his voice always gets deeper when he smokes, brown eyes always get a shade darker.

“Alright, baby chose.”

Ah, correction. If there's one thing that Mark loves, it's the pet names you give him. So natural, honey filled, he wished you meant them.

Baby, babe, darling. He loves it all, he wants it all, he wants you all.

Unaware of his thoughts, you finally crawl up next to him, the shirt you're wearing as your pyjamas riding up, Mark takes another hit at that.

Familiar sound of Netflix resonates in your room as you take yet another remote and turn your lights off, before gesturing towards your friend. You're not an avide smoker but, you infale the smoke a few times before giving the rolled up paper back to the brunette.

Mark knows what's about to happen, whenever your movie night has a bit of green, the movie gets long lost behind while you two would rather speak about anything and everything. After years of friendship, you'd think you two would've took and turned every subject under the pale moon but, Mark definitely did not expect this.

Hands free, he crushes the cigarette on the special painted bowl you have for him, Mark also loves the way you have some things for him on your house as if he lives with you.

Your right hand is quick to find his left hand, an old habit your have. Your fingers stretch against his own, comparing sizes like kids flirting, swinging your hands from left to right. Your arm easily gets tired by holding your hand up in the air like this, but the warmth of Mark's hand and the way his fingertips rough by his guitar strings brush against your palm every now and then feels like home.

“How do you know when you're in love ?”, your voice's soft, mindlessly humming to the song in the animation movie Mark chose. Is that the topic you decided to bring up...? Mark's hand stays still for a moment, following your own hand's movement as he thinks for a while.

“Don't give me that “You just know” bullshit.”, you mumble when he stays quiet for a bit too long.

“But I think you do, just know. I think it's different for everyone.”, he starts, speech slightly altered by the green herb intoxicating his mind.

“How is it... For you ?”, you ask. See, you know Mark had some crushes here and there, but you don't think he has ever been in love or, at least, he never told you.

“It's... Loving the way they say your name, wanting to be with them as much as possible. It's... Craving to be as close as possible.” and unconsciously, his fingers wrap around yours.

“It's finding happiness in their joy, sharing their sadness. It's small things like memorising the perfume they wear and what food they dislike.”

The brunette stays quiet for a moment, heavy eyes look upon your locked hands in the darkness, chest light, mind foggy.

“It's them feeling like home.”, he finally says.

Mark smiles to himself, you do feel like home, you make everything feel like home. From the way you have a pillow and the way you keep a toothbrush for him, to the way you always feel so warm and safe.

Thankfully for you, the lack of light hides the small blush creeping on your cheeks.

Mark doesn't know, you've been in love with him for years, though you've been aware for a bit longer. His confession takes your breathe away with a heavy sigh, you squeeze his hand.

“I was in love with you.”

Was, you take the safe route as the words fly out of your mouth before you can even understand. Even if he's shocked, you can play the past card.

“I was in love with you too.”, silence doesn't last long as Mark let's out as well, eyes on the movie even though he isn't paying any attention : his favourite line just played and he didn't even let a giggle out.

The words make your ears ring, skin burn red, heart beat against your ribcage. He was too...? He was. He isn't anymore.

“Why didn't you tell me ?”, you breath out, turning to the side. You use an elbow to support your body, you dare look at your best friend's face.

It's crazy how he still have the still has the same baby face you've always known, the same pretty eyes and the same smile, his jaw got sharper with years and voice deeper and yet, he's still the same. He's home.

Mark, him, doesn't dare look at you for a second. Before he does, soft eyes looking directly into yours. Why didn't he tell you ? He knows why, he has a list of reasons why and another list of reasons why he should've told you he'd rather not think about right in this moment.

“You're out of my league.”, he breathes out. You can read your best friend like a book, you know he is not joking when he tells you so. And yet, you can't wrap your head around the idea.

“I— What, no !”, you're almost whispering and screaming at him at the same time, getting up to sit on your knees. He was out of your league, he has always been, you never—.

“You were—. You are out of mine.”, you tell him, almost dumbfounded. For a split second, it feels like someone's finally giving you the dream you've always wanted and, the moment it touches your hands, it slips through your fingers.

Can you be nostalgic of something you've never even experienced ? And yet, your mind grabs onto a single thing. Present tense, you're still out of his league, he still thinks so.

In his semi-high state, the brunette chuckles out, as dumbfounded.

You wonder if there are feelings still unknown to humans because this, the pull you're feeling at the strings of your heart and the lump in your throat combined to the angering heat taking over your body aren't emotions you're used to feeling at the same time.

“Hey, what's wrong ?”, your best friend asks, an arm wrapping around your neck to pull you closer. You're sure it's supposed to be for hug, one you'd happily accept if you weren't in this very situation. Both forearms stop your body from colliding against his, Mark frowns.

In another situation, he'd be able to read you like an open book and, maybe he's thankful he isn't completely sober right now. If he wasn't slightly high, he'd be as red.

“Are you...Are you still in love with me ?”, you ask. It's almost a whisper, one Mark is sure he would've caught if it wasn't for the almost silent scene going on in the long forgotten movie.

Is he still in love with you ? Yes. His mind screams a loud, obnoxious yes. His body screams another loud and obnoxious yes and yet. Yet, Mark stays silent for what feels like minutes. He knows he is, he's sure of it, he doesn't know if he should say it.

Yes, yes, yes.

“Yeah.”

To be in love with your best friend, to confess your love after years, decades, even.

Such a simple word and yet, it hangs in the air, you can almost make it out in the slight darkness of the room. When Mark has the ability to put words on how he feels, you can't put anything on what goes on in your brain and body when he says the simple truth. You think your heart might fall out right into your best friend's hand, if he did not already have it. Your mind twist the word again and again just to find a fault, a break, a rupture.

There isn't none, he's in love with you.

There's another few seconds where you stay silent. You decide actions speak louder than words. Where Mark pulled you into a hug, you pull him into a kiss you've been craving for years.

Carnal need sleeping deep in both your minds, it doesn't need much to be awakened, burning a fire louder than hell's. Your lips touch his. Its shy, hesitant but, when Mark's arm tighten around your neck, no words need to be spoken.

The sweet, innocent, childlike kiss turns desperate in matter of seconds. Your best friend pulls you closer, closer, closer. He catches your leg between his, pushes your chest against his to the point where you can feel his heart hammering.

Lips move in harmony, common rhythm is quickly found and, you whine the moment he pulls away.

“Tell me.”, he breathes out against your lips, it's a desperate plea for something he had been waiting to hear, something he thought he'd never hear. “Say it.”, it's demanding, greedy. You give in easily.

“I'm in love with you.”

There's a weight pulled out of your chest, you'd chant it again and again if you could. You'd scream in if you could, you'd breathe it against his skin.

The brunette pulls you into a bruising kiss, he pours his soul out, hand cupping the back of your neck.

If this is a dream, Mark is determined to not let it go. Using his body at his advantage, positions are reversed, the brunette quickly towards over you. You switched you could turn the light back on but, the colourful lights of the movie dance against his jawline and shine against his wet lips, you decide your best friend looks like a painter's muse.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about you.”, he breathes pretty words against your skin, taking his lips from your mouth to your jaw. It's loving, deep kisses, each to mean something.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about being more to you, wished we were more.”

More, more, more. You want more too, you need more too. You refuse to let go now.

“We can be, we can.”, it's frantic. You cup his face with your hands, bringing him closer. “Spent nights thinking about what we could be.”

It makes flowers bloom in his chest, he isn't able to take his lips away from your skin. The tip of his nose digs in your cheek, he inhales deeply. Oh, how he loves the soap you use.

“What did you see ?”, he asks, lips peppering kisses down your neck, hand gripping your shirt. You're quick to pull it up above your hips. First wanting to completely pull it off your body, it seems the brunette isn't patient enough.

His lips leave your neck to your tummy, butterfly kisses here and there until he stops to your panties.

“Us. Together. Living tog—.”

Your sentence's quickly cut off by your best friend, maybe a lot more now, pressing his tongue flat against the fabric of your panties.

If you weren't aware of how wet you were getting, you sure were now.

“Living together, yeah ?”, he asks, bringing his face closer to yours again right after disregarding his shirt somewhere. There's a few seconds where you pose, shamelessly taking in the men's figure.

Forehead against yours, his digits run along the line of your underwear. He's as nervous as you are, as shaken up as you are yet, you two have never been more certain of one thing that doesn't need to be said anymore.

Mark bites down on his lip, you almost hear tje mechanism in his head twisting and turning to find the right way to ask you.

You beat him at it anyways, nodding as your arms wrap around his neck.

There's one thing you'll never tell him, you spent night dreaming about a future and other were filled with thoughts of his fingers.

The guitar player had pretty hands, even prettier when they wrapped around the neck of his guitar or when he picked as some strings.

“'was too scared to tell you.”, he says and, you'd tell him you know. You know exactly how it feels, the fear of rejection by the one you've know you're entire life. You'd tell him it doesn't matter now that you now if you could.

His fingers stop you from articulating right, index and middle finger greedily collecting the wetness between your folds, the brunette doesn't wait much longer before pushing two digits in.

“I—Mark.”, there it is, a moan of his name that intoxicates Mark more than any other drug. Pupils grow wide, ears greedy to hear more. It's him, him managing to make you moan so softly in the dead of the night, him that has you wrapped around his finger.

“Fuck, say my name again.”, it's another desperate plea, say his name again so he knows it isn't a vivid dream he's going to wake up from, say his name until it's the only thing rolling out of your tongue.

You easily oblige when he starts moving his fingers, slowly yet, in a way that quickly had you gasping for air.

There's nothing rough in his actions, expect from the way his teeth gaze at the skin of your neck before softly biting down just to sooth to spot with his tongue afterwards.

It's agonising, like he wants to make sure he maps out your body to remember it perfectly after tonight. His fingers curl and drag against your walls, he remembers how and where.

His free hand creeps under your raised shirt, quickly finding your chest as his mouth finds your again.

There, he catches every sweet sound you make like he doesn't want any body else to hear them, tongue tastes yours as they lazily battle.

“Shit, baby. Just like that, god.”, when you think Mark couldn't get any better, his fingertips brush against a spot that has your hips raising up, slowly rocking against his hand.

“Right there ?”, you nod frantically as he does it again and again, lazily fingering you whilst he lets your hips grind against his digits.

“So fucking pretty.”, it's a murmur once he detaches his lips from your own, wet and red by the exchange.

It's not the first time Mark calls you pretty but at this very moment, it's different.

His wrist twist the right way just as he's about to pick the pace up and the familiar feeling grows alongside the flower blooming in your chest as Mark whisperes sweet nothings into your ear.

He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, it has his cock throbbing in his sweats. Carnal desire to feel you wrapped around him as his fingers speed up until you come undone around them.

It's a mess of his name and profanities you hope your neighbours aren't hearing.

“Want more, want you.”, you babble once you come down from your high, sweat collecting around your hairline, chest irregularly raising up and down.

When Mark seems to take too long to process your words, you take matters into your own hand.

A moment, Mark struggles to find his words and the other, his back hits the bed with a soft gasp.

He's quick to raise with his elbows, almost having whiplash when you sit down on his lap after taking off your ruined and soaked panties.

“Let me help you with that.”, there's a slight shyness in your voice Mark decides he'd die for when your clumsily work on the strings of his grey sweats.

Unspoken words, soft silence when you look into his eyes and help him push the fabric down his thighs. The air is thick, your heart beats harder and harder, your chest swells when Mark pulls you closer by your hips.

“I've been in love with you.”, he starts as you raise, lining your core with his hard member, one your eyes lingered on before he opened his mouth. There's a pause, your lips part as to say something when you slowly sit down, but no sound comes from your mouth when Mark's leaking head pushes inside.

“For so— so fucking long.”, he uses the last bits of air in his lungs to let it out, voice cracking when you sit inch by inch.

You wonder how you went so long without telling him, telling him you love him feels too good to take it back or ever again. There's a slight part of you wondering where you'd be right now if you told him sooner but you're quick to push it away.

Both hands cup his face as you bring him closer for a kiss as you fully settle on his lap, though the exchange doesn't last long. There's a beautiful groan coming from the men in front of you just as you moan out from the sensitivity, the fulness.

Mark's red lips fall open the moment you start moving up and down on him, eyes rolling back the slightest bit like he forces himself to look at you as you ride him. But, when his groans turn into moans, the brunette hides his face in the crook of your neck, arms tightly wrapping around your waist.

You don't think your can be any closer, chest against chest, your mouth to his ear as he mumbles about how you were made for him.

Up and down, up and down, your legs start burning but you keep moving on top.

“Fuck, I love you.”, it slips out when his hips meet yours halfway, not that you can say it, you swear you won't stop doing it at any given occasion.

Mark answers my sucking on your neck, probably drawing blood as he more boldly snaps his hips against yours.

You find the same desperation as when he was kissing you, carnal need wanting to be met, he fucks into you just like he means it, switching between deep and slow to fast and short snaps.

For the second time, you feel it tighten, knot threatening to burst at any moment. If you aren't moaning, your mouth hands silently open and thankfully, Mark can tell you're getting close by the way you're clenching around him.

“You're doing so good, so so good for me.”, voice almost unrecognisable, the way you can feel every vein and the way he pulse tells you he's as close, if not more.

“Come with me.”

After years of tuning your body to his voice, it follows the command almost immediately, there's a few seconds where the brunette snaps his hips, slowly, deeply, right before letting a draw out moan against your neck.

It's the last thing you hear, the way he moans you name breathlessly against your skin before you follow right behind, coming right around him like he hoped so.

Moans and body against body sound abruptly stop for heavy breathing and soft whines, you blink a few times, forehead against Mark's baked shoulder.

He smells like the apple shampoo he almost wears, he feels like home when his arms tightly wrap around your body and rock from side to side, almost lolling you to sleep. He feels safe, familiar, comfortable.

And, right before you fall deep into sleep, you hear him slightly chuckle at his second favourite movie line.

#neovisioned #mark lee #mark smut #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #super m smut #nct fluff #nct aus #nct scenarios

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detectivemarvelingcomics · 3 years

Note

Could you do some hcs for dating the teen titans?

Yes I can!! I just got HBO Max so I’ve been binging both the animated and the live action series haha 😂 Thank you so much for being my first request!

Also I’m guessing you’re referring to the original teen titans, so if you want the new teen titans just shoot me another request!

Dating the Teen Titans Would Include...

No Specified AU

TW: Language

Genre: Fluff

[DC Masterlist]

Word Count: 2.0K (About 0.2K per Titan)

Dick Grayson

You must have an insane amount of patience, truly, to be able to date Dick Grayson

If the joke book he probably carries around isn’t enough, I would’ve been certain that the ego would drive you away but nope you’re still here

And that’s how you both knew that it was true fucking love you’re both inseparable and the Titans know it.

To put things simply... he loves you and the Titans fear you.

While you’re both somewhat easygoing and hospitable, one would do well not to piss off one or the other because you both come as a package deal and you can kick ass when necessary you just choose not to embarrass Dick like that because you could totally outmatch him.

Don’t ask him that though he’d insist that he’d win.

Best not bring up the first time you met or else the Titans would never let him live it down

But in all seriousness, I see the relationship as rather lighthearted and enjoyable, maybe a bit spontaneous too. Want to go to the beach? Done. Want to kick some ass in Gotham? For sure. It’s like a match made in heaven.

Not to mention that the Titans rather look up to you, which is a definite plus. Not just anyone can date the Dick Grayson.

Wally West

As opposed to popular opinion... I’d think that this is a rather slow relationship.

Speedsters are more than just familiar with how life just flashes by so I think Wally would like to enjoy the relationship at a slower pace, he wants it to last as long as possible.

With that said, you’re both menaces. His speed combined with your cleverness? No one is safe and the Titans know it.

The best moment of your relationship, although this is debatable, was when you and Wally successfully turned the Titan tower into an all-out prank minefield. Trash cans were covered with plastic, buckets of water places on doorways, even wardrobes were switched.

And all done in ten seconds, impressive. Nothing quite like starting a war in the Tower then grabbing burgers after, right?

Kind of cheesy but I can see you both having frequent movie nights that differ in genre according to month. You both probably rotate on who chooses the movie too.

Overall I think you both have a lot of fun together, if I were to compare the “vibes” to something, I would say a summer relationship (that obviously lasts longer than just a summer) where everything is just living life as it goes

Nah because like I said before you guys don’t want to rush things, and you’re always there to remind Wally to just slow down every now and then.

I should probably mention that this is a competitive relationship too, before I go, not everything’s a competition but everything’s a competition, you know? It’s a shame that the Titans often get caught in the cross fire though-

Donna Troy

Oh this one’s fun. Donna’s new to this whole “rest of the world” stuff but luckily she has a wonderful partner who’s willing to teach her everything.

A lot of the relationship consists of you explaining things, but it’s kind of endearing despite Donna’s headstrong attitude towards anything

But Donna is also the kind to be open to learning new things, and you’re open to trying new things. It works like clockwork, you’re both young and willing.

Now these “things” can range from baking cookies to extreme mountain climbing so be prepared for anything in this relationship.

Overall I think the Titans see you both as a really cute relationship, one that anyone could be slightly envious of and one that they’re glad that exists

But despite this loving relationship I think you’d both be absolute machines in a battle, I think one thing that is important to Donna is ultimately respect for each other’s abilities, having grown up on Themyscira and all, and maybe that one battle where you absolutely demolished the enemy was when she really caught interest.

Or not. It could’ve also been when you mistakenly ran into one of the glass walls in the tower and she developed a crush over you while you mumbled a series of curses.

This relationship is strongly built on loyalty, so I think you both would be describes as a pair of ride-or-dies who typically tend to lean towards the latter, especially when trying the more extreme things that Donna asked you about.

But overall I think it’s a really sweet relationship with few bumps, they’re still there but I mean that you’re both good at working through them.

Victor Stone

I feel like this relationship is very classical high school romance, you know?

Like walking to class together, holding each other’s books, stuff like that.

But on the other hand I feel like you’re both a very fun couple to be around, like you know how when you’re with some couples it feels like you’re third wheeling? Not these two. You feel like you’re part of the crew

You guys probably switch between fun couple and parent couple every now and then, I can see the Titans relying on both of you a lot for different things.

You and Victor are definitely the type to play games to determine who buys food, like things as simple as rock-paper-scissors to things as complicated as 8-Ball, and so far you’ve been winning at a ratio of 3:1.

Definitely a very trusting relationship, I feel like you both reach that comfortable stage faster than most, but it feels right, you know? I think you’d both understand that relationships go both ways.

There are probably times where you’re both in a teasing mode too, I think, but they’re mostly light hearted pranks, definitely not anything in the realm of what Wally would do

I kinda want to say that you’re a very active couple in that you both like to go to the gym together and idk take hikes together but at the same time I also want to say that you’re both inclined to stay home and play video games so I guess it’s like a 50/50

I can also see Victor being the type to do small acts of generosity as opposed to like buying gifts to show his appreciation for you, like I feel like he’s more inclined to help you with small tasks when he knows you need it, you know? Overall very cute, hehe

Raven (Rachel Roth)

Now this one’s interesting, you and Raven are certainly an interesting duo, but the most interesting thing would likely be how you met. Let’s say it involved a blood sacrifice, a bat, and a very old bicycle.

No you weren’t trying to summon her someone else was you just ended up being at the wrong place at the wrong time anyway moving on

You’re both the perfect example of opposites attract for more reasons than just one.

But what makes it better is that you’re always open and willing to learn and understand many of the things that Raven does and she appreciates it a lot

It goes both ways also! She’s always willing to do whatever you ask her to and you both end up having at least some fun even if it happens to be something she isn’t used to.

Random, but I think a favorite pass time for both of you is simply sitting in her room and reading books, weird, I know, but like there’s something inherently romantic about either of you excitedly showing the other a certain passage you both enjoyed or telling them about your book, it’s just so sweet.

She definitely has a personal bias towards you, obviously, Garfield can say a joke and she’d stare at him with a straight face but you could say the exact same joke probably right after him and she would crack a smile and she probably does that on purpose but it still feels nice

You also may or may not have caught on to her incantations and now you may or may not be able to perform these spells but you haven’t tried because you wouldn’t know how to but it’s just telling of how much time you spent together.

I only mention this because there was an event in which you corrected her incantation and suddenly hell fire appeared which she had to figure out how to get rid of and since then you both mutually agreed to both (a) not tell the Titans and (b) not say incantations out loud

Koriand’r (Starfire)

STOP YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE anyway you’re definitely both kinds to see beauty in everything

Maybe this relationship is rather dangerous considering you’re both curious people and Kori happens to be able to shoot lasers out of her eyes so maybe you should both be just a little more careful

You’re both probably very doting on both each other and the rest of the Titans and although you’re both well intentioned it has become a case of “oh no there’s two of them” but in like a teasing way

I feel like Kori is very open to sharing a lot of aspects about her culture with you, and you have always found Tamaran culture to be beautiful so it fits

Likewise you share a lot of things about your culture too and you both bond over finding ways to combine them together to make a nice fusion of understandings and it’s all a sweet combination

See a big thing about this relationship if that you both put your everything into it, it is an equal push and equal pull kind of thing where you both love each other with everything that you have and it creates this unbreakable bond that even non-supers have come to acknowledge

Though this also results in the both of you frequently being in your own world even when others are around and that’s something you both promised to fix but yeah...

It’s coming around, don’t worry. You’re both making active efforts but sometimes it just slips your mind and whoops

Now this should go without saying but this trust often leads to powerful combinations when in missions, you’re both fiercely loyal to each other and this often plays in overall favor so all is well

Garfield Logan

This is a fun relationship, definitely, and one that’s also very fulfilling.

You’re both definitely an outdoorsy couple, things like hikes, nature walks (which I guess is also a hike but I’ve been told otherwise), trips to the zoo, etc. but this all just builds the relationship

Also a very sweet one! You both have an unlimited amount of energy and love that you’re often expending said energy volunteering somewhere and helping others out

But when it boils down you’re both also very touchy, I think, you both like being together at all times and cuddles are a frequent occurrence but at the will of the other Titans you both do this in privacy

I also feel like this sweetness can also “flip,” so to say. As in if someone messes with either of you in the relationship the other will come running regardless of whether or not they could do anything about it.

To put it short, you both have each other’s back all the time. Literally, like I said you’re both inseparable.

Despite these I think the relationship would actually be rather lowkey, I don’t think he would be the type to constantly showcase the relationship. I think he’d mention it like once to get it out there but after that he wouldn’t flaunt you around.

I just think that Garfield, even with his usual out and about behavior, is rather modest when it comes to this topic because you’re more to him than just someone to show off, you’re someone who’s important to him and overall he just wants you to be comfortable

If there’s one flaw in this relationship it’s that when you have arguments it’s just horrible, but also rather comedic. Neither of you talk to the other but you both end up still being in the same room together subconsciously. It’s kind of awkward but the coincidences are what makes the other Titans laugh and honestly you both make up within, like, a day or something.

#dc #dc x reader #dc headcanons #teen titans #teen titans x reader #teen titans headcanons #dc scenarios #teen titans scenarios #my writings #requests

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moondustis · 4 years

Text

remember when (m)

pairing: jaehyun + reader genre: angst, smut, soulmate!au, rich kid!au, convenience marriage!au, hurt/comfort, college!au (more details + warnings after read more) word count: 12,7k summary: A story about vulnerability and the lines we draw to avoid it. About soulmates, desires, setting yourself free. And, of course, a story about love and discovering exactly what it is. song recs: skin by mac miller and pure love by hayley williams

warnings: there are some mentions of drug use, brief mention of mental issues, bad parenting. just overall some subjects that might not be comfortable to read like i usually put on my fics but it's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing graphics happens! disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. none of the events described are real or are an accurate representation of the people and brands named.

a/n: i would like to thank mary (neostains) for requesting this fic and cami (caiuscassiuss) for helping me with some informations about how ivy leagues work lol. this is my longest work so far, i think, and it’s a very special one. i hope you guys enjoy it!

✶

There was a time in your childhood where you remember being obsessed with princess movies. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, name a fairytale and you would have probably watched it a couple of times, entranced by the images playing on the newest television your father had bought.

Isn’t it fucked up that young girls are always fed this stereotypical image of love? It’s like a woman is not good for anything but to love someone, to be a half until she found the other and became whole. At 8 you ate that up like no one else.

At 11 your mother hires someone to give you a talk, about how the world worked and about the weird name that would appear in your arm once you turned 18. It feels like a lecture, the woman telling you about perfect matches, the probabilities of love and soulmates in a flat tone that didn’t make you feel as excited as you did watching the fairytales you used to like. When you tell your friends at school about it, they act surprised at the way you were told and instead, tell you about the stories about meeting your true love their own parents had shared.

At 15, your mother enrolls you in preparatory school, with full theatricals about intellects and getting into the best college possible so you can do your duty as heir of your father’s company when it becomes necessary.

It takes you a while, but you realize finally that love is nothing compared to money when you see for the first time that the name on your mother's wrist is not your fathers. Not long after that, you find out that for the sake of the company, you would be marrying Jung Jaehyun, heir of the second biggest automobilistic company in the country.

At 18 you think romance and love are trivial things.

⋄

NOVEMBER, 2013

It’s a harsh winter, one that makes your hands tremble and your head hurt more than usual.

You rub at your temples as you make your way down the hallway as students pass by you at the same pace as yours to get to their next class. A dreading routine, one that is so busy it leaves you with no time to think of anything else but the essay you have to write, or the grade you have been waiting to receive.

Today, though, your headache is so intense that your mind is filled with nothing but a black void.

Despite that, you walk in small steps to your literature lecture. Your bag feels as heavy as your head and the thick wool sweater you have on is barely enough to keep you warm, legs shivering from the stupid skirt they made you wear. Knee length, of course, but still a bother to sit and move.

Fuck boarding school, is what you think as you pass a group of boys talking loudly. One of them has a Harvard pin on his cardigan, you notice in the back of your mind. It only makes you feel sicker.

The first bell rings and you realize how slow you have been really walking. A faster pace, a muttered curse and then the second bells makes you feel like your ears are melting, headache increasing. Now you’re late, a rare occurrence that will probably not affect your records in any way, but still, makes you walk faster.

It all happens very fast. You turn into the corridor that leads to your classroom but not a second later you’re bumping straight into someone, books in your hand scattering to the floor and head spinning from the impact. It’s hard keeping your balance, but the harsh grip on your forearms helps and then you’re opening your eyes, that you didn't notice you had squeezed shut in the first place.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry.” The voice is familiar but the curse feels alien on your ears. Jung Jaehyun never curses, he has manners better than that. “I’m running late and walking too fast.”

He mumbles and you almost snort at the obviousness of it all. At the fact you were literally doing the same thing. “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention.” There’s no reason for either of you to be apologizing, is what you think about as your hand immediately moves to your temple again in hopes pressing on it will cease the pain.

He’s looking right at you when you finally meet his eyes. His face is painted with embarrassment, the red hue on his ears a dead giveaway. He doesn’t keep eye contact for more than five second, instead moving to pick up your books for you. “Still, I’m very sorry.” He sounds polite, as always. The curse from before is still fresh on your mind.

You had met Jung Jaehyun at the age of 9, not that you remember exactly how it went. Some random brunch where you and him sat side by side as your mothers talked about whatever was happening seven years ago. You remember your old nanny being there, and how she asked sweetly if you would like more juice. You remember missing her when she got fired three weeks later for unrelated matters that were never told to you. And that’s about it.

After that, the years passed with Jaehyun being a weird presence in your life. The rich kids ran in the same circles, that didn’t take you a long time to realize and wherever you went he was there too.

German classes at 11, the birthday party of the daughter of someone you didn't know at 12, etiquette classes at 13. An event for your father's company at 14, one of his fathers at 15 and now at 16, attending the same boarding school and having to meet each other like this, with awkward smiles and polite conversation. Because navigating a relationship you didn't know the other very well, but too well at the same time was a weird thing to do.

Jung Jaehyun was like you, but at the same time he wasn't. You were friends but at the same time merely acquaintances.

But this you remember vividly: him asking you random things at german classes and making you laugh with his awkward pronunciation. Him eating cake by your side at the birthday party, covering his lips before he asked you if you like chocolate or vanilla more. Him making fun of you quietly for dropping down your fork loudly in the middle of etiquette class. Him standing awkwardly by your side while you got reprimanded by your mother during the event, for not properly remembering the name of a lady that came to greet you, your head down as you forced yourself not to cry in front of him.

And then, his father clapping yours on the back after they talked about how lovely it would be if someday the two of you got married to join economic forces. No, not someday. When you two got married.

You, pretending he didn't exist after that day, because you realized that this too you wouldn't get to decide.

Jaehyun clears his throat, hands you your books. “How is your father?” He asks, a stupid question to ask when you're both late. A stupid question to ask, period.

You try not to grimace. “He's okay. Alive.” And then he’s chuckling lowly, awkwardly.

“That’s good, no company to run at 16 then.” He tries to joke and it's amusing, in a way that for someone else might not be. But you two are the same, at least when it comes to this.

“And hopefully never.” A stupid thing to hope for, but still he smiles at you.

Then the moment is over, the third alarm sounds and both your eyes shoot open and you’re muttering goodbyes before heading to your classes.

Your head still hurts, but you don’t feel as cold anymore.

⋄

2015

Anticipation, isn’t that just a fancier word to describe the gut feeling that something is going to happen? Worst yet when you know exactly what it is, but have no possible ways of knowing the possible outcome.

There’s a window behind your advisor, with a view to the field where the lacrosse team practices. You watch it with a lack of interest as the older lady flips through pages and more pages of what is possibly your future.

No, not possibly. Definitely your future. Because at least to this, you knew the only outcome possible.

It’s a pretty day, one that shouldn’t be spent inside a room with wood furniture and shelves and more shelves of books, that are almost as many as the certificates on the wall. Not when it also happens to be your birthday.

“This is a really good essay, ___. You have a talent with words.” Your advisor breaks the silence in a flat voice despite it being a compliment. It makes your eyes immediately refocus on her but she gives you no time yet to reply. “I am sure the admission team will read it with interest.”

“Thank you.” A polite smile reaches your lips. She was never much of a praiser, not that she needed to be. Your last name carried all the confidence you needed to have for a thing like this.

And, perhaps the interest they would be having would be exactly about that. What does the only heir of the biggest automotive company in the country have to offer for Stanford? Probably a lot, with a weight that heavy on her shoulders.

“You have started applications to only two schools, are you sure you would not like to add more?” Now she says it in a weirdly soft tone. Persuasion, because it would look good for the school that one of their best students accepted to all the ivy leagues. Your GPA would make sure of that, but that's not all.

“I don’t see the point. Stanford has always been my only choice.” You say it as nicely as possible because this is an old conversation.

“I see, well. This is it then, there's a few other students interested in attending Stanford too." She smiles bitterly, gathering the papers and putting it back on their respective folders. "But the chances of you getting in are very good. I'm sure all your hard work will pay off.”

You go to thank her but at that moment there's a pinch on your arm that leaves you distracted. It's followed by a weird burning sensation that doesn't cease when you grip it underneath the table as gently as possible. If anything, the fabric of your cardigan only makes it worse.

She bids you your goodbyes, with pleasantries exchanged but when you reach the door to leave she interrupts. “Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday, ____.” She smiles when you turn to thank her. “Please enjoy the rest of the day, turning 18 is very special.”

With a small bitter smile and promise to do so, you leave the room.

You reach your dorm room in no time, a stoic face on but with quick steps. And you try not to think about it, but the burning sensation on your arms continues.

It goes like this:

You close the door behind you gently, dropping your things down and immediately crumbling as you slide to the floor, unable to stand still anymore. You cry, for the second time today because birthdays were just not good. For about 10 minutes that's all that happens, your silent sobs and complete silence filling the room.

The burning in your arms stays there as a painful reminder and it tempts you to look, even though you know that the outcome didn't matter, not for you. Because behind blurry teary eyes you can see perfectly the image of your own mother's arm and the name of someone you didn't know, that she probably also didn't.

Because you are now 18 and you think romance and love are trivial things, that's all they could be.

You are now 18, and when you can't stand not knowing for another minute, you raise the sleeve of your cardigan and the name Jung Jaehyun is there on your wrist.

An ugly, incredulous laugh leaves your lips and soon turns into a sob. Of course it had to be him, you and Jung Jaehyun were tied to each other for a reason that was beyond fate.

You squeeze your eyes at the same time your hands squeeze your thighs, trying to get a grip. You calm yourself down, deep breaths in and out, your mind providing the good and the bad. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed like a trick the universe was playing on you. One, it would be worse if another name appeared, a name that you would have to pretend didn't exist, because this was just another thing you didn't have a say in. This was supposed to happen anyway, maybe it was better this way.

Then your mind provides another thought that makes your mind swirl. Jung Jaehyun had turned 18 in February, your name had appeared on his arms months ago and he didn't say a word about it to you, or to anyone for all you know. Maybe he was pretending too, maybe he wanted more time thinking that at least this he would get to choose.

Well, whatever fairytale that had been created inside stupid minds, was gone now.

⋄

The whole thing is announced two weeks later, in a gossip magazine with information from an inside source. Information that is carefully crafted from a marketing team the moment you reveal the result.

A result, like a test had been applied and you got Jung Jaehyun for whatever reason.

You exchange pleasantries the next time you see him, no trace of being too young to know the rest of your lives already. You just look at each other in maybe defeat, while your families make a toast to celebrate a wedding to take place in a few years from now. A wedding that held meaning beyond the marks that tied the two of you. Destiny just helped a little bit, it was just a good excuse to justify a marriage that had been arranged ages ago.

A month later you get accepted to Stanford, of course you do. And your mother's smile is a loud reminder of every single time she called you and inquired about every grade, every step you made to make sure this happened and that it all happened accordingly.

It doesn't take you long to find out Jaehyun got accepted there too.

⋄

AUGUST 2016

The heels of your Miu Miu boots make small stomping noises on the wood floor sounds as you walk through shelves and shelves filled with books. It’s not a loud sound, probably only perceived by your own ears, and you let it distract you as you navigate the big corridors of the Green Library.

Stanford had made your eyes shine during your first visit and then for the first months of your freshman year. The thrill of finally experiencing something new and yet undiscovered carried on until it gave space to normalcy, another routine. But this time, a feeling blossomed inside your stomach with wanting to eat it up.

A feeling that died and resurrected every now and then, but you played it safe. Navigating it with baby steps with fear of what could happen if you strained a little too far from the line. And what could that be? A magazine spread on how a famous philanthropic's daughter parties too hard in college, with pictures of you doing a line on marble countertops? A class failed and the disappointment on your mother's voice when she called you? A scandal about your night escapades? You didn’t want to find out just yet.

So you settle for your new routine, of going out every now and then with the roommates that you were about to consider friends. Pondering if it’s worth it to join another club, just to feel like there's something else that makes you feel excited. Coming to the library, studying to keep your mind busy because your thoughts were never up to no good.

And it's so easy, being busy like you always managed to, with assignments, and volunteering and maintaining a perfect GPA.

It's also easy to ignore Jung Jaehyun’s existence. Because this time, unlike in boarding school, the task is much simpler, since classes are filled with so many people that on the ones you shared with him you barely get a glance of his eyes. Because he ran around in circles that had nothing to do with yours.

It was always clear to you, since youth, that Jaehyun was a social butterfly that just needed a little pushing, and he was nice enough that people always wanted him near. A high contrast to your quietness and introverted ways, staying in small circles and almost never allowing people to get too close.

It's weird thinking about him, putting a face to the name that was forever marked on your skin as a reminder of your future. It was weird thinking that it was easy to ignore this feeling too, like all the other ones that you have kept away in your small little box. The feelings that came out at least once a year when it all became too much, and you would sit in a duvet to spill all the dead butterflies inside your stomach out on the floor of a therapy clinic.

But even like this, weirdness doesn't begin to cover the way sometimes you catch yourself thinking of a memory that involves him, random and unexpected. A moment shared before the two of you discovered what expected you, before destiny was revealed. And you don't pretend that it's not real, that you don't feel the longing and need to be close, that your skin doesn't tingle when you see him around campus. You were long past pretending now, because there was no reason to play dumb when sometimes all you had were your own thoughts to rot your brain.

What you were good at, though, was concealing it all.

Was Jaehyun good at that too? Now that's something that you think about more than you would like. It didn't help that sometimes you would bump into him out of nowhere.

You enter the marketing aisle, eyes fixed on the small numbers taped to each section in hopes that the book you need was still here. It takes you awhile to realize that there's someone else with you, only moving your head up when you hear the footsteps approaching.

“Hi.” Jaehyun says, a small smile on his lips that is as gentle as every other thing about his looks. He stands close, but not too much. A safe distance for you to run your eyes through his body one time, eyes stopping at the big ‘S’ on his sweatshirt.

You clear your throat before greeting him back. “Hello.” Your voice is low, thoughtful of your surroundings, but you match his smile in a silent agreement of politeness.

His eyes run through your face the same way yours does his. Curiosity, or maybe the longing feeling you try to not think about. The unspoken space in between the two of you is intact for now.

He has changed so much in a year, is what you always think about when you two get to see each other up close. It always made you feel a weird nostalgia, seeing a face you had known for so long but now feels a little out of reach because of your own stubbornness. Your own fears.

“What book are you looking for?” He asks after some time, making small talk.

You turn your eyes to the books, him following. “Uhm, Kotler.”

“Oh, of course. How is marketing going?” You almost laugh at his attempt to make conversation, a skill well acquired during etiquette class.

“It’s okay. Not regretting it yet.” A half lie. Maybe another thing you were keeping locked deep down, your dislike for your major. But thinking about that while having a conversation with your soulmate was far from something you wanted to do.

He hums amused, eyes still fixed on the shelf. “That's good.”

You finally find the book, leaning down to get it and hugging it to your chest as your mind searches for something to offer for your own piece of ice breaker. Then you remember seeing his face last week printed on a glossy paper, an intricate article on consumerism tendencies online besides it.

“Congrats on the publication.” You say, facing him again. It’s genuine, because you knew how things like that really mattered. Small things that were nowhere near the accomplishments expected of the two of you, but still something to be proud of.

He laughs lowly, with bashful manners of looking down to his feet and with ears turning red. “It’s just a campus magazine.” Because of course he would be humble, amongst all the other qualities you were well acquainted with. Deep down you know that it's just a reflection of the high expectations that have been set the moment he was born.

“Still, it was very well written. And everyone said it was impressive for a freshman.” Everyone being the friend that showed you the magazine, but you'll pretend for him that it was something more. To try and erase the feeling of not deserving something that probably runs through his mind.

You would crush it beneath your boots if you could, it's the weird thought that runs through yours.

He huffs. “Well, it’s Stanford. Hard to know what's gonna be impressive and what is just expected of you.”

“Good thing we are all promising young adults that don't need their egos to be fed, right?” You joke back and it makes him laugh a little too loudly, quickly stopping himself as you two exchange awkward but familiar glances with tiny smiles on your lips.

A moment of silence settles next, one that lasts only long enough for you to shift the weight from one leg to another. Then he's asking. “Are you… Are you doing something this weekend?”

“I’m expected at a company party.” You reply flatly, blinking twice but not really pondering the reasons for his curiosity. You two stare at each other for a second that passes quickly.

“The HSBC event?” He asks and you nod, expecting the words he says next. “Oh, I'll attend it as well.”

“Boring, huh?” An attempt to continue a conversation that should've ended by now.

“Yeah.” He looks at you, and then away, and then back at you. “I was thinking that we could have din-“

Footsteps interrupt his words and you look behind your shoulder to see who the newcomer is. A tall man, taller than Jaehyun even, smiles at you guiltily before he’s looking at Jaehyun and raising his brows. “We are late, dude.” He deadpans as you look between the two of them.

“Shit, I didn’t realize.” Jaehyun says in a groan, bringing his big watch to his face, and you have to contain a smile at the curse. Then he turns to you. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“It’s fine.” You mumble, the book still held tight against your chest.

He waves awkwardly as the other man throws you another smile. You watch them leave with trembling fingers.

⋄

DECEMBER 2017

December always made you feel a little weird. Blame it on the cold and the days spent in bed trying to get the warmth you craved. Or on the impending approach of winter break and having to deal with your parents and your obligations for the month to follow.

But you try not to think about that just yet, when the time comes you'll deal with it. That's what you always do. For now you let your bed swallow you as you scroll down mindless through your instagram feed, double tapping publications of past boarding school acquaintances smiling with the Harvard location attached to each picture, just like the brand names are attached to their clothes. It's a little pathetic to you that your own account looks the same, with pictures carefully picked with a marketing tactic in mind.

Your little distraction is interrupted when the door to your room opens and your roommate, Ela, walks in, clearly shivering from the cold even underneath her thick dark grey coat. “God, it's fucking freezing outside.” She mumbles as a greeting, removing her boots and setting it close to the door before draping her coat on her chair.

“How was the meeting?” You ask from under your blankets, laughing a little as she drops her things on her own bed. The question makes her sigh loudly.

“That dude is still an asshole.” The dude in question being her partner to a never ending project of rebranding that sometimes stressed even you, from how much she talked about it. “But we are almost done with it now.”

“That's good.”

She plops on her bed, across from yours and a comfortable silence settles for a moment as she probably tries to have a moment of calmness.

Ela was an old face on your life, having attended the same school but never really getting closer than knowing each other's name. Still, it was good that you got paired to dorm with her. A familiar face that became a friend of sorts, as the two of you built a relationship on things in common and the want to have someone you could trust in a new place. And she was different than you, more outgoing, had a liking for socializing that you could never match, but still understood you.

“Hey, did you finish that essay already?” She asks, turning her face to you.

“Yes, it was bitch to write.”

“And Kotler is super boring to read.” A sigh escapes her lips and you agree loudly because she's right. Sometimes, when you allowed yourself a moment of wishful thinking, you would wonder what it would be like to have a major that you didn't feel like your brain was melting from boredom when reading about.

“I'm really tired.” You reply, just to say something back.

“Same. Are you doing something for winter break?”

In your mind you know exactly what you'll be doing, a schedule even ready on your mind, but instead you say “Not really, are you?”

She hums, voice tired but still excited as she goes on about how she wants to go to Europe again, visit Amsterdam because that was one of her favorite travel destinations. When you ask how it was, she describes in perfect detail, how the streets looked and how it felt very welcoming, telling you that you absolutely had to go there someday.

You promise to go and in the back of your mind you wish you could. Maybe you can if you can do more week hours on your internship and ask for a free week.

You shake your head at that though.

“Oh, I got this little get together today. At that bar downtown.. .Do you want to go?” You know she’s asking out of politeness, not because she didn't want you there but because you rarely said yes to her invitations.

But there’s a tiny spark on your chest, one that resembles the restless feeling you would get when you stayed too long laying down. It's not a motivation as much as it is boredom and the wish to feel something other than half emptiness. Other than the want to escape.

“Ok.” You say, shrugging slightly.

“Really?”

The raise of her brow makes you laugh. “Yeah, we are getting home next week. That's the last time I get to do this for a while.”

⋄

The bar is a little crowded, with winter break approaching and no one really daring step outside for a smoke because of how cold it is. The owners took great advantage of that by offering a ‘buy two get one free’ deal, that if you take a closer look at is really just a scam considering the price. But it's enough to fool college students that are excited about being away from this place for a while.

That’s what you think about after you down the remnants of the third drink you and your roommate shared. It’s not that kind of night, of getting wasted and not remembering anything the next day. It’s more of a little get together, for your roommate's club members and you are here merely as an intruder.

You feel just a little tipsy as you listen to her friends talk, some of them you knew from afar and some were just strangers that were nice enough to make you laugh every now and then. Still, you feel detached from the conversation, smiling and nodding when needing but not really taking part.

“What about you, ___?” A girl with round cheeks and pretty eyes asks you regarding your vacation plans. “You gotta invite us if you are throwing a party.”

You scoff before you can catch yourself. Alcohol always drops your inhibitions a little, but still you are quick to cover it up. You laugh along with the others, promising to invite everyone even though you are not throwing any parties, most likely never.

You roommate looks at you from the corner of her eye, smiling sympathetically because she knows you, and knows how stupid her friends are, but it's fine. You just wish you could just take it easily, the interest, the wanting to get close so they too will appear in a gossip magazine and live the life they think you do, without wanting to tell them to get a fucking life already, because this is just pathetic.

You smile back at her, wishing for another drink as your thigh highs start to roll a little uncomfortably. Shifting from leg to leg does nothing to help it, so you try to push the little annoyance to the back of your mind.

The small groups divide in different topics over the time, and you find yourself talking to some guy you had never seen before, that goes on and on about his amazing business ideas and how successful it's going to be when he finds the right stakeholders. You nod and try to focus through the whole thing.

The rest of the night goes like that. Fake laughter, loud music and conversation that gets more boring as the clock ticks, so you find an escape excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, not because you need to but to get away for a second.

In retrospect maybe it would've been better to endure another discussion about LA clubs and entrepreneurship.

The bar is so crowded that you have to excuse yourself at least five times, and on the sixth one you end up bumping into someone.

“Oh.” Is the clever thing you say when your eyes are met with Jaehyun already looking at you, his eyes lower than usual from probably taking advantage of the drink deal like you had.

He looks relaxed, hair parted in a way that shows his forehead and an all black outfit that doesn’t look as expensive as it probably is, but he makes it work so well that you do a double look while in your hazy state. If he notices, he doesn’t show it by the way he keeps his smile unfazed at you.

“We gotta stop seeing each other by accident,” he says, laughing a little.

“Yeah.” His words take a little to digest so you keep looking at him for a beat of a second. It’s a first, seeing him in a place like this. Where you can see just how well he really can adjust to any setting. He fits right in with the low lights and the relaxed atmosphere.

“This is Johnny.” He gestures for the guy besides him, who turns his attention to you and smiles in a way that’s a little familiar. Then you realize he’s the guy from the library over a year ago, and the friend Jaehyun posted pictures every now and then on his instagram page.

“Hey, It’s nice to meet you.” Johnny says, same smile from before still on and you return it. “Have heard a lot about you.”

That makes you laugh, a mixture of confusion and excitement and politeness that confuses even yourself. “Good things I hope.”

He tilts his head playfully. “Only the best things you can hear in place like this.”

The three of you share smiles, the interaction then turning into a conversation promoted by a question you ask, both from wanting to have something to say and out of curiosity. Johnny does most of the talking, explaining how he and Jaehyun had been friends for a while but only got closer now that they are attending the same university. They share a story of something that happened, them buying each other the same thing for christmas and you listen to the whole thing entranced.

It’s weird in some way how you can learn so much from your own soulmate from someone else. And it's weird how you react with joy, perhaps, to the teasing Johnny does to Jaehyun so naturally.

When the conversation settles down, Johnny looks between the two of you for a few seconds before he’s excusing himself to find an unnamed person. It was predictable he would do that, with the way he kept aiming the conversation to make it about Jaehyun, as if he somehow had to wing his friend to you.

You stare at your shoes, unsure of what to say now and maybe too worn out from the whole night to come up with something to talk about. But you don’t have to, because soon he’s asking “Are you here alone?”

You look up, a tiny smile on your lips. “No, I came with my roommate. But she's with her friends.”

“Oh, I’ll keep you company then.” He offers and you nod, following him to the bar where it's more illuminated and you can both lean a little on the counter.

Jaehyun is good at making people feel comfortable, you had noticed that many times before and it's no surprise when he asks you about your roommate, about what songs you have been listening to lately. He tries to keep a conversation with ease, even if it stays in the usual surface you two are used to.

If you weren't so distracted by everything, your mind would probably offer that it feels a lot like when you were kids and standing in the corner of a ballroom in uncomfortable clothes, talking about things that didn't matter.

“Have you ever been to Amsterdam?” You ask him suddenly when the past topic dies down.

“Yeah, it's really nice there.”

You hum, remembering your roommate's words. “That’s cool, I really want to go there someday.”

Out of nowhere he starts laughing a little, as if you had said something funny. When you inquire about it, he shakes his head clearly amused by the way his eyes squint a little from his smile. “It's just… Don’t you think it's weird that we have known each other for all these years, and all we do is do this weird small talk?”

You laugh too, speaking before you can stop yourself. “And still for some reason I feel like I know you.”

His eyebrows raise for a second but his smile is unfaltering, your statement not bothering him. “You know me.” He says, as a matter of fact. “And I know you.”

Now this makes you freeze, blinking slowly but it doesn't last long until you are covering your surprise by chuckling. Your eyes meet his and it strikes you that it's true, you know him and he knows you. Not everything, but what would be the fun in that.

Maybe that's why the two of you kept doing this small talk, to get to know each other better even in the smallest things. That's what getting to know someone is, after all. Not the business interviews and networking you grew up with.

You shake your thoughts away, leaning on the counter with one elbow and then resting your face on your palm. “What is your favorite thing about me then?” It's what you ask, in a playful tone to keep the conversation going. Or because you actually want to know, out of curiosity or vanity.

He chuckles, bringing his hand to his face as if in deep thought, before he replies. “I like that you are smart.”

The simplicity of it makes you snort. “Please, that's a cliche thing to say in a place like this.” You say, mimicking the words his friend had said to you earlier. “What does that even mean?”

“I don't know.” He shrugs while laughing, “Johnny just says things like that sometimes.”

You nod then, making an amused sound while you turn on the counter to stare forward. Your roommate is on the opposite side of yours, leaning against a wall while talking to a girl taller than her but just as pretty. The view makes a tiny smile settle on your lips, the beginning of a spark on your chest.

It always amazed you how people who didn't know their soulmate yet continued to live on, simply letting the universe do its thing naturally. In your young mind you had always thought that love was supposed to be a yearning that you couldn't control, that you would have to be with the person you love no matter what, and do anything to find them. That had changed now.

You turn to Jaehyun again. “What would you say is your favorite thing about me then, if we didn't know each other already?” You ask. It's a weird question because it makes him raise one eyebrow at you, but there's still not a trace of annoyance on his face.

“Isn't that also cliche to say?” He huffs. “That you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen?”

You can't help the embarrassed laugh that leaves your parted lips in shock. “Are you flirting with me?”

His ear gets an incredible red shade and you find it extremely charming. “It's just the truth.” He defends himself and it only makes you giggle more.

You thank him, tell him that you think he’s pretty too and correct it to handsome when he raises one eyebrow again. It makes a nice atmosphere settle and you feel comfortable enough to ask “So... if we didn't know each other you would flirt with me at a random party? Buy me a drink and all that?”

He smiles, dimples showing while he brushes his hair back. It's not the first time, of course, but you find yourself a little in awe at how pretty he actually is. Pretty in a way that makes you feel a little out of it, stunned by the way his lips start forming his next words.

“What do you like to drink?” He asks casually.

Now it's your turn to raise one eyebrow. “Hmm, I like Moscow Mules.”

You watch as he turns to the bar, calling the waiter over and ordering two drinks of your said preference. The mixture of feelings on your chest make you feel drunker than you did before and you wish you could put a name to it. Excitement, amusement, whatever it is only increases when he looks at you again.

“I’m Jung Jaehyun, by the way.” He offers, smiling sweetly and you match it when you realize what he's playing at

“I’m _____. It's nice to meet you.”

⋄

Playing pretend with him is easy, even more when the drinks make your inhibitions fall completely. Jaehyun tells a joke and you lean forward a little. Then you talk about something and he comes closer as if to hear better. Another drink and plenty of silly conversation later, he's completely invading your space in a way that you don't feel slightly bothered by.

Not even when leans to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You leave the bar giggling like the two mildly drunk people you are, basking in the joy of it and of the little fantasy you two have created. Jaehyun keeps you close, your hands linked and it's such a nice feeling that you get even more overwhelmed in a good way. The two of you walk almost glued to each other basically skipping and muttering playfully things just to say something.

When you are near the dorm complex, he stops abruptly and when you turn to him, his hands find your cheeks and his eyes search yours for a brief moment before he’s bringing your face closer to his.

It's a sweet kiss, contrary to what you thought it would be when you allowed yourself to think about this. You had always imagined desperation, not being able to endure not doing it anymore. But the reality is that Jaehyun kisses you with delicacy and even if there is desperation to it, it's not in a way that overpowers anything else. But in a way that makes you moan lowly, makes you press him even closer by grabbing his shirt as he moves his lips slowly against yours.

There are no fireworks, no deep realization that you are kissing the person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. But it's good, makes you want more, makes you want to bring him closer than possible, and maybe that's proof enough.

You reach his dorm in a blink after that, him having a bit of a hard time opening the door but when he does it takes no time for you to be pressed to it.

For a moment he just looks at you, eyes hazy and shining. They run through your face the same way yours does his, with longing that is finally allowed. You try to quiet the way your heart beats by leaning forward and kissing him.

The kiss is hungry but never too fast, with his hands moving to your hips and you pulling on his lips. When you moan a little at the feel, he opens his mouth a little, sliding his tongue against yours and you swear at yourself for waiting so long. Swear that you will never get enough of this.

Your lips move together in a way that is proof enough to you that this is something else even in your drunk state. His lips are soft, tongue moving with yours as if he wants to take his time and when your hands move from his shoulders to his neck he shudders, parting from you with a wet sound.

“W-We should...” He murmurs against your lip and you nod before he even finishes, letting him lead you to his bed. It feels a lot like yours, and the rest of the room is just as familiar but you pay no attention to that when he lays you on it gently.

It’s no surprise that Jaehyun is a giving lover and you figure that out when he kisses you like he wants to find out exactly what you like. Exactly how to make you fall apart in his hands.

He does everything with an expertise that maybe should make you feel jealous, but out of all things you are, a hypocrite is not one of them. So he shows you what he has learn from other people, and you show him what you have

And he doesn't settle for anything less than kissing all over your body after the two of you get undressed. For less than telling you in whispered words that he has dreamed about this before so many times and immediately swallowing with his tongue the words you would never be able to let out.

That you had dreamed about this too. Dreamed about coming on his tongue as he eats you out, your hands grabbing at his hair and seeing stars. A giving lover, of the best kind, Even more when he asks, with his mouth shining with your arousal. “How do you want it?”

You blink as your mind spins with the endless possibilities, but the ultimate realization that you would have him any way. You decide on the one that gives you more control. “I… I want to ride you.”

He bites his lips, ears burning red again. “Yeah,” His words come out mumbles as he just looks at you for a second before moving to lay on his back. “Yeah, ok. Fuck.”

You straddle his hips after he rolls down the condom, his eyes looking up at you in what you think is adoration, pure desire. And then you kiss him again, all tongue but still slow. So deep that you think you’ll never forget what he tastes like.

He lets you sink down at your own pace, palms on your ass when you move slowly, feeling him stretch you with every inch you sit on. He hums, hands tracing your skin delicately and it only makes it so much worse.

You move, a grind at first testing the water and immediately crying out lowly from the friction and you look for support with nails grabbing at his chest. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Good?” A stupid question to ask with the way you are so wet around him that the room is filled with a squelching sound when you move up and down with all the patience in the world.

Still, you nod. “You feel - Fuck - really good.”

He looks down at where you’re connected, biting his lips to suppress the noises you want him to let out so you move your hips with purpose, eyes roaming his face to watch it contort in pleasure as he lets out the prettiest moan you have ever heard. Low and deep.

His hands move further down then, gripping your hips and moving you in a grind that feels too good. So good that you have to drop your arms to his chest for leverage as he moves you to his liking, pushing your hips back and forth.

You come with your back arching, long moan of his name as your entire body shakes and tingles and you have to grip at the sheets beside you for support. You try to keep moving as your orgasm washes over you but its too much and your walls clenching around his cock makes him grip your ass even tighter, the action sending a thrill down your body as you fall forward on his chest with a wail.

Your mind swims in the gooey feeling of pleasure and all you can think about is him. Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun.

He waits for a second, hand moving to your back as your body trembles, drawing calming circles on it. When you have calmed down, he plants his feet on the bed and starts moving his hips up slowly and patiently but with deep strokes that make you bite your lip with oversensitivity.

And when you can, you move your head up, balancing yourself on your arms and looking at him. He wastes no time in kissing you, not deep because he parts his lips in a groan during a particular stroke, speeding his movements and grunting when you try to meet them back.

It’s when he has had enough, that he pulls out only to turn you on your back so he can enter you more easily, his hips now meeting yours in a pace that tells you that he’s close.

“Jae, oh… oh my god.” You sigh dreamily yet broken enough that it makes him smile when a sharp thrust makes your hips raise a little. He looks proud of being able to get you like this.

He hums as if agreeing with a very thorough statement, moving his arms so he can press his chest to yours as he fucks into you with calculated thrusts . You can barely move with his weight on top of you, with how he seems to lock you in place with his hips and it’s enough for another broken sob to fall from your lips.

“Deep?” He asks in a groan and with a nice slide of his cock inside of you to punctuate the question. You nod frantically because he’s as deep as he can get, knows this very well, and the feeling is something that makes you flutter around him in the desperate need to come.

He kisses your cheek then, two sweet but filthy enough with his heavy exhales against it. His pace never gets too fast, just hinting at it but he maintains a speed that leaves you in the brink of another orgasm. But, you only reach it when he pinches your clit with his fingers, circling it until your lips part in a silent scream and you’re coming again, stars behind your eyelids.

And the sounds he makes when your walls squeeze just a little more than he can handle are something else. A deep groan and a pained little sob that you find extremely endearing and hot at the same time, his face contorting as he quickened his pace just enough to push him over the edge, finally releasing inside the condom.

He pulls out, breath heavy as he smiles at you falling putty on the bed and watching as he removes the condom and disposes it only to come quickly to the bed quickly.

He hovers over you, kissing you sweetly. Your arms find his shoulders easily as the two of you bask in the afterglow of it.

Then he kisses you again, tongues dancing together and you don’t mind when his hand starts to wander again, sending goosebumps to your body. His fingers find your clit with ease, circling it slowly before applying more pressure as your lips part and your hand grip his arm, for support and not to cut the actions.

You come again, not as strong as your first one but still enough to have you shaking a little and screaming silently. His finger stays at your clit, hovering until he asks again in a whisper. “Another?”

You nod, and he resumes his actions slowly, until you are seeing starts and he swallows your moans with kisses and stops your trembling with soft hands grounding you.

When you recover your breath, an incredulous laughter leaves your lips. “You’re insane.” He just smiles, nose brushing against yours. “God, I...I gotta clean up now.”

He moves to get up. “Yeah sure, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You end up cleaning together, a shower that doesn't take you long, even if it's hard to keep your hands to yourselves but you are both tired, feeling a little drained after the glow has gone away.

⋄

Afterwards, you are laying on his bed side by side, surrounded by the smell of his body wash and wearing the big t-shirt and sweatpants he offered you.

Your mind starts wandering lazily with the remnants of your high, that's why the words escape your mouth without much thought. “Isn't it weird that even if we have someone in the world meant for us we can still feel lonely?” You are not lonely right now, not really. Maybe it's just the sadness of winter speaking, or maybe you're still a little drunk.

He takes a second to reply, voice low when he does. “Yeah. But you don't have to.” He says.“ Feel lonely, I mean. You don't have to.”

It's a little funny how he feels the need to explain himself to you, as if you don't quite understand him when the reality it's both very far from that and exactly it at the same time.

“I don't think thats how it works. It's not up to me.” If it was, wouldn't you have stopped being lonely by now? Wouldn't you have finally succumbed to the desperate need of wanting someone, something, when late night hit and the mark in your arm would burn just as your eyes as you fought back tears?

Still, he says simply. “I think it is.”

You smile sadly then, turning to him a little and watching as he kept his gaze on the ceiling. He looked relaxed, as if this setting was soothing his mind and it makes a familiar feeling blossom on your chest. “What did you feel when the mark showed up on your arm?” A question that you had wanted to ask the moment you found out it was him, but instead had failed miserably to guess the answer to.

“Relief.” He says without thinking, a truthful and genuine reply.

“That you wouldn't have to end up marrying someone that wasn't your soulmate?” You ask. All these years you had thought that this must've been it, what you felt that day.

“No. I was relieved that it was you anyway.” Is his reply, body turning and eyes meeting yours. For a second you’re frozen, blinking because it’s strange to have someone put their feelings out so easily.

“Is… Is that what love is, then?” You ask softly. “Relief that you have at least one person that makes you feel held?”

Maybe this is not really what he meant, and more so wishful thinking of your part than anything else, but still he nods.

“I think it’s that. And other things.” His voice is soft when he says this. “I'm not sure what it is, but I want to find out.”

You can’t help as you examine his face after his confession. Is this what being soulmates is, then? Having someone that it's worth taking the risk of finding out? Or maybe it’s having someone that will show you exactly what it is.

Does all that explain the way you can't look away from him?

“Me neither.” You reply in the same quiet voice because it’s true. You tend to act like you know everything, and that you know what love is. You know love it’s pathetic and that it gets in the way of things, but is it really that bad? So you ask “Is it bad that I think you'll only love me because the mark on your arm tells you to?”

He laughs briefly. “No, it makes sense.” His eyes find yours again. “But you know it’s not, don't you?”

“I do.” At least you do now.

Maybe that's why you fall asleep so easily

⋄

2014 (flashback)

It’s the last day before summer break and Jaehyun is tired.

The other four guys he shared a room with are all packing their things for a nice vacation somewhere in Europe or one of the paradisiac beaches they all like to talk about. Jaehyun just wants to get home, not think about college applications for two months and maybe go somewhere he can be alone for a while.

“Sooyoung is kinda hot, huh?” Yugyeom says out of nowhere and the room settles in a unison hum of agreement. He joins in too.

There’s a loud creak noise as another one of his roommates slumps into the bed but he doesn't bother checking who it is, mind somewhere else as he stares at the ceiling.

“True. But I would die if Ela gave me her number.” Jungkook sighs dreamily and Jaehyun can't help the snort that escapes his lips. Just yesterday they had a conversation exactly like this one, but not quite as innocent. Trust a group of men that have no idea who their roommates are to act like this.

Even though Doyoung, the only one of them that already knew, still acted the same when it came to this. His soulmate isn't someone he knew already, so what was the point in waiting. That's why he asks the next question. “Jaehyun, you know ___, right? Does she stick to the whole ‘waiting’ thing?”

Jaehyun blinks, shifts almost unnoticeable. “I don't know her like that.” Is what he says, which is a half true. He knows her, probably things no one else knows but that’s what happens when you grow up in the same circles, he guesses. Right now though, he feels like he doesn’t know her anymore, not with the distance she had put between them after the wedding was announced by your parents.

Then, he starts thinking about himself. Is he waiting for his soulmate? He has kissed some girls, but it never went beyond that. But now he remembers coming home from german class one day and his mother making soft cake as she told him about the name that would appear on his wrist.

He remembers that he had said loudly that he wished ____ would be his name, because then they could be better friends for some reason as silly as playing around together.

Sicheng interrupts his thoughts by snorting loudly. “Are you really trying to hit?” He asks Doyoung. “Gonna end up in the cover of a magazine for trying to corrupt the nation’s good girl.”

The room erupts in laughter and comments after that. He drowns it with his mind going somewhere else.

That night he dreams about her.

⋄

10, FEBRUARY 2018

Winter break goes by quickly with one too many end of the year celebration and wishing people you had never seen before a happy new year.

You spend your days fulfilling your internship at the company you would one day own, following around the superiors for the Marketing team and playing nice when they try to flatter you.

So busy that you can barely think about it, but you still do. You think about him so often that you think you have lost your mind. And you see Jung Jaehyun too, here and there at parties, between whiskey glasses, tuxedos and unspoken words. Because, as you always thought, keeping it all unsaid is easier. At least for now.

Perhaps he knows it all, in a different way than you. So the two of you kept it lowkey, for the duration of those two months that are now gone with the wind. Two months of not a single magazine spread on your escapades, or you parents mentioning anything that is out of the ordinary.

It's as if the two of you have a secret, that some may assume, but still don't know for sure. What you and Jaehyun did that night is kept inside a locked box, one that you share with him and that every moment until now seems to fit in. What you don't know is if he too keeps the box as sacred as you do.

What you don't know is if the thought of it being opened by prying eyes scares him too.

Being back to campus is, ironically, a breath of fresh air. No more business meetings disguised as family celebrations, or stupid networking, or smiling for a camera to say that the company has never been better. No more internship and lack of time for something else.

February comes and it's just you, your dorm bed and the roommate you will miss when it's time. Just the lectures and keeping busy and trying not to think about things only to fail miserably.

But then, there are the phone calls, never ending and always the same. Or almost always.

The phone lights up, stupid ringtone, and your heart starts beating a little faster. How could someone ever guess what a phone call is about? Not having control made you antsy.

Your mother greets you as always, stern words, asking how you have been out of politeness. You spend the entire phone call waiting for her to just say what she wants to already.

She mentions being busy, good opportunities, of an article you should read and something that sounds like a threat if you let yourself slip and get a scandal, even though she has said all this not long ago after gifting you another piece of jewelry you’ll keep stored deep in your drawer.

At least this time it doesn't take long for her to finally say what she wants. “Jaehyun’s birthday is soon. Don't forget to greet him.”

“I won't.” You reply simply but she’s quick to cut you off.

“Publicly. Maybe sending flowers would be good, or buying something that can get attention from the press.” It’s obvious this is not about you and your soulmate, it’s about you and your future. As everything is.

“Ok.”

“Just because he's your soulmate doesn't mean people will connect you two together forever.” She continues, never knowing when to stop. “You have to remind them of that.”

“I know that.” Because you do. There was no guarantee that your marriage with Jaehyun would be good publicity if the two of you weren’t liked or even popular.

You fear that when the time comes, people will realize something you yourself already has. That maybe you don’t really deserve Jaehyun, not because he’s better than you, but because you are not sure you can give him the love he deserves.

What you don't know clearly yet, is that you’re selfish and want him anyway.

“Good.” Your mother says and then the line cuts.

One time a therapist told you that maybe your mother was jealous. Because you would get to experience something she didn't, being with your soulmate, and that it was normal. It didn't mean she was evil and hated you. Another one said that that was the reason she was so stern, she wanted to keep you in line to prevent you from failure so as to not hurt you. That, behind the lack of affection, was a wish for your happiness.

Maybe there will be a time you understand that plenty. Maybe some things can never be truly fixed, only forgotten.

Four days days after that, you text Jaehyun a simple happy birthday with a heart at the end of it. You also get a chocolate cake sent to his place from a bakery you like, and when he calls to thank you, you tell him to not post it anywhere.

He laughs and tells you that it's a good idea.

⋄

2007 (flashback)

It was another late afternoon party, for another thing that you couldn’t remember or care about because things like this shouldn't really matter when you are only ten years old. Still, you had watched the other kids play with each other as their parents talked business and laughed, drunk from the bubbly drinks they downed glass after glass of.

For a moment you felt like reaching out and playing with them too, but it died soon and you stayed unmoving on the chair you had been placed in, while your parents did the same as the others somewhere in the distance.

It had been a pretty day, you remember, the sun was about to set and it made the shiny fabric on the tablecloths that were spread around the individual tables set outside, sparkle just the tiniest bit. You played with it to have something to distract yourself with.

You remember too, that Jung Jaehyun and his family were at the table right in front of yours, your parents greeting each other and talking briefly. Later on the party you had watched as he listened to something his mother said to him. She was beautiful, like your own mother, and you had heard her voice before so it had been easy to imagine in what tone she was speaking. Soft and low, how warmth felt like. As to the content of her words you would never know, but it had clearly been something nice because it made her son laugh as she patted his head.

You didn’t know back then that this moment would stick with you for the years to come, for a reason that at ten years old you were just beginning to understand. But still, the weird twist in your stomach, as you started to realize that something was wrong, would be felt many more times. As you realized that your family dynamics were not as warm as the others appeared to be.

⋄

25, FEBRUARY 2018

What you and Jaehyun have turns into something hard to describe.

The line you had so clearly put between the two of you, to avoid your future, had been replaced now by acceptance and the weird feeling of navigating a relationship that It’s still a new thing, but it’s also nice enough. Especially when he sends you a silly text and jokes about something, later on commenting the same thing on one of your instagram posts. It makes you feel giddy, that you have a shared secret.

Even more when he gives you a small knowing smile across the table while your father is non stop talking about the new model the company is about to release.

It’s a small dinner to celebrate Jaehyun’s birthday, or at least as small it can be in a restaurant like this, where the waiter will look you up and down if you are not wearing your prettiest silk dress and stiletto heels.

The whole thing had been rescheduled twice, because of busy schedules and whatnot, and now that both your parents had been able to fly here, you all sit underneath lowlights and drink expensive wine that is accompanied by a conversation that is so boring that you have trouble keeping up with it.

He finds you on the rooftop, hair blowing a little as he walks to you and in the back of your mind you think it’s a crime that he looks this good in a suit. That’s probably all the wine you had talking.

“Sorry I left you alone there.” You mutter with a sympathetic smile thrown his way when he reaches you, but you both know you are not sorry at all for escaping the stupid conversation your parents were having.

He chuckles. “You leaving was just a reason for me to escape too.”

The two of you turn to look at the city, the illuminated buildings looking minuscule from here but the tiny lights from each of them make for a breathtaking view. Jaehyun stands so close to you that your arms touch. You don’t mind.

“Looking at the city like that makes me feel really small.” You whisper, without really thinking.

“That’s because we are.” You hear his voice clearly, warm like honey and you don’t try to help the smile that forms in your lips.

“How do you do it?” The question makes him look at you, raising one eyebrow. “I mean, you always sound like you got it all figured out. While I just say the most random stuff because I don’t know who I am.”

You know you are the heritage left to you, the face of your father's company, a good student, smart. One of the few socialites that have never stepped a foot out of line, according to the magazines. But take all that and what’s left?

“I don't.” He says simply, “I’m just good at pretending, like you are.”

That makes you laugh. “Good to know we are both good at playing our roles.” You say, as a joke, because you are sure the two of you are beyond the acting now.

And It’s always funny to you how the masks the both of you put on fall completely when you are alone. That’s what it means to be friends, you had realized, and that’s what you decide to call your relationship for now. Friends, from a long time, that happened to be tied together for other reasons.

And Jaehyun is a friend that sometimes makes you feel like you deserve the love you crave.

“Hey. You are ____.” He says after a second, for good measure. “That's enough, you don't have to be anything else.”

“Is it enough for you?” You ask without really thinking.

He smiles, dimples showing and your heart grows warmer. “Yeah, and we can figure it out together. Who we are and all that.”

You share a smile, both staring forward at the view and shivering a little from the night wind.

“I’m sorry for getting you into these deep conversations.”

He laughs deeply at that, with his whole body. “It’s good, don’t worry. I want you to trust me, even if you won't let me get to know you.” And you do, you want to desperately trust him and let him in. ”Because you are scared I can't handle your daddy issues or something.”

A scoff mixed with laughter leaves your lips. It’s been a long time since you were able to joke about this with someone. “It’s mommy issues, please get it right.”

He turns to you with a silly smile on his lips. “Is it because she made you take those piano classes?” He jokes and you laugh before tilting your head.

“Wait, how did you know I played the piano?” That was ages ago, finally a hobby that you enjoyed amongst the numerous other classes your mother had enrolled you in. You played it for a long time before you stopped completely for whatever reason.

“You told me, when we had to introduce ourselves and talk about things we liked in german class.” He explains. “You said you liked it, even though your mother forced you to go.”

You turn to him now as it strikes you that Jung Jaehyun remembered you from his childhood the same way you remembered him. Not the same things, but still memories. The thought is so comforting that you can’t hold the way your cheeks move up in a smile.

“What about you?” You question. “What things did you say you liked?”

“Hmm, I don't really remember.” Is what he says with a shrug.

You two share a look, perhaps meaningful but maybe that's the wine making you feel on cloud 9 under his gaze. “What do you like now?”

He chuckles as if your interest is amusing. “I like… music, getting coffee with friends. That kind of thing.”

“Not cars?” You joke, making him laugh. You decide then that you like making him do it.

“I mean, a little.” He replies playfully, and it’s very easy to be comfortable like this.

It’s good to know after all this time Jaehyun was like you, even if you felt alone in the world sometimes. That’s what a soulmate must be after all, not the missing piece to make you whole but someone that makes you realize exactly that you don't have to be.

“We should get coffee together sometime.” You offer after some time, a gentle smile being shared between you two in laziness, at the thought of soon having to return to the restaurant and popping out of the bubble you have started creating for yourself.

“We should.” He says, and the bubble stays afloat a little longer.

⋄

JULY 2019

It’s another charity Gala, with sparkly lights, champagne, fake smiles and a dress too tight. Everything is the way it always had been, except for you.

And Jaehyun, whose hand stays on your waist as he guides you through a slow song. He had wanted to dance, said he always thought it was nice when lovers did it in movies.

Lovers. The mere use of the word had made your heart somersault in your chest, but you kept it down. Instead, you move with him with soft smiles adorning both of your faces.

Your hand finds his cheeks. Nothing could describe the look you give him in the light but pure admiration. And you don’t care if anyone sees it, you don’t care if it ends up in a magazine spread. Because even if everybody knew about it, this is yours.

The way he brings his hand on top of yours, and how his eyes match the exact look on yours. Every little detail about it makes you know that this right here belongs to the two of you and nothing can change it.

“Jaehyun?” Your voice is low, almost inaudible underneath the music and conversation echoing through the ballroom. “I don't want to be here anymore.”

His eyebrows raise at your confession, steps faltering for a second as he loses the rhythm “What? We can leave right now if you want.” He offers. “I came with my own car, so we can-“

Your soft laughter interrupts his words. “No, I don't mean right now.” You explain, swallowing around your next words. “I meant.. I don't want to keep playing a role, I want to go somewhere with you where no one knows us.”

A smile grows on his lips, one that tells you that he understands exactly what you mean. And you don’t have to guess anymore, there are no more maybes. You know.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He pulls you closer, dance now long forgotten as you just move in complete muscle memory.

“I want to find out.” You confess in a whisper. A secret between the two of you that no one else would ever know. “I want to go somewhere with you and find out.”

You wonder if he already found the answer to it, to what love is. But you also don't need to know right now, because you will know when you have to. Either way you want to find out and it's not for you to guess.

He smiles genuinely at you, with his dimples showing, like he always smiles at you.

You smile back, heart aching from something that can only be only be explained by years of shared stories, and in your mind, deeper connections that go beyond what everything and everyone inside this ballroom would understand.

You smile back, in the exact way you have always smiled at him.

⋄

APRIL 2020

A ray of sun peeks from the half closed curtains and set right above your eyes, getting you to wake up lazily and slowly. It takes you a while to come to it, the sheets on the bed just now starting to feel truly familiar with the warmth left on the bed, from someone that had probably gotten up just a little before from you.

You blink once and twice before your eyes are completely open, vision still unfocused but it slowly comes back as you stare at the bedside table. A lip balm is the first thing you see, then your phone and lastly a picture framed of you and Jaehyun hugging in front of the sunflower field at the Van Gogh museum. He’s laughing, at something said by the kind fellow tourist that had offered to take your picture, and you have the beginning of a smile on your own lips. One that you mimic perfectly now as you remember that day.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the door opening and Jaehyun walks in the bedroom, holding a bowl. His eyes are still drowsy and his hair a mess but you think he looks right at home. Because he is.

“Morning, baby.” His voice is low and raspy, but enough to make you melt even more on the sheets.

“Good morning.” The smile settles fully on your lips now.

He sits on the bed next to you then, almost drowning inside his large t-shirt and hair plopping cutely when he tries moving even closer to place the bowl with sliced fruits on your lap. “We gotta add apples to the shopping list.” Is all he says and you nod while picking a slice of melon and chewing it leisurely as you bask on the hazy feeling of still being half asleep

Jaehyun stays by your side, head weirdly pressed to your chest, and asking silently for you to feed him apple slices every now and then with just his mouth opening.

Your mind wanders as you eat and then you’re having one of those moments where realization dawns on you finally. A silly small thing that makes you smile and your chest grow warm. “Jaehyun?” You call out softly, fighting back the bubble of happiness that forms on your chest because old habits are hard to die.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, eyes blinking at you in the same way he always does, but this time it makes you want to cry a little bit.

You lean down, press a quick peck to his lips that make you both smile and then the words are out of your mouth.

“This is what love is.”

#here she is!#cant wait to hear what you guys think about it #works #commission #neowritingsnet #nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenario

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forzalando · 3 years

Text

Always Been You | Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Reader AU: soulmate!au Word Count: 2.2k Warning: mentions of violence, mentions of death, mentions of injuries on face and arms, mentions of blood, a curse word or two, description of an explosion (the warnings are scary but i promise this has a happy ending! it just takes place during the BoH so if anything surrounding that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read! ily💛)

A/N: the italics are a flashback and this is a soulmate!au that takes place during the Battle of Hogwarts! not feeling very confident about this one but it is complete and i promised i would post it😊i hope you guys enjoy and love you all!💛special thanks to @hufflepuffbaby9 and @fortisfiliae for their words of encouragement and edits!

Living your life in love with someone when you were unsure whether they were your soulmate was a complicated ordeal. Your friends were worried for you; they had been worried since you officially met him all those years ago, the memory fresh in your mind as it always was.

“Miss Y/L/N, might I suggest you spend less time gawking at Mr. Weasley and paying attention to my lesson?”

You swallowed dryly, feeling the familiar heat of embarrassment on your cheeks as Professor McGonagall called you out in front of everyone. You heard snickering behind you, the entire class was clearly amused at your humiliation, but you couldn’t resist sneaking one last glance over your shoulder to where he sat.

He, of course, being Fred Weasley. Fellow sixth year and the most handsome boy you had ever seen. He had let his hair grow longer over the summer and it was infinitely more interesting to pay attention to than Transfiguration.

When you looked his way, you were horrified to find that he was already looking at you. Before you could quickly turn away and start trying to forget the moment had ever happened, he smiled at you. Not a smirk or a grin, but a soft smile that you hadn’t seen from him before (you would know as you always watched him quite closely).

You smiled back and struggled to control your breathing when he did a funny sort of charade that you took to mean “talk after class?”.

“MR. WEASLEY,” McGonagall screeched, causing the two of you to jump and turn away from one another. “My classroom is not a place for flirting. This is my final warning. To the both of you.”

With a final glance at Fred, you turned back to your notes and counted down the seconds in your head until class was over. As soon as you were dismissed, you threw your school books into your bag and hurried out the massive door to the Transfiguration classroom.

As promised, Fred was standing outside with a dopey grin on his face.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever formally met, Fred Weasley, at your service.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“So, how long have you fancied me?”

“Who said I fancied you?”

“Your eyes,” he said matter of factly.

With a salute and a bow, Fred Weasley sauntered off, leaving you in a complete state of bewilderment.

You knew in that moment, that boy was going to be the death of you.

And, oh, how he was. Ever since that day, Fred Weasley had managed to make your life complicated and perfect in the most wondrous of ways. Even though you weren’t the closest of friends, he was always a constant in your life. Hanging around after classes that you shared to speak to you, going out of his way to hang out with you at Hogsmeade, or making sure you weren’t around when he and George pulled one of their infamous pranks.

It hurt you that you hadn’t gotten closer during your time at Hogwarts, but you were secretly glad as well because you didn’t know how you would cope if you had the opportunity to fall even more in love with him.

Not only were you unsure of who your soulmate was and secretly hoping it was Fred, but you also had no idea how you would find out. There were a million different ways to know; your mother and father couldn’t see color until they met one another, your friend Elizabeth and her soulmate had the same unique birthmark just above their left knees. During your sixth year at Hogwarts, your friend Delilah found her soulmate, a Durmstrang boy, during the Triwizard Tournament when he spoke the words to her that had been tattooed on her wrist since she was born.

You had no tattoos, no exceptional birthmarks, and you saw color spectacularly well, so each day was a constant reminder that it would be harder for you to find your soulmate than most, which bothered you more than you cared to admit.

While your soulmate, or lack thereof really, should have been the last thing on your mind as you found yourself running through the halls of Hogwarts amidst a ferocious battle, you truly couldn’t help it. You’d seen friends and family die right before your very eyes only moments ago, and all you could think about was if you would join them without knowing who was made for you and you for them.

More specifically, you were only thinking of Fred Weasley and if fate would somehow be kind to you and reveal what you’ve believed in your heart all these years.

You had yet to see him; only catching glimpses of red hair every so often, or maybe you might have imagined it, as you stumbled around the castle with Luna, incapacitating any death eaters in your path.

Before you could call out to Luna to ask if she’d seen him, you heard his unmistakable laugh from nearby. Your eyes and body were drawn to the sound, and you saw him outside where you knew the Room of Requirement to be, Percy standing next to him, having just jinxed the Minister of Magic. You started running towards them, calling out Fred’s name but he was too transfixed over the shocking behavior from his elder brother to notice your cries.

“You’re joking, Perce!” he shouted as the Death Eater he was dueling collapsed to the ground. “You actually are joking, Perce…I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were – ”

Out of nowhere, the wall behind Fred and Percy gave way due to an explosion and a scream erupted from your lips as your body halted.

Everything happened so quickly that it was impossible to know what exactly had happened; all you knew was that the stone wall collapsed and peeking out from the rubble was an unmistakable head of unruly, red hair.

You began running towards him, reaching him in a matter of seconds and prying debris off of his body; Percy was next to you doing the same, calling out his brother’s name in earnest.

Fellow former students and friends from nearby came to assist, pulling Fred from the rubble and talking frantically about how he needed to be moved, it was too dangerous out in the open.

Luna pulled you along; watching Fred’s body being rushed towards the Great Hall had you heaving and your mind foggy. Your vision was blurry and all you could think about was how you would survive in a world without the light that was Fred Weasley.

A flash of red snapped you from your haze and you fired a curse back at the Death Eater running towards you and Luna from the side; you ran as fast as you could to catch up with, who you now recognized as Oliver Wood and Dean Thomas, along with Percy, shielding them and firing at anyone who dared come within 50 feet of them.

Your only solace was that you could see the faint, yet consistent, rise and fall of Fred’s chest.

Once you reached the Great Hall, Oliver, Dean, and Percy laid Fred on a stretcher and carried him with greater ease to where his mother and father stood.

You’d thought briefly that the sound of the explosion was the worst sound you had ever heard, but it was nothing compared to Mrs. Weasley’s cries as she fell to her knees when she laid eyes upon her wounded son. She grasped his hand in her own and brought it to her cheek, fresh tears spilling over Fred’s dusty, bloodied fingertips.

Her gaze met yours and you walked towards her slowly, asking permission to approach Fred as his family members began to crowd around him. Even though she did not know you well, it was almost as if you knew she could see the love in your eyes and graciously made room for you to kneel down next to Fred.

“Hey Freddie,” you gave him a watery smile, hoping that he would open his eyes to see it. You noticed his breaths getting shallower, and his face stayed rigid, the ghost of his last laugh still lingering.

Mrs. Weasley offered you his hand, the hand she had been holding to her face while George knelt down across from you and had taken ahold of his other.

You quickly grabbed it, folding it in between both of your own and leant down towards his ear.

“I never got to tell you, Freddie,” you whispered, desperately hoping that his family couldn’t hear you. “I never got to tell you that I love you, even though I know I’m not supposed to. All those moments between us after that day in Transfiguration, I wish I could say that’s what did it, but the truth is it was way before. I sound absolutely mad, I know, but I can’t explain it. It’s just always been a feeling in my heart, and now I…I’m afraid that I – ”

“Y/N, look,” George gasped, interrupting your confession.

You raised your head and looked down at Fred to see the color returning to his face and the cuts on his cheeks closing up.

“Keep talking to him, do something, anything,” George said desperately.

You spoke louder this time, with greater confidence and squeezed Fred’s hand even tighter, though tears blurred your vision.

“Freddie, you have to come back to me. I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember and I know if you saw me right now you would laugh at how embarrassed I am, your family doesn’t even know me and I’m blubbering over their son like he’s the most important person in the world to me but, oh Fred, you are the most important person.”

The gashes on his arms were becoming faint; almost as if they never existed at all. His breaths became deeper and soon enough, his eyes fluttered open.

“I – I don’t understand,” you muttered in confusion, turning your attention to Mrs. Weasley.

“Oh, my dear, you are his soulmate, his guardian angel. I’ve only heard about this in stories but, it’s said that soulmates with the purest of loves can heal one another from even the most deadly of afflictions. Your love is so strong that it can overcome even the gravest of injuries.”

Your reply got caught in your throat and all you could do was focus your gaze back on Fred, who was groaning and attempting to sit up off the hard, stone floor, but you gently pushed him back down as you could tell he was struggling.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled. “I feel like death.”

Everyone around you was silent, until George made a shrieking sound, which you suspected was a panicked laugh.

“Merlin, Freddie, that’s got to be a million times worse than my holey joke.”

Despite the despondent tone of the room, yourself and the Weasley family found it in yourselves to laugh along with George.

Your giggling stopped abruptly when you felt Fred squeeze your hand tightly.

“I guess I ought to thank you for saving my life and all,” he snickered, this time sitting up with ease. “I feel better than I have in years, please never let go of my hand.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you whispered, the weight of the situation fully sitting itself on your shoulders.

“I don’t know if…if you heard me um…before, but – ” you started to say.

“Don’t worry, love, I heard every word,” Fred answered with a smile.

“Well, that’s good because I’m not sure if I could say it all again. I almost wet myself and that was before I knew that you’re my soulmate. Now there’s even more pressure!”

Fred smiled at you, the same soft smile he gave you that day in Transfiguration that made you realize that you would love that boy for the rest of your life, soulmates be damned. Of course, you knew the moment wouldn’t last too long.

“Y/N, my legs are still a bit sore, d’you think the whole healing thing will work faster if you come a bit closer? Maybe a bit of true love snogging?”

You cackled and gently punched his shoulder, but leaned in nonetheless and finally kissed the boy you had been dreaming about since you were a young schoolgirl. You pulled away quickly, not missing the look of disappointment on his face that made your heart swell, but you didn’t feel it was very appropriate to kiss the hell out of him in front of his entire family.

“Say, you think when I meet my soulmate my ear will grow back?” George wondered aloud, causing his entire family to flick their gaze towards him.

“Oh my god, George, I almost died, will you shut up? For once, let the attention be on me,” Fred jokingly scolded.

“My attention was always on you,” you offered sweetly, watching the edges of Fred’s lips turn up into a smirk.

“Always? You never looked at anyone else?”

“No, Freddie, it’s always been you, and it always will be.”

taglist: @theweasleysredhair @gcdric @fortisfiliae @swellwriting @letsgotothehop @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @wildfire-whizbangs

please let me know if you would like to be added to my permanent taglist😊i’ve had a lot of requests to be added to the bridgerton au one but didn’t want to tag any of y’all here just in case you only want to be on that one!😊

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley au #fred weasley #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: injuries #tw: blood

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW.

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed.

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it.

Thank you all!

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting.

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet.

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest.

“I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug.

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles.

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!”

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place.

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music.

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.”

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!”

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze.

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club.

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.”

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?”

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,”

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?”

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence.

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams.

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!”

“Am I that transparent?”

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!”

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat.

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful.

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle.

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether.

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh!

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures.

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily.

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead.

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme.

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray.

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch.

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat.

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life!

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt.

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on.

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise.

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly.

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply.

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together.

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it!

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have.

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door.

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me.

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth.

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly.

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?”

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim!

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs.

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own.

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up.

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants.

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak.

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter!

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door.

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates.

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve.

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor.

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it.

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress.

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle.

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again.

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine.

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine.

He moans.

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans.

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob.

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him.

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet.

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!”

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head.

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep.

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me.

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more…

When was the last time I had sex?

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,”

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive!

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling.

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off.

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust.

I squeak; he grunts..

Peeta holds me by the waist, “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts.

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe.

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body.

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still.

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath.

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs.

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean.

“Yeah,”

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully.

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today?

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.”

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?”

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—”

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely.

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine.

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips.

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time.

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…”

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed.

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door.

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is.

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep.

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily.

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave.

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking.

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!”

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself.

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!”

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint.

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?”

Ugh!

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with?

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit!

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?!

Oh shit!

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours…

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach.

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims!

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading.

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!”

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place.

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.”

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps.

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night…

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead.

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta?

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?”

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor.

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings.

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening.

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me.

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met.

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember.

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly.

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl.

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally.

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket.

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master?

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain.

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first.

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention.

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?”

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago.

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly.

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!”

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder.

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful.

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles.

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly.

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?”

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests.

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time.

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,”

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?”

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse.

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly.

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.”

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says.

“How old are you?”

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable.

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him.

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?”

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently.

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me.

“Please… stay with me…”

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly.

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me.

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow.

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?”

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really.

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk.

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole.

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.”

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together.

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally.

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?”

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically.

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes.

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?”

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?”

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit!

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all.

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle.

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out.

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 144 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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satoruvt · 3 years

Text

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend.

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left.

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day.

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement.

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time.

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job. “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars.

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!”

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower.

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung.

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!”

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down.

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?”

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face.

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom.

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself.

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen.

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring.

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart.

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add.

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,” Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it.

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel.

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh.

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though.

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #CRIES I'M SO EXCITED #THIS FIC IS MY BABY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT!!!!#seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung imagine #svt hoshi x reader #svt hoshi imagine #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen hoshi imagine #hoshi x reader #hoshi imagine

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garlichoisan · 3 years

Text

Singing in the shower | liu yangyang

➸ Genre: Fluff

➸ Pairing: Yangyang × f reader

➸ Word count: 7 197

➸ Information:

college!au, childhood friends, friends to lovers, friends!NCT Dream 00 line, bestfriend!Yeji (ITZY), very slight NoMin references (Jeno + Jaemin), mention of Mark Lee, reader is a few months older than YangYang (born in the same year)

➸ Warnings: A lot of fluff as usual.

➸ Plot:

You're forced to learn how to live without your closest friend from childhood who has to go live in Germany with his parents, leaving you heartbroken. You thought YangYang was going to be by your side forever. As years have passed and you've almost started to forget about him, he suddenly appears in your life again, turning it upside down, and this time, nobody's leaving.

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➸ A/N: This oneshot took me over 2 months and a half to write and was written as a part of my dear @renjunniehome's song fic challenge (?)

Not really a challenge, but it's an event where diffent NCT writers write fanfics based on songs so make sure to check it here: PLAYLIST FICS MASTERLIST

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“I don't know, it's just something about ya

Got me feeling like I can't be without ya

Anytime someone mention your name

I be feeling as if I'm around ya”

YangYang and you have always been a package deal; you were so close as children that at one point people couldn’t imagine one of you without the other and honestly, you also couldn’t imagine what your life would be without your best friend. There was something about him that made you feel butterflies in your stomach, even though as a child you could not identify and understand clearly what it was.

Besides that, your parents and YangYang’s were very close so you sometimes had family dinners together; that happened often, since you were neighbors and your houses were literally right next to each other. Your parents loved YangYang like their own son, maybe because he spent so much time in your house, had dinner there, and even stayed the night quite often for your sleepover parties. Of course, his parents were also very happy when you went to his house in order to spend time with him. Everyone in the neighborhood thought you’d end up marrying each other when you grow up, even if your child selves denied it with disgust. However, you couldn’t deny that your face always lit up when your parents told you YangYang and his parents would be coming over for dinner. Just the mention of his name made you start jumping with excitement.

But apparently everything good had to end sooner or later. You could still remember the shock you felt when you learnt YangYang would be leaving his house which was right next to yours in order to go live and study in Germany. He explained with glossy eyes that his parents have found better work opportunities there and that this probably meant you wouldn’t see each other very often. When you first heard this, you burst out crying, hugging him tightly, begging him not to go. Even though he also didn’t want to go, he was just a child so he had to leave with his parents. That left you heartbroken; you tried to text him in the beginning in order to keep in touch but it was getting difficult because of the time difference, as well as the lack of personal contact. Slowly you started to get used to life without him, no matter how much you wanted him back, but you couldn’t really learn to be happy without him.

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“Ain't no words to describe you baby

All I know is that you take me high

Can you tell that you drive me crazy?

'Cause I can't get you out my mind”

As the years were passing and you were growing up, you started to understand what your feelings for your childhood friend meant. Before you heard the word “crush”, you thought you just loved to be next to YangYang because he was funny and was making you laugh. But as a teenager, you realized you still missed him, even though you had no idea what he looked like now, how much he had changed, and most of all, you felt how you haven’t gotten over him at all. People your age started to date, but you weren’t interested in anyone, since subconsciously you kept comparing them to your childhood friend. You never even went to dates, and you realized how childish your behavior was, but honestly, nobody seemed like your type anyways. You barely had any friends, since the overly-romanticized idea of YangYang has turned into a standard for your friendships as well. You felt as if you were going crazy because of him as you only thought of him and how you would feel if you could meet him now.

* * *

A few years have passed and you were now in university, trying to live without the thought of YangYang as you realized you were probably never going to meet him again. Now you had some amazing friends who were bringing colors into your life and sometimes distracted you from thoughts about your childhood friend.

You were currently having lunch with your friends from your class. Suddenly you saw Jaemin, one of your friends, running towards your table and finding a place to sit, as he looked as if he was excited for some reason.

"Guys, big news! Apparently we're gonna have a new guy in our class. I heard he's German. I can't wait to meet him! European peopleare so good-looking!" Jaemin said with a dreamy gaze.

“Why would there be a German in our class?” You asked confusedly.

“I don’t know, that’s what the rumors are.”

As you heard the word ‘German’, you suddenly thought of YangYang again, trying to stop the association in your mind before it was too late. For the rest of lunch time you were a lot more silent than usual, quietly eating your food as Haechan was telling jokes, Renjun was laughing, and Jaemin kept annoying Jeno.

The next day you had an early class and as you heard your alarm ring, you groaned softly in annoyance, turning it off and literally rolling out of bed, as you fell to the floor, hugging your blanket, together with your bunny plushie which was actually a present from YangYang.

“Stop overreacting, you drama queen. Nobody has ever died from early morning classes,” your roommate and best friend, Yeji, said.

Sometimes you wondered how could she be so energetic, enthusiastic and optimistic, even early in the morning.

“Yeah, I might be the first one though,” you cried out, while holding the plushie tightly, refusing to accept the reality.

“Come on, if you get up now, I’ll buy you something delicious after classes,” Yeji promised, taking your hand to help you get to your feet.

When you heard her offer, your eyes lit up.

“Really?” You were still a little skeptical about believing her, even though you wanted to.

“Yes, knowing you, you’re probably just going to ask me to buy you a chocolate. Completely affordable,” Yeji chuckled, knowing she was right.

“Correct. Make it two, though. I feel this is going to be a difficult day.”

You finally took her hand and let her help you get up from the floor. After that you quickly put your plushie back in your bed, laying its head on your pillow, as you took the blankets from the floor and put them over the plushie, wanting it to feel warm. Yeji watched your actions with a wide smile on her face.

“Aww, you’re so cute. Now go get ready, or we’ll gonna be late.”

“Oh, how tragic that would be,” you said sarcastically, before going to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

* * *

When you and Yeji entered the lecture hall, you found your classmates being more energetic and chattier than usual. You also noticed your friends, who were talking to a new guy, probably the one Jaemin mentioned the day before, as you recalled.

“Honestly I was a little disappointed to find out you weren’t actually German,” you heard Jaemin say and you giggled quietly.

“If those weird comments don’t scare the new guy off, I’d be really impressed,” Yeji noted, as she found a place near the window and you sat next to her.

“I agree,” you laughed, turning around to look at the new guy once again.

He looked somehow familiar to you, but you couldn’t tell why. When he noticed you looking at him he just stared at you for a couple of seconds while Jaemin and the rest of your friends were probably bothering him. You could swear you’ve seen those shiny dark brown eyes somewhere else before. But as you realized you were still looking at the guy, you quickly averted your eyes, so that he wouldn’t think you were some kind of a creep. You thought that maybe there was not a particular reason for his familiar vibe: maybe he just looked like somebody you’d befriend, that’s why he looked as if you already knew him, or at least that’s what you believed.

“I see the new guy has already caught your eye. The question is, how did he achieve that? You’re not usually interested in others,” Yeji pointed out.

“I-I’m not looking at him,” you denied, shaking your head. “Guys are basically a loss of time, except for my friends. But they’re too dumb for me to date one of them. Besides, only two of them are boyfriend material, they are Jaemin and Jeno, and they’re basically almost dating each other, even though they don’t know it yet,” you explained, taking your textbook out.

As you mentioned Jeno, you saw him coming to you and you looked at him questioningly.

“We promised to show the new guy around after this class, and then we’re going to have lunch with him. You and Yeji can also join us,” Jeno suggested and Yeji nodded.

“We’d love to!” You smiled and Jeno smiled back, returning to his seat, next to Jaemin.

When English class ended, you and Yeji went out of the lecture hall, waiting for your friends and the new guy. They were soon here and you all started walking around the hall, as you heard Haechan talking about the variety of books in the university’s library even though you’ve never seen him actually go there, so you were wondering how he knew this information. Meanwhile you and the new guy continued looking at each other and then averting your gaze without saying anything. You realized he still hasn’t introduced himself to you, but you couldn’t ask him for his name, because you were shy, so you just continued walking in silence, as the ones who were talking were mainly Haechan and Renjun.

When you went to the cafeteria and found a table, you left your things, so that the guys could watch over them, and you went to buy food with Yeji.

“Seriously, what’s going on between you and the new guy? You can’t stop looking at each other. You’ve never looked at a guy like that, so you can’t convince me you don’t like him,” Yeji stated, demanding an answer, as she took a bowl of rice.

“He just looks familiar, I don’t know why though. That’s all.”

“You know that when you meet your soulmate for the first time, you feel as if you already know each other?” Yeji asked, as you paid for your food and started walking back to the table with your best friend walking after you.

“Shut up,” you hit her arm playfully; you really wanted her to stop saying things like that.

When you went back to the table, you noticed only Jaemin and Jeno were there. Jaemin was feeding Jeno, holding a spoon of rice which he put into his mouth.

“Eat a lot, handsome,” Jaemin winked at Jeno who averted his head with discontent. “Do you want some kimchi?” He asked, as Jeno nodded, even though he didn’t want his best friend to feed him.

“Why are you feeding him? Can he not hold the utensils himself?” Yeji asked, as you hit her arm again.

“Be quiet, you’re ruining the romance,” you scolded her, as you continued looking at your two friends, as you sat across from them.

“What romance are you talking about, I just lost a bet,” Jeno groaned in disagreement with your statement.

“Was the bet letting Jaemin show his love for you freely?” You questioned him, as Jeno looked too flustered to answer.

“Something like that,” Jaemin confirmed. “Ah, Jeno, you’re such a messy eater! Here, let me wipe that off,” he said, as he wiped the rice off Jeno’s lips, using a tissue.

“Cute,” you whispered, looking away as you started eating your own lunch.

“Jaemin’s actions are making me want to throw up,” Yeji confessed, taking her fork and starting to eat her food in silence.

“You’re not the only one, I feel the same way,” Jeno agreed quietly, looking at Jaemin as if he was going to kill him every second now.

A few minutes later the new guy approached your table, holding his own tray of food, setting it down and sitting next to you. Your heart skipped a beat just because of his decision to sit next to you. You didn’t know why him being close to you was making you feel this special, so you tried to brush it off, but you couldn’t; so during the rest of the lunch you were actually in a very good mood, even though you and the new guy still haven’t talked to each other directly at all. When Haechan and Renjun joined you, you talked to them a lot, trying not to think about the stranger next to you, since you were too shy to ask for his name, and he apparently didn’t want to say it to you or ask you about yours.

As you were done with lunch, you stood up from the table and took your tray in your hands, looking at the new guy as he was doing the same. When he took his own tray, though, you noticed he dropped something. You quickly bent down to get it and give it back to its owner. But before handing it to him, you took a quick look at it – it was a discount card for the food in the cafeteria. You saw his picture and you read your name, saying it out loud as you realized something.

“Yang… Yang?” You looked up in disbelief.

He looked at you with a smile and he nodded.

“Yes, YangYang is my name, not a nickname as people usually think. Sorry for not introducing myself to you earlier, I was just distracted since you seemed really familiar for some reason,” he said, as you handed him his discount card.

“Um, I… My name is Y/N,” you introduced yourself quietly, as you waited for his reaction.

There were two possible ways this could go: he would either recognize his own childhood best friend, or he would take your hand, as he hears your name for the first time, if he wasn’t your YangYang, but some other guy with the same name. But to you, now it all made sense. The visual resemblance, his voice, his cheerful personality… But you still wanted to be sure it was actually him, before hugging him excitedly.

“You… Bunny?” He called you by your nickname he came up with when you were younger. He thought you looked energetic and playful, just like a bunny.

You nodded, as you couldn’t stop smiling.

“You don’t know how much I missed you!”

Before you could do anything, he put his tray and card down on the table as he hugged you tightly. You were a little taken aback for a couple of seconds, slowly realizing your wish has come true. You and your best friend were finally together.

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“Thinkin' of ya when I'm goin' to bed

When I wake up think of ya again

You are my homie, lover and friend

Exactly why”

As you and Yeji went back to the dorms, you didn’t even have any motivation to study, because you were too busy thinking about your amazing day. You still couldn’t believe this was actually him, your childhood best friend who you were meeting so many years after he left for Germany, after you had lost hope of seeing him ever again. You were hugging your plushie, as you were jumping around the room, repeating that tomorrow you were meeting YangYang after classes in a café, where you could talk to each other and get updates on his life, even though everything seemed as if it was still the same; even YangYang haven’t changed in your opinion, except for becoming more handsome now as an adult.

Yeji was smiling at you, as you told her about your long story with your childhood friend. She was sincerely happy to see you so excited and she wished everything would turn out well for you. You kept thinking about him before going to bed and even after you woke up, starting your day with a smile on your face.

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“You light me up inside

Like the 4th of July

Whenever you’rearound

I always seem to smile”

A few weeks have passed since your reunion with YangYang; now you were used to hanging out together all the time, just like before, realizing that neither of you really changed. You craved each other’s attention and presence just the same way as when you were kids. Today you decided to visit a café with a nice atmosphere, suitable for a cozy afternoon and long conversations. After classes were over, you said goodbye to Yeji, as she wished you to have a good time on your date, but you were quick to correct her this wasn’t a date (even though you secretly wanted it to be) and went out of the classroom together with YangYang.

On the way to the café you couldn’t stop talking to each other. Your topics were never ending and it was always exciting spending time together for both of you. You couldn’t stop smiling as he said funny things to you, or even when he didn’t say something that entertaining; you just loved his company so much, that you enjoyed every second you spent with him. Around twenty minutes later you got to your destination and he opened the door to the café for you, then you found a nice table near the window. You both ordered hot chocolate as you continued with your conversation.

“Do you wanna go watch a movie tomorrow? They’re projecting a Marvel movie,” YangYang asked as he gave you a little additional information.

You smiled, even though you honestly disliked these movies, but you only watched them so that you could spend time with YangYang. You’ve watched every single Marvel movie, since your best friend was obsessed with them for some reason.

“Of course, I’m so excited!”

“Great, I’ll book the movie tickets now,” YangYang said with a wide smile on his face, as he unlocked his phone and typed the website’s name to book the tickets.

“Um, Yangie,” you hesitantly started speaking, not knowing if you should continue your sentence.

“Yeah?” He asked, not looking away from his phone.

“I’m going home this weekend, in my hometown. Do you wanna go with me?” You suggested, even though you felt a little shy to be inviting your childhood friend in your house and have the same sleepovers you used to.

“Really? That would be amazing!” Fortunately, he seemed really happy to hear your idea. “Your parents are also going to be there, right?” After you nodded, he continued speaking. “Can you tell your mom to please prepare my favorite cream cheese muffins for her special guest?” He looked at you with pleading eyes you could never say no to.

“Hey, YangYang! Do you only care about food?” You scolded him, as you playfully hit his arm.

“This is my main priority, yes.” He answered, matching your energy. “But you take the second place, you’re the second most important thing to me other than food.”

He looked at you and for a moment you forgot how to breathe. You were looking at his eyes, getting lost again and again; it felt like you were getting out of the trance he put you on, only to fall deeper the next time you looked at him.

“Are you okay?”

His voice showed concern, but his face had a unreadable look; not worried, but also not calm. It was like he knew exactly how he made you feel.

“Uh, yes, sorry, I just zoned out for a second,” you explained as you avoided his gaze. “I’m gonna call my mom later and ask her to prepare the muffins,” you informed him, as you took a sip from your hot chocolate.

“You know I don’t really care, right? I just want to be with you,” he admitted, as you coughed when you heard that. “Are you alright? First you zoned out, now you can’t drink your hot chocolate… So my theory must be true,” he said with a content tone and you looked at him in surprise.

“What theory?” You asked as you continued coughing until you were okay.

“Never mind. Just be careful next time.”

You nodded as you silently took another sip, trying to avoid his eyes.

Around an hour later it was time for you to leave, so you went back to the dorms. He smiled and waved at you, and after you waved back, you finally entered the room you and Yeji shared. You closed the door as you rested your back on it, breathing loudly. Your heart was beating fast and you wanted to make sure you’ve calmed down before you greet Yeji. Now you were absolutely sure you were in love with your childhood best friend and that fact made you quite nervous. You never felt that way before and you weren’t even sure if he felt the same way about you. But despite your worries, you smiled widely before knowing it. You felt like you couldn’t even control your emotions and it made you very confused. You slowly went to your room, then you left your bag on your chair and you took a step towards your bed and you just laid on it for a minute, staring at the ceiling, trying to stop thinking about YangYang, but it was more difficult than you expected.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t the date with YangYang go well?” She teased you and you turned to look at her, rolling your eyes with annoyance.

“It was nice, except it weren’t a date,” you corrected her, sighing loudly. “But why is my heart being like that?” you whispered, putting your head on your heart as you kept looking at the ceiling with concentration, as if you expected to find all the answers of your questions there.

“Maybe because you wanted it to be a date?”

You decided to ignore her, but then she spoke again.

“Look at me, the ceiling won’t talk to you like I can,” Yeji reminded you as you looked at her discontentedly.

“Yes, but it also won’t make fun of me like you do.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just find it amazing that you’re finally interested in somebody,” she said, as she smiled excitedly.

“You could have stopped after ‘sorry’, you know?” You shot her another annoyed look and she raised her eyebrows as if to say she didn’t care. “Never mind, I’m going to take a shower.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“And people ask me how

Well you’re the reason why

I'm dancing in the mirror and singing in the shower”

As you felt the hot water running down your body, you felt a wave of calmness washing over you. Your mind kept going back to thoughts of YangYang and your incredible day with him, as well as the excitement of going home together with him. It was something you wished for so many years, just having him back with you, the two of you together in your room, playing Plants vs. Zombies or Mortal Kombat, some of your favorite PC games back at the time, when you both were around 10 years old.

Without realizing it, you started singing a random song you’ve heard in school today that somehow happened to be a romantic one, matching perfectly with your good mood and your feelings for your childhood friend. Around half an hour later, you got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around your body. Then you took the hairdryer and stood in front of the mirror, drying your hair, but you felt so energetic and happy that you started dancing in front of the mirror. You were holding the hairdryer and you were moving your body randomly, keeping a smile on your face, even though that way drying your hair took much longer time than usual.

When you finally turned the hairdryer off, you noticed Yeji standing in the doorway of your room, looking at you with a wide smile. You rolled your eyes at her for the millionth time today, realizing she may have witnessed at least a part of your dancing in front of the mirror. She giggled, but you decided to act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you were always that cheerful.

“Why are you laughing?” You asked, as you put the hairdryer back in its place.

“Someone has a crush,” Yeji almost sang that sentence. “I’ve never heard you singing in the shower and seen you dancing in front of the mirror before… Is it really possible that YangYang is the reason behind all that? Could he have changed your usual grumpiness into cheerfulness?”

“What do you mean? I’m the same as usual,” you denied all her claims coolly, sounding credible enough, since you weren’t such an inexperienced liar; you couldn’t say the same for your love life though – you really lacked experience in that part, knowing that calling yourself a “dater” would be factually incorrect.

“Yeah, okay. But if things between you really do work out, I want to be the first one you’re going to share the news with! You’re gonna tell it to Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun and Haechan later,” Yeji stated, as you were looking at her with confusion.

“Calm down, there won’t be any news to tell,” you laughed as you quietly went back to your shared room.

But the part of you that you tried hard to suppress, really hoped you were wrong.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“All I want, all I need is your lovin'

Baby you make me hot like an oven

Since you came you know what I've discovered

Baby I don't need me another”

The next day was Friday, the day you would come back home together with YangYang, being there with him for the first time in many years. A few days ago you’ve told your mother about reuniting with him and to say she was ecstatic would have been an understatement; she felt as if she was welcoming her second child who has been away for a long time, so she wanted to make sure everything was perfect for him. She even cleaned your room since you weren’t there to do so and its usual state was beyond messy; definitely not the best place to show to such an important and dear guest.

You couldn’t wait to go, but before that, you had classes that seemed endless to you; time seemed to be passing too slowly and for a moment you even thought about suggesting YangYang to skip school today, but your good girl reputation prevented you from doing so.

When the professor said his last words for today, concluding the lecture, you took your backpack. You had put your stuff in it a few minutes ago, while the professor was explaining something about an exam or an “extremely important” group project; you weren’t sure, since you weren’t listening after all. You took out the little mirror you kept in your bag to make sure you looked alright. You tried to comb your hair with your fingers, then you applied a new layer of your favorite pink lipstick; you took so much time with your make up today, even though you usually didn’t wear a lot. When you were ready, you ran to the exit of the auditorium, as YangYang was already waiting in front of it.

“You might need to turn Yeji down,” he said, as you raised your eyebrows questioningly. “The group assignment Mr. Lee mentioned, groups of two are also allowed, so you’re with me.”

So this was what you missed as you were too busy putting your stuff in your backpack in order to be able to leave as early as possible. You smiled at him when you heard his words that made a warm feeling blossom in your body.

“Are we ready to go? All I need is in my backpack, so I don’t need to go back to the dorms, unless you want to.”

“I’m also ready. Let’s go,” he smiled, taking your hand and leading you to the exit of the university.

As you were walking next to him, your hand in his, you felt your heart beating unusually fast; but instead of this making you feel nervous, you felt the same warm feeling spreading through your whole body and this time, you were ready to let go and have fun, without holding back anymore.

“So we have a bus in 15 minutes,” you informed him, as you looked at your phone.

“A bus?” He asked before he stopped walking and you stopped looking at the phone and noticed an expensive black car parked in the university parking. “Why don’t we take a ride in my car?” He leaned on it, tapping the roof softly.

“This car is yours? I can’t believe it, you’ve really grown up, Yangie,” you said with a disbelieving voice in order to tease him, but you still sat next to the driver’s seat in his car, as he has opened the door for you before getting on himself. “Even though I’m a few months older than you, I still don’t have my driver’s license, but I’m working on it,” you said with a discontented tone. You were nervous about driving and when you were stressed, you couldn’t do well so you were trying to get your driver’s license for quite some time now.

“You can do it,” he encouraged you with his usual cheerful tone, holding his fist in the air for a second as a sign of encouragement, as he started the car and left the university parking.

* * *

When you were finally in front of your house, you quickly got off the car as you started jumping around with excitement. He smiled at you as he also got off and when the both of you took your backpacks from the car, you rang the bell of your house. A few seconds later your mom opened the door, welcoming you with warm hugs and her usual good mood, as well as a wide smile.

“Wow, I haven’t been here for such a long time,” YangYang mentioned, as he kept looking around. “Wait, what is this smell? It’s amazing!”

“Oh, it’s the muffins,” she smiled again. “By the way, Yangie, you’ve grown so tall! And my little Y/N is still the same as before, she didn’t really grow up a lot,” your mom teased you,

“Hey, you’re shorter than me, so you aren’t allowed to make fun of me!” You playfully scolded your mom, as you sighed in annoyance.

“But you like girls shorter than you, right, YangYang?” Your mom asked your childhood best friend and you wanted the ground to swallow you up right now since you were so ashamed.

You knew she was only asking this since she shipped you and YangYang romantically ever since you two met. She was truly scared for you not to end up single, while you were living your life, rejecting every guy that tried to flirt with you, especially because they weren’t YangYang. You perfectly understood your own feelings so you knew that you didn’t need and didn’t really want a relationship if it wasn’t with him.

“Actually, yeah, I really like girls like that,” YangYang smiled confidently, looking at you. “They are adorable,” he looked away and only then you could breathe. “And they make me feel tall even though I’m not,” he laughed, as your mother was looking at him with pure adoration in her eyes.

“Ah, you’d be such a perfect son in law! Handsome, good mannered, with a good height and you also know a lot of languages, just like my Y/N! I’m honestly so jealous of your future mother in law,” your mom continued to make you want to disappear and you were on the verge of just taking YangYang’s hand and leading him somewhere far away from that house.

“Believe me, you do not need to worry about that,” YangYang said as he kept smiling at your mom.

Even though you didn’t know what he meant, you really wanted to take him somewhere else, where he wouldn’t be able to talk to your mom.

“Dad is still at work, right? Please ask him to buy iced tea and tell us to come when dinner is ready, see you later,” without waiting for your mom to answer, you took YangYang’s hand and led him upstairs and then into your room.

He was looking around as if he was visiting a foreign place he has never been to before.

“You changed your room color…” He said as he touched the wall. “Baby pink suited you though. Also your curtains are different. I liked the old ones with teddy bears on them, but these are fine too. And the bed… It’s seems suitable for more than one person,” he kept commenting the details about your room, but this time his tone was different, and his look was honestly making you nervous. “Have you invited many guys here, Y/N? In this room, on this bed?”

His question made you choke on air; you were looking at him with shock written all over your face.

“W-why would I…”

You wanted to be honest with him, but then realized that this would probably make you look so boring to him.

“It’s not your business.” You quickly answered, sitting on your chair.

“Ah, my innocent Y/N… I guess I’m the only guy who is not a family member that has been to your room,” he continued teasing you as you glared at him warningly.

“That’s not true! Jaemin, Jeno, Haechan and Renjun have been here too!” You quickly denied his claims.

“Yeah, but I doubt you felt something for any of them.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds before deciding to change the topic.

“Do you wanna play Plants Vs. Zombies?” You suddenly asked.

“Of course! Let’s go!” He answered enthusiastically, seating on the chair next to yours.

It was a whole miracle how you could change the atmosphere and his demeanor just by mentioning a PC game. You started playing and suddenly he was the same old YangYang you knew and loved.

“Plant a sunflower, quickly!” You said, as you were looking at your laptop’s screen.

He did as you said, waiting to get another sun so we could buy another plant.

“Quickly, the zombies are coming!” You were clapping excitedly, looking at your childhood friend play the game you used to play all the time when you were kids.

You were so happy that you got closer to him without realizing.

“You’re making me nervous by staying so close to me,” he confessed, giggling softly.

“A-ah, s-sorry,” you quickly apologized as you moved away from him.

When you decided to take a break from the game, you offered him to watch a movie and he agreed, laying on your bed and you reluctantly laid next to him, trying not to get too close to him. You opened Netflix on your TV and the two of you took some time to choose a movie.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“No, no all I know (know)

Only you got me feelin' so (so)

And you know that I have to have ya

And I don't plan to let you go”

You haven’t watched the movie even halfway when he pressed the pause button.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, sighing deeply as if he had something that caused him a great amount of stress.

“Do what?” You asked him worriedly.

Was he sick? Was he bored? You thought of so many different things that you could have done which could have irritated him.

“Pretend that everything between us is still the same. Pretend I don’t want to kiss you right now.”

Your eyes widened with shock when you heard his confession, but before you could say anything, he continued talking.

“We’re not kids anymore, Y/N. And I think we did change through all these years. It’s our chemistry that’s still the same. Tell me that you’re feeling it too,” he was talking in a husky voice which made you imagine things you thought you shouldn’t.

YangYang looked at your eyes hesitatingly, then at your lips, or at least that’s what you thought you saw him looking at, even though for you, it didn’t make any sense for him to be looking there, even after hearing him say he wanted to kiss you. You felt as if that whole situation was just a dream and nothing that happened was going to affect reality in any way. But as you were busy overanalyzing things as usual, you felt a strange, yet addicting sensation. As your eyes were still open, you looked at YangYang who was kissing you. You couldn’t believe that was happening, but you quickly closed your eyes, enjoying his lips on yours. Your heart was beating fast as you tried to remember this sweet feeling, savouring the taste of his lips. When he moved away, you slowly opened your eyes, looking at his with confusion, yet with trust. You were sure that whatever was going to happen, you were safe and happy with him.

“I- You… Uh, did you like that?”

You nervously nodded, as you were wondering what to say.

“Great, I did too. Does that mean you like me back?” YangYang wanted to check in with you, before officially asking you the last question he wanted to ask ever since he realized who you were back in the canteen that day.

“You’re so special to me, YangYang. I like you a lot,” you confessed, feeling a little shy, but still trying to keep his eyes on him, because you thought he deserved to know exactly how you felt about him without finding out how nervous you actually were. “By the way, that was my first kiss and I’m so happy it was with you,” you looked at him adoringly.

“Really? That’s so cute!” He exclaimed with a sweet smile. “So you’re sure you haven’t kissed anyone from your friends group?”

“Actually I kissed Jaemin and Jeno on the cheek once at a party because of a dare. And on the same night Haechan and I got so drunk that we almost kissed, but our friends stopped us before we ‘unlock a whole another relationship’, as they said.”

YangYang sighed with annoyance before mustering up the courage to ask you the most important question.

“Do you want to be like… Uh, you know?”

You were looking at him with confusion written all over your face.

“You sound just like Mark, he’s a friend of mine who’s one year older than us,” you teased him, since you really found his nervousness to be cute.

“Come on, you know what I’m trying to say,” he tried to avoid saying it out loud, but you weren’t going to let him do that.

“Do I know, Yangie? How can I know if you haven’t said it yet?”

“You went from a shy girl to a smug girl in just a second,” he mumbled with discontent.

“But you’re the same! You were teasing me earlier and now you sound like Mark Lee!” You complained.

“Who is Mark Lee?” YangYang asked even though he didn’t really insist on knowing; he just wanted to postpone asking his main question for as long as possible.

“That Mark guy I told you about! Are you even listening to me?”

“Should I be jealous of him?” He pouted as he was waiting for your answer.

“Maybe you should,” you continued provoking him in order for him to properly ask you what he wanted to.

“Come on! Aren’t your four handsome guy friends enough people to be jealous of? When I see how you’re looking at Yeji, sometimes I’m jealous of her too! I also can’t stand it when Haechan looks at you as if he has so many improper thoughts. Or when Jeno and Jaemin ask you if you have eaten. Or when Renjun is smiling at you and laughing at your jokes! Ah, I hate it so much that I want to punch-“

You interrupted YangYang with a kiss.

“My answer is yes.”

“You’re going to be my girlfriend?” He asked, hoping you would agree.

“No, I’ve never heard you ask that,” you crossed your arms, smiling at him playfully.

“You’re going to be my girlfriend because I said so~,” he almost sang that sentence, as he decided to make sure you were incapable to refuse by suddenly making you fall on your bed as he trapped your body under his.

“No, I’m not going to do it~,” you answered in the same tone, as you tried to flip him over, so that you could be on top of him.

But when he noticed what you were trying to do, he caught your wrist and kissed your lips deeply, making you forget everything else. In that moment you relaxed under his touch feeling safer than ever. You kissed him back with the same lust as his, as your fingers threaded through his fluffy hair. You continued passionately kissing each other for a few minutes, taking very short breaks to breathe, since you both missed each other’s lips too much to stay separated even for a few seconds that felt like an eternity for you.

But when you heard a knock on your door, YangYang quickly got off you and he sat on the bed innocently, as you followed his example. You quickly fixed his hair which was quite messy because you were running your fingers through it all the time.

“Y-you can come in,” you said with a voice that was a little distorted, while you were trying to normalize your heavy breathing.

When you said that, the door opened and your dad came in.

“Hi, Y/N. Here’s the iced tea,” he said, giving you the bottle of iced tea which you contentedly took from his hands and left on the ground. “YangYang, it’s great to see you again,” he smiled and YangYang smiled back. “Dinner is ready, so you can come downstairs,” your dad said and you nodded synchronously. Then he turned around and walked out the door, closing it.

YangYang got up from your bed as he gave you his hand, which you took. He kept holding your hand as you were walking down the stairs.

“I guess your parents are really going to have the best son-in-law,” YangYang said and as soon as you realized he was talking about himself, you hit his arm as you laughed.

You were finally truly happy again; you felt having YangYang by your side meant that nothing was impossible and all your dreams could come true, just like the seemingly unrealistic dream of having him back while you were longing for him all these years. It turns out your long wait was absolutely worth it and now that he was here with you again, you weren’t going to let him go.

#nct #wayv #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang #yangyang fluff #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang imagines #yangyang scenarios #song fic

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