#mutually noticing parallels
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"I can be quite strange upon pondering becoming the Vizier. In a darkly humorous sense, I became what I feared the most," the thought had him reflective
"Despite the grim circumstances I have been placed in, few unnerved me quite like the presence of the Vizier at the time and the Seelie’s counterpart of adviser. Perhaps it was simply being young and naive to the bravado and tactics of such men. Or perhaps even then I understood how my life was hanging dangerously close to their blades.”
“Hilariously but unsurprisingly, both had wanted me gone. After all, what was one life to the peace of their land? And I do mean their land as I see there is a care or selfishness to an adviser when it comes to their advice. In the Seelie, the Cliathadh were historically important but not prominent family. And the Gallochbar were present, neither a major player but also not a weak link. Likely in their eyes there was nothing lost with the banishment nor execution of a child.”
“But by some fortune…the Seelie King did not care of my fate once the Cliathadh rejected keeping me. Even though I am certain there was some protest on Lord Allanach’s end. While they had deliberated, it was as though he wanted to ensure that I could not return as a bane to the Seelie later. So much for the more ‘benign’ Summer Court,” Risteard chuckled, “but in retrospect, he is quite thorough. Makes for an excellent adviser, it also makes for an excellent schemer. A true snake, borrowing from the Protector.”
“Which only makes the engagement with our counterpart immensely interesting. It seems the adviser has managed to remain beside the throne. And shifted from the lens of a child, I simply view a man with keen observation and staunchness towards tradition. If his subtle displeasure with our presence was anything to offer. Though I could almost sympathize with having an ear where words go in one but out the other. But as it stands, Lord Allanach is but a fleeting memory and shaping to be one I must deal with due to my profession. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Risteard shifted as he recounted, “While I am, in a sense, eager to revisit an old recollection with the wisdom of age…I am disappointed, possibly indignant at the loss of such an opportunity within the Unseelie. While the Seelie took their usual position once I left their land, it did not mean my woes ended. No, that led to the contention with the Vizier at the time. A man faceless yet no less intimidating of an aura, that is Lord Rathais.”
“He blatantly called for execution. He had not wanted to allow the affair between my parents to go as long as it did. And he–albeit rightfully–did not believe the fabrication painted for my father’s death. His cursory instigation threatened to unravel me. I can recall trembling under the weight of his–assumedly–disdainful gaze. Like a bird of prey threatening to claw into a hapless snake or mouse. Had he had the opportunity to question fully, I have little doubt my ruse would have crumbled.”
“Fortune chose me again as the gentry–either by some bribery by the Gallochbar or their whimsy–denied the Vizier’s notion. I was allowed to go. However, that did not seem to stop Lord Rathais’ passive disdain. While I cannot be certain, I suspect he believed I held far stronger ties to the Seelie and…..and it only speculation, that I was a blemish in the Court. Not the only one, mind you, but one that existed. Persisted. As I attempted to prove myself to the Unseelie, I have little doubt he was a part of those that wanted me far from gentry agendas.”
He gave a breath, “Funny how you need not a face to understand contempt. And how through words and presence alone, he could make one feel so small. Feel unworthy. It was a feeling that gnawed as greatly as the lovelessness of my family. It was a feeling I sought to overturn…to struggle against. Yet, that was not to be. After all, Lord Rathais is not longer here. He perished in a massacre within his own manor. A rogue that seemed only to be interested in bloodshed. So it is only a grudge I hold with no receiver.”
“Though some days I feel that grudge is reborn anew,” Risteard admitted, “the Royal Protector and I have no love lost. He has such a murderous presence and cutting words yet it invokes similar feelings as Lord Rathais. Perhaps it is why I continue with his provocations and in turn provoke him. It is the closest I get to engaging with an opponent I was unable to face when I was ready.”
“Or maybe it simply is because he prods where I disdain the most. And through his barbed tongue, I must grapple with…am I truly any different from those I feared…those I hated…? A snake he calls me and all I think of is Lord Allanach’s sharp gaze. So precise in knowing where to cut a loss. That contemptuous tone and I recall Lord Rathais that stripped me of any worth and whose influence plagued me long since his death. Yet I so candidly, so openly denounce the Protector to his king of his presence as I view it dangerous. A threat to the land–my land–and how I would do anything within my power to keep it safe. In many ways it makes me feel sick.”
“Yet, so much of my life has been that. Sickness. But sickness is necessary when dealing in a poison. It is a sign of taking in too much. A teetering towards death. And it is only by enduring…suffering through the symptoms and the pain does one eventually recover. And comes out stronger in the end. At least, that is all I can console myself with.”
#long post#{Risteard Headcanons#this actually came#from one night Kristen being like#how does he even feel about having the job#of the guy that almost got him murked#as well as like#mutually noticing parallels#with him and Mhoirbheinn#ironically in different circumstances#they might've been in understanding with each other
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thinking about Eunyung breaks my heart bc remember when he had a problem with stealing and managed to stop? but even then he still got accused of stealing and no one believed him when he said he didn't do it except for Haejoon?
or when he finally got a job at the restaurant aka a (somewhat) honest way to make money and afford to buy his own things? but he wasn't officially employed bc he's too young and got fucked over by his employer and got beat up by the guys at the playground during thanks giving when Haejoon spent days looking for him?
or when he the dorms filled up and he got that shitty roommate? the one he tried to get along with since the beginning but the mfer just wanted a room cleaner and free food? when Haejoon stepped in with the pan when the guy wanted to punch Eunyung?
<- these are all instances where Eunyung tried so hard to live a good and honest life, go on a straight path, be an upstanding citizen and a good person. every single time that shit blew up in his face royally and his efforts had gone to waste. he tried so hard and nothing came out of it. the mere thought makes pieces of my soul die.
---
this goes to show how hard it is to pull yourself out of where you started. the thing is, familiar things are magnetic. if you grew up surrounded by bad influences, you'll naturally gravitate towards them, no matter how hard you try get away, move on, do better. bc we naturally feel a pull towards things we're familiar with, things we know. think 'comfort zone', and how hard it is to get out of it.
that doesn't mean it is impossible to leave them behind, but it takes lots of time and effort, until you get used to the new good influences. until you learn to feel comfortable with what you're unfamiliar with.
you try, fail and try again. it's hard, but doable. when the universe throws lemons at you, you pick them up, squeeze them all into a water gun and shoot. aim for the eyes.
#i wanted to point out some things i noticed#and the post turned into a life lesson#i kinda tend to do that#sorry#there's so much you can learn from all these characters#also notice how in all 3 situations#haejoon is there to help?#<- not to say that a savior is needed#but a solid support system works wonders#hj makes ey better#while ey makes hj worse#<- interesting dynamic to have#A needs B there while B needs A far away#it's like one gets better at the expense of the other#but in our boys' case i think it's getting better#more mutually beneficial#i love them so much#feels trip#eunyung baek#ey hj parallels#no home#no home wanan#집이 없어#webtoon#meta#no home manhwa#my soul dies and my heart breaks thinking about it bc there's nothing i hate more than fruitless effort and wasted potential#to try so hard and still fail...then realize how much time you wasted and all the pointless sacrifices you made#<- i'm rambling ignore this last part
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8, 15, 25, 31, 35 and 43 for artyom and sascha!
YIPPIEEEEE thank you so much for these AUAUAU i've missed talking about them ;w;
for housekeeping reasons: this pairing is romantic!
8) what do the like best about their partner?
artyom loves how considerate and kind sascha is :) sascha has been through a lot and is still going through a lot but despite all of it he's still so gentle. very tired, sure, and he can definitely be a little distant and VERY quiet, but he's just. a sweetheart and i am holding him in my arms
sascha loves how enthusiastic and energetic artyom is! artyom is very passionate about science and magic and loves to ramble and infodump, and it's so endearing to sascha; he loves to just sit around and listen to artyom for hours and hours on end :) <3
this is also why they just. they work so well together idk!!! sascha is more quiet and reserved though still passionate about the things he likes, while artyom is more extraverted and shares the same interests as sascha so they always have something to talk about and they just. complement each other very well. i'm having so many emotions about them oh my god
15) how adventurous are they?
VERY adventurous >:) they're essentially traveling the world with their adventuring party right now! they both love seeing other places and meeting people from different countries and cultures, and they also don't shy away from an adventure in a deep forest or a cave system or a dungeon or something like that
when it comes to their relationship specifically, they're a bit less adventurous (except when it comes to the bedroom but i'm not gonna talk about that right now LMFAO). throughout their entire lives, they've actually always been each other's constant so to say, and they like the predictability and reliability that comes with that! so they're not quick to try and change things about their relationship in an adventurous way, they prefer to just go with the flow and see where they end up together :)
25) how much time do they spend together? do they share their feelings, or hold things in?
artyom and sascha essentially spend every breathing moment together. they're both however not that great at talking about their feelings! haha! it's mostly been fine because they're so tuned in to one another they Rarely need to talk about stuff, they just follow their intuition and all is well. however, especially later in their story and after they officially become a Thing, they learn they Do kinda need to talk about things and that's when they start doing it more. it's a messy journey because they both haven't really been taught how to communicate properly (artyom was mostly left to his own devices back when he still lived at home and sascha was a gifted kid so everyone assumed he just Knew how to do Everything) but hey they're learning together and that's what it's all about <3
31) do they finish each other’s sentences? pick up any phrases or habits from each other? know when the other is hiding something?
artyom finishes sascha's sentences all the time but that's also mostly because sascha speaks very slowly and artyom talks so so fast LMFAO he generally knows exactly what sascha is thinking of so that's why he can do that
the other way round, sascha cannot finish artyom's sentences because artyom speaks and thinks very fast whereas sascha. well. he's hard of hearing with pretty bad auditory processing issues so his brain just kind of lags behind, it's already a miracle he can follow artyom's rambling in the first place LOL
sascha has picked up a lot of habits from artyom. artyom is very expressive with his hands and also stims a lot, and it's become so normal to sascha he's kind of doing things like that too nowadays <3 artyom has picked up less habits from sascha because of his um. pretty static composure most of the time. and also when we're talking about routine habits, artyom doesn't easily create new habits for himself so he wouldn't "just" pick something like that up from sascha
they're both terrible liars as well, so it's pretty easy to tell when they're hiding something. however, they're both also pretty oblivious so there's still a big chance they get away with it LMFAO
35) do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? do they have a fatal flaw?
generally speaking, they bring out the best in each other. their brains are so tuned in to each other and they're both so smart, they can come up with the best and most creative and brightest ideas together (which they do!!! a lot!!!!!) and they clearly love each other so much and let that love for each other fuel them and motivate them in everything they do
however, they are definitely also a little bit too dependent on each other. it's something they're working on, and while they don't mind being apart and actually Can be apart from each other, it becomes very clear in their behavior that they still rely a LOT on each other
a good example of this would be the fact that artyom mostly makes decisions with his heart, whereas sascha mostly makes decisions with his head. it would be best to have a good mix of the two available at your disposal, but because they've become so comfortable relying on the other doing what they do best, whenever they're not together they're just. kind of missing that part of their judgement. and that prevents artyom from thinking rationally about things when he's alone, and it prevents sascha from understanding others' perspectives better when he's alone
43) do they talk often? what about?
they talk. all the fucking time oh my god they never fucking shut up LMFAO they were put next to each other in fantasy secondary school because their teachers hoped it would make artyom more quiet when he's forced to sit with the quiet kid (sascha) but no. it only made him louder. and it made sascha loud as well. bless
they mostly talk about science, magic and history a lot because that's their specialties and their fields of study :) artyom also reads and learns a lot about random things (whatever his brain is zoomed in on at that moment) which he will occasionally infodump about as well! sascha is less of a talker but he's a good listener, and he absolutely also has his infodump moments <3
pairing asks!
#asks#mutuals#morvaris#ask:in life and death#pairing asks#if you're noticing parallels between these two and misha and vito no you don't <3#i kinda created all of them at the same time and ended up reusing some stuff but. it's Different enough i think#i'm going into very different directions with some of the stuff so it's fine actually <3#anyway! my fantasy science boys i love them so much#sascha is a historian actually. not a scientist. well actually they're both still students. hm. it's fine
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#ooc post.#me then: used to run like 20 blogs and had mutual parallels#me now: OH this muse that I keep seeing is run by this other person! why didn't I notice that!!
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don’t cross the line
pairing: ellie williams x reader
warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol
Parties in Jackson fucking suck.
It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.
“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”
Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.
You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.
“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.
“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”
Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.
Ellie.
You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.
So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-
“Hey”
You'd recognize that voice anywhere.
A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.
“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”
She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”
Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.
“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.
Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.
Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.
“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.
“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.
One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.
“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.
You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.
“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.
“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”
Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.
You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.
“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.
It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?
“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.
“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?
“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?
“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.
“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.
Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.
“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.
Ellie scoffed.
“Yeah”
You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.
Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.
“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”
“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.
“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.
“Let me walk you” she blurted.
What?
“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.
She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?
“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.
“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.
“No” she exclaimed.
“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”
“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?
“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”
“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.
Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.
She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.
Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.
“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?
“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.
“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.
Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.
“You are”
Step
“So fucking annoying”
This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.
The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.
You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.
You turned around to face her.
Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.
You took a deep breath. She looked cold.
“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.
“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.
“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.
“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.
“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.
“Come inside”
"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.
The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.
You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.
Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.
"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.
“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.
“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.
"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”
Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.
“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.
“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.
“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.
“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.
She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.
“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.
“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.
“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.
Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.
“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.
“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.
“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.
Oh, did that sentence burn through you.
“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.
“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.
You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.
“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.
“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.
Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.
That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.
“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?
You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.
She took a deep breath.
“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”
The room fell quiet.
“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.
“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.
“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.
“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.
“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.
“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.
“Please” you begged.
That’s all it took.
Almost.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.
“Please” you begged.
Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.
“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.
Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.
Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.
“You dont know…” she whispered.
You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.
“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.
Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.
Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.
She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.
“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.
She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.
“Shit” she huffed.
And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.
Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.
Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.
The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.
your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.
It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.
If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.
Her body gave up on her, too.
She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.
“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.
You wiped your tears.
“I can’t” you whispered.
“Please” she begged.
You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.
“I think about you all the time” you blurted.
She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.
“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.
What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.
You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.
Ellie swallowed deeply.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.
“I need you” you whimpered.
She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.
“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.
“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.
Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.
She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.
You cupped your breast.
Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.
“Holy shit” she wheezed.
“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.
Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.
The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.
Then, you took your shirt off.
And Cat was gone.
Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.
The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.
You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.
The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.
“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.
You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.
Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”
She didn’t need to pretend now.
“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.
You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.
“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.
“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.
“Do it” she commanded.
“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.
The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.
You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.
“Feels so good” you whined.
“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.
“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.
Ellie almost went cross eyed.
“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.
“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.
“Show me how bad - shit”
You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.
You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.
“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.
In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?
“Spread” She commanded.
You looked at her stupidity.
“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.
You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.
“Fucking shit” she grunted.
Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.
“Wider” She commanded.
You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.
“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.
“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.
“Show me that fucking pussy”
You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.
“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.
“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.
“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.
“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.
“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.
With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.
Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.
Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.
You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.
Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.
She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.
You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.
“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.
“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.
You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.
It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.
“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.
Her fucking ex best friend.
“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.
“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”
“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.
The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.
“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.
“Please fuck me, please fuck me”
“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.
“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.
“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”
Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.
When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.
This wasn’t just wrong.
This was vile.
She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.
When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;
“I’m so sorry”
#ellie williams#ellie x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams fanfiction#the last of us#ellie williams x you#wlw#lesbian#ellie smut#ellie williams angst
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lacy - mv1
max verstappen x fem!driver!reader
summary yn can't keep hiding her true feelings towards max
wc 1,6 k (i was supposed to keep it short for this one but oh well)
warnings this one angsty as fuuuck, reader kinda sucks sorry
a/n first post of this series omg i'm so excited!!!!!! i haven't written in a while so this may not be the best of my works but this is still one of my favorites <33 also english is not my first language so...yeah
YN sighed as she pulled the balaclava off and immediately ran her hand through her sweaty hair, attempting to make it look decent. Once again she was finishing behind Max. The Dutch looked back at her as he got down from the top of his car and gave her a sweet smile, she tried her best to reciprocate that smile but it probably looked as fake as it felt.
She couldn't really pinpoint when her rotten mind had started to harbor these feelings towards the man she loved.
YN's first encounter with Max occurred when they were barely teenagers, amid the noisy circuits of karting competitions. There was something captivating in that lanky and slightly awkward teenager that drew YN to him like a magnet. As time went on, their bond deepened, among endless talks of shared dreams that seemed unreachable at the time.
The first time Max kissed YN, she felt in heaven, enveloped in a kind of excitement she had never known. It didn't take long before he asked her to be his girlfriend and she accepted thinking life couldn't get better than that.
The mutual decision to keep their relationship under wraps seemed obvious, a conscious choice made as they started their parallel journeys into Formula 1, that was not the kind of attention they were seeking.
She felt true happiness for Max's overwhelming success, she truly did, at least at the beginning.
But YN found herself caught in the shadow of his success, a place she hadn't anticipated occupying. Eventually every podium celebration and victory lap, served as a bitter reminder of the expectations she was failing to meet. She couldn't acknowledge these feelings so she masked this resentment beneath a facade of congratulatory smiles and kisses. The press was no help. They endlessly compared their careers and although YN had managed to get some satisfying results, she was nowhere near Max's level. They ate it up, it gave them good headlines to pit them against the other. They were the embodiment of a tantalizing narrative – two very young drivers with great success in the lower categories, shared dreams and a seemingly unbreakable "friendship", both coming into F1 with good teams and high expectations but only one of them was reaching those expectations. It was a good story, sure. But the story was tearing YN apart.
Perhaps the tipping point arrived with a very specific headline, its words forever etched into her brain: "Max Verstappen: Vettel reincarnate." With each syllable, YN's throat constricted, her stomach twisting into knots. Max seemed to effortlessly get everything she ever yearned for, now he was getting put at the same level as her biggest idol and inspiration which proved to be too much to handle for her. And with each of his accomplishments the poisonous seed of envy took root within her heart.
It was so contradictory, when she finally admitted it to herself. She loved Max more than she loved herself and maybe that was the root of the problem, her own insecurities and bruised ego. But it was becoming impossible to fake a smile every time she saw him on that top step. She knew it wasn't true but she almost felt like Max was out to get her.
She hated Max. And she hated herself for that fact. How could one harbor so much love and hatred for someone at the same time?
She was loosing her mind, her fragile facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions. Of course the ever attentive eyes of the press and the fans noticed the way her once adoring glances towards Max were now replaced with icy stares. How she couldn't even make the effort to raise the corners of her mouth whenever Max complimented her skills or her racing. His tenders words of admiration which once felt like a warm summer breeze began to feel like bullets grazing her already wounded skin, they felt like mockery. It was only a matter of time until Max started noticing this too.
Something was clearly happening, and that's why he found himself knocking on her apartment's door late at night, the echoes of the particularly hard weekend YN had endured still reverberating through his mind. The bitter taste of failure and disappointment still lingered on her lips. YN had struggled with the car and couldn't even make it out of Q3, and Sunday's race offered little reprieve, finishing in a P11 that tasted of unfulfilled expectations. While, of course, Max had made a brilliant pole position and had won the race, once again making everyone worship the ground he walked on. He hadn't seen YN since the race finished. She flew back to Mónaco that same night without even letting him know and without even asking if he wanted to fly back with her, which was the case almost every weekend. Max wasn't stupid, he could tell something was up with her lately, the distance she was putting between them, he was loosing her. And he loved her too much to let her go without a fight.
The door creaked open, YN's figure against the dim lighting within. Her jealous eyes clouded with heavy feelings. She stepped aside wordlessly, allowing Max to enter, her silence was louder that any word could ever be.
He carefully walked in, the all too familiar environment of his girlfriend's apartment suddenly feeling cold and foreign. Max was tense before taking a seat on the armrest of her couch. His heart felt heavy, he already wanted to cry. He had trouble getting the words out, something that had never happened in the years he had known YN. What had they become?
He swallowed dry before finally finding his voice. "I think we need to have a talk." His gaze was pleading for her to meet his eyes, but she kept staring at her shoes.
She froze at his words and her fingers tightened around the edge of the table she was leaning against. She could tell this conversation was coming, yet she dreaded the flood of emotions threatening to consume her, scared of the things she could say.
"What is it, Max?" Her voice was strained, an inner battle developing inside her, trying to control her emotions.
"You know what it is about, schat." Her jaw tightened at the pet name, now it somehow sounded condescending, even though deep down she knew that wasn't true. "YN something's been bothering you lately. I know it. Please talk to me."
YN's heart clenched painfully at his words, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her own inner turmoil. How could she even begin to articulate the burning envy and resentment that coursed through her veins every time she looked at him? How could she admit out loud to hating the man she loved more than life itself?
When she finally looked up and met his stare she felt the monstrous feeling that had been gnawing at her conscience completely engulf her and she wasn't in control of her own words anymore. Her eyes burning with a contradictory mix of longing and loathing. "Are you seriously asking me that, Max?" Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion.
Max recoiled at the intensity of her stare and her tone, a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach by the anticipatory feeling of his world crumbling down completely. "YN, I..."
"You know damn well what's going on." YN's voice cracked with emotion, her words laced with a bitterness that made it unrecognizable to both of them. "You have everything, Max. The wins, the championships, the adoration of the whole fucking world. Everything I ever wanted, you took it for yourself." She knew she wasn't making sense, the words were spilling out of her mouth before she had the time to catch them.
Max's heart constricted with an unfair amount of guilt. "YN, I... I had no idea you felt this way."
"And why would you?" She retorted, her voice rising with each word. "You're too busy basking in your own glory to notice how much it's killing me to be constantly compared to you." That wasn't his fault, and she knew it. It was the pure and evil hatred that consumed her that was speaking those words.
He felt like he had been punched in the gut. "I'm sorry." He shouldn't have to apologize for what he accomplished after years and years of hard work, yet he did, the fear of loosing her bigger than the need to acknowledge his self worth.
The hurt mirroring in his eyes was obvious, her tone softened before she spoke again. "You don't have to apologize, Max. You deserve it, you deserve it so much. I know that and you should too." She took a sharp breath in. "But knowing that doesn't change how I feel. I...I hate you."
He looked at her, stunned. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning.
"I do. I hate you Max. I hate you for being able to get everything I've only ever dared to dream of." She couldn't believe she was admitting it to Max's face, breaking the heart of the man she claimed to love.
Max felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under him, the sting of her words cutting deeper than any wound ever could. "I can't believe you're saying this," he mumbled, his voice chocked.
"I wish I didn't have to Max but I can't bear to keep lying to your face. I wish I could just pretend like everything's okay, like I'm still happy for you. But I can't, I'm sorry." YN's voice cracked with the weight of her confession, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him with a strange mix of love and loathing. "I love you too much to keep lying to you."
The silence was sepulcral, years and years of shared moments full of love completely destroyed by the sick envy that had infected YN.
But the truth is, their love was doomed from the beginning.
#f1 fanfic#formula 1#f1#f1 x reader#fanfiction#max verstappen#redbull racing#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen angst#mv1#max verstappen 1#f1 fic#motorsports#max verstappen fanfiction#mv33#mv33 x reader#mv1 x reader#max verstappen 33
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We all already know Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils. But you know what? Lemme just say it, here's what I think:
Taigen and Mikio are foils.
Not necessarily to each other as individuals in the way that Mizu and Akemi juxtapose each other, but mostly in the contrast between their relationships with Mizu.
I've covered specific parallels between Taigen and Mikio in other posts I wrote; but as the number of parallels I'm noticing between them keeps piling up, I'm compelled to just compile them all in one post. So! This is, thus, the post in question.
First of all, let's look at their similarities.
1. Their status in society is the same. They are both samurai who lost their honour and have dreams of reclaiming it.
2. They are also both diligent as they strive to achieve this goal, they both care deeply about their work, but here as they begin to contrast, as the work in question and way they go about their goals is different:
For Mikio, his work is in taming and rearing horses; in order to prove himself, he must tame Kai—a willful and strong horse—and present it to his lord.
For Taigen, his work is in sword fighting and martial arts; in order to prove himself, he must kill Mizu—a willful and strong swordsman—and present her dead body to his lord.
In the parallel above, not only are Taigen and Mikio contrasting each other, but Mizu and Kai are placed in comparison as well. And of course, Kai is Mizu's horse, and represents her. Which is why, when later, Mikio sells Kai off, it represents the way he is tossing Mizu (and their relationship) aside.
From there, the rest of the details of their character begin to contrast and juxtapose each other more clearly. So let's look at those differences, shall we?
Their backstory:
Mikio was a great samurai who was banished.
A somebody to a nobody.
Taigen was a fisherman’s son who rose to the top.
A nobody to a somebody.
2. The first time we meet them on-screen:
Mikio is an adult. An older man. Mizu's superior in age. He is Mizu's to-be husband. A love interest.
Taigen is a child. A young boy. Mizu's peer in age. He is Mizu's bully. An antagonist.
3. Their maturity and growth:
Mikio is mature, but stuck in his ways.
Taigen is immature, but capable of changing and learning.
4. Their overall attitude:
Mikio is generally relaxed, easy-going and unfussy.
Taigen is uptight, irritable and severe.
5. How they talk to and conduct themselves around Mizu:
Mikio is aloof, soft-spoken, and serious.
Taigen is obnoxious, brash, and sarcastic.
Mikio is quiet, speaking only when spoken to, even when Mizu turns to smile at him and shows openness to be near him.
Taigen is loud, talking while others are silent, even when Mizu turns from him and shows no interest in conversing with him.
Mikio doesn't show much of who he is to Mizu throughout their marriage, despite their growing affection.
Taigen openly shares his traumas and life story to Mizu during their brief alliance, despite their mutual antagonism.
6. Their external vs internal selves:
Mikio is calm, gentle, and considerate on the outside.
Taigen is hot-headed, rude, and selfish on the outside.
Mikio is cowardly and deceitful on the inside.
Taigen is brave and loyal to a fault on the inside.
Mikio tells Mizu that he wants to know and see all of her.
But he scorns and betrays her, the woman he loves.
Taigen tells Mizu that he wants to duel and kill him.
But he endures torture to not betray him, the man he hates.
9. Their hair, a symbol of their honour:
Mikio's topknot is untied by Mizu during their spar.
This humiliation occurs in private, the two of them alone in a rural location where no one can see them.
Taigen's topknot is cut off by Mizu during their duel.
This humiliation occurs in public, the two of them being watched by many others in the Shindo Dojo.
10. Their power dynamic with Mizu:
Mikio believes he is Mizu's mentor.
He teaches her to throw knives, how to ride and care for horses, and about the tactical benefits of using a naginata.
Taigen believes he is Mizu's equal.
He views Mizu as a samurai like himself who received all the same teachings he did, and who possesses the same values.
11. Their perceptions of Mizu:
Mikio sees Mizu's feminine side first.
He sees her as sweet and gentle, but also clumsy and incompetent.
Taigen sees Mizu's masculine side first.
He sees her as terrifying and deadly, but also strong and skilled.
12. The way they approach sparring with Mizu:
Mikio only spars with Mizu once. As the fight progresses and she is beating him, he tries to put a stop to it. When she teases/provokes him, he starts taking the fight personally and seriously, finding no enjoyment in it.
Taigen spars and brawls with Mizu all the time. No matter how many times Mizu beats him, he doesn't back down. When Mizu challenges him with a chopstick, he is eager to compete with her and gladly rises up to the challenge.
Mikio and Mizu's one and only spar is a friendly match; Mizu is smiling and having fun while he grows increasingly frustrated.
Taigen and Mizu's last-seen spar is a playful wrestling match; both him and Mizu are having fun and laughing.
Mikio cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, so he scorns her and walks off, avoiding her thereafter.
When Taigen cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, he follows her to observe her moves and continues training in hopes to eventually beat her.
After being bested by Mizu once, Mikio leaves her and sells the horse he'd previously gifted to her.
After many times losing to Mizu and fighting alongside her, Taigen commends her and admits she is better than him.
13. When Mizu pins them down in a friendly spar:
Mikio sees Mizu's whole face objectively.
Taigen stares at Mizu's mouth and eyes.
Mikio gets angry when she kisses him, throwing her off of him and snapping at her, calling her a monster.
Taigen gets aroused, apologising, so she pulls herself off of him.
14. Mizu's blue meteorite sword is a reflection of her soul. She believes most are undeserving to face it, let alone hold it. And on that note:
Mikio is the first person (chronologically) that Mizu fights against using her sword.
Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) that Mizu fights against with her sword.
Mikio is the first person (chronologically) to ever hold her sword, as she passes it to him, letting him wield it.
Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) to ever hold her sword, as she passes out, and he picks it up and carries it for her.
15. Then, last but not least, in Fowler's fortress, when she is drugged and in pain, she hears Ringo's voice in the dungeon. She then follows it to an open cell:
Mizu first sees Mikio as a hallucination, the sight of him haunting her and causing her to lose her grip on reality. Her eyes glow a surreal blue to represent this.
Her Mama appears then and says Mizu's name accusingly.
Mizu then sees Taigen, but he is real, the sight of him a relief and grounding her back to reality. Her eyes return to their normal blue colour to represent this.
Taigen looks at Mizu weakly and says her name softly.
Then, later, when facing Fowler, her revenge awaiting her, she instead chooses to follow her conscience (represented by Ringo's voice in her mind), putting aside her vengeance for a time, in order to save Taigen.
So that's basically all the ones I've noticed so far, but even then, I feel there's already so much that forms a contrast between these two.
What makes it especially incredible about these juxtapositions is that Mikio was Mizu's husband, the man she had fallen in love with, the one person she had ever been intimate with, the man who made her begin to accept herself, to put down her desire for vengeance and instead live a life of peace and happiness.
So for Taigen to have so many parallels with him... Do you see what I'm saying here!
Not to mention that Mizu clearly already has some burgeoning attraction to him, as indicated by how she thinks of him when asked about her desires. And Taigen clearly has shown interest as well (see: him getting a boner after their spar, him holding her hand and telling her, "We're not done yet.").
And on the topic of speculating future possibilities of this relationship, this post by @stromblessed has pointed out yet another parallel between Taigen and Mikio:
Mizu promises Taigen to meet him for their duel in autumn.
Mizu fell in love with Mikio and duelled him during autumn.
With all that said, I do believe Mizu and Taigen's relationship is definitely hurtling towards something. But whether they will actually end up together in a sustainable relationship and have a happily ever after? Well, that is a whole other story; we'll just have to wait and see.
#blue eye samurai#mizu x taigen#taigen x mizu#taimizu#taigen blue eye samurai#blue eye samurai meta#hope yall enjoy my thesis on virgin mikio vs chad taigen#this was written last night when i shouldve been writing the new chapter for my taimizu fic that i promised i would work on....whoopsies...#i will get to it eventually but i just have to get a firmer grip on characterisation before i can delve further into it yk#on that note. i kiiinda regret posting the fic on a whim!#my last longfic was written better because i had the whole thing complete and could go back and edit/polish/revise before posting#so it came out much more coherent and consistent ykwim?#this fic might suffer a bit for this reason 🤒#but its fine i have to remind myself im just doing it for funsies#anyway here have another long ass meta post from yours truly#meta dissertations.pdf#shut up haydar#fandom.rtf
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we're more than mutual-in-laws: you're part of that group I'm strangely familiar with but only because your friendgroup exists entirely parallel to mine and I can't stop noticing how strange it is that I've never spoken to any of you
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senku x f!reader. reader has a background in agriculture. reader is referred to as princess in jest and the unpacking of the reason it upsets reader follows. reader and senku are both 25. post canon au where he and the other ishigami village settlers find a small settlement in california. robert is an oc created specifically for the au. wc 1.7k
divider thanks to @/cafekitsune as always
“You and Gen have a lot in common.”
Snorting at Senku’s words, you dab at the droplets of sweat on your hairline with the back of your gloved hand. He hasn’t been superbly helpful weeding the carrot patch but at least he has been decent company, the two of you working in parallel worlds and occasionally exchanging remarks about what you’re doing. This is generally how things just go when you’re together.
You won’t go so far as to say that you enjoy him, you barely know the man who stepped foot on shores not far from where you are now a little over a month ago, but it’s pleasant to have someone around who will listen to you ramble about whatever has been on your mind. You don’t judge him and he has never judged you, a silent mutual understanding that people will be people, the thread that ties the two of you together.
It doesn’t mean he isn’t observant, though, and he’s all too apt to share said observations with you.
“Why do you say that? Is it because we are both charming, hilarious, and beautiful?”
Senku chuckles while you wipe your free hand on your pants. Very glamorous, you think and laugh to yourself quietly. The sun hangs high enough in the sky you know it’s midday and you offer small waves to everyone who passes by you, smiling big enough people can see it even from a few feet away. You don’t have to do this but you go out of your way to do it, something that always strikes Senku as funny.
“Humble, too.” The scientist remarks and you look up at him, noticing he’s jotting notes away in a leatherbound notebook he swiped from the medical barn.
He has a makeshift ink pen, an invention of his own making, and he’s jotting down thoughts of how to improve the settlement. Watch towers, another well, perhaps mechanized farming equipment to keep you from having to do as much heavy lifting as you do.
“So you agree?” He chuckles again at your words and keeps scribbling, raising his brows. “You know I don’t point out the obvious, princess.”
The recent nickname makes you scoff but your cheeks warm. He heard the village doctor and navigator, two of your closest friends, call you the name in jest and he couldn’t possibly let it go considering what an apt descriptor it is.
“Don’t call me that, it’s bad enough that they do.” Sighing, you reposition your sunhat before leaning down to dig up another weed. “There’s nothing princess-y about me.”
Tossing a carrot down, you decide to rest a moment and sit down next to him in the yellowing grass. The weather is still moderate and pleasant but six weeks from now, it’s likely a small blanket of snow and frost will cover the world and your plants in the process so time is of the essence with the less hearty members of the settlement garden. You feel Senku looking at you but don’t entertain him by glancing back, situating yourself and stretching your legs out in front of you.
“No?” Senku shoots back and you groan, laying back in the grass and closing your eyes. He looks over you and shakes his head, placing the notebook on his thighs where his legs are crossed. “Let’s be honest with ourselves here. If this were thousands of years ago, you’d be in a big tower in a pretty dress waiting for some muscle-brained knight to come and slay a dragon for you.”
You want to be offended but you’re instead curious about what exactly makes him feel that way and how it relates to you and Gen at all.
“What do you mean? I can take care of myself and have managed to do it pretty well so far.”
Senku shakes his head. He can tell you aren’t offended thanks to the lightness in your tone and he appreciates that you don’t read between the lines considering there are none when he comes to him. He says what he means and you listen to it appreciatively.
“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you inspire that kind of action in people.” He shrugs. “Think about the stories I know you used to read. A princess never has to ask for devotion, she simply gets it.”
Raising a brow, he meets your eyes and glances further out in the distance where one of the villagers he brought with him, Ginro, slumps in the fields while pulling weeds. The blonde man keeps glancing in your direction and waving before tilting his face downward to make sure you notice that he’s doing what you asked him to.
“I’ve never seen Ginro work so hard,” the scientist sniffs and you laugh louder than intended, bringing your hand to cover your mouth to stifle the noise.
“Not very fair of you to start with the easy target, Ishigami.”
He snickers and looks across the settlement, seeing if he can spot any of the others he has brought with him that have been more than happy to assist with anything you ask them to. You flash a smile, flutter your lashes if you have to, and shit seems to get done. It’s how you did things before you were petrified too.
“I overheard Hyoga arguing with Robert about being the one to escort you on the next foraging expedition.”
Thinking about the white haired man you feel a little uncertain of yourself and you look away. You find him extremely handsome despite his evasive nature and the two of you have only had a handful of conversations but he’s surprisingly helpful when necessary, you simply go out of your way trying to avoid asking for his help because he makes you nervous. Robert, on the other hand, is an issue that has followed you even thousands of years into the future (pro tip: don’t get petrified and then depetrified near a man harassing you in a club) but he insists on being your personal security whenever he can.
You make a note to genuinely contemplate trying your luck by asking Hyoga personally to accompany you but for now, you turn your attention back to your spiky haired companion.
“No you didn’t. Besides, we haven’t even planned a trip before winter even though we need to make one.”
Senku purses his lips and continues to look around the lands surrounding him.
“When have I ever lied to you?”
Considering his question for a moment, you hum and tilt your head. He hasn’t lied to you but this specific instance feels like a stretch.
“So you heard Big Mouth Bobby mention me and now I’m a princess? Seems like that criteria is a little unfair.”
Senku shifts where he sits and stretches his legs out in front of him to match your position. You shade your eyes from the sun with your palm and look up at him to find he’s glancing over his shoulder at you, shaking his head.
“You seem to think I’m telling you that it’s a bad thing people like and want to be liked by you.”
Shrugging, you settle back against the grass and kick your feet gently. He watches your every move and you feel observed and viewed rather than enjoyed, something about him that always makes you squirm despite yourself.
“Maybe you’re right.”
Senku smiles.
“I’m always right.”
You laugh and shake your head, shutting your eyes to keep from being further intimidated by his weighted glance. If he has any other assessments he’s clearly going to keep them to himself so you press forward, sun warming your face while you speak.
“I don’t get how that relates to me and Gen being similar though. Is he a princess too?”
A chuckle from your companion. At least you can always make him laugh even if you know your other charms won’t work on him. Looks have no effect on Senku nor do fluttering lashes or cute, coy smiles - he judges people off of their character only and you admire the depth it takes for him to do so.
“Oh yeah, that.” He picks his notebook back up and begins scribbling again. “You’re both very persuasive and understand people better than they think.”
Giggling, you sigh contentedly and even Senku finds himself a little bit drawn to the sound. You are charming and sweet and funny and perhaps a bit too honest beneath the slightly self deprecating humor you use to keep people from knowing who you really are. Even Senku can acknowledge all of these things - they’re true, after all. Proven and quantifiable.
“Well, thank you. The power of people skills can never be underestimated in a world where half of the people you meet want to kill you and the other half probably want to kill themselves because we don’t have social media to numb their brains.”
Again with that too honest humor. The scientist shakes his head and scribbles down a doodle for the vision he has for the tower he’s going to build in the coming weeks, halfway between your fields and the little cabin you call home. It’s the perfect position to see the entire settlement and he assumes the only reason you don’t have one yet is that you’ve lacked the people to assist with making it.
He may not be a muscle-brained knight, saving you while you sit forlornly in a tower, but he can be the genius that builds the tower you’ll help create the future society all of you will someday live in from. It’s a far more noble cause if you ask him.
“Keep it up.” He adds simply and you shield your eyes from the sun again, opening them to meet his. You offer a thumbs up and a grin and he shakes his head.
“I am going to tell Gen you called him a princess, though.”
Senku scoffs and leans back, still glancing down at you.
“Well then you’d be lying and it isn’t good to lie, now is it?”
You sit up, ready to argue back and forth but you’re interrupted by Ginro calling your name from a distance and approaching you, three carrots in his fist. Senku rises to standing and reassuringly pats your shoulder with the hand not holding his notebook.
“Looks like your savior is on his way, princess.”
You sigh, shaking your head and waving the scientist goodbye when he parts, watching him leave before plastering on your best persuasive smile and greeting Ginro exuberantly.
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愤怒的星星 ★ — COLLISION OF PARALLEL LINES.
៚ wc: 17.6k
៚ fluff, punk!hongjoong x fem!reader, slowburn, ot8 cameos, college au except idk if i did it right, mutual pining, first few parts are just flashbacks, opposites attract (kinda?) will probably be a 2-part series
៚ The thought of enjoying your Saturday morning however you please may initially seem exciting, but it can become as daunting as weekdays when you end up with tasks even on your supposed days off—which, in your case, is none other than buying a psychological thriller book for your roommate, who claims she needs it in order to share a "common interest" with the nerdy guy from her linguistics class she seems to be obsessed with. You already saw it coming when you opened your phone to find numerous missed calls from her, but what you didn't expect was a coincidental encounter with a guy who seems to have visited the bookstore for the same reason as you. It only took you two more no-longer-so-coincidental encounters for you to realize just how deep you’ve fallen into the bottomless pit.
You never really tend to realize just how much of an effect a certain person’s presence has on you until you start to crave more of it during the times you fail to feel it around.
The first time you saw him was when you were walking in and out of your local bookstore’s aisles, fingers brushing through the rows of books neatly arranged according to their genres. For how long you’ve been doing the exact same thing, you begin to forget just why and how exactly visiting the place managed to sneak itself in between your routine for the day.
Rewinding the day’s events so far so you could recall what exactly were you doing inside a bookstore standing in front of an aisle solely for the psychological thriller genre, you vividly remember your roommate calling you in the middle of your morning stroll at the park asking if you could stop by a nearby bookstore and buy her a book she apparently needs for “academic purposes.”
You were hesitant at first, thinking she was probably airing out a false reason. With the amount of times you’d come home to the sight of her deeply engrossed in a complex thriller movie, you’d assume she wanted the book solely due to her interests.
You ran your eyes through the columns once more, sighing in relief when you finally found the book your roommate wanted you to buy. You took your phone out to take a picture of it and send it to her for confirmation, but just as you were about to reach for it, another person whose presence you failed to notice until now did so as well, making your hands brush against each other after reaching for the same book stacked in the sixth row of the shelf.
You immediately looked to the side and managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes slightly widening, and so did he with yours. You remember being the first one to snap back to reality, taking a step back to face him while waving your arms off in front of your chest.
“You can take it,” you said, awkwardly chuckling as you gestured for him to take the book instead. You figured you’d just buy a copy of it online, or if you’re going to be free on some days this week, perhaps you’d stop by other bookstores. Your roommate didn’t specify when exactly she needed the book, anyway.
He mirrors your actions instead of reaching for the book, gently pulling down the left cord of his earphones—you thought it was a subtle gesture of bouncing your initiation of small talk back to you, so you let your attention get taken away as your ears perked up to listen to whatever the stranger had to say.
“It’s fine, i’m sure you’ll need that one more than I do,” he said, pointing to the book neither of you were considering taking with a gentle smile. “I’ve actually read it five times already—just thought a sixth reread was necessary earlier in the morning, so here I am now.” He chuckled, and only then did you manage to get a good look at him.
His hair had a striking resemblance to the burgundy patterned carpets of the bookstore, and from the looks of it, you were able to tell from a single glance that it definitely wasn’t the first time he’s ever dyed his hair. Black sunglasses remained sat atop his head, and his ears were decorated in multiple piercings. He wore a layered chain necklace, the silver material of the accessories shining as the lights by the roof reflected on it. A dark red leather jacket was hung lazily over his shoulders, showing the black tank top he wore underneath. He was wearing black, ripped baggy jeans, and it was adorned with chains attached to its waistline. His combat boots were of the same color, and the shoelace of the left foot was undone—you couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or if he simply didn’t notice. He wore silver rings on almost each of his fingers, and you were able to see that one of his nails was painted black when he adjusted one of his rings. It almost made you smile, but it wasn’t until he cleared his throat that you realized you’ve been staring at him for about a minute or two.
Your eyes widened in surprise, awkwardly chuckling as you did your best not to give him the wrong impression. “Sorry, I was just...” you trailed off, not knowing what horrible excuse you should use to drag yourself out of a potentially awkward encounter. “...just wondering why you’d want to read the same book six times straight.” Great, you certainly didn’t come off weird, but you definitely sounded rude.
Just as you were about to hurriedly mutter out an apology, the man’s stifled laugh immediately put a halt to your train of thought. “It sounds strange, doesn’t it? My friends have been asking me the same question for a while now, so this isn’t really surprising for me. See, this book has a lot of foreshadowing in it, so I think It’s nice to reread it every once in a while to see the points I’ve missed.” He shrugged his shoulders, making his leather jacket fall off smoothly on one side.
He noticed you struggling with thinking of what to respond, so he took it upon himself and steered the conversation away from himself and towards you. “What about you? what were you going to buy the book for?” he asked, and you were quick to answer—thankful for his initiative.
“Going to the bookstore wasn’t originally part of today’s schedule, but apparently my roommate couldn’t get any more lazier and asked me to stop by to purchase the book for her because she can’t do it herself.”
There was something about the way you expressed your frustration (although jokingly) with a deadpanning look on your face that almost made him want to laugh, and you could tell by the way he was visibly fighting against the corners of his lips that were twitching upwards.
“That’s tough,” he stated the obvious as he ran his jewelry adorned fingers through his burgundy hair—with the way you saw a line of sweat drip down by the side of his face, you knew you weren’t the only one who found the bookstore to be in a strangely warm temperature today.
You saw a few air conditioners here and there on the walls, and they were working perfectly fine earlier, so you assumed they were probably just malfunctioning. “Are the air conditioners going through a malfunction or something?” he voiced out your thoughts for you as he practically asked himself the question with the way it came out as a whisper while he was looking around.
You took your cardigan off, and only then did you notice the stark contrast between your choices of outfits. You were clad in a pink knitted cardigan your mother made by her own hands—she gave it to you as a present for Christmas a while ago, and underneath it was a white camisole top decorated with lace and a pink ribbon on its center—something you added yourself. You wore a long, white ruffled skirt, a piece of clothing you bought online two years ago when you and your online best friend agreed upon buying it together to wear it the moment you’ll finally get the chance to meet up. You stopped talking to each other a year ago, so you just started to wear it to your own liking. You chose to wear the pink doll shoes you found at a thrift store a week ago, and the cherry on top was the white ribbon hair clips you placed on either side of your hair.
“They were doing just fine when I first came in, so I guess it has something to do with technical issues.” You shrugged, and the man mirrored your actions yet again as he proceeded to fully take off his leather jacket as well.
Just as he parted his lips to say something, your phone suddenly rang, making both of you look at the device you didn’t even notice you were still holding in your hands until now. Staring right into your eyes was your roommate’s caller id on the phone screen, and for a second, you were debating whether to answer or not.
You decided to ignore the latter, figuring the call was made regarding the book. You apologetically smiled at the man first, gesturing to your phone as he returned your smile, urging you to go ahead as he mouths something about checking out other sections of the book store so you could have some privacy.
Once he was out of the frame, you didn’t hesitate to press the green button, bringing the phone up to your ears. “Before I proceed to say anything, I need you to answer a question of mine first. Do you think you’re capable of committing murder today?” She asked from the other end of the line, making your brows furrow as you scoffed in both confusion and disbelief at the sudden confusion. “Am I what?”
“Please just say yes or no,” she said in a hurried tone. “No... why? Did something bad happen over there?” She chuckled nervously as you heard the shuffling of bedsheets, assuming she was either rolling around her bed or sitting up.
“No, but... you see, about the book I asked for you to buy... remember that guy from my linguistics class I told you about last weekend?” You were confused about where the conversation was heading, yet hummed in confirmation anyway. “I do. What about him?”
“Okay, so, thanks to my... connections, I found out just now that he owns an annotated physical copy of the book, and, if you’re already catching my drift...” she trailed off, yet the moment she heard your sigh from your end, she was quick to regain composure and stumble over her words.
“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I wouldn’t have sneaked the task in between your schedule if I had known beforehand—I just really don’t want to waste the opportunity of a potential connection between us... and, I mean, well, yeah, I should’ve done it by myself to begin with, but I wasn’t really thinking straight earlier in the morning so I—” you cut her off by ending the call, heading straight to your messages as you scrolled down to look for her contact number.
The sound of your nails clicking on the phone screen echoed across the empty aisle as you typed, “Go shoot your shot. Don’t stress it out, alright? Just make sure this won’t happen again. Love you :)” With a sigh, you turned your phone off and put it back inside your bag. You were happy for your roommate, yet at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel like you just wasted a portion of your day.
Exiting the aisle, your thoughts went back to the man you were just engaging in small talk with a few minutes ago, eyes darting around the bookstore to search for him. You didn’t see which direction he went when he left, already having your back turned against him the moment you heard his fading footsteps.
The man sitting by the register who seemed to be around the same age as you noticed you and was quick to call for your attention. “Are you looking for the redhead, miss?” And for a second, you were slightly embarrassed, but it was the truth, anyway, so you found yourself nodding wordlessly. “He already left a minute ago.”
Hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost let a disappointed sigh slip out of your lips, but you were quick to cover it up. “I see. Thanks for telling me,” you said, flashing him a polite smile as he gave you his own.
Figuring there was no longer any purpose for you to stay inside the bookstore any longer, you headed to the exist, the clinking of the bells on top of the doors ringing in your ears as you swung it open, putting your cardigan back on when the cold temperature of the city hit your skin like a speeding truck. Only then did you realize you didn’t even get to ask for his name, and since then, he hadn’t left your mind for the rest of the day.
The next time wasn’t any different. You were taking a stroll at the park for a much-needed unwinding after taking your exams. Kids were running around and chasing each other by the grassy fields, couples were being all cute and cuddly as they sat by the benches, and some elderly people were walking around much like how you were, admiring the beautiful sceneries unfolding in front of their very own eyes.
Your pink dress was being carried away by the soft breeze, making it flow as you took one step after another. Thankfully, you chose to wear a long dress for the day, so you didn’t have to worry about any potential wardrobe malfunctions.
From a near distance, you saw a little boy standing by the grass fields pointing towards you. His voice was a little loud, so you managed to hear what he was saying to the two men he was with. “Wooyoung-hyung, look! A princess!”
The little boy’s comment caught you off guard, making you look the other way as you pretended not to hear the words he was saying, which were hard to ignore due to how loud he was speaking. “Kyungmin, she’s not a princess, and you can’t just point to strangers like that!”
The man who you assumed to be his older brother lightly scolded him, and for a second, you were debating between playing along with the child’s wide imagination—it wasn’t his fault for thinking you were a princess as he was still young, after all, or fleeing from the park so his attention would be directed to something else so his brother would stop scolding him. “But she is a princess! Seonghwa-hyung, you see it too, right?” The other man with them was probably a friend of the little boy’s brother.
“Well, Kyungmin, she might look like one, but she isn’t—” the man you assumed to be Seonghwa stopped in between his words all of a sudden, and the next thing you knew was the little boy was standing right in front of you, tugging on your dress that was still flowing due to the wind.
“Kyungmin!” Both men yelled his name in unison, but he ignored them, his attention fully focused on you instead. “Miss pretty lady! You’re a princess, right? Right?” He looked up at you with a smile, and once again, you found yourself ignoring the latter between your choices of how to handle the situation.
You sat down so you could see each other eye to eye, a fond smile spreading across your face as you let out a soft laugh. “You think I’m a princess?” You tilted your head, making him let out a gasp of disbelief. “But you are! Wooyoung-hyung and Seonghwa-hyung won’t believe me, but I know you are! Right?” he asked for confirmation again, making you laugh once more as you rested your hands on the area of your chest where your heart was.
“Well… I think it depends on what you want to believe. I won’t tell you whether I’m a princess or not, but if you think I am, then so be it. What you believe in is what matters the most, and not what anyone else does, don’t you think?”
You figured talking some wisdom into a boy who’s probably still in kindergarten wasn’t exactly the best way to handle the situation, but it’s not like you knew better ways. Seeing his smile grow even wider after hearing your words, though, was enough to let you know you handled it just fine. “So you are a princess! I knew it!” Okay, well, that was definitely not the reaction you were going for, but at least he’s happy, right?
“You should tell them that, too!” He pointed to where his brother and his friend stood, but this time, there were three of them, and the one standing in the middle was definitely not an unfamiliar face to you contrary to the two who stood by his side. You certainly couldn’t have been mistaken—especially not when you saw his burgundy hair.
Your eyes met briefly, yours widened and his completely normal, save for the fond gaze you assumed was probably directed to the little boy in front of you. He probably didn’t even recognize you at all. “Come with me, miss pretty lady! You should meet them so they’ll be proven wrong,” he said, reaching for your arm as he took a step towards where the three men stood.
When you didn’t budge from where you crouched at all, he looked back at you with a confused expression on his face. “What’s the matter, miss pretty lady?”
You chuckled awkwardly as you stood up, looking down at him. “They’re waiting for you, not me. Go on now, don’t keep them waiting. I’m sure you’ve proven them wrong already, anyway,” you said, using your free hand to take his off your wrist. “Are you sure? I…”
“Kyungmin!” His older brother called out his name once more, making his head turn to where they were all standing, patiently waiting for the little boy to go back to them. “See? You should go.” You ushered, making him look back and forth between you and his brother and his friends for about a few seconds.
“Well… okay, then.” The frown on his face was a huge contrast to the huge smile he once had a few seconds ago, and you were quick to do whatever you could to bring it back.
“Hey, don’t be sad, alright? It’s always better to spend days like this with a smile on your face,” you said, smiling at him fondly. “Will I get to see you again?” The sudden question put you at a loss for words, and you spent a good couple of seconds thinking of how to respond correctly.
“Neither of us know the answer to that, but if you ever see me again, I promise I’ll let you introduce me to your brother and his friends, okay?” It was definitely not the right thing to say, but it was certainly what the boy wanted to hear.
With the smile on his face returning, he waved at you enthusiastically, running back to the three men who have been waiting for him for quite a while now. He approached them with a cheerful expression on his face, and you watched them slowly start to smile as well while the little boy told them about his interaction with you.
Unbeknownst to you, your attention was unconsciously directed towards the burgundy haired man who was now exchanging laughter with his friends while the little boy was still going on about his story. This time, he was wearing a see-through black jacket with a beige compression long-sleeve shirt underneath, partnered with baggy denim jeans that were secured by a black belt with embellishments. His ears had less piercings this time, and so were the amount of necklaces he wore. His boots were the same as the ones you saw him wear when you first met him, and his fingers were still adorned with multiple accessories. You could tell he opted for a casual look today, yet he still looked as cool as ever. Perhaps it was due to the vibe he carries with him, and not just his choices of clothing itself. There’s still a huge contrast between your outfits.
The little boy didn’t mention his name when he was talking to you earlier, and that was the only thing you were disappointed about with your heartwarming interaction with him. You’d probably look strange if you were to approach them, yet it proved to be impossible either way as they now had their backs faced towards you, walking away as they continued their conversation. Luck really hasn’t been on your side lately. You wonder when it will be.
Three weeks later, and you’re now walking through the halls in search of your roommate. Thirty minutes ago, she sent you a message, telling you to meet her on the third floor. She didn’t really tell you why, and it drove you off the edge more than it should’ve—one thing you’ve always disliked was when people would ask you to meet up for an unspecified reason, or even worse, message you by texting you only your name and your name alone without telling you what’s the matter beforehand. So now, here you were, eyes searching the halls in hopes of finding a familiar face.
“Hey!” A familiar voice called out a few steps behind where you stood, making you immediately look back. Sighing in relief as you recognized who it was, your roommate made her way towards you, pushing past the small portion of people crowding the halls. “Sorry for asking to meet up all of a sudden—I know you hate it when I do this, but I promise this is the last time!” So was last week, you said in your thoughts.
“What’s this about, anyway? And it better not be about your crush from your linguistics class because I swear—” She cuts you off with an apologetic chuckle, making you sigh in disappointment. “Nope, I’m not doing it.”
Just as you were about to walk away, she held your arm to keep you steady in your place, desperately pleading as she shook your arm repeatedly. “Please, please just hear me out! I promise I’ll leave you alone after this!” No way in hell you would, you thought once again.
Still, you chose to hear her out anyway. Sure, she may be annoying at times—especially when it comes to her undying crush on the boy from her linguistics class, but you can’t really deny the fact that you hold a soft spot for her deep within. When it wasn’t about her man who technically isn’t her man but you’re sure will be her man one day, she was really fun to be around. She was loud and outgoing, a huge contrast to your calm and collected personality, and as different as you both may be, you feel the most comfortable around her compared to anyone and everyone else. Whenever she’d notice you were feeling down, she wouldn’t hesitate to speedrun to the nearest convenience store by where you both lived, buy you your favorite food even during the times her pockets are begging for her to leave them alone for once, and put on your favorite movie once she comes back.
So then, you now find yourself heading towards the library to look for yet another book her crush has apparently been frequently visiting the library for lately. You figured you should hire whoever’s airing all this information to her as your detective one day, if it ever came to it.
Apparently, the book is a tale as old as time, so he couldn’t really find a copy of it anywhere, hence why he chooses to visit the library on a daily basis to read it. Your roommate thought sharing the same interests with him would be a great way to deepen her “connection” with him—if they even had one to begin with, considering how the only bridge between both of them was the annotated book she borrowed from him—which she still hasn’t returned—and that was pretty much all of it. She claims she’s too shy to approach him, and maybe that’s why.
You found yourself standing in between two tall bookshelves once again, the situation being somewhat familiar to you in a way that almost made you laugh. This time, though, the air conditioners were working just fine, and you weren’t accompanied by a presence other than your own.
Your eyes search through the books neatly stacked in the shelves, squinting and inching closer to get a better view in case you accidentally miss the book you’re looking for. There was a blank space in between two books, and for a moment, you assume the book had already been borrowed by your roommate’s crush, or maybe someone else.
You were about to message your roommate to tell her about it, until you heard some shuffling from the other side of the shelf you were facing, drawing a confused expression on your face. You heard from one of your colleagues that the librarian was way too strict for everyone’s liking, so students would mostly stop by the library just to borrow a book, but never to actually stay.
Which student was brave enough to actually stop by the library to read? Wouldn’t they be at least a little scared to be yelled at to shut up over the smallest of things such as breathing like how a normally functioning person should?
Peeking through the empty space in between the books to see who it was, your eyes widened comically as you recognized the person solely from their hands resting on the table alone. The sight of a singularly colored nail and layers of rings and bracelets couldn’t have been more familiar to you.
But what was he doing here? His hair was half blonde and half black, though, so you were contemplating whether your assumptions about his identity were correct or not, but you knew there was only one way to find out—and it certainly wasn’t peeking through a bookshelf like a creep.
Exiting the aisle—a familiar experience once again, you slowly walked towards the table while rethinking your life decisions, wondering if you should just leave him alone and mind your own business. You were on the brink of considering it, but it wasn’t until you recognized what he was reading.
It was the book your roommate asked you to borrow from the library, and it was certainly the one meant to be placed in the blank space by the aisle you were searching through just now.
Your mind was racing with questions pleading to be answered—the first ones being, Who the hell is this man? Why do I keep seeing him around? Why did no one ever tell me he goes to the same university as I do? And what is his name?
You figured there couldn’t have been a better time for your questions to be answered other than now, and even if you were gambling with the possibilities of him either recognizing you or not feeling any sense of familiarity with you at all, you couldn’t really care less right now.
“Hey,” you were hesitant, making your voice come off as soft and barely above a whisper—and it certainly wasn’t due to your fear of being scolded by the librarian. The man shot up and immediately turned his head around, and as he stared at you with those eyes of his, you knew your assumptions regarding his identity were correct, after all.
For about a second or two, all he did was stare at you with a blank expression on his face, and you swore you were about to let the ground swallow you whole right there and then. But for the next second, his face softens as he flashes you a toothy grin, and the words that soon followed after it caught you completely off guard. “It’s you.” It’s you?
What on Earth could he have possibly meant by that? Does that mean he recognized you when his friend’s little brother was talking to you within a fair distance from where he and his friends stood by the park, after all? Does that mean he remembers? “I was starting to think I’d stop seeing you around. Turns out we’re closer than I thought we would be.” Okay, what?
“What?” You voice out your thoughts by accident, tilting your head in confusion as all he did in return was smile at you once more. “Third time’s the charm, after all, isn’t it?” He closes the book laid out in front of him on the table, pulling out the chair beside him, tapping on it as he gestured for you to take a seat.
You do so wordlessly, awkwardly fiddling with a loose stitch of your white knitted sweater adorned with baby pink strawberry patterns. How come you’ve never seen him around? With a face as strikingly beautiful as his, you’re sure you would’ve already noticed him long ago—or maybe you were just looking at the wrong places all along.
“He still thinks you’re a princess, you know.” He rests his elbow on the table, placing his chin on his hand as he looks at you with a smile. “Who?”
“Kyungmin—the little boy from the park, remember?” That was all it took for you to put two and two together and realize what he was talking about, making you let out a hum of realization, nodding soon after. “He hasn’t stopped talking to us about it, especially Wooyoung, since he’s his older brother and he’s pretty much the only one out of all of us who keeps on breaking his little bubble of imagination.”
The conversation flowed through more smoothly than you expected a few seconds ago, and the next thing you knew was you were stifling a chuckle, careful not to drive the librarian mad—actually, was she even still around right now? He was practically speaking in a normal tone and not in hushed whispers, so he should’ve been told off by now already. But he isn’t.
“It was a little hard trying to convince him to go back to you and your friends, honestly…” you said, rubbing the back of your neck as he chuckled at your response.
“Kids and their imaginations never fail to impress me. You know, when we went to the park again last night, he kept crying because he couldn’t see you anywhere. He said you promised you’d let him introduce you to us once you both meet each other again, so he was really upset. It was adorable, though.”
You found yourself smiling as you imagined the little boy crying in the arms of his brother due to not seeing you around, this time being the one chuckling.
“I didn’t mean to leave him hanging off by my words… I hope it wasn’t too much for your friend to handle his tantrums,” you said, smiling apologetically. He waves his arms off in front of his chest—another action appearing to be somehow familiar to you. “Don’t feel bad about it. Pretty sure Wooyoung’s used to it by now,” he responded, shrugging afterwards. He was right, the boy was his friend’s younger brother, after all.
Finding both yourselves at a loss for another topic to discuss, you opted for the first thing that came up in your head. “You changed your hair color,” you stated the obvious, rushing over to make a follow-up statement in order not to look stupid, “it suits you.”
But only after voicing it out did you realize that perhaps maybe leaving your first statement as it is would’ve been a better option. Unbeknownst to you, heat immediately flushed through his cheeks, but he was quick to cover it up, making you fail to notice the way your words made his breath hitch for a slight second. “You think so?”
“W-Well, yeah. Burgundy looked just as great, though.” It was a huge lie, though. Sure, burgundy looked good on him and suited his style pretty well, but a split-dyed hair look is always a hit or miss.
For him to make it look this good, though, definitely proved to you that it’s a hit—a rare one. Even so, you were just glad you managed to save yourself from embarrassment, playing off the fact that you literally just complimented a stranger.
But with the way you’ve been thinking of him ever since you first touched each other’s hands by accident at the bookstore, was he really still a mere stranger to you at this point?
He found himself smiling at your comment, fiddling with the rings on his fingers like how you were doing with your sweater just a while ago. “Thanks, I definitely needed to hear that.” With his response, you looked at him in confusion, subtly asking for context. He was quick to catch on, bracing himself for a little bit of a story time.
“My roommates have been flaming me ever since I came home with the red dye all gone, asking me if my hairstylist ran out of bleach in the middle of the process. They’ve been teasing me about how my scalp is probably begging to be freed by the shackles of my stylist at this point, too.” You then ended up thinking about it as well. Just how many times has this man changed his hair color by now?
“Wanna take a guess?” You didn’t need further explanation from him in order to know what he was talking about, as you’ve already been pondering about it anyway.
“I’ll say… five times, maybe?” If the correct answer was to go way past that, you think you’ll end up having the same thoughts as his roommates by the end of the day. “I hate to be the bearer of the bad news, but the answer’s very far from that.” Oh.
Seeing the flabbergasted expression on your face, he laughed loudly, and only then were your suspicions about the librarian no longer being around confirmed. If she was, he’d be thrown out the window by now. “Surprising, isn’t it? I don’t know how my scalp is still holding out well until now, either.” He shrugged, and about a couple of seconds after, you ended up joining him on his fit of laughter as well.
“I gotta say, though, that’s really impressive. Anyone else would be bald by now,” you said, making him laugh once more with how you voiced out your thoughts in such a serious tone. His laughter died down after a little while, eyes now staring right into yours. “What brings you here, though?” He finally brought it up, making you wordlessly point to the closed book in front of where he sat by the table.
“Take a guess. It’s not any different from last time,” you said, and he was quick to piece your words together. “Your roommate?” You nodded, mimicking his actions as you rested your chin on your hands like how he did earlier.
Right now, he was lazily slouched on the chair, one arm of his placed on the table as the other was resting on his thigh. He seemed to be comfortable. Only then did you manage to look at him completely from head to toe.
The contrast between your choices of clothing remained the same as ever, so you weren’t really surprised at this point. For you, beneath your white knitted sweater was a pink lace camisole top, paired with a short, pink frilly skirt. Along with your pink doll shoes—one that was different from what you wore when you went to the bookstore a while ago, was a pair of knee-length lace socks with pink ribbons resting atop its garter. And lastly, for your hairstyle, you decided to go for a simpler look today, with half of it tied up and adorned with a large pink ribbon hair clip.
For him, you noticed he looked simpler than how he’d usually style himself. But then again, you’ve only ever seen him twice before today, so you were not one to talk. He wore an oversized black shirt with a simple red graphic design in front, and it was tucked in his black denim cargo jeans that were held up by an equally simple black belt, partnered up with glossy black boots that were shining every time he’d move his feet around due to the lights by the roof of the library reflecting on its shiny surface. He was only wearing one necklace today, but as always, his hands were clad in multiple accessories. A cap, which you assumed he was probably wearing earlier before you found him, remained sat on his lap. When he ran his right hand through his hair, the sleeve of his oversized shirt went down a little, giving you the chance to catch a glimpse of his tattoo that says, “NO 1 LIKE ME.”
Once again, you failed to see the corners of his lips twitching upward when he noticed your eyes raking over his form, eyes twinkling in amusement. You’ve only seen each other thrice, but for each time that you did, something that would never overlook his attention was the way you’d always examine his clothing. It was cute, though. And it’s not like he doesn’t do the exact same thing every time as well, anyway.
His smirk disappeared as quick as the speed of light the moment your eyes met his, making you avert your gaze immediately. It’s not like you were uncomfortable, but rather because his eyes just hold such an intense aura within them that never fails to make you feel intimidated—in a good way, you assume.
“You know,” you began to speak, although still refusing to meet his eyes, “I still don’t know what your name is, and we’ve crossed paths three times already…” Due to the lack of a response from him, you were quick to assume you were probably overstepping a few lines.
What if he doesn’t really want your connection with each other to go way past two people who coincidentally see each other in the most random circumstances and places? What if he liked things better this way—you not knowing his name, and him not knowing yours?
But your thoughts dissolved into nothingness the moment he finally spoke up, his voice a little softer than you could recall as he says, “Kim Hongjoong.” Of course his name is just as beautiful as he is. Were you really surprised at this point?
“Kim Hongjoong,” you let his name roll off your tongue, and something you failed to notice yet again due to how you were still refusing to face him was the way his breath hitched—again. “What about you?”
He was quick to come up with a question to ask in order to keep his composure, head tilting ever so slightly, secretly anticipating for you to turn your head towards him again. And it seems luck chose to be on his side today, with the way you did exactly what he wished for you to.
“Me?” You asked, and he nodded. “Yeah, you.” You were hesitant at first—once you and Hongjoong finally exchange your names with each other, there’s no guarantee of which direction your affiliation with him would lead to.
Sure, you may have been overanalyzing things a little—maybe he’s just asking for your name with the hopes of being friends, but even so, you couldn’t help but wonder where you were both headed, because even if you were only a potential friend to him, he certainly wasn’t one for you.
You knew the risks of dating way before you even first entered college two years ago. If anyone were to wish for a relationship, the best periods of time to do so would either be in high school or adulthood. High school’s for the cheesy moments, the sneakily exchanged glances during class, the chasing each other by the fields, the heartfelt confessions during prom night. You’d break up with each other over something childish yet would be serious if you were to be at the age of a high school student, and you’d forget all about it the moment you step into your college life.
Getting into a relationship once you have grown into an adult would be the best option out of all, because as we grow older, we learn more things about life each day. Relationships during high school are ruined pretty easily usually because of how both parties aren’t emotionally mature enough to handle conflicts, and such an occurrence can be easily avoided if you’re both functioning adults with a better perspective on most things in life. It’d certainly be more mature compared to the aforementioned.
But relationships during college aren’t exactly the brightest of all. College students are around the ages where all you’d ever want is to mess around and have fun no matter the cost knowing you’ll barely ever get the chance to do so once you step into adulthood. So, with that being said, relationships being taken seriously by college students isn’t really a common occurrence. They live to fuck around and find out, and that’s all that’s there to it. You’ve seen girls getting their hearts shattered left and right by stupid men who seem to only think with their hormones, and you know how bad it gets.
From struggling to balance their studies and relationships to completely losing focus on their goals because apparently a conventionally attractive yet emotionally unintelligent man is worth crying over more than great examination results were, all you know about college relationships is that it either plays out surprisingly well and lasts long, or it could initiate the beginning of your downfall for years on end. You swore you’d never try it out, afraid to end up being part of the latter.
But as hard as relationships during college seem, resisting your undeniable attraction towards the man sitting in front of you also proved to be just as difficult with the way all you could think about at the very moment was how those soft hands of his clicking on the table while patiently awaiting your response would feel against your skin. It wasn’t much of a surprise for you, anyway—you knew you were doomed the moment your eyes first met his in an empty aisle and you ended up staring at him longer than you should’ve.
You knew there was no point in considering the pros and cons of deepening your connection with someone who wasn’t meant to play a role of just a friend and nothing more in your life—and might I add, someone you’re heavily crushing on yet would rather jump off a cliff than admit it to yourself and accept the terms, knowing even if he asked for your name that day at the park or that one time in the bookstore, you would’ve given him what he wanted with zero hesitation anyway.
And so you do.
He proceeded to mirror your actions from earlier, rolling your name out of his tongue—and you swear your name hasn’t sounded so beautiful until now. “That’s a beautiful name you’ve got,” he starts, and when you finally gained enough courage to turn your head to the side and meet his eyes, you were met with that toothy grin of his you didn’t seem to be able to get enough of, “it suits you pretty well.”
“Oh, I—” You weren’t sure whether to be thankful for your friend for saving you from embarrassing yourself over not knowing how to react to Hongjoong’s unprovoked compliment, or to completely loathe her for cutting in between your conversation with him once again.
You’ve been getting deja vu over the parallels between everything that’s been happening right now that has already happened before although under a different situation way too often it’s actually starting to make your head hurt.
The loud ringing of your phone echoed around the empty library, and once again, you found yourself contemplating between pressing the green button or the red one. But not this time, no. You figured she’s probably calling to ask you whether you’ve borrowed the old book from the library yet, and that’s a question you were capable of answering either through text or personally, so you clicked on the red button, hearing Hongjoong let out a confused hum. “Why’d you decline?”
Because I’m feeling selfish right now and couldn’t care less about my roommate and her linguistics crush, especially not when you’re sitting right in front of me looking so breathtakingly beautiful like you’re an angel from an art museum that came to life and escaped to taste the wonders of life, was what was begging to escape from the pit of your mouth, “It’s probably about the book, so I’ll just talk to her in person later,” was all that came out.
And with the way he looked at you as if he was waiting for you to say something else, you knew he knew of your thoughts. Thankfully, he was kind enough not to bring it up. Or he probably didn’t notice at all. Truth be told, you’re hoping the latter was the case.
“What’s up with your roommate and books, anyway?” He asked curiously, although you could tell there was a hint of playfulness with the way he spoke. “You mean what’s up with her crush from her linguistics class and books?” You shrugged, holding back your laughter when you noticed his eyebrows shoot upward ever so slightly with his mouth agape.
“Oh. So that’s what it’s about, huh?” You let out an exasperated sigh, faking a frustrated expression as you responded, “Unfortunately so.”
Classes had already ended a few minutes ago, but students were still allowed to stay in the library afterwards—at first, you thought the implemented policy was stupid at first, seeing how literally no one ever visits the library, but now, you find yourself being grateful for it.
You both sat beside each other as silence surrounded both of you, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that would drive you on the edge and make you hurriedly think of what you should do or say in order to dissipate the looming tension, no. The silence between you and Hongjoong was comfortable. He wasn’t demanding you to speak, and neither were you. But just as the silence was starting to grow deeper, you were drowning in an ocean of your own thoughts again—specifically, thoughts about Hongjoong.
You weren’t sure when it happened or if you were the one who moved or if it was him, but the distance between both of you was now smaller than how it was a few minutes ago—you were sitting so close beside each other you’d occasionally feel the fabric of his jeans brush against your thigh whenever either of you would move. Since he was now closer, the scent of his cedarwood perfume engulfed you completely. You thought it made perfect sense for someone like him to favor such a scent—it suits him pretty well.
Every now and then, you’d steal a few glances from your peripheral vision while he remains engrossed in his phone, chewing the inside of your cheek whenever you’d find yourself wondering what it would feel like to rest your head on those shoulders of his. You were wondering what it feels like to rest your head on those shoulders of his?
And since you’re way too focused on not making yourself too obvious, you, as usual, fail to notice him doing the exact same thing as well. He was scrolling on his phone, sure, but in reality, he wasn’t even reading any of the posts that were appearing on his feed, way too focused on the way your eyelashes would flutter so beautifully whenever you’d blink.
The awkward smile you gave him when you first met each other in the bookstore is an image he had taken a mental photograph of, the memory still lingering in the back of his head clearly. The first thing he noticed about you that day was the way almost all of the pieces of clothing you wore were adorned in ribbons, as it reminded him of himself, in a way.
But instead of ribbons, anyone could find more than a handful of silver chains attached to almost everything in his closet. You seemed to love wearing knitted sweaters and cardigans, much like how half of his wardrobe consisted of leather jackets in varying designs and colors, though most of them were black, just like how most of yours were pink. It’s amusing to him how you two were so similar yet so different all the same.
The day he went to the park with Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung’s little brother, Kyungmin, he wasn’t really any different from you. You’d never know of it much like the other way around, but even when he went to the park with the same purpose you had, he couldn’t get you off his mind. It was as if his mind was the shore, and you were the waves of the ocean constantly pushing forward after being pulled away by the tides.
So, when he came back to where Seonghwa and Wooyoung were after separating himself from them for a while to look for less crowded areas of the park they could go to, to say he was surprised to see you talking to Kyungmin would be nothing short of a huge understatement.
“What’s Kyungmin doing over there?” he asked Seonghwa and Wooyoung, to which one only laughed at while the other sighed. “He kept on insisting that the girl he’s talking to right now is a princess and wouldn’t let me hear the end of it when I told him she isn’t. Then he ran off, and the next thing we both knew was he’s already tugging on her dress.” Hongjoong’s gaze went back to you, who was now crouching to face Kyungmin eye to eye.
It wasn’t exactly like he could blame the little boy for thinking that way—you did look like a princess, especially with the beautiful dress you chose to wore that day, and not to mention, the natural look of your face he was sure people under the influence—and even those who aren’t—would mistaken as one that belongs to an angel gracing the Earth with her presence.
He couldn’t believe his very own eyes that day. When he left you by yourself when you had to answer a phone call in the bookstore, he was originally supposed to head back to the aisle you were at after checking out the other sections that seemed interesting enough to grab his attention, but just as he was about to, another one of his friends (a.k.a roommates) along with Seonghwa and Wooyoung, Mingi, messaged him, telling him to come home as soon as possible because Yunho burnt the kitchen while trying to remake a recipe he saw on his feed.
At first, he thought they were just messing around with him—a normal occurrence, at this point, but it wasn’t until Yeosang sent a video of the kitchen actually burning to their group chat. Hongjoong could no longer afford to go through all the five stages of grief looking for an apartment that would suffice for eight people, so he immediately left the bookstore and ran faster than the speed of light.
Just as he was about to cross the street the moment the lights for vehicles turned red, he started contemplating between quickly heading back to the bookstore just to bid you farewell or just heading straight to his apartment building. His phone vibrated once again, and his lockscreen was being flooded by notifications of his roommates spamming his DMs, most of them coming from Jongho and San. Only then did the answer become clear to him.
Fortunately, he was able to fix the fifth problem his roommates have created for the week on time, immediately proceeding to scold all of them, save for Seonghwa who just got home from buying groceries and was now cleaning up the kitchen. For a fleeting moment, his mind drifts back to you, making him scold the six men even more than he should’ve, not-so-slightly upset over the fact that they timed burning the kitchen perfectly right when Hongjoong was just about to head back to you and continue your conversation.
Later that night, they were messaging one another one by one privately, each of them all saying the same thing: “It wasn’t really that deep. What got him so riled up?” But not even Hongjoong himself knew the answer to the question he never knew they were thinking of.
He thought he wasn’t going to see you again, and it never failed to make him feel confused whenever he found himself being a little too disappointed over it. So, when he saw you again—talking to his friend’s little brother, if anything, he was at a loss for both words and thoughts. The moment Kyungmin pointed to where he, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa stood, your eyes met for a fleeting second, and with the way he saw your eyes widen ever so slightly, he felt a little too happy over you recognizing him, so he did the first thing he thought of—trying to look as unbothered as possible even though his heart was literally spinning around, begging to be freed.
He failed to realize how smiling at you would’ve been a better option until he saw the way the corners of your lips went downwards ever so slightly upon seeing the look on his face, and before he could even clear things up by waving at you or literally anything to make sure you know he knows you, your gaze was already back on Kyungmin, and by the looks of it, you didn’t seem like you wanted to look his way yet again. To be fair, neither would he.
And as usual, he still couldn’t get you off his mind that day—though this time, it was worse, especially with the realization over the fact that he could’ve walked up to you yet didn’t dawning over him. He was beyond frustrated, to say the least. So, so frustrated he couldn’t even sleep.
Figuring his emotions were way too all over the place for him to be able to fall into a deep slumber, he sat up with a groan, stumbling over with his steps as he went to the living room, finding Yunho sitting by himself on the couch while watching a film that seemed to be a coming of age romance movie.
“What are you all up and about for?” Hongjoong walked around the couch, sitting beside Yunho as the cushion underneath him sank. “I could ask you the same question, you know,” Yunho responded, not even sparing Hongjoong a glance, obviously way too focused on the movie playing on the television screen in front of him.
“Just frustrated over some things.” Hongjoong leaned against the couch, sighing as he initiated a staring contest with the ceiling. With this, Yunho was quick to reach for the remote, pausing the movie before shuffling around so he could face Hongjoong while sitting down. “What’s the matter?”
“Do you ever think about something so often it starts to make you feel frustrated?” His question had Yunho pondering for about a while, making him think about it thoroughly.
“Depends on what this “something” we’re talking about is. I’m pretty sure that would mean two different things, depending on whether it’s “something” or “someone,” so which one of the two is it?” Hongjoong was hoping Yunho wouldn’t bring it up, but oh well. If he’s screwed, then he’s screwed.
All he had to do was stare right into Yunho’s eyes, hoping he’d put two and two together—and luckily, he did. “Since when?” Yunho was surprised, given how Hongjoong isn’t exactly the type of person who’d let himself be bothered by such things. Still, he wanted Hongjoong to tell him all about it, thankful he trusts him enough to do so.
“I don’t know, honestly. We just met by coincidence in the bookstore a few blocks away about a few weeks ago, and I haven’t been able to go through a single day without my head being filled with thousands of thoughts ever since then.”
“By coincidence?” Yunho tilted his head, and Hongjoong was quick to rewind and tell him all about it. After Hongjoong was done telling him about how it started and how it’s going so far, Yunho found himself smiling, already knowing what was up with Hongjoong, while he himself was still left in the dark.
He resorted to convincing Hongjoong to get up and do all the work himself so he’d be the one to come to terms about his feelings first-hand. “You know, nothing’s gonna happen if you keep on refusing to make a move. You can’t just expect your paths to cross once again if you’ve been staying at the same spot for days on end.”
And that was when he messaged Wooyoung privately once he was back in his room, asking if he was free to hang out for the upcoming day and if he wouldn’t mind tagging Kyungmin along with him. You’ll never know he was the reason behind Kyungmin’s second visit to the park, and part of him thinks things will be better off that way.
However, both of you were going through your own predicaments unconsciously. Until now, you still don’t know why you’re thinking of resting your head on his shoulder, and in his case, he still doesn’t know why on Earth he actually debated between bidding you farewell or saving his apartment from its impending doom.
It didn’t help how you weren’t really one to open up to people, so you were left all alone trying to fix the tangled wires inside your head, unlike Hongjoong, who was blessed enough by the gods to have a friend like Yunho. Still, despite being provided moral support and advice, he wasn’t any less oblivious to his feelings than you were.
“What’s it like?” You asked all of a sudden, surprising both Hongjoong and yourself. Much to your surprise, though, Hongjoong let the blooming conversation flow freely as he said in response, “What do you mean?” You shrugged, fiddling with yet another loose stitch of your sweater—you figured you’d definitely have to fix it up once you get home later.
“You know… having a lot of roommates.” You weren’t sure why you were asking about his roommates when you could’ve asked a question about him instead, yet you were blissfully unaware of the fact that Hongjoong was more than happy to hear you ask about his roommates—his best friends.
“It’s fun on most days, yet it’s also very frustrating sometimes. Living with seven people doesn’t exactly sound like the best experience when you’re living in an apartment that can barely fit all of you—even more when more than half of us have proven themselves deserving to be banned from the kitchen.” You laughed at his words, his laughter soon following after, watching you attempting to wind down your voice with a toothy grin on his face. “Why’s that?” You managed to ask in between your stifled laughs.
“Remember when we first met?” How could you ever forget? “Yeah, what about it?” You tilted your head, wondering what your first encounter had to do with Hongjoong’s roommates burning their kitchen. “While you were on a phone call with someone, I was in the middle of checking out the other sections, but just as I was about to head back to where you were, they spammed our group chat with messages, each of them telling me to head back home as soon as possible. Wanna guess why?”
“Please don’t tell me someone actually set the kitchen on fire.” Hongjoong only laughed in response, shaking his head. “Unfortunately.” Your eyes widened slightly, scoffing in disbelief. “You’re lying, aren’t you?” This time, it was now Hongjoong’s turn to look at you in utter disbelief, making you think he was actually offended over you not believing his story for a split second.
“Don’t wanna believe me? Here,” he said, showing you the video waiting to be played on his phone screen as he gestured for you to press the button yourself. As the video started playing, a look of shock spread all over your face as you watched the fire get worse as the video progressed, hearing screams from people whom you could only assume were his roommates.
Someone draped a towel over the flames, hurriedly stepping back when his solution turned out to be an additional problem with the way the fire grew even more. “Mingi, are you fucking stupid?! Take that towel back!” to which the man named Mingi responded with, “No way in hell! San, you do it!” followed by another, “Don’t drag me into the consequences of your stupidity!”
You heard someone from the background yell Hongjoong’s name, and as the camera was turned towards where the sound came from, you were met with the sight of a man who you recognized as Wooyoung hiding behind someone who seemed to be way too calm considering the fact that the kitchen was literally being set on fire—he was even eating an apple, if anything. The video switched to the front camera, revealing a man who, this time, seemed to look too happy despite the fire unfolding right behind him, and he even had the guts to giggle and wave to the camera.
Needless to say, you were left speechless, and the video wasn’t even halfway finished yet. You pressed his screen to pause the video, being met with the sight of him contemplating whether to laugh over the memorable (strangely enough) moment or to let his grudges come crawling back at him.
Looking at the expression on his face, you couldn’t help but laugh, your voice echoing around the quiet halls of the library. “So that’s what living with seven people looks like…” With the way you spoke, Hongjoong was unsure whether you meant it in a good way or not—and if he were to be honest, that’s exactly what made your reaction even more amusing.
“That’s also why I wasn’t able to come back to the aisle after looking around. Sorry,” he apologized, sheepishly rubbing his nape. You were quicker than a millisecond to dismiss his apology, shaking your head as you reassured him that it’s fine and a while has passed ever since that day anyway so you don’t really mind anymore. You had that awkward smile on your face again, and Hongjoong had to put every fiber in him to use in order to hold himself back from just melting right there and then.
Suddenly, your phone rang yet again, cutting your conversation with Hongjoong short. Assuming it was your roommate calling you, you were about to decline the call, but it wasn’t until you read the contact number’s nickname and realized it was your mother calling you and not your roommate.
You were quick to tidy yourself and hung your pink crocheted crossbody bag over your shoulder, reaching for the book that was resting in front of Hongjoong by the table, retracting your hand for a split second when you realized you hadn’t even told him yet that the book your roommate wanted you to borrow from the library was the one he was reading before you approached him.
He looked up at you from his seat, tilting his head. “You need it?” he asked, making you nod. “If you don’t mind, of course, it’s just—” Hongjoong waved you off, gesturing for you to take it, swearing he doesn’t mind at all. Just as you reached for the book once more, his hand rested on its cover at the same time, pushing it towards your direction. It didn’t take you longer than a second to realize your hands were on top of his. Your phone has stopped ringing, and the sound has now been replaced with your thundering heartbeat.
You were the first one to break the contact, taking your hand off his. Too focused on trying to look calm—you have no idea why having composure seems to turn itself into an almost unattainable challenge whenever Hongjoong was around—you fail to notice the way a hint of disappointment flashed on his eyes with you taking your hand off so soon, and it disappeared as quick as it showed up when you reached for the book once more the moment his hand was no longer sitting atop of it.
“I, um, have to go,” you stumbled over your words as you shoved the book inside your bag, “I’ll… see you around?” You sounded way too hopeful for your liking, but before you could take your words back and replace it with something more neutral, Hongjoong beat you to it by grinning at you widely, nodding at your words. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you around.”
But he doesn’t, and neither do you.
Three weeks have passed, and the increasing amount of his library visits were starting to become more noticeable to the seven men Hongjoong shared his apartment with through every passing day. They all went to the same university, so they knew just how annoyingly cruel the campus librarian was, which made things even harder to piece together for them. Hongjoong had also spoken up once about how much he hates the librarian during one of their drinking games when he was under the influence, so his frequent visits at the library were really confusing—save for one person who had an idea what the reason behind it was.
“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” Mingi tilted his head at San who sat across from him, enthusiastically munching on the desserts he ordered while taking a few sips of his coffee in between—clearly, he didn’t hear Mingi’s question. “You’ve noticed it, right?” Mingi repeated his question, this time a little louder in hopes of getting an answer from San. His attempt proved to be successful as San finally looked up at him with a confused expression on his face. “Noticed what?”
“Oh, you know. Hongjoong and his sudden library star user transition,” he shrugged, and San let out a hum of realization after being given context. “Yeah, I have. What about it, though?” Mingi scoffed in disbelief, having a hunch that San was just playing dumb. “Come on, San. Don’t you think it’s strange? Because I do.” But the aforementioned man’s eyebrows only furrowed as he asked once again, “What is?”
“What isn’t strange about it? You know he hates the librarian just as much as we all do, right? Don’t you ever wonder what on Earth is he stopping by the library everyday for?” For a few seconds, the only thing San could do was stare at Mingi from across the table, mouth slightly agape as if he was trying to connect the dots inside his head. And then it clicks—finally. “Oh… Oh. I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it, it does seem a little weird.”
“Right? I asked Seonghwa last night if he knew anything about it, but he told me Hongjoong hasn’t brought up anything related to the library to him so far. I mean, sure, yeah, Hongjoong likes to read, so normally, it would make sense for him to visit the library every now and then—but everyday? Is he reading a compilation of the terms and conditions of every existing app?”
“You may be overanalyzing a little, don’t you think?” A familiar voice spoke up from behind San’s seat at the cafe, making him turn his head around as Mingi only had a smile on his face, already having seen the man enter the cafe before he even approached the two of them. “You know you can visit the library for more than one reason, right?” He gestured for San to move aside, opting to sit beside him as both of them were now facing Mingi, who sat on the opposite side of the table.
“And what would those other reasons be?” Both Mingi and San asked in unison. “I don’t know, maybe the usual things that happen when you’re a college student on the brink of graduation with an eye for attractive people?” Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Yunho, what the hell are you even talking about right now?”
Yunho rolled his eyes, leaning against the cushion of the sofa he sat on. “Think it through, Mingi. Hongjoong wouldn’t even dare to consider visiting the library everyday, had he not been developing feelings for a certain person he often sees there.” Both Mingi and San knew Hongjoong as someone who wasn’t quite fond of the idea of anything romantic, but it’s not like they knew what Yunho knew, anyway, so they resorted to laughing Yunho’s words off.
“You’re not onto something, Yunho,” Mingi began, and San continued his words, saying, “you’re on something.”
“Are you seriously accusing me of being high on a Saturday afternoon? Being high, if anything?” Yunho stared at the two men who were now proudly laughing over their joke in disbelief, frowning when he realized they didn’t even plan on taking his words with a grain of salt. “And are you seriously trying to get us to consider your idea of Hongjoong being hit by Cupid all of a sudden?”
“It’s not an idea, San. Just—would you just listen to at least a goddamn word I’ll be saying?” Yunho ran his hand through his hair, and only then did Mingi and San stop with their antics. Moments of Yunho being upset were extremely uncommon, and whenever it would happen, all of them would always fail to hear the end of it. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. Where did your theory come from, anyway?”
“For the second time now, it’s not a theory. It’s a possibility loosely based on a conversation Hongjoong and I had a few weeks ago while you were all asleep.”
“So… a theory?”
“God, no!”
“It is, though.” San backed up Mingi, making him pat his back with a grateful expression on his face. “See? He gets me.” Yunho only responded by rolling his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s a theory or not—just hear me out, please.” San could tell Yunho was growing tired of their shenanigans, so he was quick to lock in and get serious. “Shoot.”
“It was around three in the morning already, and I was in the living room watching a movie. Hongjoong suddenly came out of his room and sat beside me, and he asked me a question I wouldn’t have expected to come from him. He asked me if I’ve ever thought of something so often to the point where it drives me frustrated, and based on the look on his face that night, I assumed his answer would’ve been yes if I asked him the question instead and not the other way around. I told him it depends on whether it’s a “something” or a “someone,” and he gave me a look that non-verbally told me it was the latter in his case.”
“So, to sum it all up, he likes someone who visits the library often?” Mingi asked, and Yunho shook his head. “From the looks of it, I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for a certain someone to visit the library everyday.”
“Why the library, though? And why would he have to do it everyday? Doesn’t that sound a little creepy? Or maybe that’s just me, but, I mean, there’s no way you don’t find it weird at all, Yunho,” San said, wondering why on Earth would Hongjoong have to visit the library everyday just to see whoever his crush was.
Yunho sighed, “That’s not exactly the case, you know.” Both Mingi and San’s attention were completely hooked once again, both of them leaning forward on the sides of the table they sat on, eager to listen to what Yunho was about to tell them.
“What I’m thinking is that Hongjoong probably last saw his crush in the library, and that whoever that person is went out of town—but Hongjoong doesn’t know, hence why he keeps on visiting the library everyday in hopes of seeing his crush again.”
“That’s… oddly specific,” Mingi gave Yunho a skeptical gaze, whereas San remained drowning in his own thoughts. “The fact that your theory is actually highly likely to be correct is what scares me,” San said, finally speaking up after a few seconds of silence.
“It’s not a—”
“Yeah, yeah, not a theory! We get it!”
It’s been three months, at most. You wanted nothing more but to leave your hometown and head back to your apartment—you never liked the suffocating feeling the walls of your mother’s household would always give you. You’re starting to miss hearing your roommate’s loud snoring in the brink of dawn, too. You wonder how she’s holding up—it’s not really your thing to keep in touch with people while you’re away as it only makes you miss them even more, and this is something you fortunately remembered at the last minute to tell her before you left.
Your mother had contacted you that time you were hanging out with Hongjoong in the library to tell you to head back to your household as she and her garbage of a boyfriend had scheduled a three month vacation for themselves, leaving you the responsibility to watch over their house while they go out and enjoy their lives to its fullest. How pathetic.
You vividly remember feeling your heart ache with flames while you had to fight back your tears while packing your things—trying so hard to convince your roommate—who you assumed by that time was probably hanging out with the guy from her linguistics class—that you were fine when she was on the other line of the call while you were informing her about your sudden vacation, even though it was painfully obvious you weren’t by the way your voice kept on trembling with every word you spoke.
It didn’t help that all you could think of while spacing out while waiting for the train you took to arrive at its destination was the way Hongjoong’s eyes widened ever so slightly when you placed your hands atop of his by accident, as well as the way he’d flash you that toothy grin of his every single time you’d find yourselves staring into each other’s eyes.
No, it really didn’t help. Especially considering the fact that you don’t even know why the hell you were thinking of him when you were supposed to be upset because of your parents. It really, really didn’t help how thinking of him ended up painting a small smile on your face that was quick to disappear the moment you snapped back into reality.
Yet here you are now, mindlessly staring outside the window of your childhood bedroom, watching the sun slowly fall into a deep slumber as you wonder what Hongjoong could have possibly been doing by the other side of the world. Part of you regrets not taking the old book you borrowed from the library with you, but at the end of the day, you borrowed it to help your roommate forge a connection with her crush, and not with your own, for heaven’s sake. Wait, what?
And then it hits you—he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you’re out of town and will continue to be for three more days. You wonder if he thinks of you as much as you do of him. You wonder if he’s out there, waiting for you. You wonder if he wonders what you’re doing right now as well. You wonder if he’s concerned about you.
“Oh, God, I can’t do this anymore,” you buried your face in your hands in frustration, sighing heavily as you parted your fingers to glance at your phone placed by your bedside table. Its screen, although pitch black, felt as if it was glaring directly at you, taunting you to take it and just say “screw it” and break your no-contact-during-vacation rule.
And you did, in fact, say, “Screw it.”
Quickly scrolling through your contacts, you wasted no time and immediately dialed your roommate’s number, the constant ringing of your phone echoing around the almost empty surroundings of your bedroom. Most of the things you left here before moving out have already been thrown out, it seems.
“Oh my God!” The screeching of your roommate from the other end of the line made you jolt in surprise, hissing as you felt your ears ring due to how loud her voice was. “Is this real?! I thought you said you wouldn’t call me until you’re back here! What happened?! Is something wrong?! Are you okay?! ARE YOU—”
“Calm down! Do you want me to go deaf or something?” Your voice was as calm as ever, a stark contrast to hers. “Did you really miss me that bad?” Chuckling, you await her response, which arrived faster than a millisecond.
“Did I miss you? Did I miss you? You have no idea how quiet it has been in here ever since you left! I have no one to annoy and it’s slowly driving me insane…” she let out an exasperated sigh, making you laugh. “I’ll be taking that as a yes, then.”
Your roommate clears her throat, going back to the topic at hand. “Seriously, though, why’d you suddenly decide to break your no-contact rule? Are you alright?” Concern was evident in her voice, and it almost made you tear up. You failed to realize just how much you missed her until now.
“I’m still breathing, that’s for sure,” you joked, laughing after hearing her groan as she said, “Now’s not the time for your jokes! Did something bad happen over there?”
“No, not really, but… well, you know, I’m not supposed to come back until Friday this week, but I really don’t think I can stay here for any longer. I’m all alone because my mother and her boyfriend are out on a vacation, and I haven’t had anyone to talk to for the past few months I’m not used to waking up because of my alarm and not because of your loud snoring, you know?”
Truthfully, you really did miss her. But even if you knew she was not the only reason behind you desperately wanting to leave your hometown, you figured you’d have to tell her all about it another time—just not now.
“I can’t tell whether you meant that as a compliment or an insult…” she sighed, making you erupt in a fit of laughter. Darkness was now starting to consume your surroundings, with the moon all up and about. Your bedside lamp is now the only source of light your bedroom has. “Do me a favor and take it as both?”
“Haha, yeah, real funny. I really hate you, you know.” You could tell from the tone of her voice alone that she was rolling her eyes, making you laugh once more—she seriously had to stop, or else you were certain you were gonna have to go to sleep with an aching stomach. “I don’t think you do, though…”
“You know me too well,” she sighed, faking an exhausted tone. “Is there anything you wanna tell me about? Like, you know, literally anything? I feel like all we’ve ever been talking about lately is mister linguistics class who is my man but is technically not my man but will, one day, become my man… come to think of it, I don’t think you’ve ever talked to me about any of your crushes—”
You could still hear her voice through the speaker of your phone, but the moment her words entered your ears, they were all muffled—you were, once again, adrift in a sea of your own thoughts. In a way, she was right about the part where you never talk to her about anything regarding your romantic affiliations—but that’s precisely because you don’t even have one in the first place, and you swore to yourself you’d keep things that way until you graduate.
But right now, as your thoughts drift back to Hongjoong yet again—something that seems to have been happening way too often for your liking at this point, you weren’t so sure anymore.
“—Oh, you do like someone!” Beaming happily, she squealed like a little child winning a plushie from a claw machine for the first time, pulling you back up to the surface of reality. Surprised, you stumbled over your words, “W-What?”
“You suddenly grew quiet when I started talking about relationships, you know.” I did?
“If I were to guess, I’d say there’s a certain someone who came to your mind the moment I mentioned the word “crush” and brought up how you’ve always been so secretive with your dating life.” You could visualize the teasing smile on her face as she spoke, and it made you feel flustered. She was right, but were you really going to tell her that?
“So, who is it? Can I make a few guesses? Promise me you’ll bring a basket of candies home for me if I get it right!” It wasn’t exactly like you were doubting her—it was more on the fact that you, yourself, weren’t even sure if you actually harbor feelings for the only person in your mind right now. If you were to think about it, wouldn’t it be too soon to say you do?
Maybe it was the way he seemed to have an eye meant for seeing everything around him as diamonds in the rough—an eye able to see the best even in those already proven to be the worst. Maybe it was the way he has no fear of expressing himself freely—maybe you just admired that trait of his and wished to have it as your own. Maybe it was the way he’s always eager to thoroughly get to know the details of everything he crosses paths with—the way he reread a book five times just to look for the foreshadowed parts may sound a little silly to be used as an example, but it serves its purpose.
You don’t really know much about him, except for the fact that he lives with seven people whom you could tell he adored so much, and that he liked to design his own clothes. So for a split second, you begin to debate whether you do like him or if you just admire him as a person.
But it wasn’t until you were reminded of the way you felt sparks ignite all over your veins when his fingers first brushed past yours that day in the bookstore, the way you stared at him a little longer than you should’ve when you saw him at the park, the way you had to hold yourself back from unconsciously leaning your head on his shoulder that day in the library—maybe the way you felt about Hongjoong was a whole book itself, and you’d also have to reread it a few times to catch everything you’ve overlooked in the long run.
You may not know him at all, but right now, one thing was crystal clear to you—you wanted to.
“Do you know the…” A little uncertain at first, you trailed off, not knowing whether you should continue or not. But then again, running away wouldn’t draw you any closer to your destination. “... Do you know anyone named Kim Hongjoong?”
Silence engulfed both of you for at least ten seconds at most, until it was broken by yet another squeal of hers. “Are you for real?! The Kim Hongjoong?! You like him?! Oh my God! Wait, now that I’m thinking about it, aren’t you two, like, polar opposites, at most?”
If only she knew.
“I guess…? Why?” You decided to play along with her for now, eager to hear what she has to say. “You two would totally be the cutest couple of the whole campus! I mean, come on, think about it! He’s a punk, and you do ballet! Well, technically, you don’t, but I trust you enough to rest assured you get the reference, so…”
“You think so?” Truth be told, you could perfectly visualize the message she was trying to deliver. Subconsciously, a smile soon began to creep up on your face over the thought of you and Hongjoong walking together, the stark contrast between your styles and the way you carried yourselves being heavily obvious.
“Oh, I know so! Wait, though—when, where, why, and how did this even start? I can’t believe you’re actually telling me about your dating life now!” She beamed, but you were quick to tone her down. “Now…? I don’t even have any experience within the dating field,” you said, bracing yourself from the scream that was yet to come from her.
“I’m sorry, what?!” Yeah, called it. “You heard it right. I wasn’t hiding anything from you—there were never any secrets to be hidden to begin with.”
“So Hongjoong is your first boyfriend—” “—I think we’re skipping a few chapters here,” you immediately cut her off, turning her assumptions down as fast as you could. “What do you mean?”
“Well… remember when you asked me to buy that one psychological thriller book from our local bookstore there?” You started, continuing after hearing a hum from the other line. “That was when I first met him. He was going to buy the same book as well, but we reached for it at the same time, and, I don’t know, we kinda… talked? And…”
You continued on, starting from when you first met him to when you last saw him. At this point, you could no longer even count the amount of times she had squealed over the phone.
“Wait, so you mean to tell me you didn’t even exchange contacts before you left the library? And he doesn’t know why you left?!” You could tell she was frustrated—and to be fair, so were you. “Well, if I did, we’d be talking to each other right now, wouldn’t we?” You sighed.
“So that means it’s been three months since you… wait, hold on… three months? Like, actually?” You have no idea why she was asking for confirmation all of a sudden, yet you let out a hum of approval anyway. “So that’s why he’s been… oh my God! If you don’t come back as soon as you can, I swear!”
“Huh? Why would I need to?”
“Hongjoong’s been visiting the library everyday for three months straight now! It’s, like, one of the many things our whole campus gossips about everyday! It all makes sense now…” What?
“What?”
“I’m telling you, you need to come back before it’s too late and he loses hope!” You couldn’t help but laugh at how she seemed to be more passionate about the topic at hand than you yourself, but in a way, she also had a point. There’s no guarantee he’d continue to wait for you until you’re finally allowed to leave your mother’s household.
And that was all you needed to hear for you to immediately hang up and rummage through the clothes you packed with you for your vacation—you could hardly even call it such, but whatever. You have no idea why you’re in such a rush, but for the first time ever, you opted for a casual look: a white shirt with an oversized pink hoodie with a half-done zipper on top of it, paired with shorts that weren’t even visible due to the hoodie’s length. You quickly slipped on a pair of white socks and wore your pink converse afterwards, having to re-do the shoelaces about three times due to messing it up over and over again because of how you were in such a rush.
You didn’t even have time to stand in front of your mirror to see what you looked like—your mind was set on coming back to you and your roommate’s apartment as soon as you could.
For a minute, you were stuck in a debate between following what you had to or what you wanted to. You knew for sure that dire consequences were to wait ahead of you if you were to follow the latter, but you could no longer find it in you to care. You had to follow your heart.
Sighing under your breath, you finally got yourself to twist the doorknob open, being met with the cold breeze of the night. Perhaps it wasn’t the best decision to wear shorts, but it’s too late to reconsider things now, is it? Quickly locking the door with your keys in hand, you wasted no time in sprinting to the nearest train station, not wanting to waste the chance that laid itself upon you.
“Mind explaining what’s been going on with you lately?” Seonghwa asked, hands on either side for support as he leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes boring directly into Hongjoong, who was standing across him, too busy spacing out that Seonghwa was certain he didn’t hear anything at all.
“What?” Hongjoong’s voice was a little slurred, and one could easily tell he lacks sleep. “I said, do you mind explaining what’s been going on with you lately?” Seonghwa enunciated his words so Hongjoong could hear him better, only for the said man to respond with a chuckle.
“You really gotta stop overanalyzing everything around you, Seonghwa.” Yet the aforementioned man wasn’t having any of it. He knew very well of Hongjoong’s tendencies to deny his own struggles—even to himself, always refusing to admit he’s going through something even though it’s already crystal clear. Of course, Seonghwa and the rest knew to respect his boundaries and not pry further, but the circles under Hongjoong’s eyes were starting to grow darker, and he just couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
“I’m not buying your excuses this time, Hongjoong. Clearly, you’re forcing yourself to go through something all alone again.” Seonghwa sighed, brows furrowed in concern as he took in Hongjoong’s appearance.
“What? Like it’s the first time I’ve ever done so?” Hongjoong chuckled, although it was easy for Seonghwa to tell he was forcing it upon himself. “You know you can’t keep everything to yourself forever, right? They’re all worried about you, and so am I. Look, you don’t have to tell me all the details, okay? Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“How on Earth am I supposed to feel when someone tells me ‘see you around’ but then they proceed to literally disappear right after those words come out of their mouth? Wouldn’t you be downing a dozen shots in one streak too?” From the way Hongjoong spoke, it was clear that he was beyond frustrated. His words came out slurred and raspy, and even Seonghwa himself was surprised he understood what Hongjoong said.
Brows furrowed in confusion, Seonghwa leaned forward from the counter, clearly not knowing what the hell Hongjoong was talking about. “Woah, woah, alright, calm down. Where’d all this even come from?”
“It’s been three months—three months, Seonghwa. Disappearing without a word is one thing, but not showing up for three months is just absurd, isn’t it?” Hongjoong groaned, running his hands through his hair. Still confused, Seonghwa attempted to ask for a little more context. “Who are you even talking about?”
“Her, Seonghwa. The girl whose name I could’ve gotten sooner, had those stupid goons not decided to burn our kitchen. The girl Kyungmin mistook for a princess.”
Oh.
Oh.
So it all makes sense now. It now makes sense that Hongjoong scolded the rest of them for almost burning their apartment way too harshly than he normally would have. It now makes sense why he caught Hongjoong staring at the girl from the park longer than any other person would have. It now makes sense that—does this mean what Seonghwa thinks it does?
Hongjoong likes someone? The Hongjoong, who swore he’d never allow himself to get into a relationship yet again after a bad falling out with one of his exes a few years ago? The Hongjoong, if anything?
“Can I take a wild guess and assume she’s the reason behind your daily library visits?” Seonghwa asked carefully, not wanting to hit a wounded spot by accident. Hongjoong only sighed, “I wish she wasn’t. Really, really wish she wasn’t.”
“Why? Do you like her?”
Does he like you?
At first, Hongjoong refused to accept the terms. He knew very well of his promise to himself not to fall for anyone again, tired of experiencing the same hardships that came along with it over and over again. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of you as often as he does. He knew he shouldn’t be letting you affect him in the simplest ways possible.
Yet here he was now.
“I tried to stop myself, you know. I really did. But I just—I couldn’t. I didn’t have it in me to forget about her just like that, even if she’s been gone for three months straight now and I don’t even know where she is.” Seonghwa could tell Hongjoong meant every word he said. It was still mildly surprising, but the words came out of his mouth so smoothly it was enough to tell Seonghwa he was really being genuine.
“I know I look stupid waiting like a dog in the library everyday, hoping I’d be met with her awkward smile when I turn my head towards the door whenever I hear it open, but I just—I can’t, you know? I can’t stop. Not when the last words we spoke to each other was about seeing each other around. I can’t help but wonder if I messed up unknowingly, somehow.”
Seonghwa’s gaze softened, stepping forward to gently caress Hongjoong’s shoulder in a comforting way. “Why not go on a midnight stroll? I think you really need one right now. I’ll make sure they won’t burn the kitchen again this time, okay?”
“You really know how to make me feel better, don’t you?” Hongjoong chuckled, looking upwards to prevent his tears from falling down. “I’m gonna need you to remember the fact that we’ve known each other since we were kids. Of course I’ll know that,” Seonghwa sarcastically said, although a smile was plastered on his face.
At this point, you were certain your legs were about to give up before you could even reach your apartment. The train you took had a major malfunction in the long run, but you didn’t have it in you to wait for 30 minutes until the train would start working again, so you did the only thing you could—run. Okay, that was most likely not the correct solution, but it wasn’t like you had any other choice. You need to head home at least before 8:30AM tomorrow, since that’s usually when your mother would call you to ask how you, or rather, her house, is doing.
You stopped between your tracks to catch your breath, hands on your knees as your chest heaved with exhaustion. You decided to walk for at least a few minutes for now so you could regain enough energy to start running again later on, knowing there was absolutely no way you’d be able to keep on sprinting without passing out in the middle of it.
You were walking on an empty road, the dim lamp posts and the convenience stores from a distance being your only sources of light. As you were peacefully admiring your quiet surroundings, you spotted a coastline from a fair distance besides the road, only about a few steps away. As you drew closer to where the waves of the ocean met the sand, you saw a figure from afar sitting on a boulder all by themselves.
Except it wasn’t just a figure.
Your heart started racing, eyes widening in surprise as you focused your gaze on the person’s hair—you couldn’t have been mistaken. You know exactly who that split-dyed hair belongs to.
Before you even knew it, your feet had a life of its own, running towards where the figure was sitting even though your legs were literally about to give up after running for half an hour without stopping.
“Hongjoong?”
He turned around almost right after you called out his name, eyes all puffy and widened in surprise, blinking repeatedly as if he was trying to process the fact that you were standing right in front of him.
“It’s you.”
You no longer even cared if your actions were way too straightforward, immediately engulfing him in a warm, tight embrace as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Hongjoong—I’m sorry, I just…” Your voice came out as nothing but trembling whispers blending it with the midnight breeze.
For at least a few seconds, all he did was stand still, not an ounce of his body reacting to your touch. Afraid he might not have been comfortable with what you were doing, you were quick to take a step back, removing your face from his neck.
Yet just as you were about to release the grip you held around his body, he was quick to wrap his arms around yours, this time being the one to embrace you tightly. Hongjoong’s arms envelop you, holding you tightly against him. The warmth of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his breath—it’s an entirely new feeling, yet it felt soothing all the same, as if this was where you were always meant to be.
You let yourself let loose in his embrace, feeling the tension and worry of the past three months slowly melt away. You close your eyes, savoring the moment as you bury your face in his shoulder. The subtle scent of his cedarwood cologne that you missed so much mixed with the salty sea air lingers in your senses, making you feel grounded and safe.
His chin rests on top of your head, and you can feel him take a deep breath, almost as if he’s trying to breathe you in and reassure himself that you’re really there. His embrace feels secure and protective, as though he’s shielding you from the heavy burdens of the world weighing upon you.
You notice his hesitation in the way his hands pause on your back, almost unsure of how to hold you at first. But eventually, after being allowed a little more seconds to familiarize himself with the feeling of your body resting against his, he started rubbing your back in soothing circles, making you feel lightheaded—as if all of your worries have slipped away with just a single touch.
He removes his chin from the top of your head, making you stare into his eyes with a teary gaze as he does so to yours as well. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about it beforehand, I…” you trailed off, words getting stuck in the middle of your throat after feeling Hongjoong cup your face with his hands, “... It all happened so fast, I… my mother needed me home right away, and I just couldn’t say no to her… I wish I could’ve told you beforehand, but she only told me why she needed me home when I was already there, so I couldn’t…”
Hongjoong’s gaze softens as he listens to your words. He gives you a small, understanding nod, but you can still see the hint of hurt in his eyes—his dark circles were so visible, even under the dim light of the moon. He pauses for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before speaking.
"I thought I might have done something wrong," he admits quietly, vulnerability evident with the way he spoke.. "I kept wondering if you were upset with me. It was... hard not knowing what happened.”
“When you left without a word, it felt like my world shifted,” Hongjoong begins. “We were in the library, and the last thing you said was you’ll see me around—but I didn't see you again. Not the next day, or the day after. I just kept going back, hoping you’d show up. It didn’t make sense—you were there, and then you were gone.”
“I started overthinking everything, replaying our conversations in my head. I wondered if I said something wrong or came on too strong, that maybe you didn’t want me to. I was scared that I might have scared you away somehow," he admits, and the way his voice trembled ever so slightly made your heart twist in pain.
“Hongjoong, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to leave you wondering if you ever did something wrong—I didn’t like what happened just as much as you do. I just… it’s complicated…” Truth be told, it really was.
Still, Hongjoong nodded with a faint smile on his face, reassuring you that he understands.“I know it wasn’t intentional,” he said, caressing your face with his thumb. “The nights were the hardest. I’d lie awake wondering if you hated me or if I had done something to upset you.”
You reach up to caress his face with your hands as well, staring at him with eyes that hold a swirl of emotions. “God, no, it never had anything to do with you… I’m so sorry for disappearing like that," you say softly, your voice filled with a mixture of guilt and frustration. "I wish I could have told you what was happening, but my mother... she wasn’t easy to deal with.”
As you hold Hongjoong close, you sense there’s more he wants to share, but he seems to be holding back, seemingly at war with his own emotions. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, encouraging him to express himself.
He lets out a heavy sigh, his expression a mix of longing and frustration. “I’ve been trying so hard to sort out how I feel about all of this,” he begins slowly. “I’ve been at war with my own thoughts ever since you left. Trying to keep my feelings under control, trying to convince myself it was just a worry for a friend. But it just… doesn’t add up.”
He pauses, running a hand through his hair, his gaze on a far distance. “Every day, I would tell myself I could keep it together, but I kept thinking about you so much, it was starting to drive me insane,” he admits, although a little hesitantly. “I tried to keep it down to just concern, but it wasn’t enough. My mind kept circling back to you, wondering where you were, if you were okay.”
His eyes meet yours again, making your breath hitch. “I’d go to the library every day, hoping to see you, hoping to hear your voice again. It was maddening, not knowing if you’d come back or if I’d lost you completely,” he sighs, as his grip on the skin of your waist becomes a little tighter. “I just couldn’t shake it off,” he continues, his voice quieting down.
“You were on my mind all the time, and the more I tried to ignore it, the more frustrated I became. I tried so hard to deny it, but...” he pauses, taking a deep breath, as if he’s steeling himself for what comes next.
“Oh, screw it all,” he finally mutters, as if giving in to his own feelings. “I love you, and I don’t think I can hold it back any longer.”
“You… What?” Your eyes widened in surprise, struggling to process Hongjoong’s words. Hongjoong only smiled at you in return, repeating his words, “I said I love you. I really, really do.”
“Hongjoong,” you begin softly, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness. Hearing his name slip out of your mouth sent his nerves going haywire—oh, how he missed the sound of it.
“When I had to leave so suddenly, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It was so difficult not being able to explain what happened or tell you how much you mean to me.” You pause, trying to find the right words.
“You know, I… I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone in until I graduated," you confess, your voice being a little softer than it already was. “So when I first started catching feelings for you, I was in complete denial. I didn’t know how to handle it.” You look away for a moment, feeling embarrassed.
“It was a war with myself, one I never expected to fight," you continued. “I told myself it was just a phase, just a fleeting crush. I even thought maybe I was imagining things or confusing friendship with something more.”
You let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to hide the depth of your feelings. “I even tried to tell myself that you were just a good friend, that I was misinterpreting my own emotions,” you admit. “But the more I tried to distance myself from my feelings, the harder it became. My heart kept betraying me, reminding me how much I looked forward to seeing you again, how your smile could light up my whole day.”
Your tone grows quieter as you share your struggle. “I kept thinking, ‘This can’t be happening. Not now. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for anyone,’” you say, vividly remembering the battle with your own feelings you once faced. “But every time I thought of you, it became harder to deny it. My heart wouldn’t let me forget you, and it drove me insane. Eventually, I lost control, and…”
You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to face the reality of your feelings. “Now that I’m standing here with you, hearing you pour your heart out, I just… I can’t deny it anymore,” you admit. “I’ve fallen for you, Hongjoong, and I’m done pretending otherwise.”
And that was all it took for him to inch his face closer to yours, intertwining your lips with his. The kiss was nothing short of pent-up tension being released, and you could feel every part of your body being set aflame.
His hands wrap themselves around your waist, its grip on your skin tightening every now and then. Your hand traces his jawline, soon finding itself tangled in his hair while the other one balls the fabric of his shirt into your first, feeling yourself get even more lost in the moment with each passing second.
As the kiss intensifies, there’s a sense of exploration, as if both of you are savoring the taste and feel of each other’s lips for the first time. Hongjoong’s hands slide up your back, one hand finding the nape of your neck, his touch gentle yet firm as if he was using every single fiber within his body to hold himself back, sending a shiver down your spine.
You mirror his movements, one hand now resting on his shoulder while the other presses against his back, wanting to be as close as possible. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you lost in the moment.
As your lips finally part, you both find yourselves gazing into each other’s eyes as if both of you believe the other hung up the stars in the sky. “You know,” Hongjoong began to speak. “As grateful as I am that you’re back here with me now… I can’t help but wonder where on Earth you came from...”
“Can we please save that discussion for another time?”
🪞 — lividstar.
#౨ৎ﹒ノ﹒lividstar．#ateez#ateez fluff#ateez fic#hongjoong#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong fluff#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#atz x reader#ateez x reader
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I don't known if you noticed or not, but in the back ground of v7ep9, with the Rosegarden fumble scene, the pillars have what looks like roses and green stems going around them and I'm just like did they (CRWBY) plan this !?!?
I did notice!! Everything about that scene is so blatant, intentional, and in your face and... y'know what, I've been meaning to talk about this scene for forever. Now feels a good a time as any.
Reasons Why Rosegarden is Canon: #013 - The Fumble
I have to admit, this was the first scene that really made me realize that these two were being set up as more than just character foils. And the way it does that is by making this scene sooooo tropey. We've got them Speaking in Unison, Finishing Each Other's Sentences, all with the air of Sickening Sweethearts. Ruby's little run towards him making them almost completely collide? Her closed off body language and nervous giggles? The second jinx at the end? The way it ties into their respective arc(s) while also paralleling other ships?
Lets break it down piece by piece.
First, this scene represents a resolution of sorts to the conflict - or, in romance arc terms, "break up" - that was set up between them at the start of the volume. The disagreement over what to say to Ironwood about the Oz situation is something that Oscar doesn't agree with, but respects either way; prompting the two of them to spend much of the volume separate and distant from each other.
As CRWBY says in the V7 commentary, The Fumble is when they "finally start to regain trust in each other". This, as well as their interactions within it, stand perfectly well on their own. Especially how it talks about the themes of trust, truth, and fear that both their solo arcs brush up against often. It also reaffirms the mutual care that's been established within their relationship thus far.
Ruby has spread herself too thin with her responsibilities and is offering to go tell Ironwood the truth that she initially decided to keep from him... but she's needed in Mantle with the rest of her team. So Oscar, who as we've previously established, is well aware of the weight of responsibility Ruby carries as leader, offers to take over for her. While he didn't agree with her decision from the start, he did respect it and therefore has his own amount of blame in keeping the truth hidden. His actions in this scene tell Ruby that she doesn't have to carry it all alone. That her decisions are not solely hers to bare the weight of. Even reassures her when she double checks that he's okay with it. Look at the little thumbs up! He's got it, Ruby! No worries!!
But outside of how it works for their individual and shared arcs as a pair, it also follows an established pattern within how CRWBY writes their romances. This 'breach of trust/break up' arc is one that has been explored with both Bumbleby and Renora as well. With BB, it kicks off when Blake runs at the end of V3, followed by her and Yang at odds with each other throughout most of V6, before they regain trust after protecting each other against Adam.
With Renora, it's running tangentially to Rosegarden throughout the Atlas arc. Ren, not believing they should be huntsman or be carrying these responsibilities, follows Ironwood's orders to the letter, represses his feelings and gives his team the cold shoulder, etc... all while Nora is in complete disagreement with how he's handling it. But both Bumbleby and Renora have new conflicts and resolutions throughout V8 as well... and so does Rosegarden.
Ruby and Oscar don't end this scene working fully together. They split up, following the name of the episode. Oscar stays behind in Atlas (As Above) to talk to Ironwood, and Ruby goes down to Mantle (So Below). Only for the two to swap places by the end of the volume with Oscar falling to the crater, and Ruby getting picked up from Atlas. They separate again in V8 following the split of the other ships as well; Yang, Ren, Jaune, and Oscar split from Blake, Nora, Weiss, and Ruby, respectively. The narrative constantly separating them with intention.
When they do have another resolution with the (rudely interrupted) reunion hug in V8E10, it is once again in this same location: The Schnee Manor entryway. Which, if you look at the full scope, with its rose engraved pillars, is designed like the definition of a fairy tale ballroom.
This romantic setting having not just one, but two very important moments to their shared narrative, ties into a Chekov's gun that's been following them around since the beginning: the idea that fighting and dancing aren't so different.
Even their body language and poses have them set up as if they're asking the other to dance!!
During this scene, they're also framed between two open doorways. Doors framing Rosegarden is something I've mentioned a few times, but am still working on a full meta for. To explain it briefly, open doors within stories - especially RWBY's narrative - are often symbolic of a few things. New beginnings, transitions and change, but also opening up or vulnerability. In this scene, Ruby and Oscar end up coming to an agreement between two thresholds marking a mutual transition. And they do this by trusting each other, opening up to one another, and ultimately growing closer in the process.
Speaking of being on the same page, I also want to talk about how the other characters are framed here. (Disclaimer: this isn't meant to downplay other ships, it is just an objective observation.)
Within the scene proper, team JNR all leave before Ruby and Oscar arrive, but there is an Interesting Focus on the characters that pass them over. The first we see passing over Ruby's shoulder is Penny, the second one is Weiss, this time over Oscar's shoulder. Leaving the two behind...
But then the camera angle changes. When Ruby and Oscar say "we should tell Ironwood" in unison, they are overlapped by Yang and Blake. Ruby then asks "Guess we're on the same page, huh?" before it pans back to Oscar and shows Bumbleby crossing past them a second time, as he responds "Guess so".
Which tells us two things. First, that they're on the same page as each other, and second that they are also on the same page narratively as Bumbleby. And if that wasn't enough to really drive the idea home, they give us another parallel to them by the end of the scene when Ruby and Oscar jinx with each other again!!
Ruby is so excited that she actually jumps off the ground when she turns around to wish Oscar luck, they bid each other farewell before she gives him the finger guns (just like her big sis does to Blake in V9), and then Ruby leaves through the front door, giggling again. Which prompts Marrow to roll his eyes in exasperation at the cringey, overly romantic youth he's been forced to witness twice over now. Once here, and once with BB earlier in the volume.
The last thing I'll mention has less to do with analyzing the scene objectively and more about a little test a dear friend of mine ran. She took the clip of this scene and sent it to some friends that weren't familiar with RWBY, the ship, or either of the characters individually, and asked them the question: What do you think the dynamic is between these characters?
And every single person that was asked immediately agreed that there was either a crush situation going on or it was building to a potential romance arc.
So take that as you will. Love this scene with all my heart, and thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about it. 🥰
#rwby#ruby rose#oscar pine#rosegarden#ship parallels#rwby ship parallels#reasons why rosegarden is canon#meta#analysis#ask#asks#creatoriamari
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keep driving - j.m
pairing: dbf!joel miller x reader
summary: you need some extra driving lessons and your dads best friend offers himself up for the job.
warnings: SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), car sex, oral (m), mutual (?) praise, unprotected sex (please wrap your disco stick❤️🔥), fingering, language, age gap, panic attack, mentions of a heart attack (in passing), mentions of a near car accident, slightly awkward in parts sorry, driving (it's horrible and needs a warning?!), very little plot but also a lot going on.
word count: 2.8k
a little note: some of you are american and call it “driving stick” but for me (a british person) ya girl is just driving okay???? be gentle with me i’m rusty x (btw wrote this instead of an assignment that’s many hundreds of words less than this you’re welcome)
The quiet evening was coming to a close when your dad had bought up how close he came to a heart attack every time you got behind the wheel. A couple of glasses of rosé had already warmed your cheeks, but as your father listed all the ways he didn't trust you on the roads to Joel, you quickly became embarrassed.
Joel ever the hero interjected a couple of times assuring you that he wasn't great at the start and he's sure you're much better than you're given credit for, but that didn't stop your dad from going on and on to the point where Joel offered to take over. At first you had been grateful when Joel offered up some of his time to help you gain confidence behind the wheel. That's how you'd been raised after all, grateful and polite, some may say to a fault.
Even a few evenings later when the lesson finally arrives, you choose to be grateful that Joel Miller is taking the time to teach you how to drive in between lessons, rather than focusing on the implications of being alone with him in such a small space. You push whatever ridiculous and overly horny thoughts floating about your head to the back of your mind or you're sure you'll crash the car before it even turns on.
Now parked on a small street, he runs over the basics you thankfully already know because there's no way your brain is registering anything he says when he's sat so close to you, taking up so much space so gracefully. He talks with his hands, pointing at various buttons and gesturing about the vehicle, and you can only hope that he'll stop doing so before he makes focusing on the road an extremely hard task. He finally gestures for you to start the car, which you do, placing it in gear and doing your final checks. He's saying something, talking you through it but you're already familiar with everything he's telling you to do.
"Okay so clutch up slowly- oh okay never mind we're driving already." Joel can't hide the surprise in his voice at your obvious competence behind the wheel. The way your dad had talked about teaching you to drive, he'd made it sound like you couldn't tell your left from your right (which lets be honest you can't) but Joel was expecting to be grabbing the wheel every 5 seconds.
Still, nearly 20 minutes into the destination-less drive, and you're yet to make a detrimental mistake. He tries to make small talk with you, asking about your uni degree, his focus split between your driving and your words. Though every now and then your responses are cut off by some bright and colourful curse, telling a slow driver 'fucking suck a dick' or grumbling at the gears to "fuck off" if they didn't transition smoothly. Joel didn't anticipate the absolute filth coming out of your mouth. Each time it caught him off guard in the worst of ways. He hoped you wouldn't notice the way he'd began shifting in his seat when you called a red light a "fuckin cocksucker", but he got ahold of himself and whatever bizarre thoughts your potty mouth had bestowed upon him.
The drive was smooth apart from a couple issues following directions and a near miss whilst parallel parking. Every now and then he'd mumble some form of 'good' or 'well done' or 'that was perfect' or your personal favourite, a low whistle when you execute something particularly smoothly. He was fucking with your brain constantly and you were worried that you were growing close to swerving into a bush.
The drive continues smoothly for another 10 minutes until you turn onto a main road, a large truck parked on the opposite side of the street. You consider slowing down worrying about cars coming around it, but maintain your speed hoping that the oncoming drivers will be just as considerate.
You watch as a car approaches behind the van, slowing down a little preparing to stop, until car suddenly decides to swerve into the middle of the road, cutting you off completely and dangerously. You turn the wheel and break sharply, narrowly avoiding a head on collision with the absolute idiot who just continues driving like they'd done nothing wrong. The car is silent apart from the low hum of the radio and yours and Joel's heaving breaths.
"Woah. Okay let's pull over here." Joel points to a small side street a few paces ahead and it's then you realise you've frozen, on a main road. You take a moment to move and Joel asks if you'd like to switch over but you shake your head and get the car moving again. You pull into the overgrown industrial estate quietly and shut off the engine, still not quite processing what just happened.
"You did real good out there." Joel's hand rests on your thigh and you're trying real hard to not let his words affect you. "Dunno what your pops is talking about, you're a pro."
The warmth from his rough palm is intoxicating and you let yourself slip and just wonder for a moment, what would happen if his hand were to slide further across up leg. But then you scold yourself for even entertaining the idea after what just happened.
"I think i need some air." Just like that you're out of the car, stones crunching beneath your feet, the only light from the beaming headlights as you drink in the night air. You had almost died. Joel had almost died.
"That wasn't your fault. Just some dickhead driver who shouldn't be on the road." Joel is in front of you, all warm and brooding and he's hugging you, so tight that you almost let yourself cry.
"Hey hey look at me." His hands cup your face, so large and warm against your quickly chilling skin. "Breathe. That's it, good girl"
You look up at him, studying the soft wrinkles on his forehead, the small bags under his eyes, the firm frown on his face. The pair of you stay like that until your breaths even out a little and your hands stop trembling. He looks like he wants to say something more, but then he drops his hands and opens the passenger door for you.
"Cmon it's getting chilly." You nod, sliding into the seat wordlessly, watching as he walks round to the drivers side. Joel cranks up the heater and focuses on you once more.
"You okay?" He asks, his voice rough. His hand comes to rest on your thigh again and all of a sudden you're both fine and ten times worse than before.
"Yeah. Think so." You pause, "uh, thanks for tonight. It was really helpful."
"You're welcome sweet pea." fucking hell.
"Also sorry about the bit where we almost died." You add quietly.
"You handled it like a pro, just a shame there's some 'fuckin cocksuckers' out on the roads." You laugh when he quotes your earlier cursing and his own dry chuckle accompanies your own. His hand is still on your thigh, and maybe its the adrenaline from the past few moments, but you place your hand on top of his.
A silence stretches between the two of you and you're scared to look up at him. You're scared that he'll see sense. That he'll remember to him you're just a kid. You move his hand half an inch closer to where you desperately need him but he squeezes your thigh tighter, halting the movement.
“Hey,” his thumb taps your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “what’re you doing sweet pea?”
You don’t reply, not trusting your own voice. Instead you move his hand once more, slow waiting to see what he does. At first he just watches you, intrigued by the boldness of your actions, waiting to see how far you’ll take it. Why you finally drop his hand, he waits for a moment, watching you all doe eyed and desperate to be touched.
This time, when his hand moves it’s of his own volition, sliding between your thighs, cupping your clothed cunt, watching in awe as you automatically begin grinding on his hand.
“Tell me what you need, darlin.” His hand slides under your shirt to the waistband of your leggings, thumb stroking at the skin just above the elastic.
“Joel…” You’re already so desperate, so needy for him to give you what you want.
“You want me to touch you?” His fingers push into your leggings and your breath hitches as he stops at the hem of your panties. “Gonna need an answer, darlin.”
“Yes. Please Joel.”
“Where?” You watch as he smirks, waiting for your answer. “Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Want your fingers in my pussy.” He looks stunned for a moment, before finally pushes your panties to the side, rubbing his fingers over your wet cunt.
“You’ve got a dirty fuckin mouth.” He rubs at your clit, “And a messy cunt.”
“Who’s got a dirty mouth now?” You gasp as he slips a finger into you, the low hum of the radio not enough to drown out the wet sounds of him fucking you with his fingers. “More.”
“Greedy little thing.” He whispers, stretching you out with a second finger, his cock growing hard, straining against his jeans. You grind yourself against his hand, clit bumping against his palm, chasing the orgasm he’s so close to giving you. You grip his arm for support, his rough skin perfect against your sensitive clit. Joel curls his fingers ever so slightly, catching just the right spot and you’re done for. You grind against his hand until your too sensitive to move anymore, cheeks warm and breaths shallow.
He pulls his hand from your panties and brings his fingers to your lips, licking them clean, tasting you on his tongue and he has to stop himself from bending you over the and tasting your cunt until you’re a crying mess.
“Get in the back.” He says gruffly, popping his door not waiting for a response. You climb between the two seats, watching Joel as he slides in beside you. You don’t waste time, reaching for his belt, and he lifts his hips helping you pull down his jeans and briefs.
You waste no time wrapping a hand around him in all of his thick and weeping glory, pumping his cock a few times before lapping at the precum leaking from the tip. You take your time swallowing him down, using your hands where your mouth couldn’t reach.
“Fuckin hell girl.” His hand finds its way into your hair, gripping at the roots, tensing when you take him further into your mouth. Joel’s hips buck lightly, his tip sliding further into your throat, the unexpected intrusion making you gag a little.
“Shit sorry, sorry.” He’s apology falls on death ears and you move your tongue in the same way hoping he’d do it again. “You’re unbelievable.”
You gag on him once more, hands working at his base gripping him tightly, relishing in his tight grip on your hair. When he pulls you up off of him you’re confused, worried that you’ve done something wrong, but then he kisses you pulling you into him.
“You did so good for me, so good. But if you keep going I ain’t gonna last.” You nod, slip out of your trousers and move to straddle him, enjoying the way he responds so easily to you, his grip on your waist sure to leave a mark when you drag his tip between your wet folds.
His hands slide to your hips, guiding you as you slide down onto him, slow and cautious at first. Joel curses under his breath and sends out a quick prayer that he’ll last longer than a singular thrust. He’s never felt a cunt so wet and warm and perfect for him in his entire life. The way you squeeze him when you lift your hips, the way you rock forward against him when you swallow him in all over again. He’s not sure if once will be enough, if he can live without you wrapped around him 24 hours a day.
“Take what you need, you’re doing so well for me.” You’re more sure in your movements now, your hips moving quicker, with more fluidity and you never want to remember where you end and Joel begins.
Joel let’s his head drop into the crux of your neck, his teeth nipping at your most sensitive spots, his warm breath soothing your marked skin. He can already feel the tightening in his stomach, his cock growing more and more sensitive but he’ll be damned if he comes before you do.
You’re whimpering against him, enjoying the way his hips meet your thrusts. You forget how to breathe when he slides his hand into the small gap between your bodies, rolling his thumb against your clit, slow and soft, increasing the pressure by a fraction when he feels your pussy grip him a little tighter.
“Joel, you feel so fucking good. Gonna cum.” He groans deeply and you consider for a moment that Joel enjoys you praising him. But then he thrusts up, hitting just the right spot and any thoughts are clean out of your mind.
“That’s it sweet girl, give it to me.”
His arm is secure around your waist, holding you against him as he drives his hips up into you, fucking you through your orgasm. Your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, his fingers not letting up on your clit and you’re pretty sure you may pass out if he keeps touching you so perfectly.
“Fucking hell.” You whimper when he finally lets up, your breath shallow in your lungs. Joel’s face is flushed, his eyes alive with need as he peers up at you, watching you come down from your orgasm. He’s devastatingly handsome and you’ve never seen him look so needy.
“Joel, cum inside me please want it so bad. I need it Joel.” You thread your hands through his short hair, pressing long kisses against his jaw and lips, swallowing his throaty groans.
“You’re so good to me, fuck. You gonna let me send you home to your pops full of me, huh?” He speaks against your lips, but you’re too far gone to even pay attention to his words anymore.
You’re surrounded by Joel, his scent, his skin, you’re lost in him. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, just past the point of pleasure, before you pull him into a soothing kiss. His hips stutter, and he grips your waist so tight, as though he’s scared your going to disappear, pulling you flush against him whilst he releases thick ropes of cum into your pussy.
His groan is deep and guttural and completely Joel. The kiss is slow this time, slow and sweet and a little bit filthy, his hips grinding into you once more, eliciting more needy whimpers from you.
“Fuck.” He presses his soft lips against yours. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” You reply, scratching lightly at his nape, enjoying the way he shivers against you.
“What’re you thinking?” He asks. You run your hands through his salt and pepper locks once more, just taking him in.
“You’re really pretty.” Your pride swells when his cheeks flush even further. “And… i’m so glad we didn’t take my dads car.”
He chuckles, throwing his head back, enjoying the sound of your laugh. You shift above him slightly and he winces, stilling your hips.
“C’mon let’s get you dressed. I’m pretty sure I made a promise, something along the lines of sending you home full of my cum?”
“You’ve got a filthy mouth on you, Mr Miller.” You speak against his lips as he slips out of you, and reaches for your underwear. He watches as you awkwardly manoeuvre pulling your clothes back on and climb into the passenger seat.
“I learned from the best.”
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x reader smut#the last of us#the last of us part 2#the last of us hbo#the last of us smut#dbf!joel miller#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal joel miller#pedro pascal smut
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"Sunkiller doesn't even make any sense as a duo!"
Barty Crouch Jr. Could relate to James potter more than ANYONE and you cannot convince me otherwise. Barty would know how insecure James truly was, even when most people wouldn't look past his confident facade. Barty knows what it's like for James when he's so overwhelmed by his perpetual people pleasing that he can't eat or speak or think much. Barty sees James and he doesn't care enough about his status to confront James about it. James is awfully quiet the first time Barty inquires him. He's avoidant. He's awkward and replies with a dry cough as he glanced around away from Barty.
Over time it builds. Barty asks him more and more frequently, approaching him more often at parties and socials. "How's your week been, James?"
And it spirals. James eventually breaks and can't help but begin to share with him. He tells Barty about his weeks. He rambles and he rants and he takes all of Barry's advice because Barty knows. Knows what it's like to feel so much without seemingly anyone who knows how to feel back. And this became a routine. A ritual. The one-sided conversations became a mutual exchange and the two of them gradually fell into an understanding. James could be honest with Barty. And Barty could be blunt with James. Something tucked away into the hours of the moon, on secluded balconies or amidst blaring party music and blinding lights. Away from anyone's notice. They ordered it that way. Less complicated less, important.
So it certainly came as a surprise to the lot of the Marauders when James came into the dorms gripping at his chest in choked sobs and the first words he could muster were "Barty. Get..Barty."
And be damned, they did. And he actually followed. Sirius was sure on his way to the Slytherin dorms that the whole idea was a waste. That Barty might actually laugh in their faces. But Sirius was none the wiser when Barty threw his shoes on and practically ran out the door back to the very room James sat in.
And Sirius wasn't any more than confused when Barty talked James through his panic attack. James calmed down fairly quickly, not in Bartys arms but a hand on his shoulder, easing him through his breaths.
And a month later when Barty was having one of his off days, an incredible low after one of his highest highs, that James was able to, by the grace of good, get Barty out of bed. He got Barty showered and fed and he walked him through his day. Evan felt utterly useless, but what was he to do when James potter was the only thing Barty could rely on? What was Sirius to do when James said the very same?
They know each other. They are each other.
A sun and a campfire, forever parallel, forever together. The sun wished it could be so small and secluded and the campfire that wishes it could be so bearing and apparent.
Forced apart. Sewn together.
#marauders#james potter#peter pettigrew#regulus black#remus lupin#sirius black#marauders era#james fleamont potter#the outsiders#jegulus#james x barty#barty x james#barty crouch jr#sunkiller
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If you are a Sabezra shipper who isn’t familiar with the Star Wars Legends novels, there’s a ship you should learn more about: Luke/Mara.
Think about these parallels:
Luke Skywalker gave Mara Jade his blue lightsaber because he had built himself a new green one.
Mara loved teasing Luke, using banter to hide her true feelings for him.
Luke was adorably awkward, sweet, and encouraging to her all the time.
Mara’s Force powers increased dramatically after teaming up with Luke.
They were one of the most epic battle couples in the Legends universe.
Ezra gave Sabine his green lightsaber and built himself a new blue one.
Sabine loves teasing Ezra, using banter to hide her true feelings from him.
Ezra has an adorably awkward crush on Sabine and he is always incredibly sweet and encouraging to her.
Sabine’s Force powers dramatically increased after teaming up with Ezra in Ahsoka episode 8.
Sabezra is definitely one of the most epic battle couples in the Disney SW universe.
Disney keeps copying the Star Wars EU and changing it a little thinking that we won’t notice that they cheated. 😏
In Timothy Zahn’s novel, Vision of the Future, Luke and Mara, who have been mutually pining idiots for years, join minds through the Force to fight as one in order to survive a battle against overwhelming odds. That’s when they both realize that they have been hiding their true feelings for each other for all those years. They are in love and can no longer deny it.
In the immediate aftermath of that battle, this is what happened:
I’m predicting an emotionally charged Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger reunion, more Sabezra battle couple action scenes, and a Jedi/Mandalorian wedding in my vision of their future. 😉
The Prophet of the Church of Ezrabine has spoken.
#sabine wren#ezra bridger#star wars#ahsoka series#sabezra#ezrabine#luke skywalker#mara jade#luke x mara#timothy zahn#vision of the future
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Since you're opening requests, bi han x fem reader truama bonding over their daddy issues😁
anon, why must you call me out like this?
im not saying bi-han could fix my daddy issues, i'm just saying he's very pretty & would probably make them worse. i'd still tap it.
Your relationship, if you could call it one, to your father was strained. Connection was minimal; you were left with an absence in your heart. In your upbringing, you had been brought into the Lin Kuei for being a potentially successful warrior. You were brought in relatively young, so you had mostly grown up with Bi-Han and his brothers.
But after time, the future grandmaster and you had an upspoken bond that you didn't share with others. You two never spoke much about it, but the parallel connection was there. You knew his father for a long enough time before his death to see how alike it was to your own, and the strain he put on Bi-Han. His life seemed akin to yours, specifically with how yours had molded you.
The past trauma you constantly buried down was weighing on you. So you sat alone in one of the gardens of the temple, where you knew minimal people visited. You were in your thoughts, your memories and past, and allowing yourself to wallow solemn. It was your own form of growth.
Bi-Han had been wondering the halls. His mind was rampant with alike thoughts and couldn't focus on his work. He's no better at healthily dealing with emotions, so instead of trying to manage and work through them, he decided to walk and let the thoughts drift off naturally.
He ended up passing through the gardens and saw you there, sitting on the bench. He didn't pay much mind at first, instead quickening his pace since he wanted minimal interaction in his avoidant state.
But you weren't moving. Barely blinking. You were typically a bit more on the hyperactive side. He wasn't used to such a… phlegmatic stance from you.
The more he looked, the more he saw the barely-there glaze in your eyes.
Bi-Han may not have the greatest grip on emotions but he could identify them in another person. He found himself approaching you. He eventually sat beside you, though you didn't seem to notice right away.
You didn't state anything, but he seemed to know where your thoughts were,; as if yours and his mind were intertwining. It's like he heard your unbridled emotions you never spoke to, ones he knew. It gave him a reason to sit and reflect.
As he stayed, he looked to you. He thought to the past you shared. About how much had changed, and how much older you were now. It was something he never took the time to think about, but your silence was so off-kilter that it made you seem too old. Too hurt and scarred for your age. He never would admit that he preferred your normal persona to this absent visage of you.
But mostly, he didn't want you to be like him. To become what he was, vacant and distant; the byproduct of his father's teachings. It didn't suit you.
Your eyes blinked then, like you heard his rampant thought. A gleam shone in them, even if it was faint. You moved for the first in quite some time. You met each other's eyes and there was an understanding there. As if your eyes could speak the memories that haunted you, as if they were displaying each of your younger selves that you both hid away, and still hid deep inside that stayed sheltered.
Your thoughts were between your father and life before the Lin Kuei. You had never even found solace in Bi-Han's father, either. There was a mutual estranged relationships there.
But the reciprocal bond had subjected you both to an understanding of the other. He could speak with his eyes and you could speak with yours, with no need for words. There would be no need to display emotions you both hid. The volumes your eyes spoke were parallel to each other's suffering. You were in sync to each other without having your problems being exactly the same.
You saw how Bi-Han never accepted his father's teachings. How he grew indifferent to them, and seemed outcasted by his father. It was why he wanted to break tradition, and it seemed only you had noticed that. Only you respected that. And that brought solace to him; a peace he could not find in anyone else.
You then moved closer to him, just a bit. Just until both of your arms would press against each other. It was ever subtle, but it was an evident sign of trust. Of comfort. For both you and him.
Bi-Han's eyes would follow the movement. It was a simple gesture, but it resonated within him. He was devoid to expression, but even he could be affected by such a simple gesticulation. And yours were one he could never deny. One he could feel at ease with.
It was a elusive display that you both cared for each other, just not in an expressive way.
He would stay with you then, until you felt better. Until you gained yourself again, or even just a small fragment. He didn't care how long it would take. There weren't many words to say, even less that needed to be spoken.
You stayed alone in the garden together, in each other's mutual comfort of each other and that was enough for the both of you. To be vulnerable with each other yet still maintain a front. You both saw past each other's exterior. You were one of the same.
#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat#bi han x reader#bi han#sub zero x reader#mk1#mortal kombat x reader#i hope this reads well because i started typing too much to try to be poetic but it may be a mouthful lol#my art
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@digimon02countdown Day 2 - JOGRESS/DNA-DIGIVOLUTION
It doesn't fit the prompt 100%, but the themes of relationships, bonding and compatibility are just so important to me and the potential it has for partnership evolutions will never not intrigue me. So while I was browsing through Digimon Adventure 02 to catch my favourite scenes, I noticed a very important parallel. Initially, I had just wanted to create a collage showing off the meaning of Jogress for Daiken in particular - because their bond, the development of their closeness and mutual trust, willingness to save and protect each other... All of that is very dear to my heart. And then I realized - the inherent parallel between Ken with Daisuke and Hikari with Takeru:
Both Hikari and Ken have a connection to the world of darkness, they have been drawn to it at several points in their lives - and still have to deal with the aftermath one way or another. They're haunted by it, with Hikari being stuck at the dark ocean to help repopulate the world and Ken being kidnapped by Oikawa to have his dark seed scanned and distributed to other children... And Takeru and Daisuke are 200% ride or die committed to save them respectively, supported by their own armor-evolved partner to ride on and the partner of the one they want to save, guiding and helping (and being comfy with them) as much as possible.
Takeru's connection to Hikari is what makes him get access to the other world - and Daisuke's persistence is what makes him succeed in reaching Ken.
While, at this point in time, Hikari is not able to detach herself from darkness, she knows that she's not alone and that she's got a trusted friend by her side...
... And Ken also learns that, despite everything he has done, he's being supported on his path to redemption every step of the way. Especially by the friend who simply forgot that he used to call him by his last name just a few hours ago and who will reassure him with one of the most beautiful speeches of the entire series.
Long story short - Daiken and Takari are such a wonderful display of having a support system to trust in. I wish the kids' headcanons of multiple different Jogress combinations had become true, so we may have Jogress evolution between Hikari and Takeru as well, since they are portrayed to be just as compatible as Ken and Daisuke.
#digimon02countdown#digimon adventure 02#hikari yagami#ken ichijouji#takeru takaishi#daisuke motomiya#daiken#takari#davis motomiya#kari kamiya#tk takaishi#t.k. takaishi#my two cents#meta#my edit#digimon
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