#i don’t know if anyone else but me cares about this but here you go
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SPIDER | tom riddle
summary; tom riddle has a peculiar way of showing his affection, but he's nothing if not protective.
word count; 1625
notes; I woke up this morning with inspiration and I grabbed my laptop and banged this out before even getting up. if you hate it, I literally don't care <3
The flames of the fireplace flickered soothingly, the last warmth spilling out towards you in a subtle glow, hiding the reflections of the lake that danced around the room. Several other students were also still milling around, the Slytherin common room was never truly empty, not unless it was the summer break. Pulling the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, you snuggled down a bit further, only stilling when the cold sense of someone else crept down your neck.
This was a familiar chill, though. You were aware of someone else’s presence, and yet no part of that was threatening. A familiar cologne reached your nose, and before you’d even turned, you were greeting the man who stood behind you, “Hello, Tom.”
“Why are you down here?” He cut right to the point, never one for formalities, and your lips flickered up at the edges as he walked around the edge of the sofa and into your view. “You’re never up at this time.”
Always so observant. Your smile formed a little more every time he revealed something extra he’d noticed about you. That you liked a particular table in the library, that your favourite biscuits were chocolate hobnobs, that you didn’t usually stay up this late. Tom Riddle had a peculiar way of showing affection. Most people assumed he was cold, unfeeling, harsh. They couldn't be more wrong.
Tom Riddle was a walking, talking, bleeding heart. He was an open wound, snapping like an injured animal when anyone came close. Tom Riddle was full of emotion, it just happened to be hidden behind a thick stone wall. But if you were allowed close enough to look through the cracks, the true Tom Riddle shone like golden light within.
“I could ask you the same thing.” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, taking half a step closer to you and perching on the arm of the couch elegantly.
“You know I go for walks at night.”
“And where do you go for these walks? What do you do on your oh-so-mysterious nightly walks?” You turned your body further towards him, the blanket slipping down from its place around your chin, and those calculating brown eyes tracked its fall along your arm.
“That’s none of your business, and you’re avoiding the question.”
“You’re avoiding mine.” You retorted, and he simply gave you a dry look. Reaching out, Tom lifted the edge of the blanket back up and over your shoulder, securing it back into place.
“Answer me.”
“Fine,” You sighed, head rolling across your shoulders and back towards the fireplace, watching the growing flames once again, “I saw a spider in my room. It crawled down the edge of my bed right before I could get in, and now I don’t want to go to sleep.”
You could feel Tom’s stare on you, the silence stretching between you both as he let the confession settle. There was half a chance he’d scoff, and half a chance he’d simply walk away now that he got his answer. He seemed to be debating between which one to go for. “Why didn’t Pansy get it out for you?”
Another question, not an option you’d considered, but not a surprise from him. “She’s not here, she’s at Luna’s tonight.”
More silence, and you took the chance to observe him instead. Tom Riddle was not one to cower away from a stare, and so as you watched him, he watched you too. Finally, he broke the silence, “I’ll get it for you.”
Now, that was a surprise. “You will?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” He shot back, standing once again, making it clear to you that you were to do the same, or he’d leave without you. Dropping the blanket down to the couch, the enchanted item folded itself back up and into the storage trunk you’d taken it from, as you smoothed out your jumper and followed Tom’s already retreating steps.
“It doesn’t matter, but I’m curious. Humour me.” You caught up with him, and he cut you a glance from the side of his eye. “You should also know that I’m very grateful, whether you choose to tell me or not. Thank you.”
The rigid lines of his shoulders softened a little at that. Should you know how to, Tom Riddle could be played like a fiddle. You smothered a snicker at the rhyme in your head as he let slip a small sigh. “I don’t want you to sit in the common room all night when I can perfectly easily take care of the problem.”
Your smile was full now, following him silently through the halls as he guided the way to your dorm. Opening the door, he was respectful enough to ignore the piles of mess on your roommate’s side of the dorm, looking straight towards your untouched bed, and the mug of now cold tea sitting on your bedside table.
“Which side?”
“The far one.” You mumbled, tension creeping back into your body. What if it wasn’t there anymore? What if it had crawled elsewhere, and was now hidden somewhere in the room, ready to strike, or—
The screech of your bed frame moving snapped you from your thoughts as Tom pulled it away from the wall. It moved again, jarring along the wooden floor. Tom remained still, eyes moving for a second, two, before he suddenly strode forwards, ducking down and his hand shot out. He straightened a second later, with his hands cupped, and turned to you.
He nodded his head towards the window, and you scurried across the room ahead of him, flinging open the window and backing far away as he neared. That made him scoff, rolling his eyes at your behaviour once again. He held his hands out of the window, shaking them off and letting the spider fall through the air, before pulling back, and clicking the catch back into place. He double-checked it, before casting his eye over the rest of the room.
“Let me check for any more.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Your words fell on deaf ears, as Tom shifted your bed back into place, before peering behind both desks, your dressers and the wardrobe, and finally, the bathroom. He methodically checked each and every space within your dorm for you, leaving you to sit in the centre of your once again safe bed, watching him with a soft smile. Before leaving the bathroom, he washed his hands clean of the creature that had been crawling within them, before returning to you.
“No more.”
“Thank you, Tom.” You whispered, his chin tucking in a single nod, but a frown on his face.
“You already thanked me.”
“There’s no law saying I can’t thank you twice, or as many times as I please, for that matter.” Your smirk made him press his lips into a line, but he had no comeback and hated not having the final word. He was calculating, something else to say, something to spin this back onto you—
“Your tea is cold. You should reheat that, so you don’t waste it.”
Your gaze flickered to the mug, and back to him, shrugging. “I don’t feel like having it now.”
His sigh sounded frustrated, and he took a few more steps into the room, towards you, instead of the door. His voice had softened once again as he took you in, looking down at you with a gentler gaze than most ever saw. “Will you go to sleep now?”
“Soon, I think I’ll just read for a while, I’m not too tired yet.”
He nodded. His jaw clenched as he glanced towards the door, but made no move to leave. The clock in the corner ticked, seconds passing by loudly in the space, and then, “Would you like to join me on my walk?”
His words were fragile, a rare show of vulnerability from him. Uttered quietly into the air that hung between you both, and your gasp almost startled him. “Really?”
He glared, answering your question with a fitting answer. Tom never said things he didn’t mean, and you knew that. Everyone knew that. But he’d never let anyone go on his walks before, it was a hotly debated topic and a running joke within the group about what exactly took place on these walks, and what nefarious things he likely got up to.
“I’d like that.”
“Then put on some proper shoes, and quickly.” You did as he had, rather gruffly, commanded, swapping out the comfy slippers for some boots, and throwing on another jumper for extra warmth. Tom waited for you at the door, holding it open for you to step through. “Do you like the lake at night?”
“I’ve never been out to the lake at night.”
He made a quiet sound of acknowledgement, a hum under his breath. “Then that’s where we’ll go. You’ll like it. It’s… peaceful.”
His hand flexed at his side as you walked together, and after clearing the common room and entering the silent corridors, you slipped your hand into his own.
He stiffened, for only a second, before his fingers wrapped back around yours, and a smile pulled on his lips as he ducked his head. You and Tom had been dancing this line for years now, something more but not quite enough.
Not yet.
But you’d get there, someday. His actions told you enough. Enough to know that he felt what you did too, that you were certainly headed somewhere, on a collision course together. You belonged to Tom Riddle as much as he belonged to you.
So, for now, holding his hand as you walked the lake, and letting him chase spiders out of your room was enough.
#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle/reader#tom riddle x you#tom riddle/you#slytherin boys#harry potter#christian coulson/reader#christian coulson x reader#christian coulson/you#christian coulson x you
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˗ˋ I was enchanted to meet you ˊ˗
warnings: angst with redeeming fluff
pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hypnos
summary: based on the lyrics “please don’t be in love with someone else / please don’t have somebody waiting on you”
A/N: @spadekip
you hated how everyone liked percy
you can’t blame them, but he’s your boyfriend
and the more you think about your relationship with him, the more you realize how you’re never really present
you’re always asleep, that’s the problem
and you curse your father for that
you can’t help but fall asleep all the time, and it sucks when you try to have a relationship with someone you really like but all you can do is sleep
“y/n, are you okay? you’re zoning out again” percy frowns at you
“yeah- I’m fine” you stand up, “will I see you later?”
“yeah, I’ll come by your cabin tonight” he kisses your cheek
maybe you should tell him how you feel later
no- he already has enough to worry about
you discard the thoughts for now, continuing on your way to your usual camp duties
- 💌 -
you wake up from your nap to a knock on your cabin
oh, it’s percy, you had forgotten all about him!
you quickly stand up, rushing to open the door
“I’m sorry, I fell asleep” you rub your eyes, adjusting them to the sunlight
“no, you’re fine. can I come in?” he asks
“yeah- of course” you take his hand and pull him inside, closing the door behind you
“y/n, can we talk?”
a look of terror makes its way to your face as you sit back down on your bed
“woah- no, I’m sorry, it’s nothing bad, I don’t think it is. It’s about you” he sits down beside you and takes your hands on his “I’m worried about you, you’ve been distracted recently. do you want to talk about it?”
you think for a second “there’s not much to talk about”
“well there must be something, you can always talk to me” he reassured you
you sigh “well I don’t know, there’s a lot- it started with just worrying about you- everyone likes you, and I’m not exactly that present in this relationship, I’m always sleeping, and I’m scared that you’ll leave me for someone better who can actually stay awake”
“oh y/n…” he hugs your side “I don’t care that you’re always sleeping, I don’t like anyone else, I promise, I only like you, none of those other idiots”
you play with his hands, “but what if you-”
he cuts you off, “no- there is no ‘buts’ I only love you, you’re so special to me, and I love that you’re always sleeping, I think it’s cute how you can always fall asleep in the weirdest places, and I love seeing you so content”
you go to speak but he cuts you off again, “c’mon let’s go to sleep, yeah?”
“percy- you came here to hang out with me not sleep” you roll your eyes
“you love sleeping don’t you?” he looks down at you
“I do, but where is this going?” you look up at him suspiciously
“if you love sleeping, then I’ll sleep too. I’ll do anything to make you happy”
#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo fandom#percy jackson#pjo spoilers#percy series#pjo hoo toa#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x reader#xoxochb
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shall we dance? — bang chan. strangers to lovers. fluff. chan gives you his shoes when your feet hurt. conversation inspired by a scene in little women. (0.9k words)
Bright lights pollute your vision, and it’s getting hard to hear anything over the music echoing around the room.
Nobody told you how hard it’d be to look for quiet, even just a thin line, amidst one of the nights teenage girls will be writing about in their diaries when they get home. Quaint gestures of friendliness are starting to feel a little forced. Friends of a friend mingle around, clad in the prettiest dresses they spent months looking for.
You’re not quite sure if you’re enjoying the night or if your thoughts are just a little clouded because no one has asked you to dance. All you know is that your brand new heels are burning holes on the soles of your feet and you don’t think you can handle another look of pity from your friend.
Maybe it’d be best to mask yourself amongst the massive curtains decorating the corners of whomever’s house this is. You’re sure you saw a room there when you’d first walked into the house. So, with your gaze straight ahead at what’s meant to be the dance floor, you start backing up–step by step, careful not to startle anyone’s periphery. The sight of you sneaking away might be the laughing stock of the town.
“Hi.”
The sudden voice startles you. You don’t expect anyone else to be in there, especially when the night is reaching its high.
“Hi. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here.” You smile sheepishly. Though, you suppose being caught by one is better than the burning gaze of a hundred.
He has a cute moon smile, eyes morphed like crescents, and he isn’t unattractive either. He’s opposite the spectrum–almost breathtaking–clad in a white dress shirt with a few unbuttoned at the top. You’re sure it costs more than everything you’re wearing tonight. His hair is wavy, but effortless in a way you know that he’d spent maybe a minute to get it to look that way. How is someone like him hiding away from the crowd? If he were to step out, you’re sure that hundreds of girls would line up even just to look at him.
“It’s alright. Don’t mind me.” He’s still smiling, though a little more effortless now. “Stay, if you’d like. It’s a little overwhelming out there, no?”
“I won’t disturb you?”
He shakes his head cutely, hair bouncing a little as he does.
“You’re Miss (Last Name), right?”
You’re surprised he knows your name, maybe a little tempted to ask how. But with the way he’s dressed, and how he’s comfortably lounged in the room, it would be safe to assume he’s the son of whoever owns this house. He must be acquainted with at least a few of the guests his father invited.
You return his smile. He’s looking directly at you, patiently waiting for your confirmation.
“Ah, yes. But I’m not Miss (Last Name), I’m only (name). Last names bring heavy expectations, and tonight, I just want to be (name).”
His smile grows.
“Well then, I’m only Chan.”
The air feels easy, a few giggles escaping both your lips after you’d both introduced yourselves. The unpleasant awkwardness of just meeting someone is almost non-existent.
“Don’t you want to go out there and dance?” You fiddle with your fingers, shifting your feet a little before returning your gaze back on the boy.
“Would you like to dance with me?”
Heat crawls up on your cheeks. You don’t know why you feel embarrassed. Maybe it’s because minutes ago you’d been sulking over not being asked to dance. And while you’d love to, your brand new heels are killing you—you think scars are forming from the way the skin of your feet that’s in contact with your shoes feel like they’re burning.
“I can’t, I’m sorry.” You shoot him an apologetic look.
“Why not?”
“My feet are burning. I don’t even think I can walk.” You laugh, sitting down and taking off a heel to show him your ankles. Just as you’d suspected, it’s painted bright red. Just a bit more friction and you’re sure it’s going to start bleeding. “But I really, really would’ve wanted to dance with you.”
Chan crouches down to inspect your ankles, a respectful hand on your foot to assess if there was any scarring. Then, he starts taking off his own shoes. You don’t even get to ask him what he’s doing, not when he’s pushing his massive shoes in front of your feet.
“Wear mine. Then it won’t have to hurt.”
“But then you won’t be wearing—”
He gently slips his shoes on yours after taking your heels off for you, even despite your protests that he’d be wearing nothing but his socks.
Chan offers a hand out to you, and it’s only then you realize a few silver rings decorating his slender fingers–the ones that are a few inches from your own hand.
When you take his hand, you first discern how big it is compared to yours. He’s very tall, shoulders far broader than yours. It’s driving you a little crazy. Then, your eyes trail down to his massive shoes that’s now on your feet.
Your attention on his shoes is short-lived when you feel a palm grazing over your waist before settling itself in a gentle grip. The music is muffled, but it’s loud enough that you can still dance a little to the beat.
“Now, shall we dance?”
#bang chan fluff#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#stray kids fic#stray kids oneshot#stray kids drabbles#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#bang chan fafic#kpop fluff#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#skz imagines#stray kids fanfic#chan drabbles#chan x you
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Jealousy.
MDNI!!! NSFW
CW: I refer to Uraume as a woman, pre established relationship between Sukuna and reader, Sukuna hits it raw 😈, mention of the 2nd d but that’s it, first smut so this might be 👎👎👎, it’s kinda late so ignore the errors, mmm I think that’s it 😁
Uraume. She has been close with Sukuna for many years. She is trusted by him. She is his servant, serving him with her finest meals. So why are you jealous of his chef? You didn’t really know.
It could be how close they are. That he is happy around her. That he treats her with greater kindness and respect than almost anyone else.
You and Sukuna were already in a relationship, so what’s the need to be so jealous for?
You pass Uraume in the hall. She, on the way to Sukuna’s chambers and you, just leaving. You glanced over at her. She had a plate in hand that was filled with a delicious meal she had prepped for the Lord.
She continues on but you can’t help but stop and look back, debating if you should follow her.
Against your better judgment, you decide to. She knocks on the door twice before being met with the deep, familiar voice.
“Come in.”
She does so, leaving the door cracked. You take your place behind the door, peering in slightly before deciding to just sit against the door and listen. You rest your back against the hard wood, careful to not force the door into making the painful ‘creeeeekkk’ sound.
“Here you go, Sukuna”
The only thing you hear from Sukuna is a grunt. The sound he makes when he’s given food. His grunt of approval. You try to scoot a little closer but hear foot steps coming towards the door so you move back.
Uraume, presumably, closes the door completely and the sound behind the door is completely enclosed.
“What the hell” you audibly say, not too loud.
Later on, you greet Sukuna in his chambers. He sat upon his thrown, his eyes inviting you to take a seat.
You accept the invitation and sit on his lap. Your legs laid across his lap and your feet dangled over the edge of his thrown. Your arms wrap around his neck.
He begins talking to you about his day, what he’s done, his plans for the week, all the usual talk that you share at the end of the day.
You look at him as you listen to him talk. You could listen to him all day. Your lips are formed into a somewhat pout as you contemplate voicing your feelings to him.
He makes the decision for you when he looks at you and sees the face you’re making.
“What?” He bluntly ask.
“I don’t think I should say it. I’ll sound silly”
“Nonsense. Tell me, now”
You cave and begin to speak but stop, unsure how you’re supposed to say this.
“Uraume. How do you feel about her?”
He cocks and eyebrow at you, unsure where this conversation is going.
“Why are you asking that?”
“I..I just feel like maybe you’d be happier being with her. Just her”
Now he’s truly confused. Him? With Uraume?
“You’re jealous of Uraume?”
Your arms move from his neck to rest in your own lap as you fiddle with your hands.
“Sometimes I think she’d be a better match for you. She’s very pretty. She cooks well. You trust her. She makes you happy. You’ve known her since forever”
Sukuna takes one hand and forcefully grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.
“Uraume is not who is sitting on me like this. Uruame is not who takes me so well every night. Do you understand, silly girl?”
You nod. Shocked at his movements.
“I don’t know if you do”
He moves the hand holding your chin to grip your neck. He pulls you in so he can kiss you, his tongue sliding in your mouth immediately. When he pulls away and moves his hand off your neck, you move to adjust yourself so that you’re straddling him.
You put your hands on his shoulder and continue the kiss. One set of his hands grip your ass while the other has a firm grasp on your waist.
You feel his two now hard dicks from under his robe. That robe he’s always in. That slutty robe. The one that he always leaves open so that you always have a view of his upper chest.
It drives you absolutely insane. In a good way, of course.
You move a hand to the inside of his robe, moving it down his abs. Before your hand can get too far, he grabs your arm with one of his own.
He pulls back and you do the same. He tugs at your shorts and you stand up on your knees so he can pull them all the way off. He does so, your panties going too. Next, he pulls your shirt over your arms.
He glares at you and you grow nervous under his gaze. This was evident to him by the face you were making.
He pulls his robe open, and moves one arm to move up and down his length while another arm goes to your hip. He guides you down to him and he moves his hand off his cock.
You put your hands back on his shoulders for support and he forces you down on his dick.
“Ah!”
The stretch never really gets easier, no matter how many times you two have does this. He was just so big.
He kisses you again and slowly moves you up and down. “Sukuna~”
He begins to move at a faster paste. “Gonna make sure you know you belong to me. No need for jealousy”.
“Hah. Ah. Ah.” Are the only noises you could make. His fat cock fucking all the thoughts out of your brain.
“Such a pretty thing” He puts his finger on your clit and rubs circles on it. “Bet you pretended to be jealous just so I could fuck you, huh? Naughty naughty.”
“Sukuna! I’m s- so close. Please!”
He bounces you up and down faster as he continues his circular moments on your sensitive clit.
“Do you think Uraume could make me feel this good, hm? Because I don’t think so”
You gasp as his dick hits that special spot.
“N-no! Only me. Only I can- gah! Ah! Su..Sukuna”
His grip on you tightens as he fucks into you faster. “That’s right. Only you”
The sound of the both of your skin slapping fills the void.
Your face scrunches up as your orgasm washes over you. Your head falling into the side of his neck as he keeps drilling into your cunt.
“Almost there too” he grunts as he roughly thrusts into your poor abused cunt. He thrust into you one final time, his cum shooting inside of you as his nails dig into your skin so hard he draws a bit of blood.
You moan at the feeling of his sharp nails breaking your skin at the same time he cums inside of you.
“Sukuna!”
He remains inside of you for a few moments after he finishes.
“Fuck. The only woman I will cum inside. Don’t forget that, fuckin brat”
#uraume#jjk uraume#jjk smut#jujusu kaisen#sukuna smut#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader smut#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#ryomen smut#sukuna ryomen smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna ryomen x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut
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A Shame Indeed (c.b. x fem!reader)
pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader
word count: 1.6k
warnings: use of female descriptors (miss, young lady, etc)
a/n: Part II to this post for colin! also a continuation of this series! i hope you enjoy and a reminder that requests are open! (both in general and for my 200 celebration :)) )
The Bridgerton drawing room is a wonderful net for beautiful sunlight. At least, that is what you gather while sitting there early one morning, a few weeks into your new role as governess. No main member of the family is awake, just the staff that keep the house afloat. It is rather peaceful, and you are grateful for the moments of solitude away from your room where you have piles of old curtain fabric surrounding you. As you finish stitching two panels of a Hyacinth size dress together, there are footsteps traipsing down the carpeted floor, alerting you of someone else’s arrival. You’re quick to your feet, lest it be a Bridgerton and you appear disrespectful. Though you have gained their trust and appreciation, it still feels as though someone might pull you back out of this dream scenario at any second.
“Ah, good morning Mr. Bridgerton,” you nod, smiling lightly as Colin appears in the doorway.
“Good morning Miss Y/N. It is rather early is it not? Is Hyacinth even awake yet?” He asks, looking down the hallway before walking closer into the room.
“Alas, she is not. I figured wasting time while awake rather silly, however, so here I am”.
“With…” he looks behind you, back at the couch, and his eyebrows raise in confusion as his head tilts to the side.
“Oh, those are curtains that Mrs. Wilson was going to have thrown out. There was a stain on them, apparently, but I have yet to find it”.
That does not seem to lessen Colin’s confusion.
“And what exactly are you doing with them?”
“Hyacinth has been begging to go to the modiste with Lady Bridgerton and Miss Bridgerton, but the focus is on those who need new dresses for the season. So, in the absence of the actual modiste, I figured I could stand in and make her a new dress. It is, however, a surprise so please do not tell her,” you look between him and the curtain, hoping you hadn’t just spoiled your plan.
Instead of verbally responding, Colin drags his fingers in front of his lips and twists an imaginary key, signalling his sworn secrecy. You laugh quietly, before turning to sit back down with your work. Now that you no longer have to fear the undermining of your surprise, you are free to work on it in the open, or at least in front of Colin. As a member of staff passes, Colin orders tea and scones, muttering something about how if the two of you were going to stay awake you might have some fuel. One thing you have learned throughout your few weeks is Hyacinth and Gregory’s love for mischief is rivalled only by Colin’s love of food. You say nothing, choosing to politely nod in agreement instead as you create the puff sleeves of Hyacinth’s dress. The scones and tea are brought quickly, you assume already prepared. You don’t think it will ever fail to amaze you how on top of everything the people who run Bridgerton house are nor the fact that you are now a part of that.
“Do you care for cream or jam first?” Colin breaks the silence, almost startling you.
“Oh, um, do not feel obliged to offer me any Mr. Bridgerton”.
“Colin, please. We did agree to get to know each other on more adult terms, did we not?”
“Well, I suppose we did. But that does not remove anything in the series of respect and class differentials Mr. Bridgerton”.
“Yes, but if I am insisting, and you work for my house, then you must listen to me. Yes?” He looks quite pleased with himself as he pours milk into his teacup.
“Fine, Colin it is. But if anyone asks, you are to inform them of your wishes immediately. I will not have people thinking I disrespect this house voluntarily,”.
“Yes ma’am,” he laughs, “now, cream or jam?”
The conversation carries on easily enough between the two of you, and for a second you forget yourself. You forget that you are inside the previously terrifying Bridgerton home, making clothes out of old curtains and drinking tea with one of your employers. It feels easy, relaxed, and you wish that you could perpetually stay in this moment. The warm sun on your back is the same that makes Colin appear glowing, making his laugh even that more heavenly in appearance. You pause, internally slow blinking and hoping that you’re not physically translating that on your face. You did not just call Colin Bridgerton’s laugh heavenly, did you? You push the thought out of your mind, remembering there is no place for thoughts like that while doing your job.
That is until Lady Bridgerton makes her way into the drawing room and pauses at the sight before her. You notice her before Colin does, standing at attention immediately, dropping the dress down on the couch beside you. Colin stands cooly, walking over to greet his mother with a soft hug and a light kiss on the cheek. You do not think you’ve seen him do anything with much more force than that since your arrival, and you wonder if he is that gentle with every person he meets. Quickly checking that train of thought and registering it unhelpful at this current moment in time, you look back solely at Lady Bridgerton, apologising for the possibility that you had any part in waking her.
“Oh no, my dear, it was not you,” she reassures you, choosing not to question why she found her third eldest and her newest hire alone together, but rather allowing Colin to excuse himself with the claim that he is to meet his brothers for a round of fencing. “May I ask why you have some of our old curtains in your possession?” She asks instead, taking Colin’s previously occupied seat on the couch across from you.
“Oh, Mrs. Wilson said they were to be thrown away and I couldn’t bear the waste of perfectly good fabric, so I fashioned Hyacinth a new dress,” you display the work you had completed during your conversation with the third Bridgerton boy, trying to be prideful but fearing the response all the same.
“How thoughtful of you,” Lady Bridgerton smiles and you secretly sigh in relief. Though you had never pegged Lady Bridgerton to be cruel or patronising in any way, some of your previous employers had not been as kind, so you always secretly fear the worst. Your letters to your mother would describe as such, the growing anxiety that every well-to-do mama that you serve under will be exactly like the last. As much as you continually remind yourself that the Bridgertons are different, those thoughts do love to linger.
The afternoon sun brings a welcome break to your lesson with Hyacinth, who immediately insisted on wearing her new dress when presented with it. She looks lovely wandering around the garden, running across benches in the lightly patterned fabric which makes her easier to spot as well. Though that had not been your intention while making the garment, you have to admit it is a welcomed bonus. That child certainly has enough energy for all the ton twice over, so being easily seen is a necessity when she could run off at any moment. She had been dying to show you what she had observed in Gregory’s dance lesson and requested that you acted as the female so she could take Gregory’s spot. You curtsey as low as you can go before placing your hands on her small frame, bending at the knees ever so slightly so her hands can rest at a comfortable position. With no music to accompany you, Hyacinth takes to counting the steps out loud and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress your laughter. One misstep has Hyacinth scolding you, though not entirely in earnest as the situation quickly crumbles into a fit of laughter between you both. The sweet girl sits next to you on the garden pathway, the two of you holding your stomachs as you laugh heartily.
Colin stands at a window a floor above the gardens, overlooking the entertaining spectacle taking place before him. A persistent smile etches its way onto his face as his hands rest behind his back, grateful that you are down there and otherwise preoccupied so as to not witness his very obvious infatuation. He does not entirely know when his thoughts about you transitioned in such a way, he just hopes it is not as obvious as he feels it must be. Soon, he realises he is not the only person watching, as his mother has joined by his side, glancing down at what has captured her son’s attention so.
“She has quite the way with the children,” his mother comments, continuing to glance at the two of you rather than addressing her son directly.
“You chose well,” he agrees, looking quickly at Lady Bridgerton before continuing to smile at the sound of your laugh climbing its way up through the window.
“A very kind soul indeed,” Lady Bridgerton sighs contently, turning then to look at her son. “With a rather large, loving heart as well. It would be a shame to let that go to waste”. With no further explanation, she turns and walks away, leaving her son in the sunlit spot on the carpet, confused. She did always have a way for reading her childrens’ minds, as well as their hearts, even when they could not conjure up their thoughts themselves.
What a shame it would be, he agrees mentally. What a shame.
#bridgerton#colin bridgerton#bridgeton season 3#colin bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton fanfiction#colin bridgerton x you#colin bridgerton x fem!reader#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x reader
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My beautiful, stupid maid
Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader
Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, Donna's POV
Word count: 5,080
Summary: I don't know why I don't want you to leave...
N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open!! I love you all!!!
I thought I like to be alone.
Everyone told me: you need some company. They don’t know me. My family, as they call themselves, care about me, or so they think they do. I don't need helpless maids running through the halls. I don't need to waste time on people I don't care about. My life doesn’t revolve around achieving power, around needing the feeling of being above others, like my siblings do.
I was always a lonely woman, and Mother Miranda's gift could change many things, but not that. Not that.
Angie was everything I needed.
I know what they think about me, what they talk about: “Poor Donna, she's so lonely…” “She's not mentally developed,” “she only cares about her stupid dolls…” Comments that they think I don't hear.
To be honest, I never cared about that. I know what I’m, what place in the world there was for me. My dolls, my house, my loneliness. Sometimes I lose my mind and cry without wanting to. Sometimes I want to end the meaninglessness that my life has become. Angie takes me away from those thoughts, she calms me down. I didn't need anything but to keep serene and continue existing.
At least I thought I didn't need anything else.
Then you showed up.
“Mother Miranda has granted me the honor of working for you, Lady Beneviento,” you said, appearing in my house, in my territory. In all this time, many villagers had been stupid enough to approach my house.
None of them returned. Thanks to the gift that was given to me, I could enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes, seeing how terrible their thoughts are. At first I had to admit that I was even afraid of myself.
The human mind is so fragile... How much people can suffer just with their own memories is incredible. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to torture you.
You seemed shy, but you didn't stop smiling, even with my fervent refusal. I couldn't disobey Mother Miranda, and I couldn't stop looking into those bright, strange eyes.
Angie was just a lost part of my consciousness, some thoughts that left my mind when I granted her the gift of life. She thought that for you to work for me was a good idea. Not me.
I didn't even know your name, but I opened the doors of my house to you. Who was I to argue with Mother Miranda's demands? Maybe I just got carried away with Angie.
I tried to avoid you. I didn't want to think that you were here, with me, that I was no longer alone. But you... You came to me, like a fly to a light trap, blinded, surely by your innocence, heading towards danger.
“Is everything to your liking, my lady?” “Would you like me to make you some tea, my lady?” Always those stupid questions. Hearing your voice was nothing but torture for me, a reminder that you were still there, that, no matter how much your presence bothered me, I was not capable of throwing you out or of making you hallucinate so you would run away from here, so you would never come back.
Silence was always my response, the affirmation that I didn't want you to be here. I have never had the ability or the need to talk to anyone, not even to my siblings. You were not going to be an exception.
My lady... What stupidity is that? I didn't want to be your lady. I didn't want you to consider yourself my property. I was alone, and I liked it.
Unfortunately, time only revealed your annoying presence. My routine is always the same and to trip with you was inevitable. I curse the Black Gods for turning my gaze towards yours.
What a maid... You were clumsy. You didn't know how to clean properly. You served no purpose other than to disrupt my existence. But I could never hurt you. It didn't matter how many vases you broke, how many times you burned the food. I felt incapable of scolding you, of throwing you out of my house.
Someday I woke up with the decision to put an end to that stuff, to make you suffer and disappear forever. Those thoughts faded the moment my hidden gaze met yours again.
That smile, those eyes... That messy hair and the dress that framed your figure made me back away, give you another chance. Chance? I didn't want you to be here. I never wanted you to come to my house. I didn't want to see your stupid smile. I didn't want to, and yet, I felt the need to see you.
Are you also a creation of Mother Miranda?
I know that she experiments on villagers, that she creates aberrations. Could you be one of them? What exactly has the Cadou done to you? Were you some kind of sorceress?
I've read too many books about witches, about mermaids who trick sailors into taking their souls. I always thought they were stupid stories to scare children. But the more I look at you, the more I think you're like a witch from those stories, or like a mermaid. Do you want to trick me into taking my soul? Too late, girl, it's been a long time since I had a soul.
“Good morning, my lady, did you sleep well?” you asked every morning. My ability to ignore you faltered over time. Anyway, I couldn't lose anything by nodding.
That was my worst mistake, making you believe that I was somehow communicating with you. That small gesture gave you more confidence in yourself. It made you believe that you could annoy me even more.
One night I tried to relax, sit by the fireplace and read another of those mermaid stories. Suddenly, I felt the need to know more about these creatures. Somehow, I was afraid that you were one of them. That the movement my head made, forcing me to follow you with my gaze, was some kind of spell from you.
“Excuse me, my lady,” you said to me, with the nerve to put a hand on my shoulder. I was startled, but I knew how to hide it so you wouldn't notice.
I nodded for you to talk, even though I didn't want you to, what is happening to me?
“I'm a bit bored, I was wondering if you could recommend me a book,” you said with your hands together in front of your body, with that formality that I knew you didn't have.
I was thoughtful for a moment. My hands shook as they held Homer's Odyssey. Your mermaid song was not going to be able to defeat me, you stupid maid.
“A book?” I asked without realizing it, letting out my voice, a voice that I hadn't used for a long time and that I didn't want to use precisely with you. I had to calm down, or you would trick me.
“Yes, well... Books about plants are interesting but...” You said, looking away from my hateful gaze.
Did you mean to joke? What made you think you could joke with me? Moron.
“I've been looking for something a bit more entertaining but I can't find anything. Also, most of them are in Italian and I… Well, I can’t read them.”
I shook my head. Fortunately, you couldn't see my face. A smile involuntarily spread across it.
“My family was Italian,” I said in a hoarse voice, giving her an absurd explanation, which she certainly didn’t deserve.
“Oh, okay,” you whispered nervously.
Why were you nervous? Oh, sure... In these three months and five days you hadn't heard me speak. I have a horrible voice, right? I'm sure you hate me even more now. Everybody hates me.
The light from the fireplace rested on your face, dancing in your eyes, on your skin. Have you hypnotized me? I couldn’t stop looking at you.
I sighed listlessly, looking for an excuse for your eyes to stop enchanting me. I got up from the couch, looking for something that would keep you entertained, quiet. Your voice is beautiful, but I don't want to hear it. Beautiful?
“For whom the bell tolls... Ernest Hemingway,” you said when I finally gave you a book so you would leave me alone. You just had to take the damn book and get out of my sight. It wasn't that difficult, was it? “It’s a good one?”
“Yes, it is,” I responded with a dry throat, nervous about the subtle contact my hand made brushing against yours. When I touched you, the porcelain of my dolls came to my mind. Soft, delicate…
“Thank you, I promise that tomorrow I won't burn the toast,” you said amused, were you trying to make me laugh? Good luck with that.
Something had changed in your attitude. I wondered if hearing me talk had anything to do with it. I didn't want you to be here. I hate you, stupid maid.
Time passed slowly. I found myself counting the days, the hours you spent with me. Your overconfidence was disgusting. Some nights, you sat next to me, reading that book, commenting each of the things that seemed curious to you. I have already read it, you silly maid. I don't need to hear your... Your beautiful voice.
I've never been right in the head, I know that. Since I was little I had problems. Problems with my appearance, with people... I have never gotten over it and I never will. My past is a field of thorns that stick into my skin every night when I try to sleep.
But... My demons were not keeping me awake, your eyes were, those two beautiful pearls that you had on your face, ones that I couldn't stop looking at. What are you doing to me? What is happening to me? I feel weak, tired. I'm not hungry, I'm not sleepy. I don't feel like getting out of my bed, to face your gaze again.
Sitting at my old dressing table, I look at my deformed face in a mirror. I'm a monster. I should have gotten used to seeing myself like that, to having that horrible thing on my face, just as I got used to the changes in my body when I became Mother Miranda's daughter.
I felt my heart sink as I looked at myself in that mirror. A deformed monster, a strange creature, an aberration. Those statements that were going through my head were more present than ever.
“What's wrong, Donna?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap. My sweet and faithful Angie, I don't know what I would have done without you.
“I'm a monster, Angie,” I murmured, with a tear running down my untouched cheek. I can't tell how many times I have burst into tears because of that. That night was different.
“No, no, that's not true,” the doll said. I wish I could believe her words. Angie was my creation. She was part of my consciousness. She would never hurt me... I don't even know what Angie is exactly anymore. “The maid likes you…”
“What?” I said startled.
I know Angie wanted to make me feel better, but she was never particularly good at it.
She couldn't lie to me. She didn't have the ability to do so.
Do you like me? What nonsense. I know you don’t. I know it's impossible. Anyway…why am I worried? Why I didn’t stop thinking about those words?
Love is a luxury that I could never enjoy. Loving a woman, being loved... Those were just fantasies in my head, a fictitious feeling that, like mermaids, only lived in my books.
Every day I kept seeing your stupid… Beautiful… Smile. You were still here, you hadn't left. I couldn't say when I started to worry about you leaving. I didn’t want you to be here but... I didn't want you to leave. I had never felt so many contradictions at the same time. I had never suffered so many anxiety attacks in the safety of my room.
You never saw me lose my temper. I didn't want you to see me like that. For some reason, I didn't want to.
I tried to push you away, but you were getting closer, touching me with your dress, touching my hand when you handed me a cup of tea. Were you really the one who did it? Was my hand subtly caressing your skin? It didn't seem to bother you either.
You were still here, like every day, torturing me with your eyes, with your smile, with your movements when you walked near me. Your gaze was tender and respectful, but your body wasn’t. Your body caused sensations that I always ignored in me.
“That doll is beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, taking my tea to the workshop. That place was always a refuge, the only place in the house where my thoughts were not focused on you.
“Thank you,” I said. To let my voice speak for me didn’t take long. I had been doing it for so long that I no longer stopped to think why it wasn't difficult for me to do it with you.
“Look, it has my eyes,” you said amused, gently picking up the newly made doll.
A heaviness in my head said there was something wrong. Yes, you were right. That damn doll had your beautiful eyes. Wait, shouldn't I say: That beautiful doll had your damn eyes?
“Yes, well, I...” I stammered, confused. I hadn't even realized it. Even without thinking about you, I was doing it. Even when I made my dolls, I put your same hair to them, your eyes, the marks that I could see on your skin… I was no longer safe even in my own workshop.
“It's very nice,” you whispered, returning the doll to me with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I should start making the soup… You liked it with a bit of dill, right?”
“Yes... I... Yes, yes,” I stammered, nodding, but without looking at your face. I was just looking at the doll, at your vivid portrait made unconsciously. I could no longer deny how obsessed I was with you, that I thought about you even without doing it.
I refused to believe it was love or anything like that. At night I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what spell you had used on me. Your eyes stopped appearing in my nightmares, and now they were present in my most beautiful dreams. In them I see you, I see us together, close, with our hands intertwined. They were just dreams... Dreams in which I don't have that horrible thing on my face, in which your eyes shine when you look at me, in which your lips... In which your lips are too close to mine.
I felt unable to ignore the sensations that the mere fact of being close to you caused me. Love is something absurd, a waste of time. Everyone wants to hurt you, Donna, don't forget that.
My head fought with my heart, with the trembling of my hands when I was close to yours. You always were here with that smile, with that look, making me unable to think about anything but in your lips on mine, in your body very close to mine.
The nights got worse. Drawing your image in my thoughts usually helped me to stay calm and sleep, dreaming about you. Not anymore. I can no longer let myself be carried away by my feelings. The sensations were different, physical, overwhelming. I no longer imagined your smile, or a simple kiss. No, now your body was naked next to mine, now my caresses no longer wandered over your face, but over your chest, your waist, your legs…
Lust is a sin, or so my parents said. I was never ignorant, or stupid. My body had needs, and even more so after the change that Cadou produced in me. I thought it was routine, something necessary...
One more task to be calm, to relax. My mind traveled to unknown places, imagining faceless women while I soothed myself with my hands. It was pleasant, but empty, lacking in feelings or the desire to do it. I simply wanted to relieve my body so that my mind wouldn't become destabilized.
That night, my body was calling me again. No matter how much I tried to get my excitement to relax, I wasn't able to do so. I wanted something, my body wanted something, and I had to give that to it.
My hands moved down my nightclothes to my trembling erection, stroking it gently. Maybe it was my impression, but I could feel much more than other times... The difference? There were no longer faceless women in my head or erotic stories hidden in one of my books. I was thinking about you.
I felt the need to end that discomfort between my legs as quickly as possible and for some reason, I thought that including you in my lascivious thoughts might help. Quite the opposite. The pleasure of my hand going up and down, the gasps that came out of my mouth involuntarily made me want to go slower. I wanted to keep thinking about what it would be like to be inside of you, to hear you moan with your mermaid voice, to see you closing those bright eyes while I made you mine.
My movements were fast, but intense. My head was imagining how good it would feel to have the images in my head come true. To release myself didn't take long, but I felt I enjoyed doing it too much.
Cleaning myself in the bathroom, I looked the mirror again. My face was red and my breathing was labored. I wiped my hands with a towel and stood there, looking at my reflection, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought that everything I dream of were just fantasies.
I felt guilty for enjoying myself at your expense, for masturbating thinking about you, but... I also felt frustrated by how absurd was to think about how far my feelings had gone. So much so that I lost the little decency I had, the deal I made with myself not to fall in love, not to feel the need to hug a human body instead of a porcelain doll.
In my incipient desperation, I called my sister Alcina, telling her everything that was happening to me. Angie gave me nothing but absurd advices. I needed the opinion of someone more... Experienced.
It was of no use to me. According to her, my need to make that stupid maid mine was absurd. “You are a powerful woman, Donna. If you want something from that girl, just take it. She will never contradict you, for her own sake.”
Everything was so easy for a woman like Alcina...
A dark part of my mind seriously considered following her advice. I never felt remorse for torturing those stupid villagers, why would I feel remorse for taking what I want to make mine?
But no, that part of me that I'm ashamed of had to shut up. I couldn't just… No, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted to. I wanted you in an unbearable way.
The nights were torture, the days were even worse. At least at night I just had to imagine you, I didn't have to feel you, I didn't have to touch your hand. Yes, you kept rubbing your hand with mine. Have you ever done that? It was me? I wouldn't know how to answer. I would like to ask you, but I don't dare to do it.
You are killing me, you stupid, beautiful maid. You kill me slowly, you make me fall in love with you without mercy, you look at me, you talk to me... You are here with me. I’m here with you. You don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave.
One afternoon, I tried to escape from my carnal desires, from the feelings that filled my head. I was painting dolls, sewing without rest. I had been doing it for hours, I didn't know how many.
“Sorry for bothering you,” you said politely, entering disrespectfully, interrupting my bitterness.
“What do you want? I'm busy,” my words were cold, lacking that softness with which they always spoke to you.
“I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just that I... I have to clean this up. It's the last room before being able to rest,” you said shyly. Was it me or your cheeks were blushing? What were you thinking about? You were thinking about another way to fool me? Stop it. You've already done it. I feel that if I were a sailor, I would already be drifting, desperately searching to hear your siren song again.
“Okay,” I said briefly, avoiding your tender smile, looking at that doll, looking at your eyes on it again.
As you moved around my workshop, my clumsy and trembling hands made the task of painting correctly impossible. With you here, to concentrate was impossible for me.
My thoughts began to spin out of control as I tilted my head to look at you. There you were, leaning over one of the dusty tables. You looked at me, like you knew I was doing the same thing. I looked away and squeezed my hands tightly.
If you want something from her, just take it.
The phrase my sister said appeared in my head suddenly, treacherously, just at the moment when my crazy gaze was directed at the small spot that you had very close to your neckline. One I couldn't forget.
My actions took control of my body, causing me to get up slowly, like a shadow that stalks you without realizing it.
I wanted to tell you so many things... I wanted to be able to talk to you about my feelings before approaching you from behind, running a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your shoulders.
You stood still, but you didn't complain, you didn't turn around and slap me for my impudence. No, you seemed like butter under my touch, under my hands on your shoulders, on your neck.
An unexpected gasp left your lips as I got closer and closer, feeling your subtle but intoxicating perfume, feeling the heat of your body passing through my dress.
“I can't stop thinking about you...” I whispered without meaning to, confessing an undeniable truth, confessing that you are not the stupid maid that I didn’t want to have. You were the girl I wanted to love.
“Donna...” You sighed, when I removed the veil from my face to place my lips on your pale skin, behind your perfect ear.
When I started to be just Donna to you? What about the my lady thing?
Kissing your skin was like a cold breeze on a hot day, like laughing when you're sad. It was a feeling of relief, of pleasure.
Even being behind you, I could feel your heavy breathing. What did you feel? Were you in hell or in paradise?
I couldn't know and I didn't want to know. My hands worked on their own, covering every inch of your body while my mouth was cruel to your neck.
Having your chest in my hands, passing my fingers through the fabric that covered your breasts... All that things I imagined at night were mine in that moment. A part of my conscience was screaming for me to stop, to be sure that you wanted to do it. No, dear maid, I wasn’t going to ask.
You turned around slowly, letting my hands continue roaming your body. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to run away.
“I think about you too...” You whispered, moving my black veil aside. There was nothing to fear anymore. You would be with me or you would disappear from my life. My face didn't matter. I didn’t care if you thought I was a monster. I was willing to force you.
Your smile remained tender, relaxed at the sight of my exposed face. There was no horror in your eyes, disgust in your gaze. No, there was only… Peace, tranquility, and that smile that kept me awake at nights.
“You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” you said, bringing your hand to my deformed cheek, running your fingers over my scar, as if it were nothing, as if it were of no importance to you.
I grabbed your wrist to stop you before leaning towards you, before placing my lips on yours. I had never kissed anyone and I was thankful I hadn't. Your kiss was my first one.
Little by little I moved closer, making your back collide with the edge of the table. I couldn't stop kissing you. I didn't want to stop kissing you. Your lips were addictive. They were everything I had imagined. Your body against mine, your hands going down my waist, you and me...
I could no longer contain my desire to make you mine, to love you, to make love you. I was willing to force you to do it, to not listen to your screams, to make you run away. I didn't have to. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who rubbed my hands with yours. You did it too.
My need to love you was put before romance, caresses, kisses and affectionate whispers in your ear. I had spent too much time thinking about how I felt about you. I didn't want to tell you, I wanted to show you.
I lifted your body by your legs, sitting you on the table, drowning in your kisses, letting my hands touch whatever they wanted... Just like yours. I felt like such a simple act was more than enough to feel my arousal rubbing against my underwear. You were irresistible, a goddess, a mermaid, a witch... But above all, you were going to be mine.
I looked at you, wishing it wasn't a dream and you were really there. You smiled again. What have you done to me? What did I do to you? Have you fooled me? Have I tricked you? Did you also think of me as if I were a mermaid?
Absurd questions that my body didn't have time for. I needed you, my beautiful maid. With a hasty movement, I put my hands into your dress while you hung around my neck, making to concentrate on loving you harder for me, kissing me eagerly, with a desire that I was unaware of.
Your underwear disappeared around your ankles as your hands left my neck, to play on my chest, to free me from my own clothes. Were you in a hurry as I was?
When I finally had access to you, my body moved on its own, lifting your legs slightly, remaining enthralled by those hidden corners of your body.
You didn't say anything about what was between my legs. You just looked at it curiously. I don't like being looked at, tesoro, you should know that.
You bit your lip, but you didn't say anything. You just pulled me so that my erection rubbed against your wetness. There was nothing else to say, but there were a lot of things to do.
I entered you hastily, feeling a wave of unimaginable pleasure. I was not delicate, nor kind. I didn't know if someone had ever loved you, I didn't want to know either. Your walls hugged me tightly, keeping me right where you wanted, making you moan in a way that I already knew would drive me crazy.
You had more clothes than in my dreams, but the sensations you sent to my body every time they moved exceeded my expectations. You hugged me so well... You took it so well... You were perfect, as if your body was made just for me.
“Don't stop, Donna...” You begged, writhing on that table. My thrusts had relaxed as I looked at you, as I closely admired your beauty without the veil between us. I just shook my head, kissing you passionately as my hips resumed their movements.
“I think... I think I love you...” I whispered with a voice low enough so you couldn't hear it, camouflaging it between our moans. There came a time when I decided to close my eye and not look at you anymore.
Behind you, the dolls that I made rested, looking at me. They were judging me. I wasn't going to let my problems ruin that moment. My sick mind was not going to stop me from continuing to make love to you.
“My God, Donna... I'm so close...” You murmured, ignoring my declaration of love. Why would I want you to answer me? I said it in a way I which you wouldn't hear me.
My hips went out of control and my arms hugged your body, keeping it close to me, not letting you stop hugging me with your walls, not letting me stop making my way inside of you.
I stopped just when the pleasure became unbearable, letting my heat flood inside you, releasing myself inside you, making you mine forever.
You panted, exhausted. Your nails had scratched my skin as I cum. Did that mean you did it too?
“I think... I think I love you too,” you murmured, responding late to my statement, to my confession, hugging me, kissing me with affection, with that affection that I lacked.
“Don’t dare to leave,” I said with a dark voice, before consuming myself again in your kisses.
“I won't do it,” you answered on my lips, keeping me inside of you, not wanting to separate you from me.
I thought I liked being alone, but now I know I couldn't live without you.
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i just want you
my requests are open!
tags: simon “ghost” riley x gn! reader, lots (and i mean lots) of angst, cursing, let me know if I missed anything!
word count: 1.3k
summary: It’s not always easy being with someone who never lets you inside their head.
a/n: :D happy reading! teehee
my requests are open!
NOT EDITED!!
༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻
It always seems to rain in movies when something sad happens. It applies to the situation at hand right now.
You and Simon had been together officially for a few months now. After months of ‘i just don’t think it’s time’ or ‘i’m not the relationship type’ Simon finally asked you to be his girlfriend. Of course it was rocky, a story with a sad beginning always ends with a sad ending. You thought it would all eventually work out though. Simon would open up to you about the everything he’s been through. He would talk to you about something, anything you didn’t care. The only things you do know are the things his friends have only slightly hinted at.
So when Simon came home in a complete shut off mood (again) it set something off in you. You’ve had enough.
“I can’t do this.” You whisper just enough for him to hear. Simons head moves toward your direction. Your back is turned to him as you stand in the kitchen. He’s sitting with a cup of water in his hands at the dining table.
“What?” Simon asks. His eyes bore into the back of your head almost like he’s trying to telepathically get you to look at him.
With a single tear running down your face you rest one of your hands on your hip. You look up to the ceiling with a sigh escaping your lips.
“You… this… us. I can’t do the whole you shutting me out at every chance you get.” You finally turn to Simon looking into his light eyes.
He’s standing there looking down at you with an unreadable expression. He’s silent and doesn’t say anything for a minute and neither do you. You wait for what feels like hours for him to say something but he simply doesn’t. So you walk away into the living. A few more tears slip out of your eyes but your face doesn’t change expression. You aren’t sad you’re more angry than anything.
Simon follows you but keeps his distance. You hear him let out a sigh before finally saying something.
“I can’t lose you.” He says but that only makes you chuckle.
“You can’t lose me? That’s all you have to say?” You turn towards him laughing except there is no joke.
“I’m sorry. This is who I am.” He says walking toward you but you put your hand out to stop him from getting close.
“It doesn’t have to be. You could just talk to me when you come over instead of just shutting me out.” You sigh rubbing your temple and taking a seat on your couch.
Simon takes a seat beside you but still at a distance. His hands clasp in his lap and you look at him through your peripherals.
“I don’t know how to talk about these things. I never learned how. It’s been the one thing I’ve struggled with my entire life.” Simon lets out. He’s twirling his fingers together awkwardly wait for you to say something.
“I just want to know how your day is when you come over. I want to know your favorite color. I want to know how your friends are doing. I want to know you Simon.” You say looking back into his eyes. You can see his eyes are slightly more wet than usual.
“I-“ Simon begins to say but stops himself. This only makes you more angry. You’s thad up in front of him and throw your hands up in exhaustion.
“I’m ruining myself trying to be there for you. I’m standing right fucking here begging for you to just let me in to your life but you won’t let me!” Your voice becoming louder than you wanted it to. The anger finally bubbling to the surface. You’ve had enough.
“I don’t know what I’m doing! I’ve never felt this way before. Not with anyone ever. I’m scared you’ll leave just like everyone else!” Simon stands above you yelling back just not as loud as you. His thick accent shining through with every word he threw out.
“I’m not going anywhere! Not until you tell me too! I don’t care about anything except for you. I just want you!” Your eyes begin to betray you. A waterfall of tears cascades down your face as Simon moves to hold you. At first you push him away but eventually give up. He’s quietly muttering ‘i’m so sorry’ and ‘i’ll be better’ over and over again into your ear.
After 30 minutes of you bawling into his arms and Simon repeating himself you pull back from him to which he actually lets you this time. You don’t know when you ended up on the floor but you don’t make an effort to get up either.
“My favorite color is green. My friends are a bunch of jack asses. My day was spent training recruits and prepping for a mission. I don’t like the way the cook at base makes tea. I used to have a german shepherd named Riley.” Simon spills out information catching you off guard. You look up at him and his big hands cup your cheeks. His thumbs while your tears away gently. You say nothing and just look into his eyes. You still can’t read his expression but maybe that’s a trick that will come in due time.
“I’m more of a rugby fan than football. I don’t like seafood. I can’t stand people who chew gum loudly. I’m not a cereal person. My guilty pleasure is listening to pop music.” Simon continues on after you say nothing. His hands made their way to your own. He’s rubbing his thumb across your knuckles softly. All these useless facts that you’ll forever remember. It’s not a lot and you know this. It’s only the beginning but everything had a start. Your still silent so Simon continues to ramble. He lets everything and anything out.
“I don’t talk about my family because I have a hard time remembering them. I know you know they were all murdered and Im still not able to talk about it. Maybe one day I will be. I want to be able too. It’s just difficult.” He says with a heavy sigh. A tear he’s been trying not to let slip this entire time finally drops onto the floor. You take your hand and swipe the tear line from his face and rest your hand against his cheek which he melts into.
“Im sorry. Im sorry I haven’t been what you deserve. Im sorry I’ve been silent instead of giving you answers to things you’ve wondered for nearly a year now. Im sorry you felt you had to stay with me even though you could have left. Im sorry for keeping you out. I’ll try from here on out to be better. I’ll be anything you want me to be.” Simon looks deeply into your eyes. His words tunneling deep into your heart.
While yes there is no fixing the many months of silence, there is to fixing the future. He’s not always going to be open because that’s not who he is but for you he’s trying and that’s all you ask. It’s all you want him to do.
“I just want you.” You finally say. You lips seal with Simons in a slow kiss. After releasing from the kiss you take Simon into a rough embrace. Your arms wrapped around each other’s body’s. You stay like this for what feels like hours. The silence being more comforting than before. This silence being good.
You pull away from Simon and he watches as a smile creeps into your face as you let out a laugh. This one being more of a happy one then the sarcastic one before.
“So your favorite color is green? I always thought you where more of a blue person.” You say smiling. Both you and Simon laugh before embracing a happy kiss onto to each others lips.
Maybe there will be a happy ending to this sad beginning.
༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻
final thoughts: i might 🤏🏻 write a alternative ending to this where there is a not so happy ending. Depends on how this does! I’ve been trying to get this to post for like 2 days now so if your reading this it means it worked! YIPPEE!
Also! I’m still dealing with a bunch of medical crap but i’m okay! I’m just trying to live dude.
Love ya! Thanks for reading!
#cod simon riley#cod mw2#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#angst#simon riley angst#i like to write angst#love ya!#also happy pride month
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🕊️ here to explain punishments that mommy has given me before. not quite sure why i’m being made to humiliate myself since i’ve been a very good girl recently, but here we are 🙄
like mommy said in her reply to my first ask, 200 spankings was one of them. although that was only on my ass and i’m pretty sure it was more than that. unfortunately for mommy i love spankings so that on its own wasn’t enough. i also had to spank my clit with a wooden spoon, and i’m 99% sure i spanked my tits a few times too?
which brings us to the next point, nipple clamps the entire time. i think i had them on for about 45 minutes? it was going to be longer, but i begged and begged and begged for them to come off, and she finally took pity on me. but not before she had me flick them for her, and also she had made me lie face down on the bed for a bit, pushing against them to make sure I really felt it.
mommy also makes me cockwarm a lot. she made me cockwarm my fingers, and when i was face down against the bed, i couldn’t help but grind onto my hand a bit, it was RIGHT THERE!! but mommy had to punish me more, because i was not allowed to touch my clit yet. she said she was going to teach me self control, and made me place a finger on my clit, but i was NOT allowed to move it at all. i didn’t want to know what would happen if i disobeyed so i kept it there, it was torturous. i could feel it throbbing against my finger, my pussy was dripping and i was whining so much.
i think that’s was around when i got to take the clothespins off. but they went straight back on, this time one on each of my pussy lips and one on my clit. it hurt. a lot. i asked mommy if i could use something other than the clothespins, and so she let me take them off. and then i had to hold an ice cube on my clit until it melted, while my pussy was stuffed with ice too. (if anyone else is going to use ice, please be very careful. it needs to be melted a little bit before you start to avoid burns, and also you should check each piece to make sure there’s no sharp edges. pain is nice but you do not want lasting injuries!!! also don’t use it inside too often, having water up there frequently can disturb your ph. stay safe!!)
anyways, i’m sure there’s details i have accidentally missed. from other sessions, mommy has been known to make me keep my panties in my mouth (and sometimes put them back on after), or to scroll through her likes and spank my clit every time i see something i like. we’ve also played with my ass a bit, but i’m pretty new to that, so it’s never really been as punishment.
oh, we also used mommy’s wheel a bit at the start. but i was having some.. issues with it so we moved in from that pretty quickly.
i hope this was enough detail mommy
-🕊️
thank you, princess.
for the record, you and I both know I'm making you do this because you love the humiliation.
does that answer your question, @catgirlinheatsquared?
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the auction
The auction to sell off all his family’s heirlooms and pretentious junk had just begun. Sirius stood on the wide stage in front of all the wide-eyed, eager bidders, with the first item to be auctioned off on a wooden plinth beside him. His best mates, James, Remus and Peter, were all in the wings, ready to bring on the next items when needed.
He’d never done this sort of thing before. He took in a breath, flashed the audience a grin, and called, “Welcome to the auction of my deceased parents’ valuables! And no, these hold no sentimental value, they just kept them to be posh and snobby. So this isn’t a normal auction. Instead of bidding with money, you’ll tell me what you’re gonna do with the item, and I’ll see if it’s a noble cause.”
He continued, “For example, here I have this vase. Any bidders?”
James stepped forward, and in his most inauthentic, uppity voice, said, “I’m going to display that vase in my foyer, to flaunt my excessive wealth to my pitiful guests.”
Sirius fought a grin, and pretended to righteously raise an eyebrow. “That’s not a very noble cause. Anyone else?”
Peter shuffled forward. “Um, I’m going to give that vase as a present to my sister?”
Sirius let himself grin. “Now that’s a noble cause!” He teasingly narrowed his eyes. “Although the way you phrased that as a question is suspicious.”
Peter huffed in annoyance, “Sorry, but I’m not good at all this ‘acting out a demonstration’ stuff.”
“Peter, shh, you’re ruining the demonstration!” James hissed quietly, nudging the boy next to him, who rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I’ve quite lost my flow,” Sirius said grandly. “I was about to ask if we have any nobler causes for this vase?”
Remus sighed wearily, stepping out with his scruffy, worn-out sweater and jeans. “I’ma sell it and donate the money to a charity for LGBT youths.”
Sirius beamed, excitedly hitting his gavel on the table. “The vase is yours!” He turned to the audience, watching in bewilderment. “Of course, you’re gonna need to sound a lot more sincere than that twat,” he jabbed a finger at a mildly affronted Remus, who opened his mouth to say something, realised there was an audience, and closed it immediately. Sirius continued in amusement, “For me to believe your cause. Let’s begin. Any bidders for the vase?”
The crowd shuffled. Worthy bidders stepped forward. Well, maybe they were lying about their noble causes, but either way, Sirius was ridding himself of all the ghastly possessions, and at least trying to ensure some good happened with them. Also, hitting the gavel on the table and exclaiming, “Sold!” was one of the best things in the world.
Although he had another reason for the auction. After the last material item had been taken, he stepped into the wings, and dragged a baffled Remus onto the stage. “Okay?” He whispered.
Remus raised a brow, but nodded. So Sirius continued, still holding Remus’s hand in his.
“This is Remus. Any bidders?”
Mary shared a grin with Sirius, before stepping forward, “I’d treat him to a date at The Three Broomsticks.”
Sirius raised a brow, “Is that it? Well, Remus deserves more respect than that. He deserves so much more than some shoddy night at a pub.” He squeezed Remus’s hand gently. You deserve more than your meaningless one-night stands at pubs, Remus. I don’t care if you don’t think you’re loveable enough, because you are.
Mary took her cue to continue. “How about I take him home?”
“And? Will you make him smile so hard his dimples look like they’ll make permanent dents in his cheeks? Will you make him laugh so much he stops caring how loud he’s being? Will you be there for him when he’s sad, will you be there for him for anything he’s feeling? Will you know what his expressions mean, will you know that he’s being a self-sacrificing idiot, will you know how to get it through his thick skull that he deserves so much more than this world can offer? Because I would.” He looked at Remus, passing him the gavel. “Remus, I would. And you don’t have to take up any bids, you can hit the table and say ‘fuck no’, but even then, I’m still going to give you everything, because—”
Remus hit the table with the gavel. “Sirius,” he murmured softly. His eyes were wet, with little beads of water sticking to his eyelashes. His smile was shy and small, and his cheeks were pink. Sirius’s heart was in his chest, because maybe Remus was upset, maybe Remus wanted nothing to do with him, maybe this was too embarrassing, but Remus was still holding his hand, and now he was saying in a louder, clearer voice, “Sirius, you idiot. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”
Mary cheered, “Now that was a nobler speech than anything I could’ve said!”
Microfic Compilation by MountainRuse
#wolfstar#remus x sirius#sirius black#remus lupin#alternate universe#microfiction#fanfic#ao3#marauders#mary macdonald
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fluffy touch-starved Prompt #15 for Leo? His hair surely gets veeery dirty, after all!
Prompt #15: washing the other's hair
Leo told you about his past before, so you were very much painfully aware of his struggles. Particularly, in the romance department.
He told you how it was. He liked girls, they never liked him back. Plus with how he was couch surfing, affection was practically a foreign concept to him.
Sure, his friends showed they cared but your relationship isn’t just platonic, it goes beyond that.
Today you and Leo went your separate ways as usual. The two of you met while aboard the Argo II and became close.
Things are constantly a hassle while aboard, everything that could go wrong goes wrong and there was no thing such as luck while aboard navigating the ancient lands.
Luckily, amongst all the noise you managed to find peace and quiet to rest and have some solitude.
But, you soon heard a knocking on your door and thus your long awaited nap would have to be even more long awaited.
Upon opening the door, you noticed it to be Leo.
“Leo? What’re you doing here, aren’t you supposed to be sleeping by now?” You asked this but anyone who saw him could tell he was busy doing something.
“Well I was actually working on repairs, hence the dirt” he motioned to his entire being.
You hummed “well this might be weird and if you’re too uncomfortable then go ahead and ignore but do you want me to wash your hair?.”
He was clearly taken a back, even if only slightly then quickly answered “sure, I wouldn’t mind.” It was strange to see Leo not teasing you but you just assumed it to be the tiredness and moved on.
You gently led Leo into one of the bathrooms on board by hand, the hope of not running into Coach Hedge was left unsaid.
Immediately you had him propped against the sink on the most comfortable seat you could find aboard.
As you went to get a shampoo you hear Leo’s voice echo from the bathroom “what made you want to wash my hair?”
The question was phrased in a way that’d seem sarcastic but his tone indicated genuine curiosity.
“Well, I guess I just wanted to wash it? There isn’t really a reason, Leo. I just want to do something for you in the little free time we have.” Leo didn’t say anything else.
You carried the shampoo and poured some onto your hand, you turned the water on and began running your fingers through his hair.
Slowly but surely some dirt and soot came out, not as much as you expected that’s for sure.
Leos sudden sigh brought you out of your thoughts. “What’s wrong?” You asked to be sure everything was alright.
“Nothing, I’m just enjoying this, no one’s ever washed my hair before.” You had placed a towel over his face to prevent water from getting on it, thus obscuring your view of him.
You hummed in acknowledgement and he continued “I know it’s just a simple favor but it’s just been a long time since anyone’s done anything for me ,to make me happy.”
You knew it was true. His mom was probably the last one to genuinely show him any love, that alone was sad, it had been eight years. Plus, as mentioned before, he didn’t really date. He was clearly referring to both.
You didn’t say anything and just continued washing through his hair until it the water ran clean of any bubbles.
Then, you left him alone to wash his body, he was still dirty after all.
Eventually he made his way back into your room, you noticed when the door shut with a click.
“Hey” Leo began “I hope the talk about not being able to pull didn’t upset you” he tried making light of the situation.
“It didn’t, but you don’t have to hide behind jokes either” you said this patting the space next to you in bed.
He shut the lights off and laid besides you. You laughed a bit “let’s hope coach hedge doesn’t find us like this.”
Leo also let his own laugh out and eventually you both settled. “I’m just happy you’re here with me right now.”
You smiled despite knowing there was no way for Leo to see it. You moved your hand closer to him and it found its way into Leo’s. Your fingers interlocked and you only hoped that with your fingers intertwined, that he’d get the sentiment.
No words were spoken and you both drifted off to sleep land. Eventually, your bodies found themselves snuggled up against one another.
Was there a possibility of being found out and banned from being alone? Sure but even if you did get found out you didn’t care, you just wanted Leo to feel loved.
#fanfic#gn reader#male reader#fluff#fanfic fluff#female reader#fluff headcanons#leo valdez x female reader#leo valdez x male reader#leo valdez fluff#leo valdez pjo#leo valdez x reader#pjo leo#bad boy supreme#rick riordanverse#rick riordan
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finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ sung hanbin
sung hanbin x reader
with an unexpected reunion, you and hanbin relive the memories of cheonan—and confront what could’ve been between you two.
general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward... i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so... parental issues, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and hanbin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all
word count ➵ 15.6k words
playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth
a/n ➵ it's finally out! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. please do reblog and leave feedback!!
want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask!
masterlist
present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024
the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.
but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.
knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.
“there’s a typo over there.”
“huh? where?”
“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “with the climactic finale of boys planet,” not climatic.”
“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.
“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”
an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”
“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.
the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.
“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 12 articles. like, 11 profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”
once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.
“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work.
there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed.
one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)
it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.
then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.
his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.
as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.
and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2017. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—
“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”
you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.
but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.
for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 12 articles were ready to go up on the web.
“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.
“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”
you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.
once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.
seconds pass and not a single word has been said—
“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”
you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.
“where’d you grow up again?”
you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheonan.”
he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”
“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”
“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.
your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2017, since i first left,” you admit.
“do you miss it?”
you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?
“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”
now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.
“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill.
“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”
the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.
“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”
namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?
you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”
“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”
your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”
“really? like lab coat and all?”
as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”
namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”
all you do is smile before getting off your seat.
spring of 2017
the season of spring has graced cheonan; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.
while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms.
still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.
“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”
with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with a ‘s’.
“sung hanbin.” no response.
you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.
“sung hanbin?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—
“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”
“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”
sung hanbin made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.
but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.
once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”
this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.
“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”
within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even lee soojin, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—
“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”
with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”
“well,” hanbin looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the whiskers engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”
you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)
“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like hanbin had a choice as well.
“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”
his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”
“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”
with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”
before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to choi jiung, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.
you don’t notice how long you spend staring at hanbin until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
you look back at hanbin; he’s still looking at you.
his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works.
(you’re still thinking about his whiskers.)
the first time you get to meet with hanbin for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.
“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”
your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”
“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”
a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”
“what’s your schedule like?”
“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”
hanbin reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”
“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”
a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”
then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.
you only muster out a hum.
“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”
your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”
his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”
“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”
his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”
a beat passes.
he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”
inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.
“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.
“really? like, stories and poetry?”
you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at hanbin, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”
“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.
“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”
“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”
as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of hanbin but his eyes remain on you.
“what if you interview me?”
your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”
“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”
the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?”
when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.
“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”
as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”
“oh, that sounds cool!”
“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”
“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)
he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”
you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”
“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.
you shake your head before retorting, “hanbin, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”
but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.
“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.
“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”
he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.
he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”
“but you haven’t read any of my works.”
“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.
you’re baffled that hanbin, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?
“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3
the season of spring has unfolded in cheonan; a single lilac has bloomed.
present -> a day before the interview, 2024
it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.
the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.
a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.
the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.
your tastebuds long for cheonan.
“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”
you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”
“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”
“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”
“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”
your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”
“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”
you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.”
“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”
the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.
still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.
then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.
your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and his whiskers appear—your heart thumps in your ears.
and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheonan, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.
but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.
but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.
it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with hanbin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?
you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.
your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”
“yeah, about that…”
“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”
at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”
“what? why?”
you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”
“but don’t you only have your interview with zerobase—”
“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”
“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”
an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”
and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheonan—
“y/n?”
and the plan failed.
when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.
all it takes is one breath from you. “hanbin.”
a beat passes.
“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)
you and hanbin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.
hanbin’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.”
“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”
he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”
fate. that’s what brought us here.
“do you live here?”
you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.
for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”
“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”
hanbin hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”
“y—yeah.”
“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.
hanbin finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).
he scans hanbin’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.
“oh, i’m paying—”
“no, let me,” hanbin insists. “you can always treat me another time.”
you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. hanbin pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.
“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.
you follow hanbin outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours.
while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.
“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”
with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”
“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.
while a different version of hanbin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheonan still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 7 years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.
���there’s always room for improvement,” he says.
you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?
“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”
“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”
“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves hanbin. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”
“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”
you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”
with your vagueness, hanbin only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.
as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.
“thanks.”
you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”
silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.
you glance at hanbin who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something.
as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”
you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him.
because after all this talk about your yearning for cheonan, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?
if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?
and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheonan, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed hanbin. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheonan.
despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.
the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.
it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with hanbin’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.
for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.
so when you remain silent, hanbin takes it as your answer.
and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheonan.
summer of 2017
it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.
but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.
the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.
your room is your favorite place in cheonan. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.
and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?
despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.
with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—
your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.
“what do you want?”
“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”
you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”
“on a sunday?” hanbin’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”
“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”
“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”
your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”
“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”
“sign to what?”
he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”
a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”
“uh… no?”
“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”
“but, you’re not even doing anything!” hanbin pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”
as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?
but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”
hanbin laughs before you drop the call.
it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.
“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.
now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.
you walk towards hanbin, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.
“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”
you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”
“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” hanbin complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”
“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” hanbin does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.
“we can get a summer crush!”
“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”
defeat casts over hanbin’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.
“holy shit, it’s right there.”
“what?”
“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”
hanbin’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”
“dibs on grape.”
“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”
“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”
“okay, but—”
“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.
(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)
“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.
you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)
once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”
“yeah, it’s been a while,” hanbin starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”
you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”
“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”
“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”
“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at hanbin and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”
in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days hanbin ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.
“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”
the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.
“don’t worry, mr. kim,” hanbin nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when his whiskers appear, you find yourself smiling back.
maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.
“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” hanbin bids farewell to mr. kim.
you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”
as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”
“mr. kim!” you and hanbin shout in unison before glancing at each other.
“what?!”
your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”
“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.
still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”
you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”
with that, you and hanbin were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”
“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”
you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at hanbin who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”
“hey! it’s hard.”
as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once hanbin hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.
you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”
“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.
under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and hanbin were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.
you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and hanbin. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?
“you know,” hanbin starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”
your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”
with your reaction, hanbin giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”
you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of hanbin and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”
the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”
you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.
“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but hanbin could never settle with that
“why not?”
a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”
“but is it your dream?”
hanbin’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you.
but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?
“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and hanbin didn’t push for more.
because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from hanbin’s role in your life.
the first time you mentioned hanbin to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)
with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and hanbin . from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.
all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—hanbin’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back.
from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with hanbin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.
“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to hanbin’s flourishing ones.
“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”
as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before hanbin entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.
“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.”
hanbin knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.
“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”
he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will hanbin get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?
“i want to make you proud.”
that’s enough to answer it all.
you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and hanbin’s loops his with yours.
although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows.
“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.
“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.
“forgot what?”
as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.
before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut.
“okay, open.”
your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to hanbin. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.
it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”
he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.
all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.
you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.
present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024
it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.
“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.
she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”
“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”
“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”
“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”
“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”
“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”
with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.
“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”
dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”
“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”
“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”
“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.
“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”
“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”
“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”
“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—
“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.
“yes?”
namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”
despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”
“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.
once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.
the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”
“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”
namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.
“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”
over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s 12 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and 11 profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.
“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”
“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”
the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.
“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.
he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”
namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.
“okay.”
a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then 11 profiles.”
“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.
“ah, i’m sure you’ll be familiar with them. it’s zerobaseone.” you still in your seat. “you know, the group formed from boys planet.”
“zerobaseone?”
namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows. “yeah. do you know them?”
you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.
the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.
but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheonan seep through the cracks.
you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.
a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”
he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)
it was never going to be easy.
“honestly, i was losing hope as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.
a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.
“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.
and when you catch sight of the brunette who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.
such a tender moment happened a year ago; it’s longer than the amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did hanbin undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?
but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?
what did he go through without you?
you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a hanbin focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.
the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.
and there they come—his dimples appear.
it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, hanbin’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.
in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.
hanbin is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.
you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.
as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.
what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.
his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.
fall of 2017
out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.
it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.
“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future.
while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.
“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for.
with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”
“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.
“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that hanbin boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.
you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”
“don’t you dare talk back at me!”
“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”
your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”
you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”
“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.
and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”
a beat passes.
“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”
“but—”
“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger. “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.
was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?
despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.
waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheonan? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?
but would you allow the waves to send you away from hanbin?
your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.
as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.
were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?
are you not enough?
then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, hanbin is by your window.
you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”
you break eye contact. “what do you want, hanbin?”
“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.
you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”
“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.
he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his whiskers appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.
breathe in. breathe out.
his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.
breathe in. breathe out.
“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.
the tears hit hanbin’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.
yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.
in your time knowing hanbin, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?
because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?
are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?
but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.
hanbin moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.
“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.
“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”
in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you.
now, your home is hanbin.
present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024
something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?
“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”
you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”
“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”
you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”
she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”
“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.
“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”
a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”
as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.
“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.
the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.
“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”
“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”
as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”
“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.
“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.
your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”
“no clue.”
dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”
“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”
“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”
“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”
a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.”
“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”
the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with hanbin then—one you still cling onto.
yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”
it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.
“what’s the update?”
the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.
“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”
with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”
as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”
“great. thanks, y/n.”
“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.
namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”
“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.
your editor chuckles. “yes.”
“can we know—”
“no, you can’t know.”
chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”
namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.
“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.
“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.
still, the gut feeling remains.
something about the newsroom feels odd to hanbin. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?
“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” hanbin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.
his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”
although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, he couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.
namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”
“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” hanbin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me first.”
with his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”
hanbin exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?
with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.
he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.
when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?
his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.
it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been 7 years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.
he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.
maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.
winter of 2017
out of all the seasons, hanbin’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, hanbin prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.
he can’t wait to share this season with you.
yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs.
“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” hanbin looks up from his desk to see soojin standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”
he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”
“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”
hanbin laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”
when hanbin last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, hanbin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.
“damn, that sucks,” soojin groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves hanbin alone, he shakes his head.
the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “lee soojin, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”
as hanbin’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.
“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”
“yes, i will.”
once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”
your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from hanbin. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?
“who’s that?”
you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.
“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.
“okay.”
as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheonan; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.
yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.
the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheonan that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.
the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.
then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.
and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.
as quickly as you came into hanbin’s life, he disappears from your view.
finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.
but your finger trap with hanbin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.
interview
q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?
a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheonan, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.
q: compared to your other members, you’ve spent a lot of years dancing and training to become an idol. what kept you going throughout your years of training?
a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and sisters were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.
q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as zerobaseone’s hanbin?
a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my sister, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [zerobaseone], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. zerose, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be zerobaseone’s leader or sung hanbin if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.
tag list: @kflixnet @blankjournal @somber-reads
#works of moni#kflixnet#bjnet#k-labels#zerobaseone#zb1#zb1 x reader#zb1 imagines#zb1 angst#zb1 fluff#sung hanbin#sung hanbin fluff#sung hanbin angst#sung hanbin x reader#sung hanbin imagines
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Wip Wednesday!
Thank you for the tags @notjustjavierpena @burntheedges @sawymredfox 🩷 I am kind of going back and forth between WIPs, so here are some snippets!
1. QZ! Joel - Slip Into Me Part 2
He seems to command people around him, acts as if he is the one ordering the soldiers around. You see they listen to him as he bites a snarl their way, see the way they almost cower and can’t seem to keep eye contact when he’s giving them valuable information. You should be afraid of him, you think, but you’re not. You’re only intrigued more and more every single time you see him snap demands and push people to the edge.
He’s strong, broad, dominant. He likes to be in control, loves to push the soldiers to their breaking point like he did with Seth. He knows how to get his way, knows exactly how to play games with FEDRA. He could snap the neck of any man that even tried to get their hands on him or order him around. His menacing gaze was all it took for them to back off enough, drop whatever argument they were trying to start. You knew this because you were watching him on the streets when you worked, stealing glances every second you could when you saw the tall, broad man who saved you so many nights ago. Now you were hooked.
2. Witch trial! Joel AU
He can’t see it, can’t hear it, can’t stand the thought of it. But what can a broken man do in a ruined town filled with cult following people that call themselves saints. He hates them, all of them. But he hates himself the most for not being able to save the people he cared most about.
He has to save you, even if it gets himself killed. For he’d rather stand on the thresholds of death with the fiery flames than see your gorgeous face melt into the depths of red embers. He’d walk through the black mist of hell, cross the fiery lakes of no return just to touch the softness of your skin.
3. Bfd! Joel
He assesses your face, scanning your flustered features while he ticks his jaw, analyzing if you’re really drunk or not. Once he’s satisfied with your answer he gives a gruff sound from the back of his throat. “Okay then. You’re not drunk, but you’re jus’ choosin’ not to tell me where Sarah is, and you’re givin’ me a headache with the way you’re actin’ like a little brat,” he snarls with gritted teeth. “What’s it gonna take to get you to answer me, brat?”
The nickname brat makes a wave of slick form in your lace and your insides quiver with need. You know exactly what you have to do now. You take your nails and run them slowly through his greying scruff, watching him clench his jaw and growl through his teeth. He grabs your wrist and peels it off his face, pinning it high above your head while he takes a step forward and leans all his weight into you.
“Don’t think for one fuckin’ moment you have control, sweetheart. I’m in control here. Now, are you gonna tell me where my daughter is or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you?” His eyes blow wide, black pupils taking over your vision as his hardening cock digs into the middle of your thigh. Oh fuck, he’s big.
No pressure tags and anyone else that sees this 🩷 @mountainsandmayhem @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @magpiepills @yxtkiwiyxt
@alltheirdamn @joelsgreys @ozarkthedog @joelmillerisapunk @toxicanonymity
@endlessthxxghts @ace-turned-confused @janaispunk
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May I request a Luke Castellan x Aphrodite! reader. The reader was with Luke, Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia before they arrived at camp. Since they’ve arrived, Luke and the reader haven’t spoken much. When they’re sent on a quest together, Luke and the reader begin to talk again.
˗ˋ now pretty baby I’m running back home to you ˊ˗
warnings: this is a little lengthy, theres angst at the beginning, but there is a happy ending!
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite
summary: read the request!
A/N: this is the first fic I’ve actually been really proud of, I’m gonna cry
you remember the first day you got to camp, it was rough, confusing, and overwhelming, and on top of all that- one of your best friends got turned into a tree
but now it’s been four months since then, and you were one of the lucky demigods that had gotten claimed within a month by aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. It wasn’t all that bad being here, but the worst part was that you haven’t spoken to luke since you got here
he was your best friend, yes, but with getting settled into camp, and now that he’s a counselor of his cabin, there’s no time to talk, and even if you did talk it was awkward, just simple a simple ‘hi’ or ‘how are you’
you don’t really know what made you guys stop talking in the first place, because when you first got to camp there was no camp duties to attend to yet, so you had plenty of free time, but things were weird between you two
it wasn’t you who drifted away from him, it was the other way around, and you didn’t understand why he did it. you recall countless times trying to ask him why he wouldn’t even care to look you in the eyes, but he would ignore or dodge the question every time
the first time you talked to him after three months was when you got assigned a quest by your mothe. you were asked to bring her back a stolen seashell, one that was very sacred to her.
you were instructed to bring at least one person on the quest with you, and you had no clue who you were even going to bring, you didn’t have much friends since you were still new, and you’re only friends were either too young, a literal tree, or was ignoring you
but alas, you caught luke by the lake one night skipping rocks on the water
now’s the perfect time, talk to him!
at first you seemed confident about this, but the closer you got, the faster your heart started beating
oh my gods, seriously? he’s your best friend!!
“are you going to sit or are you going to continue staring at me?”
you jump at his words, “I’m sorry I- uhm, can I sit?”
“I just told you” his eyes meet yours for the first time in months
“can we talk?” you take a seat ok the grass beside him
“that’s what we’re doing right now isn’t it?”
sarcastic as always
you roll your eyes, “I suppose” you take a deep breath before your next words “I got assigned a quest”
“I heard” he hands you a rock, and you take it
“yeah, well, chiron said I can’t go alone, said j have to take someone with me” you skip the rock on the water
“and you want me to go with you?”
he knows you too well
“yes, but if you don’t want to that’s fine, it’s just that I don’t really have anyone else to go with me and you were- are my best friend”
you’re a helpless mess
“of course I’ll go”
“luke- if you don’t want to go I won’t be insulted, I could just find someone else, I’ll work something-”
he cuts you off, “you haven’t changed” he laughs
“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” you stand up, thinking he’s making fun of you
he quickly stands up beside you, “no it’s a good thing, a really good thing, I’m glad you’re not like all the other stupid aphrodite kids”
“those are my siblings” you cross your arms, but in truth you can’t be mad at him, you could never be mad at him
“I know you don’t like some of them”
why does he have to know you so well?!
“only some” you look down at your feet, fighting the smile making its way to your face
you don’t understand how you went to long without him, this is the happiest you’ve been in months
“I don’t know if I can say this, but I really miss you” he looks at you with those wounded puppy eyes
“I really miss you too” you grin widely, what’s the point in fighting it anymore?
- 🏹 -
the quest was going okay until you got ambushed by a hoard of monsters, and you almost died
and you like to think that you survived because of love and happiness (you made a mental note to never tell your mother about this, you hated when she was right)
you remember that night under the tree, luke held your helpless body in his arms, your stomach bleeding out, a concussed head and broken ankle, you didn’t think you would survive, you were fully convinced these would be your last moments, but as you laid there, eyes on the stars and the feeling of luke’s arms holding on to you so gently, you thought you could have died happy if your last moments were with him
the bad part about your non-death was that you were injured and luke was crying. you never saw him cry, in all the years you knew him he never shed a tear in front of you
but here he sits, sobbing like a baby, begging you not to die, and seeing him so heartbroken over you healed you in a way, not because he was sad, of course not, but because he didn’t want you to die, because between sobs he mumbled a simple ‘I love you’ which was only three words, but meant so much to you
you also recall a week later when you were sitting in the infirmary, healing under the powers of the apollo cabin, luke not once leaving your side
you asked him, “why wouldn’t you talk to me?”
and you didn’t need to specify because he knew what you were talking about, because he knew you
“I was scared” he does anything but look at you, but you know by the way he grips onto your hand so tightly that it means nothing bad, “I was scared of losing you. after thalia, I was worried that you would get taken away from me the same way she did, and the fear of you being gone forever kept me up every night- it still does, but I thought that if I just stopped talking to you, then if I lost you it wouldn’t hurt as much as it would if we were close”
oh
you thought your wounds hurt- they did, very much so, but his words felt like a stab to the heart
“why didn’t you just talk to me? luke- I’m your best friend, you can tell me this stuff, I’ll never judge you for it, I swear it on the river styx” you squeeze his hand, something simple, but it always calmed him
“I thought that when you got claimed by aphrodite you would think I’m just some stupid boy you used to know, because gods, you’re gorgeous, I should have known she was your mother, but I didn’t think you’d want to be around me because I’m just me”
every word hurts, you wish he wouldn’t speak so poorly about himself
“I love you”
It’s three words, three simple words, but it means so much to luke, more than anything, and when he hears them, small tears start falling down his face
“oh luke” you sit up, and as much as it hurts, it doesn’t matter to you, because what matters most is the boy on your side
you cup his face in your hands and kiss each cheek were the tears had fell “please don’t cry, I don’t like seeing you cry”
“I love you too” he pulls you in for a gentle hug, nuzzling his face into your shoulder, taking in your scent, “I don’t want to lose you”
“you won’t lose me, I promise”
he tightens his grip on you, yet still careful of your fragile state
and you stay like that for maybe five minutes? you lost track of time, you knew it was best for him to let his tears out then keep them in, and once he’s calm he pulls away, eyes permanently glued to you
“I’m sorry” he wipes his tears
“you didn’t do anything wrong” you frown
“I feel guilty for ignoring you all those months”
“luke, it’s fine, we’re okay, aren’t we?” you cup his face again, and he leans into your palms
“y/n?” he mutters
“yes?” oh you’re soft voice, he wants to melt
“can I kiss you?” he smiles for the first time in two weeks
you can’t help but smile, seeing him happy makes you incredibly happy, and without saying anything you pull his lips to yours for a gentle, but passionate kiss
#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo fandom#percy jackson#pjo#pjo spoilers#percy series#pjo tv show#pjo hoo toa#pjo disney+#luke castellan x you#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan fic#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#xoxochb
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Simón had spent most of his time in Oasis Springs agonizing over Frida, after all, he was only here for her and although his mental had improved now that he was more away from the world of his past there was still the issue of her and what an issue it was.
He wanted to go to her, profess his love of her, make her understand that in the end, he couldn't be without her and show her that despite it all she, more than anyone else, had made him vulnerable.
But part of him knew it would be best to let her go. To stay away from her. After all, his life was misery and ill fortune, tying himself to her was sure to bring her down and after seeing how well she was doing for herself perhaps the only step forward was one without her.
So, Tuesday morning he talked with her father and asked what he should do. It was no surprise that the old man wanted him nowhere near his daughter. "You know how this ends for you, Simón, it ends tragically," her dad said. "And both of us have bought enough of that into her life."
Simón begrudgingly agreed but where did that leave him?
I think I've pretty much settled into Pascal's place I mean here I am once again making him breakfast but it really isn't official official, you know? I believe both of us wonder if this is all going too fast but who decides that really? Maybe, it's going at just the right pace?
Either way, I'm here cooking Oatmeal buttermilk pancakes, hoping this fits into his very strict diet.
I don't get too far into the preparation before he joins in and offers encouragement.
"You must be the perfect woman," he tells me and I can't help but to wink and smile his way. There's always a risk with him that it can turn into more. Eh, not a risk, a hope...but he does say he has a game today and so he needs to be very very focused for that.
That leaves me with plenty to do and before I could make a plan on what to do with my free time it is Irene who calls me and asks to come over. I met her at the food stand a day or so ago if you recall and I'm more than happy to get to know her better. I feel like out of all the people I've met I have the most in common with her and so I hope this is the start to a beautiful friendship.
Before she comes over I have time to make some ice cream and also mix some lemonade. Summer is coming up hard and fast here in Oasis Springs and you'd have to be stupid to find yourself outside without a cool drink or a handful of ice cream or something!
She strolls right up to the house after she hears me outside humming and making lemonade. I invite her to sit, thankful for the shade, and she's eager to jump right into a conversation about our shared hobby. Being chefs!
"I work at the Selva place, you know the one?"
I nod my head, once again thinking of Simón and the date we shared there and ummm, what happened after. Best not to think about that. "The food was really good! I plan on going back some day-"
"The boss is an ass but a loveable one," she says, joking. "Won't even hire anyone unless they have 'heritage' or whatever, which is silly but-"
"Oh? Is he hiring?" I say, pushing right past the red flag she had put before me and focusing on the opportunity. "Maybe he might be easier to deal with if you have a friend there to help you out?"
"Well, yes? Maybe? I think he might be. I could ask him for you but...like I mentioned, he's a bit of an ass! Be careful with him!"
I tell her I will and to go ahead and give him a good word for me. Who knows if I'll take the offer, who knows if I'll be offered, but I always consider an opportunity.
After that she talks a bit about my stand and how she is just a little jealous of it. "It's pretty bold," she says. "You're all on your own so if anything goes wrong, you are to blame. Takes a lot of courage."
"I guess...I felt like I had nothing to lose," I say, thinking about how she was right but when I started my stand I never thought of failure because I've lived through failure and tragedy and I've come out stronger. "You know it is fun, thinking about the recipes and all that and-"
"That's my dream you know? Having my own place..."
That is definitely a noble and respectable dream, one I think I share...
Irene has to go which of course leaves me home alone or...well, that's not technically my home but you know what I mean!
I could have sat there and watched television or something but instead decided to head to the gym. If Pascal is out playing a game with the team or whatever he's doing then I need to stay fit myself and what better way than yoga?
It was the perfect time for it too since there was no one else around.
And being at the gym meant it is likely that I run into Sara who I think was coming from her own light work out herself. She was super excited to see me and asked why I wasn't at home earlier. "Came to ask if you wanted to work out but you just arrived? What have you been up to?"
"I've been at Pascal's place," I come right out with it, watching her eyes grow big with excitement and demand.
"Oh! Wow! You HAVE to tell me about it!"
She drags me to one of the seats, sits across from me, and gives me a signal to go on. Looks like I have little option here but to indulge her need to know just a little bit although there isn't much for me to tell her. So, I just focus on the general feeling I have when it comes to him.
"He's simple, in a good way I mean. Keeps to himself, works out a lot, very focused on his career."
"See, see!" She says, referencing my conversation with her and Marjorie days ago. "Is it true? Is he trying to get transferred to Real Del Sol!?"
"Huh?" I have no idea what she's talking about.
"O-oh, just a rumor, Oasis FC you know, small team, respectable, but he's bound to outgrow them at this rate," she says nonchalantly. "Off to a bigger club to hopefully win championships and stuff. I just wondered if you'd have like the inside scoop-"
"Nooo," I'm shaking my head, regretting that I really know nothing at all about his career but I do know what that might mean for me, for us. "We don't talk much about fútbol honestly, it's not something he's mentioned."
"Hmm, I hope he doesn't go. As an OFC fan it'd suck to lose him."
"Yeah..." well, as his girlfriend it would suck too. I hope he doesn't go either but maybe it's just a rumor with nothing behind it? I'm just now getting to know him and if he were to go to another city would he ask me to come with?
Either way, right now I'll think nothing of it and enjoy the rest of my time at the gym.
Tomorrow is Summer Solstice and hopefully that means a pretty fun and eventful day. Let's hope at least!
Episode List - Next
#The Sims#The Sims 4#ts4#Sims#Sims 4#sims legacy#my sims#generation 1#soot#sims of our time#frida varela#simon barrera#pascal alcocer#irene tasis#sara chavez
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I don’t want you to leave | Eddie Munson
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Request: From Anon
Warnings: Mentions of assault and drunk abusive father. Angsty.
Word Count: 1,058
Stranger Things Masterlist | Main Masterlist
“Eddie!” Y/N yells, slamming her fist against the door to Eddie Munson’s trailer. She had no idea if he was awake, but she knew he was home because his van was sitting out front of the trailer. “Eddie!”
The door eventually swings open, nearly knocking her off the step.
“Y/N?” His voice is sleepy, confirming her suspicions of him being asleep. It wasn’t uncommon for the two to hang out, smoke weed, listen to music, and talk about anything and everything until the early hours of the morning. What was unusual was her showing up at almost 2 a.m. banging on his door as if her life depended on him opening it. “What’s going on?”
He notices a large red welt shaped like a hand on her right cheek and a small cut on her left cheek with a bruise forming around it. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her cheeks are stained with tears. The thought of someone hurting his best friend (and childhood crush) filled him with rage. He gently takes her hand in his and pulls her inside, closing the door behind them. He goes to the freezer, takes out a bag of frozen peas, wraps them in the towel, and presses them against her cheek, causing her to wince slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he apologises, hating seeing her like this. As much as he wanted to hurt whoever did this to her, she was his number one priority right now. She needs him more than a jail cell does. “Did your father do this?” He asks her, his big brown eyes boring into hers, wanting to know every detail of what happened so he could help her as best he could.
It was well known that her father was an abusive alcoholic. It was only recently that the public became aware of it. After her mother left, her father made no effort to cover up how much of an asshole he really was. With Hopper gone, the town’s police force had spiralled into a shit show. Her father was arrested several times for being drunk and disorderly, and he always blamed it on his wife leaving and fabricating lies about her disappearance, which gained sympathy from a majority of the people.
“I have to leave Eddie.” She confirms his suspicions. “I can’t stay any longer.”
“Do you mean leave Hawkins or your house?” He asks her, his heart pounding as he struggles with his conflicting feelings.
She confirms, “Hawkins.” she confirms. “He’ll continue to make my life a living hell if I stay here. I can’t be here as long as he’s alive.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says truthfully, even though a part of him wants to tell her to leave so he can be sure she’s safe. But the selfish side of him came out and didn’t want her to leave. He prefered that she stayed with him so that he could protect her. He never saw himself as a hero outside of Dungeons and Dragons, but he wanted to be her hero.
“I don’t want to, but I have to,” she sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks. She did not want to leave him. She loves him in ways that words cannot express. He was the one person she cared about more than anyone else. He had been her home since they first met in middle school. He wasn’t a freak to her. He was just Eddie, her best friend, and her first and only love.
“Stay with me tonight, just tonight,” he pleads. “Give me that much. And I’ll take you wherever you want to go tomorrow.”
She nods and embraces the young man. If she could stay in this moment for the rest of her life, she would. Eddie moved them to his bedroom after a few minutes. He helped her change into one of his shirts and climbed into bed. Nothing was said as they settled in and eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The two awoke shortly after 9 a.m. Eddie was preparing their breakfast while she sat at the counter watching him. They hadn’t spoken about the early hours of this morning because they were both unsure how to bring it up.
“Have you made any recent deals?” She asks, noticing the lunch box that didn’t just carry his lunch was now sitting on the counter close to him.
“Just the usual amount,” he replies. “Do you want to tell me about what happened last night?”
The mood around them changed instantly as Y/N sat up straighter, thinking about last night. “Dad came home drunk, woke me up to make him something to eat, and when I refused, he called me an ungrateful and useless bitch and did this,” she motions to her bruised and cut cheek. It wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated. “After he passed out, I packed a bag and came here.”
“To say goodbye,” he murmured to himself. “I’ll go with you.”
“What was that?” She asks, not quite hearing him.
“I can come with you,” he says a little louder.
“No, no you can’t, Eddie. This is your year, remember? ‘86 is your year. You’ll finally graduate, and you have the Hellfire Club. You can’t just leave those kids. They love and adore you.” She moves behind him and turns him to face her. “You also have your uncle to consider. He needs you too.”
“I’d give it all up for you,” he says sincerely.
“Why?” She asked, surprised. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I love you, god dammit.” He admits suddenly becoming a little timid and bashful, a side of Eddie that only a few people got to see. “I’ve loved you since middle school. And I simply can not imagine my life without you.”
Y/N’s heart skips a beat and begins thumping loudly against her chest. Instead of saying anything, she cups his face and pulls him into a passionate kiss, letting him know she feels the same way.
When they break the kiss, she tells him, “I’ll stay. If it’s okay with your Uncle, I’ll stay with you because I can’t go back to that house.”
“You don’t have to go back there ever again,” Eddie reassures her and pulls her into another kiss.
“And I love you too,” she says softly against his lips.
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Fuck it, I know I said I wouldn’t post things about my AU’s out of order, but it’s my blog, and do want I fucking want
Sad TNT duo scene (tw: knives, suicide)
(PS, this thing’s pretty long, so you might wanna go grab some potatocorn or something):
W: *Looking down sadly at his reflection in his knife*
Q: *Practically slams open this man’s fucking door like he isn’t breaking and entering* Jesus fucking Christ Wilbur, where the fuck have you been?! I…people were really starting to worry about you.
W: (to himself) You, you cared?
Q: What?
W: Nothing. Why are you here?
Q: Did you not hear me dipshit, looking for you. I hadn’t seen you in a few days, I was starting to get concerned.
W: That feels a bit dramatic, don’t you think?
Q: Not when you’re at my border bugging me everyday, no
W: …
Q: You ok?
W: Yeah, yeah, I’m fine
Q: You sure? There were a lot of pauses in that four word sentence. Y’know if you have something you want to say to me you can say it
W: Yeah, since when has that been true?
Q: Excuse me
W: Never mind, that’s not important right now
Q: Feels pretty damn important, but ok, sure
W: *takes a deep breathe* Quackity, kill me
Q: W-w-w
W: It’s perfect, I won’t be able to hurt you or anyone else, and you won’t have to put up with me anymore
Q: Wilbur if this is your idea of “a joke” it’s not very funny
W: What about me asking you to kill me sounds like a joke to you? It’s not that hard if that’s what you’re concerned about. There are a bunch of knives in here, just take your pick. There are some over there, I think I have one near my bed, plus I’m sure you plenty weapons in your room. *Wilbur’s voice starts fading out* And you don’t have to make it painless if you don’t want to… *his voice is completely drowned out by either ringing or static, I haven’t fully decided yet*
Q: N-no you said you wouldn’t leave me! Th-that you’d be here for me! You promised you wouldn’t leave me again! You promised!
W: That’s what I do Quackity. I lie. I lie and I hurt and that’s all I’ll ever be good for. I can’t change that, no one can, which is why it’d be better for everyone if you just killed me
Q: I- no I’m not gonna kill you Wilbur!
W: Quackity, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me a single reason why I still deserve to live, why I should still be here tomorrow
Q: I-
W: You can’t. I know you can’t. And that’s okay. That’s great even! That’s you realizing how badly I’ve hurt you, and that you shouldn’t want me around *placing his knife in Quackity’s hand, which his dumbass doesn’t notice, because Wilbur’s touching his face and he’s gay* I don’t deserve to live Quackity. *starts moving Quackity’s hands (the knife) towards his chest* You should know that more then anyone. The only thing I’ve ever given you is pain, especially when you’re already hurting. You’re just doing yourself a disservice by letting me live.
W: Y’know, I really will miss you. You’re my favorite person, and I love spending every second I can with you. But that’s really selfish of me. At least you won’t miss have to miss me. Hell, anyone with half a brain cell won’t miss me
Q: What the fuck are you on about, of course I’d miss you if you died!
W: No, you won’t. I mean, come on, why would you. You hate me, remember
Q: I don’t h- *sees the knife in his hands, and then immediately drops it* Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?!
W: EVERYTHING!!! Every single decision I’ve ever made was at the expense of someone else! I’m trying to do the only good thing I can with my pathetic existence by ending it, which YOU don’t seem to understand!
Q: Because that’s stupid! Yeah, you’ve hurt people, so what? We’ve all hurt someone else at some point!
W: CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DO SOMETHING USEFUL FOR ONCE IN YOUR FUCKING LIFE!
Q: …
W: I’m- this is exactly what I’m talking about. This is all I do. So, just pick up the knife, and put an end to my pathetic existence
Q: No! I won’t kill you Wilbur
W: Why are you being so stubborn about this?
Q: Because I love you, ok! I love you a lot. You’re the only constant in my life, and I really don’t wanna think about what would happen if you weren’t here. You’re my everything. And I *shaky sigh* I just can’t lose you again
W: …
Q: Fuck, just forget I said anything. I’ll just leave and pray that your not dead tomorrow mornin-
W: *hugs in gay* I love you too
Q: *starts crying while hugging Wilbur tighter*
#dsmp#dsmp au#c!wilbur#c!quackity#c!tntduo#script writing#this took me four hours to write#yall better appreciate it#this is like my favorite script I’ve ever written#ever
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