#‘I can’t relate to having a heart like that‚ Sun! With all of your wonder and your trust intact…’

[celestial-toys]

been laying here listening to Lucky by Dermot Kennedy on loop for half an hour while thinking about Everything Stays and crying

[punkpandapatrixk]

🍯New Age Money ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘When I was small, God was around and curiously granted my every wish. Now a grownup, I still believe that miracles do happen and that alone gets me up in the morning with such gladness.

And if I am enveloped by a peaceful sun filtering through the branches as I open my curtains, I am sure, everything before my eyes is a message.

When I was small, God was around and sent Love my way every day. And now, it is time I opened that precious box that’s been forgotten, kept hidden in a corner of my heart.

And if I am enveloped by the soft fragrance of cape jasmine in a garden awash by rain, I am sure, everything before my eyes is a message.’

– When I’m Surrounded by Kindness from Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)

あなたの特技！Surely everybody was born into this world carrying some precious boxes of God-given talents. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to open those boxes and monetise such talents with Soul?

SONG: Yasashisa ni Tsutsumareta nara by Matsutoya Yumi

MOVIE: Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)

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Pile 1 – ‘Harry, you’re a Witch!’

untapped divine talents – Queen of Cups

Hey, magical creature~ You literally possess mystical powers but you probably didn’t even know~! You’re a sensual being, like a siren, who has an innate ability to feel what others can’t easily perceive. Naturally, this translates into your being highly intuitive, empathetic, imaginative—and you might’ve felt like this world wasn’t made for you. Psychics are incredibly sensitive people and you could’ve felt out of place most of your Life, but as the insightful Jiddu Krishnamurti said: sensitivity is the highest form of intelligence. We’re talkin’ EQ here😘

Someone like you was definitely not built for any kind of money-making endeavour that doesn’t allow you to be sensitive to the needs of others. There’s meaning in your being emotionally attuned and imaginative; even if—for example—you feel that your calling is to become an author, even in your writing it’s clear there’s a purpose of healing those who come into contact with your Art. If you’ve chosen this as your main pile, you literally possess some innate ability to heal others and this explains why you’ve always had the urge to make the world a better place🌍

You see, back in those long-gone days, those who were called witches were really scientists, teachers and healers. The word ‘witch’ comes from ‘wicca’ which means the wise one. Wicca (male) and wicce (female) were the knowledgeable ones who sought to apply their wealth of information and perspectives for the betterment of others as that’s how knowledge becomes wisdom. There is an untapped divine talent resting in you and it is your ability to feel through your psychic senses what society is lacking in terms of its maintenance of its own sanity🎭

YOU, literally hold all the ingredients necessary for a once in a lifetime breakthrough that could potentially heal all of Mankind for centuries to come~🌻

karmic/dharmic opportunities – XIII Death

I betcha you have significant Scorpio influences or 8th House placements or a specifically strong Pluto/Neptune presence in your natal chart. It could be that shortly before you were born someone quite spiritual/religious/magickal in your bloodline had passed away and it almost feels like you were born to pick up the pieces they had left. I betcha that some of your innate interests since childhood or pursuits you feel very strongly about that may have developed later in Life were inspired by or related to that relative/ancestor, one way or another. Like you just share similar patterns of behaviour, interests or even thought processes🦜

What you can really take away from all of this is that you have a purpose higher than yourself. That you came with specific blueprints and that your whole Life, your sense of purpose or mission, all of that is a group project you share with many Souls in the Higher Realms. Only high-vibrational peeps will really resonate with this message😊And that in itself is confirmation for you to know you have many opportunities in the healing and creative industries.

Seriously, you needn’t even have to worry about how you’re gonna make money with these opportunities even if they sound out of reach at the moment. Because it is your Destiny to be a cycle breaker—to start something completely new on your own—a path will be made for you just to fulfil your Destiny. And you can wholeheartedly trust in that to save yourself from excessive worry/anxiety🍷

the future of jobs – 5 of Pentacles

In the industry you’re meant to be part of, there will be a lot of chaos right before you make your debut. Like things are just falling apart and many of the players aren’t even sure what they’re there for anymore. There’s a lot of disillusionment that’s needing to be felt to the max until a breakthrough can really have any meaning. Either that, or some of you could be the one creating more chaos in the industry as you enter it LMAO We call you an industry disruptor, alright? You’re that breath of oxygen everybody was needing because they had been suffocating themselves with their own stupidity🍭

If you’ve resonated with this pile thus far, know that you’re meant to bring some healing—even enlightenment to some extent—to whichever industry you feel a calling to. And this is totally not a one-man’s show; you will be meeting a lot of kindred spirits in that industry and others associated with it. You’re meant to have an audience and serve a greater spiritual purpose for all involved. Bring back all those people into OG spirituality. All of this for what? For people’s mental health, obvi~💕

How does every one of these people expect themselves to be truly happy and abundant when their viewpoints are marred by childhood traumas and the excessive need for revenge? You of all people understand the innate darkness of the human psychology and the future of jobs within the industry of your calling is dependent on its people transcending above trauma and lack mentality so that a new, healthier paradigm can be established. Out with addictive behaviours; out with destructive habits; in with purer intents~ That’s the kind of New World you’re meant to be a part of to earn your keep in the most high-vibrational way👒

CURRENTS OF CHI (currency)🔻💛

being of service to Mankind – Gold Physician (Hippocrates)

delights of Life – Priestess of Contemplation

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Pile 2 – Paths Least Travelled Lead to the Greatest Stories

untapped divine talents – 9 of Cups

You…need to go and carve out a LYFE of your own, honey. Since you were quite young, you’ve always had this desire to go explore strange territories and come back to share grand stories only you could tell. A unique Life of your own that sets you apart from your family/community. Try to check what numerology has to say about, for example, your Life Path, Soul Urge, Expression and all that; there may be something there that validates this desire to be unique, to be different, to be a fucking unicorn, and perhaps, to be the FIRST to discover or invent something🦄

You have what it takes to thrive alone, that much I can assure you. Some of you probably even have Jupiter in Pisces/12th House or Neptune/Uranus in 9th House. Whatever it is, your Soul does intend for you to travel paths least travelled and discover magical things only you could have access to. What is this strange narrative for? For discovering your Soul’s heritage. I know it sounds weird. But you’ve come from very distinct bloodlines and I sense many of you have a strong affinity towards the faery realm? There’s a lot of historical truths to uncover as you walk the lonely path of the eccentric hermit🏞

The New Age of Aquarius is changing the way we receive truths. It’s such a glad thing that people are now more open to seeing things for what they truly are no matter how politically ‘incorrect’ or heartbreaking the truths are. Your untapped divine talents will naturally bring you towards avenues where you will arise as some kind of a whistleblower or you will be unearthing ancient esoteric wisdom and sharing it with the public. Your life path is definitely very exciting and will take you to wonderful places and meeting the most unique people in the world!⛵️

karmic/dharmic opportunities – 7 of Wands Rx

In many regards, your life path could even lead you to meeting some of the world’s most distinguished individuals OMO But the path is understandably not easy. This kind of calling will require a great deal of character and tenacity. You will be rocking the yachts of the Devil, right? Your Life Stories could get extra absurd and your discoveries might lead you to some dangerous encounters. Nevertheless, if you are nudged by a sense of being of service to Truth, you will decide it’s all worth it. When we die, our Souls carry only stories and memories of our heroism anyway🧬

You will have friends though. People who share your passion for the real re-education of the people. I see professions in journalism, philosophy, psychology, anthropology, criminology, even celebrity exposé stuff that reveal the scammy behaviours of the evil rich and famous. You could also be drawn intuitively to the studies of the REAL history of Planet Earth, her extraterrestrial history and the truths of the lost civilisations that have shaped the wars of our Time. You could secretly (or not so secretly) be part of the disclosure movement😉

The studies of Astronomy and Astrotheology will benefit you a great deal if you’ve resonated this far with this being your main pile. In everything that you do, there is a panacea for the brokenness of Humanity. Your sharing of outlandish discoveries and suppressed information could be what Humanity needs for it to mature and choose global peace and harmony. It will be a lifelong effort that may not end with your lifetime though. So make sure you leave enough material as your legacy for the next generations to continue on🍁

the future of jobs – King of Cups

I suppose it’s pretty clear to many of us now that the world is run by psychopaths. Indecent human beings with terrible hobbies that hurt others and the sheer disregard for the sustainability of the Planet and the livelihood of her inhabitants. With you, you will see for yourself pretty soon that the world is choosing to move to a more compassionate space, and you will have a role in giving a voice to those whose intentions for their societies are more honourable. You could be one to contribute an invention or two yourself; perhaps an exposé book, perhaps a channel, a website~ Idk, what do you feel called to?🎪

In the future you will be part of, you will see evil leaders getting replaced, thwarted even, by compassionate leaders of the New Age Money. Down to anarchy; we want real peace. Down to young psychopaths rebelling against old psychopaths only to start a new cycle of abuse. The future you will be seeing will see that those with a genuine heart rise to the top and begin taking charge of the wheel of society. Leading with a heart. People before profit. It’s really not that difficult to sow the seeds now~🌱

You yourself, and the people who share the same passion, vision and mission as yourself, you are a bunch of experts who will glue together different factions of society who want to work hand-in-hand to remedy all the destruction caused by the powerful psychopaths. There is diplomacy in what you share with the rest of the populace and there is kindness and grace. People’s mental wellbeing will be put at the forefront before profits are made. And if we really did go into a WWIII…

CURRENTS OF CHI (currency)🔻💜

being of service to Mankind – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

delights of Life – Priestess of Solitude

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Pile 3 – For You, It’s Never, Ever, Been About the Money

untapped divine talents – Queen of Pentacles Rx

Of all the piles, you’ve always resonated with loving being of service to the world since you were tiny. You could’ve been attracted to the service and hospitality industries since you were quite young, too. You were probably quite social when you were a kid and liked the idea of working jobs that would ensure other people have a good time, have a good experience with excellent customer service—basically, you liked the idea of helping/assisting others. If you could make your own choices, you’d rather have these types of job🩹

Unfortunately, growing up you were told that such jobs had no money or glamour. Some of you reading this could’ve come from a wealthy background in which working to service others is seen as uncool…even low. So this could’ve caused a great deal of psychological conflict in you. What you want and what your society deems worthwhile seemed to be in conflict. But let me tell you that your heart really knows what’s intended for your highest good🦉

From a very young age, you were already able to see that this world is sick and needing a lot of help when it comes to healing and transmuting negative aenergies. Your child brain couldn’t have verbalised that but your higher intuition knew you were put on Earth to tip the scale. You didn’t want to care about money; you wanted to pursue an authentic Life where your existence could be of some use to somebody👑

karmic/dharmic opportunities – III The Empress Rx

Some of you could’ve come from a rather impoverished background. This is easy to deal with. You were born face to face with this Devil called ‘lack’. But some of you could’ve come from a wealthier background or at least you weren’t necessarily starving and your society could’ve expected a lot from you. If the latter is the case with you, at some point in Life your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides will force you to get down from the high horse of your inauthentic environment and have you experience Life from the perspective of those who haven’t got much in Life🐛

When this happens, your eyes will be opened to what truly matters in Life. That essentially, everybody in this world is sick to the bone because they’re trying to fill a hole in their hearts with weirdass purchases and hobbies. Part of your karmic reason to be born at this passage of time is to help Mankind transmute its unhealthy affinity towards excess indulgence via obtaining things that are truly fleeting. When you learn to overcome your own traumas and addictions, you help the collective conscious of Humanity transcend above that, too. This is very noble and you deserve a big bear hug just for existing in this realm~🧸

Rest assured, it is in your Soul’s blueprint that you must end up abundant yourself when all’s said and done. You’re destined to be very wealthy, from doing things that are high-vibrational and fully in alignment with what your Soul wishes for you to express as a Human being. You’re meant to set an example of what it means to do a job with Love~🎀

the future of jobs – 2 of Pentacles Rx

Many of you grew up in societies that taught you: passion doesn’t put food on the table. And you’ve observed many real examples of those who prioritise good deeds end up not having much money, indeed. And you could’ve believed that Life is about choosing between passion and duty. Bullshit. If people can’t thrive doing what they love, it’s the society that’s broken; how can there be no money to be made in those endeavours that are more exciting, more meaningful? You realise now that the System was designed to depress the common people in the pursuit of serving the Devil😰

You and your kindred spirits are the free spirits that are going to usher in an era of New Age Money where people no longer need to ruminate over sacrificing passion or freedom for a stable income. Back to before Industrial Revolution, maybe? Let’s reset the paradigm so we can recalibrate ourselves towards something more of a Solarpunk Society, or a Steampunk Society, that’s cool, too🍵

For you, it’s never ever been about the money. Career endeavours that would suit you most are whatever you feel an innate calling for. Many of your natural talents you’ve got since birth can be monetised in the service of your community, and better yet, online community. Some of you may feel a calling for being in the hospitality business, engineering, have an online presence or be a social media influencer, and some others may simply work in the aviation or F&B business, while some could want to become an eco-farmer or something. Whichever it may be, know that you have the unique power to elevate many aspects of the industry you are part of~🏹

CURRENTS OF CHI (currency)🔻💚

being of service to Mankind – Silver Astronomer (John Dee)

delights of Life – Priestess of Faith

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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[daisynik7]

Give You Blue

Chapter 8: How It Begins

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

cw: switching POVs (reader is 2nd person, Eren is third) angst, fluff, language

Word Count: ~3.5k

Previous Chapter | Epilogue

Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: The conclusion of the series Give You Blue. Author’s Note: Seriously, I cannot thank you all enough for sticking with this through the end. I wanted to write a story that was realistic, relatable, and romantic, and I hope that in the end, I accomplished that. I wasn’t sure anyone would want to read a story like this, so I’m so grateful to all of you who have. I appreciate every single one of you so so much. I’ll definitely miss this series, but I’m also relieved to be give our main characters some rest LOL. Stay tuned for the Epilogue, coming out in the next week or so! 

Eren fingers are entwined with yours, hands resting on the center console of his car, windows rolled down halfway to let the passing breeze sweep through his hair. Every so often, he’ll glance at you, smiling, sunglasses covering his eyes as he drives the familiar route towards the bridge between Paradis and Marley. The radio plays songs you’ve listened with him before, during all those little hangouts inside his room. Choruses and verses he’s demonstrated for you on his guitar, impressing you with his skills. He hums each tune happily, thumb tapping against your skin in tandem with the rhythm. 

Nearly three months ago, you were in the passenger seat, that time in Reiner’s car, driving the same road, but in the opposite direction, observing the ocean blue with tears in your eyes and a broken heart. Wondering what would happen next after losing what seemed like everything to you. Because Reiner was everything to you. Was.

Now, you see your future in a clearer light. Instead of storms or perpetual rain, you envision sunshine and bright skies, filling you with warmth that has since slipped from you since your breakup. You’re no longer lost; rather, you’re wandering to something new, something different. Something wonderful. And you can’t help imagining Eren on the other side of that, welcoming you with open arms. Still, the journey isn’t over. In fact, it’s just beginning. And before you reach your destination, there’s obstacles you need to face to make it there in one piece. 

Halfway into the drive, you realize where he’s taking you. It’s his little paradise he told you about before, the special beach he goes to for an escape. It’s my super-secret spot. You have to be really special to know about it. I’ll show you this one day. You’ll love it. Even then, several weeks ago, Eren invited you into his world, deeming you special enough to share it. He trusts you, is giving his all to you. And you wish your heart wasn’t so damaged still, so that you could give him the same. The love that he deserves.  

He pulls into a spot right off the shore, letting go of your hand to put the car in park. “We’re here,” he announces, grinning. At the trunk, he pulls out two blankets, handing you one to carry. He leads you down weathered stairs towards an alcove hidden away from the main beach. The sand is soft against your feet, sinking in with each step. The distinct melody of waves crashing on the shore is soothing to your ears. It really is paradise, especially with Eren guiding the way, turning back occasionally to flash that winning smile at you. Eventually, he settles for a spot far enough from the shore to where the water doesn’t reach, laying the blanket flat. He sits cross-legged, focused on the view in front of him. He’s at ease, the tension from his shoulders relaxing, his sunglasses reflecting the glare of the golden hour. You take your place beside him, indulging in this sight. Their last moment together in the sun before you return to reality. 

The scene is amazing, streaks of orange and pink mirrored in the shimmering blue sea. It’s too majestic to stare at directly, so you watch it rippling on the ocean surface. With the sun gradually sinking into the horizon, Eren scoots closer, nudging you. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You rest your head on his shoulder, nodding. “It is. Thank you for taking me here.”

“I know it’s not exactly the runaway you wanted, but it’s the best I could give you,” he mentions, leaning into you. 

“This is exactly what I want. To be here with you.”

The two of you sit in silence, admiring the sunset until it disappears, and the night sky takes over, like a curtain falling after the final act. You’re holding hands now, squeezing each other tight, desperate not to let go. Maybe he senses it too, the end of this tiny getaway together. 

“Eren,” you start, voice trembling. 

Before you can continue, he turns to kiss you on the forehead gently. “It’s okay. You can be honest with me. I can take it.” 

Tears stream down your cheeks, his thumbs brushing them away as he cradles your face between his palms. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle. “I’m so sorry, Eren. I wish I could give you what you want, like what you’ve given to me. But I can’t. Not right now. I need time.”

“Then I’ll wait for you,” he urges, placing delicate kisses along the corners of your eyes, collecting your tears on his lips. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

You shake your head, refusing. “I won’t let you do that. There’s a whole world out there, people without baggage, without a broken heart. They’re so much better for you than I am. It’ll be so much easier than dealing with a mess like me.”

“I don’t want easier. I want you.” 

“Why? Why me?”

He smiles softly. “Because you make me happy.”

You continue to cry, asking, “How can it be that simple? What if you get sick of me? What if I can’t make you happy anymore?” It’s what happened with Reiner. He decided one day that he was no longer in love with you, and in an instant, the life you built together disintegrated into a pile of dust. Remnants of precious memories wasted away into nothing. That’s what it felt like. What if the same happens with Eren? What if you weren’t meant to be loved at all?

He keeps holding your firmly in his grasp, a look of determination in his face. “There’s so many what if scenarios you can give me. I won’t pretend to know exactly what the future has in store for us. But all I know is that I’m the happiest when I’m with you. I’m not going to let something like this go just because I’m worried it might not work out in the end. If I’m going to take a leap of faith, it’s going to be for you.” He nuzzles his nose to yours, grinning. “And who’s to say that you won’t get sick of me?”

“I would never,” you reply, gazing at him through weepy eyes. “But I’m scared of becoming a failure again.” 

“Having your past relationship end doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Love isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about learning and growing. Realizing how capable you are to love somebody and allowing them to love you. Isn’t that such a wonderful thing?”

You watch him, awed by his wisdom. As much as you wish it could, it’s still not enough to take the fear away from your fragile heart. After a moment of silence, listening to the gentle waves splash on the shore, Eren says, “Can I tell you something?” It’s dark now, the chill from the night air prickling your bare skin. He unfolds the second blanket, wrapping it around the both of you. You nod, huddling closer, relishing the warmth he always surrounds you in. 

“I emailed my advisor. I have a meeting with him Monday morning. I’m officially going to change my major,” he announces proudly. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. No more running away. I’m not scared anymore. That’s because of you.” He faces you, eyes shining like emeralds in the pitch black of evening. “You’ve given me the strength to do this. To take control of my life and make decisions for me, and not for anyone else. With you by my side, I can do anything.”

“Eren,” you whisper, chest heavy with adoration. 

He presses his forehead to yours. “I wish I could take away the pain. Take whatever hurts you and make it disappear. You have no idea how special you are to me. So, I’ll wait for you, whenever you’re ready to share your heart with me. Until then, I’ll stay by your side, as your friend, as your RA, as a person who cares deeply about you. I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You swallow hard, tears trickling down your cheeks as you kiss him, unable to express how much he means to you, letting your lips do the talking instead. It isn’t fair to love him with a broken heart; he deserves to be loved fully by someone who isn’t afraid of it. Someone who’s healed instead of damaged, steady without stumbling at every little crack in the pavement they come across. With time, you’re determined to become that somebody for him. 

Eventually, you find the will to speak. “I won’t make you wait long. I promise.”

He laughs, snuggling closer to you under the blanket. “Pinky promise?” 

“Pinky promise.” You hook your finger around his, swaying it between you. 

Eren drives back to campus with your hand in his, brushing his thumb across your skin affectionately. You part ways outside his room, kissing each other once more before stepping down the hallway to your own room. You scroll through your phone to find Reiner’s contact, determined more than ever to settle this once and for all. No more running away.

Without hesitation, you type out your message. 

Reiner. I’m ready to talk. 

~~~

Sunday afternoon, you and Reiner agree to meet at a café on-campus, one that the two of you frequented freshman year when you were a couple. Upon your arrival, you notice that he’s already sat at a table, waiting for you, two drinks set in front of him. You sit across from him, back straight and neck tall, twiddling your thumbs at your lap where he can’t see. 

“I already ordered,” he comments, pushing the coffee cup towards you, reciting the drink name and all the specifics of how you typically like it. Proving that he hasn’t forgotten. 

You take it into your hand, tipping it into your mouth. “Thank you,” you say after swallowing your sip. 

There are a few beats of awkward silence before he starts speaking. “I’m sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that.” 

You nod in acknowledgement, fixated on the lid of your drink cup, nervous to meet his gaze. 

“I meant it, though,” he adds. “I still want to get back together.”

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “Why all of a sudden?”

He shrugs, circling the rim of his cup with his finger. “I realized how much it sucks to be alone.”

“So, by default, I’m supposed to bail you out? It doesn’t work like that, Reiner. You can’t love me only when it’s convenient for you. That’s not love. That’s selfish.” This time, you do look at him, finding the confidence in your voice. 

He doesn’t speak, facing the window, averting his eyes from yours. When he doesn’t respond, you continue. “It’s hard for anyone to be alone. Imagine how I felt when you broke up with me.”

Finally, he replies, “And you’re right. I was an idiot to do that. We should have never broken up. I didn’t know it was going to be so fucked up.” He trails off at his last statement, as if he’s just realizing it himself. 

“You weren’t in love with me anymore. It wouldn’t have been fair for either of us to stay in a relationship like that. And you were right: we relied on each other too much. So much that it hurt the most when we couldn’t anymore.”

Suddenly, he holds your hand, grasping it firmly. “Then let’s go back. It’ll be better this time. I’ll be better.” He’s desperate now; it shows in his pleading eyes and quivering speech. The tightness in his grip as he clings to you, frantic. 

You don’t pull away from him, squeezing him in return. “I don’t want to go back. I want to move forward. I can’t keep relying only on other people. I need to rely on myself, first and foremost. Stand tall and make choices because it’s what I want to do. That’s what growing up is all about, right?” 

“And you’re not scared?”

“I’m terrified. But we shouldn’t let fear prevent us from moving on and being happy. I don’t know if you and I can make each other happy anymore. I was so careful with you, to a point where I was lying to myself about being fine with the decisions you made. I guess I always felt the need to protect you. It’s been that way since we were kids. As much as we don’t want to admit it, we’re different now. Everything is different. It’ll never be like it was, no matter how hard we try to recreate it.” 

He revels at your words, a glimmer of defeat in his expression, understanding that there’s nothing else he can do to change your mind. After a minute of contemplation, he ponders, “You think that it could have worked out if I didn’t break up with you?”

You don’t answer right away, delicately formulating your reply. “Somehow, we stopped communicating. I went along with whatever you said, even when I didn’t agree. And you didn’t talk to me about the fears you were having before you broke up with me. I think we were so focused on protecting each other’s feelings that we stopped being honest to one another. I think eventually, we would realize that and break up anyways.” You take another sip of your drink before asking, “Do you think it would have worked out?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Eventually, he replies, “I guess when you put it like that, then no.”

You keep your hand in his, because this time, it’s really the last. And it doesn’t feel dirty or wrong to do it; it feels right. Like there’s finally that understanding that you’ve been racking your brain for the last three months. 

“Maybe we were better off staying friends,” he muses. 

“Maybe. But I don’t ever regret loving you, Reiner.” You used to think the same thing, convinced that crossing the line from friends to lovers was the vital mistake that doomed your relationship. With Eren’s words replaying in your head, you can’t say you believe that sentiment anymore. After all, Reiner has and will always be your first love. The person who taught you how to love and to receive love in the first place. Despite it not working out for the better, nothing will replace that. 

He returns your smile, still holding you. “Me neither. I’m sorry. For everything.”  

Silence falls between you two once again, a comfortable one this time, full of acceptance that this is truly the end for you and Reiner. Attempting to lighten the mood, you ask, “So, are you and Christa official yet?”

He looks at you confused, then realization washes over him. “Oh, Christa! Yeah, no. Turns out her and her big in Delta Delta are super close, if you know what I mean.” He smirks, relaxing in his seat. “I never stood a chance.”

You let go of him, leaning back into your chair. “Bummer. I genuinely do think she is nice.”

“Yeah. But I’d be annoyed too if my ex was pushing us to be friends.” He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “What about that Eren guy?”

You raise a brow at him. “Really? You want to talk about him?”

“Not my finest moment, I know. But I’m still curious. Is he your boyfriend now or what?”

You shake your head. “No. I told him I need time.”

Surprised, he repeats, “Time? For what?”

“To figure myself out.”

“To figure yourself out?” 

“Yeah. I don’t want to give him my shattered, fucked up heart. It’s not right.”

He continues to study you, confused. “So that’s it? You’re not even going to give him a chance?”

“He said he’ll wait for me,” you respond, belly fluttering as you recall last night on the beach. 

Reiner leans forward on the table, invested. “He’s totally in love with you. If he’s willing to wait for you, he’s in it for the long haul. He’s already fallen for every piece of you, I guarantee that.”

“It’s not fair to him, though.”

“It’s not fair to yourself. He’s not asking you for a healed heart. He wants you just the way you are. Why deprive yourself from someone who’s already willing to love you like this?”

“Because I don’t want to make the same mistakes again!”

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the surface impatiently. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and act like I’m completely cool with it. But for the first time in a long time, I’m trying not to be selfish again. Don’t let our past influence your future. You told me you want to rely more on yourself, right? Then start with this. Trust your heart. Don’t run away. Go for it.”

“I can’t believe my ex is actually giving me dating advice,” you chuckle, seriously contemplating his encouragement. 

“Consider this my parting gift to you. As your ex and as your former best friend. I want you to be happy. And if this guy makes you happy, why wait? If it means anything to you, just know I’ll be rooting for you, whatever you decide.”

You grin. “It does mean something. Thank you, Reiner.” You no longer see him as an obstacle standing in your way. Instead, he’s on the sidelines, supporting you. Rooting for you. It took three months of suffocating to surface. And now, you’re free. “Anyways, I should go. I have a lot to think about.”

He nods, remaining seated. “Yeah.”

You’re ready to walk to the exit when he calls out to you. “Coco?”

You turn to face him, heart thumping at the familiar nickname. The youthful twinkle in his eyes returns in an instant and all your childhood memories flash before you in hyperdrive, glimpses of your past life together. Laughing so hard that you’re clutching your bellies until you’re doubled over on his bed. Hidden under homemade forts built out of pillows and cushions, shining flashlights underneath your chins, creating hand puppets with shadows on the walls. Late night drives with the windows rolled all the way down, blasting music and singing at the top of your lungs as he speeds through the highway. Splitting milkshakes at the diner, blowing out candles on birthday cakes. Endless nights spent in each other’s arms, listening to his steady heartbeat. First kisses, first times, last summer and goodbyes. Three months ago, you would have done anything to go back. Now, you’re ready to move on. The final hit of nostalgia before you go. 

He smiles at you knowingly, as if he’s watching the same scenes of your lives play out in his head. “Nothing. I just wanted to say that one last time.” 

~~~

Eren is in his room, sitting on the floor, strumming the strings on his guitar randomly, not playing any particular tune. He recalls the events of last night, laying it all out on the table, confessing his feelings, revealing his vulnerabilities. He won’t pressure her to rush into this, knowing she’s still processing and healing from her trauma. Her thinking about him is enough. Until the day comes when they can both love each other fully, he’ll wait patiently. 

There’s a knock on his door. He isn’t suspecting company, so he assumes it’s one of his residents here to report a problem. When he opens it, he’s shocked to see her in front of him, staring at him nervously. 

“I told you I wouldn’t make you wait long,” she says, stepping towards him. 

His chest is heavy, fluttering incessantly, and all he can do is laugh, closing the distance between them by wrapping his arms around her. “It’s been the longest day ever, actually. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

She snuggles her face into his chest. “Me too. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, though.”

He kisses the top of her head, smiling. “Tell me.”

“I can get very insecure and very anxious, so you’ll have to deal with that.”

“Okay. I can handle that,” he answers, inhaling her scent through his nostrils, filling his lungs with as much of her essence as possible. 

“I want to talk about everything with you. I want us to be completely honest with each other all the time.”

Nodding, he responds, “I want that too. I want that too, sweetie.” He hugs her tighter, never wanting to let go.

“Also, sometimes I hog the blanket. But I don’t do it on purpose, I swear. I can’t control what my body does while I sleep.” She clings to him, peering up at him with the sweetest expression. 

He nuzzles her nose to hers, joking, “Ah, well, I don’t think this is going to work out then.”

She glares at him playfully, pouting her lips. “That’s your dealbreaker?”

“Well, I guess I can make an exception. For you,” he teases, kissing her. 

It began with an ending, and it ends with a new beginning. One journey closes, and another begins. It may not be easy, but what wonderful, magical adventure ever is? It’s the detours and bumps along the way that make it memorable, make it worthwhile. And with her by his side, and him by hers, Eren’s confident that they’ll get through anything. Together. 

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

[zzoguri]

serene (it’s what i hope for me) ➵ eric sohn

non-idol!eric sohn x reader

you should’ve known that eric wouldn’t be the one.

genre/warnings ➵ angst no happy ending, exes au, gender neutral reader, unedited, lowercase intended, shift between past and present to represent waves (hence the italics), the chilling realization of your suspicions always being right

word count ➵ 845 words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

playlist ➵ california and me by laufey // you missed my heart by phoebe bridgers

a/n ➵ on my period and in my eric feelings :’) inspired by “california and me” by laufey. please listen to it! it genuinely resembles the feeling of ocean waves, hence the constant shift between past and present :3 and no, the ocean waves pics have no relation to this fic i just love ghibli aesthetics for the banner. i hope you all like this drabble! don’t forget to reblog and leave feedback!

it’s not summer where you are, but you stand where the season lives; sand in between toes, sea meets the shore. you bask in the sunlight as you look at the expanse of blue while the breeze comes and goes.

it’s serene here, beautiful—but it’s lonely; not a single sight of another person here to appreciate where summer continues to live amidst all seasons.

“i’m sorry.” those are the words that first leave eric’s mouth once you two arrive at the han river, the first words to confirm your suspicions of tonight.

you hold your breath. “w—what?”

“i know, i—”

“did i do something wrong?” your glossy eyes shine like stars under the moonlight; you almost hope they’re enough for eric to take those words back.

“no, no!” he attempts to reassure you but they’re meaningless after what he told you. “it’s not your fault. nothing is your fault.”

seagulls flap their wings, croaking out sounds of their whereabouts, finding their flock they may have been separated from. as you hear a similar sound in the distance, you watch the flock rush off.

the ocean runs to kiss the land every time it has to go, regardless of how long the two are kept away from each other. the deep blue rushes to bathe the pale cream, reassuring they will always return.

and while the beach is heaven on earth, you grow bitter. surrounded by instances of one coming back—choosing to reunite with the other—you wonder if that’ll ever happen to you.

“i—i could call you every night, or morning! maybe i can—”

“y/n, no,” he cuts you off. “we talked about this before, remember? we can’t do long distance, we’ve always hated it.”

your lips tremble. “you don’t even want to try?”

silence settles between you two.

“i would try to make it work for us, but you wouldn’t?”

a sigh leaves him. his hand reaches to rub his temple. “but it wouldn’t be fair to us.”

your phone rings. you look at it to see your best friend calling, so you answer it, putting it against your ear.

“y/n, i have to tell you something.”

a chuckle leaves you. “i know.”

“huh? but how? he only posted that picture an hour ago,” chanhee points out. “do you still follow his instagram?”

you only hum in disagreement.

“did you check his profile again?”

as you look down at your feet that’s consumed by the sand, a sigh leaves you.

“i thought we agreed to not look at his socials anymore! do we need to talk—”

“no, chanhee,” you cut him off. “i didn’t look at any of his accounts.”

“then how do you know? you knew exactly what i was referring to. how?”

you close your eyes, letting the heat of the sun and the coolness of the breeze consume you whole. “i just know.”

you look away from eric, allowing your eyes to take in the sight of the river stream continuously flow as it reflects the luminescence of korea—city lights and stars all together.

such a beautiful sight, but such a shame that it’s been soiled by his words.

“you’re right,” you find yourself saying. “we’ve talked about it before, we could never survive in a long distance relationship.”

you look back at eric. his go-to smile and the sparks in his eyes—all vanished in one night.

“i just wish we could.”

“i know. i do, too.”

your eyes peel open, greeted by the sight of the serene once more. you wish it could stay like this—tranquil, lasting.

“i hope you’re okay,” chanhee says on the other line. “i’m sorry that this is happening.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “it’s okay, i’ll be okay.” it sounds convincing to you but not to your best friend. “i’ll call you later, okay?”

he hums for a moment. “okay, i’m here for you.”

you drop the call. you stare at your home screen for a moment until you decide to open up instagram.

you shouldn’t be doing this, especially after chanhee’s reminder, but your best friend's words have cracked the dam that held the water from pouring out.

you type his user like a password—discreetly, one you still know by heart.

in a matter of seconds, you see his profile pop up as a top suggestion. your thumb hovers over it, unsure if you should proceed or save yourself from reality. but you remember that it won’t change anything—nothing will change if you decide to look or not.

so you click on his profile, and your eyes land on the most recent post. from the preview in his profile grid, you already know that you were right. a bitter smile settles on your lips.

you shut your phone close and shove it into your pocket. your eyes land back to the ocean, glossy once more like that one night. it’s still a beautiful sight, but it’s a shame that it’s been soiled by one post.

in the same way the waves come and go, he always goes back to her.

[blossom-hwa]

Worn-Out Soles [1] | b.c

pairing: Chan x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au warnings: kidnapping, injury, death word count: 10.1k notes: — this is a retelling of the 12 dancing princesses :) inspiration taken from the original fairy tale, the Barbie movie, and the retelling by Jessica Day George, Princess of the Midnight Ball. — mc in this story has multiple sisters as befitting the original fairy tale, but they are not blood-related for inclusivity reasons. In a world where magic lies in the arts, you are a princess of Terpsichani, the kingdom whose power comes from dance. Loved by many, you care for your country deeply, though in truth your heart only belongs to the palace's royal cobbler, Chan, who holds equal affection for you in return. It's a love that could never be, you both know, though it doesn't stop you from pining. But then you go missing on the final night of your kingdom's Moonlight Festival, leaving behind nothing but the memories of a final dance. When your sister brings news of your disappearance to Chan's doorstep, there's only one thing he can do. Follow you into the depths of hell to bring you back—or die trying. Part 1 >> Part 2

To Spin a Yarn | Stray Kids Masterlist

When the soft rap of your lady in waiting sounds at the door, you barely look up before calling her in. Out of the corner of your eye, Chaeyoung curtsies in the doorway. “Your Highness.”

You continue scribbling at the papers strewn around your desk. “Yes?”

“The royal cobbler has arrived.”

The pen in your hand stops midair.

Slowly, slowly, so as to keep the smile twitching on your lips from taking up your entire face, you raise your head to see Chaeyoung standing in the doorway. “Have my sisters been informed?”

Her eyes glint with mischief and the knowledge that you haven’t managed to fool her at all. “Of course.”

“Well.” You stand up, placing the pen carefully down. Steadfastly ignoring Chaeyoung’s grin, you step around the desk. “I suppose we will all just have to go and meet him, then.”

. . . . .

Yuna’s sharp squeal hits Chan’s ears even before he steps foot into the pavilion, which is all the warning he needs before five princesses accost him at the entrance, bouncing on their toes. “Chan!”

“Hello, Your Highnesses,” he laughs, maneuvering his heavy box around them. “What makes you so excited today?”

“Did you bring our shoes?” Ryujin asks eagerly. 

Chan frowns, but not before letting them see the glint in his eye. “Was I supposed to bring shoes, now?”

Amidst the chorus of whines from the youngest and giggles from the older girls, one voice joins the fray. “Well, my sisters would be dearly disappointed if you hadn’t.”

Chan’s heart skips a beat in his chest as he turns around to meet your smile. You stand in the pavilion’s entrance from where he just came, the flower-wreathed arch framing your image perfectly under the sun shining bright in the sky. 

A sharp elbow jabs him from behind. “Say something,” Jisung hisses. “You’re staring.”

Chan can feel his ears going red. “Would you be disappointed too, Your Highness?” he asks, making a mental note to flick his apprentice’s forehead later. 

“I believe I would.” You step forward with that warm smile still on your face, and for not the first time in his life, Chan wonders what good he must have done in a past life to deserve standing in your presence like this, a sunflower forever basking under the light of your grin. “You know we all look forward to your shoes, Chan.”

Chaeyoung, your lady in waiting, mutters something under her breath. Chan doesn’t quite hear it, but from the giggles of your sisters and the glare you flash at her, it can’t have been anything good. 

Chan’s ears must be flaming by now. Putting down the box, he musters his most natural smile. “Well, good thing I won’t have to disappoint any of you,” he says, undoing the latch. “Come closer, Your Highnesses—I hope you are pleased with these.”

Oohs and aahs and squeals of excitement slowly begin to fill the pavilion as Chan and his apprentices begin to hand out the shoes. It’s with no small pride that he takes in the cries of delight from each of the princesses—with each pair made of the finest quality material, hand stitched and sewed with sparkling thread in intricate designs, there is a reason Chan trusts very few people to help with his handiwork. He grins as the five young princesses begin to spin around the pavilion, joyous grace evident in every one of their movements…

You step forward shyly, and Chan snaps back to earth. “Anything for me?” you ask. 

“Are you kidding?” Jisung snorts before Chan has the chance to respond. “He spent days on yours!”

“By all the stars—I spend days on all of them,” Chan hisses, praying his hair covers his ears. 

“You don’t usually spend two entire weeks trying to get each design right, though.”

Chan stares at his second freckled apprentice, who only stares back with an innocent expression. Jisung he can understand being a pain in the neck, but Felix?

Your shy laugh sounds like bells. “Am I that demanding a customer?”

“Oh—oh, stars, no.” Chan swallows hard, ducking into the box for the last pair of shoes. “I just—” he holds out the box and tries not to react when your fingers brush his as you take it, eyes focused intently on his face—“I just wanted to make them… right.”

Right? Right? Seriously, that was the only word you could come up with?

You start to untie the box, completely oblivious to Chan’s inner imminent mental breakdown. Slowly, too slowly, you lift the shoes from their cushioned spot inside, Chaeyoung taking the box from your hands. For a moment, you don’t react. 

Chan starts to lose it. 

You don’t like them. You hate them. The design isn’t what you wanted, there are flaws in the fabric, something is terribly wrong with the shoes despite all the time he spent on them—he’s messed it up this time like he always feared, seriouslymessed up—

Your eyes meet his once more, sparkling brighter than the sun and the stars. “I—Chan.” You step forward, holding the shoes to your heart. “Chan, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

Chan’s knees nearly give out right then and there. Thank all the stars.

“You’re—I—” You look down at the shoes and back at him, as though you’ve lost your own words. Chan’s heart soars with the shine in your expression. “You do this every time,” you say, almost laughing. “Words can’t describe how much talent you possess, how hard you must have worked for this. These are truly…a work of art.”

He swallows down the overwhelming smile itching to reveal itself on his face, forces it into something smaller, more manageable, and infinitely less manic than it would have been. “I’m glad you like them, Your Highness.”

“Chan! Chan!” Ryujin and Chaeryeong come running up, Yeji following behind with a half annoyed, half apologetic glance that she flashes at you. Chan watches as you turn to them, smiling first at Yeji with something in your eyes that immediately wipes the worry and annoyance from your sister’s face, then at the younger girls clamoring for your attention. “Play us music, please! Like you did before!”

You shoot an apologetic look at him. “Girls, don’t demand things from Chan,” you admonish before turning back. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. It would be my honor.” He smiles at the young princesses. “Give me a moment to tune, yes?”

The two of them cheer before skipping away, Yeji corralling them towards the center of the pavilion. You look at him, expression soft. “You really don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” Chan says, pulling out his small flute. “But I enjoy it, and I have some time before my next appointment.” You still don’t look convinced, so he speaks again. “Truly, Your Highness. Your sisters are adorable. I like playing my flute, and I like watching you all dance. It’s a pleasure.”

Finally, you relent. “All right then, Chan. Although—” You stop for a moment, then seem to set your jaw with determination. “May I ask, will you be at the festival?”

Chan blinks. The Moonlight Festival, only the most important festival of the year, the festival that sees the most foreign royalty and dignitaries traveling to your kingdom to partake in the celebrations? “…Yes, I suppose I will.”

“Right.” Your lips curl in light embarrassment. “I…if you happen to be by the palace that night…” 

Behind you, Chaeyoung looks extremely amused. So do Jisung and Felix. 

That does not bode well for either Chan or you. 

“I know the chances are not large, but if we see each other…” You swallow hard, but your eyes don’t stray from his even as your younger sisters run up to try and drag your attention away. “Only if you can, since I’m sure you’ll be quite in demand, please save a dance for me.”

Ryujin and Chaeryeong pull you off, then, eagerly shouting for you to put on your shoes and spin with them in a dance. And as Chan watches you laugh with them, beginning to whirl across the pavilion with graceful steps as light as air, joy spilling from your fingertips into the flowers and grasses and leaves…

All he can think of is his answer, which is of course. 

. . . . .

“…Your Highness?”

You jerk up with a start. Immediately you tear your eyes from the magnificent pair of shoes sitting by your doorway, but it's too late. When you turn your head, Chaeyoung’s face is staring right into yours.

“Stars, Chaeyoung!” You jump again. “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that, Your Highness.” She pulls back, one eyebrow raised in an arch. “You’ve been zoned out for the past five minutes.”

It’s the shoes. It’s the damn shoes. You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. Why must Chan’s handiwork distract you so much? Can’t he make them a little less ogle-worthy, less intricate and delicate and graceful and just—a type of beautiful that words can’t describe—

“Are you sure it’s just the shoes you like?” Chaeyoung asks, the other eyebrow rising to join the first. You don’t even need to lift your face to see the smirk on her lips, you can hear it just fine. “Or perhaps the cobbler who made them?”

“Stop it,” you mutter, dragging yourself up once more. You can’t resist the urge to let your gaze wander over the shoes again, though, imagining the care and devotion that must have gone into every stitch, every design. It almost pains you to think about dancing in them, dirtying the silk and ruining Chan’s handiwork as you wear them out. 

Chan. You just manage to catch yourself before you sigh. His face dances before you in your memories, his bashful smile, his dark hair that always seems to be ruffled by the wind, his sweet eyes crinkling as he laughs. He’s lovely—beautiful—and you can’t fight the heat crawling up your cheeks whenever his strong, calloused fingers brush yours every time he hands you his latest masterpiece. 

He’s beautiful, to be sure. Handsome in the most attractive way to you. But far more attractive is the love he brings to everything and everyone he touches, as though every person he meets couldn’t help but fall in love with his soft kindness, his quiet joy, his gentle earnestness that comes with everything he does. You see it in every delicate golden stitch on the white satin slippers he made you for the upcoming festival. You see it in every seam he sews on all of the other slippers he’s made for your sisters. You feel it in every scant touch you share, see it in his eyes whenever you manage to meet his gaze. 

Stars above, all you can think of is the dance you might share with him on the final night of the festival. If you see him, and if he sees you. 

With a sigh, you finally look back at your lady in waiting, apologies already on your lips. “I’m sorry, Chaeyoung. I must seem a mess.”

“You kind of do.” Chaeyoung’s blunt tone lifts the corners of your lips. “But it’s the festival. The preparations always drive everyone mad. And combined with your little star-crossed romance—” she easily dodges the swipe of your hand, giggling all the way—“I’m sure you’re very overwhelmed.”

The word stop finds its way onto your tongue once more, but you don’t let it fall because it would be useless. And besides, Chaeyoung’s right—you are overwhelmed. You love the Moonlight Festival, really you do, but being one of those in charge of organizing the largest event of the kingdom every year makes you want to scream to the heavens sometimes. 

Maybe you should try that. It sounds like it would relieve some stress.

“Well.” You look down at the piece of paper you were scribbling on before Chan’s craft distracted you (as well as thoughts of his dark hair and smiling eyes as he handed you the shoes). “At least the guest list is finalized. I think.”

“Oh?” Chaeyoung cocks her head. “Who’s coming?”

“An assortment of foreign royals—Joshua and his entourage will be here, thank the stars—and some of the ambassadors whom we sent overseas will return for the occasion.” You flip through a few more sheets. “Of course we also had to account for all the nobility who will be staying at or near the palace during the week.”

“Are Jun and Jeongyeon coming back?”

A real smile spreads across your face at the mention of two of your best friends. “Yes, they are,” you say. “With Minghao and Sana.”

Chaeyoung grins. “It will be wonderful to see them.”

“Surely it will.” You heave yourself up from behind the desk, clutching the sheaf of papers in hand. “Come with me to drop these off with my father?”

. . .

The king’s quarters are in the wing completely opposite from yours and your sisters’. You have no actual idea why this is the case, but you like to joke deprecatingly to Chaeyoung (when no one else is around) that it’s because he has no intention of seeing any of you more than he must. Which is a fair assumption, in your opinion. He doesn’t even show up to dinner these days, just takes his meal with his advisors or foreign dignitaries alone. Unless he decides he also needs you. 

The guards part ways upon your entrance into the west wing, bowing respectfully as you pass. You give them a brief nod before stopping in front of your father’s door, knocking twice on the wood. 

“Who is it?”

“Y/N.”

“Come in.”

Any trace of your previous smiles falls away as you step into the cold room. Your father hardly looks up from his desk even as you approach. “What is it?”

“I have the finalized guest list, as well as the other preparation details you asked for today.” You place the papers in front of him. “That is all. Please let me know if there are any issues.”

All you get is a hum in response. 

Only years of having dealt with this behavior keep you from doing much more than press your lips into a thin, thin line. “I will be off, then.”

You’re opening the door when he speaks again. “Y/N.”

There’s enough time to exchange one bemused glance with Chaeyoung before you turn around. “Yes, Father?”

He’s actually looking at you this time. In his eyes swims some sort of emotion—if you didn’t know better you’d say it was something like regret or worry, but why would he feel anything like that?—as he scrutinizes your face. His throat bobs as though he swallowed something. As though he has something he wants to say, but can’t. Or won’t. 

“Father?”

All the emotion falls off his face as soon as the word hits the air. “Don’t forget that you will take dinner with me tonight,” he says, eyes dropping back to the papers on his desk. “The convoy from Ourania will have arrived by then.”

You frown. Since when have you ever forgotten an appointment and needed him to remind you? There was no reason for him to have said that, none at all. In fact, you almost feel offended, but then you look at him again.

A bobbing throat. A surreptitious swallow. 

Maybe he did really have something to say, but decided against it at the last minute. 

Whatever. You shake off the lingering discomfort. If what he wanted to say was truly important, he would have spoken. Your king may be an absent father, but he doesn’t generally shirk his duties. “Yes, Father,” you say, then shut the door behind you. 

. . . . .

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s moping, Lix.” 

“Well, he should stop.”

“I am not moping,” Chan says loudly as he dumps scraps of leather into a pile in the far back of the shop.

A beat of silence follows. Then Jisung snorts. “That’s exactly what someone who’s moping would say.”

“Or, it could be that I’m not moping, and you’re misunderstanding things completely.” Chan turns to his two apprentices, both staring owl-eyed at him and his probably very red ears. “Did neither of you hear me ask if one of you could go out and get something for us to start dinner?”

Jisung’s shit-eating grin turns sheepish. “I forgot.”

Chan tries to hide an exasperated smile with a sigh. “It’s fine, just go now.”

Without missing a beat, Jisung grabs Felix, and with a shouted farewell, the two of them go crashing out the door. 

Chan returns to cleaning the mess in his workshop, putting away tools, tossing leather scraps into the scrap bag as they emerge from corners he didn’t even know existed. He is not moping. If anything, he’s—daydreaming. Of something. Moping implies that he is upset. He is anything but. 

“If we see each other…please save a dance for me.”

He snorts a little. As if the answer would be anything but yes. Which you probably know, because over the years he’s learned that despite his attempts to hide his affections he is still extremely obvious. And if Jisung and Felix are to be believed—which, unfortunately, they often are, because even if they’re loud and obnoxious and love to tease him at any point in time, they’re very observant and usually right—

You hold a similar affection for him, too. 

The knowledge doesn’t do much, though. Because for all Chan loves you and prays that his love is returned, it wouldn’t matter if it was. In fact, it might even be for the worse. You are a princess and he is but a cobbler, a commoner without magic, which means he could never be yours. If this were one-sided, at least you might still have a chance at happiness elsewhere. But if you truly do love him back…

Chan swallows down a wave of guilt. It’s not his fault, he knows logically. He doesn’t control your feelings any more than he controls his. But in moments like this, he wishes more than anything that things could be different. That he might have magic, that he might have been born a noble, that he might have even the tiniest of chances with you. 

Hm. Maybe he is moping. Chan sighs. He should stop. He should focus on something better—namely the fact that he might finally have the chance to dance with you in just a couple of weeks. A smile begins to lift his lips at the thought as he exits the workroom to wait for his apprentices to return.

As if on cue, the door opens with a loud bang. Two pairs of feet tramp indoors, and then there’s the sound of something thumping onto the table. 

It’s suspiciously quiet. Especially for his loudmouth apprentices.

Someone shushes the other. Probably Jisung hushing Felix. Silence ensues. 

“…Is he still moping?”

“Obviously, Lix.”

Chan sighs. 

. . . . .

The week before the festival brings with it flowers, paintings, gifts from envoys from countries near and far, foreign royalty settling into the palace with their entourage or sending ambassadors if, for some terrible reason, they can’t make it this year. Two days before the full moon, you’re pretty sure you haven’t sat down in over twelve hours—you ate your lunch standing in a corner of the kitchen, and only because Yeji dragged you there under threat of knocking you out for several hours so you could take a break. 

Beloved sister, even if not by blood. Also a royal (literally) pain in your behind sometimes. But a needed one.

The palace bustles with controlled chaos, servants in your country’s colors and those of so many foreign lands mingling in the halls as they scurry from room to room carrying linens and luggage and trays of food. They’ve nearly crashed into you more than once, but who can fault them for trying to do their job? It’s all you’re trying to do, too. 

(“Chaeyoung, tell me something that will get me through this,” you ask on the third day of this mess, head in your hands as you squat on the floor.

“Well, Your Highness, on the final night of the festival I believe your beloved cobbler may save you a dance.”

She dodges the swipe of your hand with a cackle, but despite what you would have your lady in waiting believe, her words do lift the burden on your heart and make it a little easier to smile.)

Finally, the week before the full moon arrives. You stand with your father in the throne room, looking out into a sea of seated royalty all gazing back, solemn excitement dancing in their eyes.

This is what you’ve been waiting for. What you’ve been planning this festival for—the celebration of the full moon, yes, but also the hum of excitement in this room, what your very country is so known for. Pride swells in your chest and you stand taller on the dais, smoothing the folds of your ceremonial robes—glowing white, accented with curves of darkness for the still not quite full moon. As each day passes, the darkness will fade from your clothes until you and most of the other festivalgoers are clothed only in white, to honor the moon and the night.

Your father finishes his little speech to a smattering of applause through the room. He turns to you and nods curtly. 

Dipping your head in reply, you step to the center of the stage, bowing to the audience. “As my father, king of our land and holder of our magic, just said, I first welcome you to our kingdom once more.” Another polite round of applause. Smiling, you begin to relax, letting your mouth move in the words of welcome you’ve practiced so many times that you could say them in your sleep. 

That is, until the throne room door opens with an ominous creak, cutting you off mid-sentence. 

Confusion rustles through the crowd as people turn their heads to see who dared interrupt such a time-honored tradition. You yourself let your words fade from your lips, eyes narrowing towards the door in time to catch a glimpse of bright, fiery red.

The emblem takes you a moment to place at first. It looks familiar but not in the same way of so many other royal insignias, in the way that you’ve seen it emblazoned on the clothing and jewelry of real, breathing, living people. You have only ever seen this emblem, fire curling around a spiked rose dripping blood, in textbooks. Because this emblem belongs to a kingdom only ever described to you as having risen from the depths of hell itself. Born of death and flames and blood, nothing the pure magic of your land would ever dare to touch—

“His Majesty, the king of Kereseia.” 

Your butler bows low, but even from here you can see that he’s trembling. Your eyebrows furrow further—you have questions, many of which will no doubt be directed at him later when this is over and you have a chance to try and figure out just what in the world is happening—but then—

The king himself steps through the doors, flanked by an armored entourage.

Red and black drape his body, gold hung in chains around his shoulders and chest. A crown of blackest metal rests on his forehead, studded with glowing rubies and amethysts, and a matching necklace hangs around his neck. He’s handsome—ridiculously handsome, as though he were carved from stone by the finest sculptors the land of Apollon had to offer—but the haughty curve of his lips sends walls thrusting up around your heart, hardening your mind to his beauty. 

He stalks up through the center aisle, coming to a stop level with the first row of seats. His boots click together on the hard floor, a sound that echoes through the now-silent hall. 

One dangerously curved eyebrow raises, and a vision comes to you of a curved blade sparkling under the moon, arcing down in a silver flash before it buries itself in someone’s flesh. 

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” That haughty smile plays cruelly on his lips, sending a shudder up your spine. “I trust you know why I am here.”

Your eyes turn to your father. Outwardly, he doesn’t look as though anything has gone amiss. His fingers, however, clench the arms of his throne with such force they’ve turned almost as pale as the marble itself. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

“No? Then perhaps I must jog your memory.” The smile disappears, revealing eyes cold as ice despite the fire burning within them. Those sitting the nearest to the king flinch. You gulp, despite yourself. “I believe I was promised an invitation to your famed festival.”

Your father’s jaw twitches. 

“Imagine my surprise as these past months came and went, with not a word from Your Majesty’s hand.” The prince’s theatrical sigh echoes throughout the room. “I thought it only fair, then, that I come to receive an explanation of this misunderstanding.” He tilts his head, revealing a jawline as sharp as the imaginary blade still curving in your mind. “One does know, of course, that a promise made to a Kereseian will never be broken.”

You look straight at your father, the king, who sits wordless on his throne. Why isn’t he saying anything? 

Are these claims true? you demand through your eyes. Why did you make the promise? Why didn’t you honor it?

What in the world is going on?

Silence stretches in the throne room, echoing off the stone walls and floors. With every second that passes, your fingers clench more tightly in your skirts, itching to say something, anything to rectify this mess even as your heart pounds in fear, but words won’t come to your lips because your mind is still spinning as it tries to understand the prince’s words and the implications they have on your family—

Your father’s voice cuts through the silence. “I am well aware of this.”

Your own eyes widen in shock as gasps fill the room, but he continues. “There must have been a mistake when the invitations were sent.”

The second dangerous eyebrow rises, fire burning sinister in dark eyes. “A mistake.”

For a moment, you really think that fire might come to life and burn this entire room to the ground. 

Your father’s eyes don’t waver. “Yes.”

Everyone’s eyes are riveted on the two men, one high on the throne, one standing tall below. Neither of them looks like they will give in anytime soon. 

Which means you might all be dead in a matter of minutes, if what you’ve read of Kereseia is true.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest as the eyes of the hall come to rest on you, including those of your father and the bloodred king. Surprisingly, your voice doesn’t shake. “Allow me to clarify one thing. It is true, then, that the king had been promised a place in our celebration, and that therefore he should be allowed to participate in our festivities tomorrow.”

The entire hall seems to hold its breath as they await your father’s reply. You’re not sure whether you want him to say yes or no.

“Yes.”

Gods and stars above. 

You swallow hard amidst the gasps and whispers, turning back to the king. “Then I must apologize, Your Majesty,” you say as steadily as your thudding heart will allow—anger or fear, which is it? Perhaps some of both. “I was in charge of the festival’s guest list and many of its preparations, and yet I was never made aware of this…promise. I can only suppose that as your family has not…graced ours with your presence in many years, the knowledge of this promise was perhaps misplaced or miscommunicated. For that, I do apologize, and take full responsibility.”

The Kereseian king holds your gaze for one, two, three long seconds. You swallow hard, refusing to look away, but you can feel yourself trembling all over. 

Then that deadly, knife-blade smile begins to curve his lips once more, and you have the sudden feeling that you have just made a very, very grave mistake. 

“…No,” he finally says slowly, eyes traveling over every inch of your face. “No, you would not have been made aware.” 

Even though there is still a healthy distance between you two, the oil in his voice, the deadly beauty of his face, the lascivious sweep of his gaze makes you want to take a step back. As though instead of just looking at you with his own eyes, he’d…licked you, or something, instead. 

And beyond that—what does he mean? That you wouldn’t have been made aware? Of course you didn’t realize he was coming—your kingdom has never invited his, as far as you know—and your father never said anything, but his words imply that someone knew and should have told you but that he knew they never would—

A bobbing throat. A surreptitious swallow. 

You picture your father behind his desk, that moment of strange emotion you saw in the thin press of his lips to each other. Something he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, perhaps. But something he never did. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at your father. His king’s crown stands high and haughty on his head, his hands placed on the golden armrests of his throne, but the skin of his face has drawn tight around his skull, fingers gripping his seat with undue force. You recall the readiness with which he gave his assent to the prince’s demands, the slightest shake in his voice that only a few of you could have heard. As though he knew the prince’s words had been spoken true. 

What deal did he make with the kingdom of hell that could have resulted in this?

“Accommodations for you and your entourage will be prepared as soon as possible, Your Majesty.” You try for a smile. “Until then, please feel free to partake in the evening’s activities. I’m sure you will find something to make your journey worthwhile.”

The prince’s handsome smile curls white, sharp. Like a curved dagger’s blade held up to the light, right before it plunges into your eye. 

“Yes.” He seems to lean in closer, that knife-blade grin never once faltering from his lips. “I’m sure that I will.”

. . . . .

Year after year, the Moonlight Festival has never failed to bring joy to Chan’s life. When he was young and his parents were alive, they always took him to the night markets, bought him all the sweets their money could spare, and danced with him in the crowded streets, their three giggles echoing off the laughs of everyone else around them. The royal family has never spared expense on these annual celebrations, meant to honor the entity from which Terpsichore, the kingdom’s patron deity, draws her power. All of the most famous dancers in the kingdom swear up and down that they dance better under the full moon, and as Chan laughs and spins from one person to another, joining hands with a woman and her husband before whirling off to yet another joyous stranger, he agrees. The nearly-full moon above glows pale and bright in the dark night sky, lending energy to all those who celebrate on the earth below. 

Yet this year, the celebrations are dampened. By no fault of the royal family, of course—even if Chan didn’t know you were the one behind almost all of the planning for this festival, he could say beyond a doubt that this year’s festivities were fantastic, maybe even more dramatic than last year’s. But whispers permeate the dancing, rumors of a kingdom long cut off that has come to Terpsichani for the first time in decades, maybe even centuries. 

Kereseia. 

Chan doesn’t like to speak ill of anyone, but his parents told him tales of the Kereseians as a child to scare him into behaving. All children are told the same stories, of fire curling around thorny roses and a kingdom eager to kill.

And now they aren’t just stories. The kingdom is actually here, in Chan’s homeland of Terpsichani, allegedly by invitation of the current king. 

They haven’t made an appearance in his area, not yet at least. Chan doesn’t expect that they will. He more or less expects them to be like some of the haughtier royalty from other kingdoms, rarely straying from the immediate vicinity of the palace—and for that he is thankful. He’s not sure he wants to come face to face with any member of that entourage.  

Though anxiety twists his stomach every time he thinks of you near them, being forced to entertain them throughout this weeklong stay. 

It’s not as though he could do much about it, though. He’s just a cobbler in love with a princess, and no matter how he may fancy himself an acquaintance of your family, a friend if he’s being generous, his shoemaking privileges extend about as far as conversation with you. Which is privilege enough. He won’t be greedy. But thinking about you in that palace, being forced to speak with the Kereseian king himself…

Maybe the Kereseians are nicer than he gives them credit for. Chan doesn’t know. But though he hopes that’s true, something tells him that it's probably not. 

Whispers still seem to permeate the excitement of the crowds as Chan fights his way to the palace on the final night of the celebrations, though nothing can fully mute his eagerness when he finally muscles his way as close as he can get to the stage. An enclosed area meant for nobility and visiting royalty blocks his full view of the stage, but no matter. The moon will be full tonight, shining from above to illuminate the loveliest spectacle of the entire festival—the Terpsichorean dance. 

Named for the goddess of dance, Terpsichore herself, it is the ultimate homage to the moon. Chan knows the dance itself varies by region, but all serve the same purpose and bring the same honor. And of course, in the capital city itself, who would perform the dance but the daughters of the royal family themselves?

Chan just manages to keep himself from blushing. He watched you dance last year and the two years before wearing white and gold slippers he’d crafted himself, and it had only made him fall even more in love with you. Perhaps it’s shallow, but Chan finds it hard to believe anyone in the crowd could feel anything else if they’d seen you spinning about so gracefully in your white robes edged with gold, a dancing ray of the moon herself. 

More and more people crowd in as the sun sets further, until the front of the palace is packed with spectators and the sun only just peeks over the horizon. For all the teasing he had to endure from his apprentices when he left early, Chan feels endlessly grateful that he was able to secure a spot near the stage. 

Familiar melodies begin to filter in from the musicians around the stage. The crowd begins to settle, eager whispers turning into cheers as the introduction begins for your piece. By the time the musicians have finished, the crowd is cheering and the sun has finally set, the full, pale moon beginning to hover in the sky. 

The music pauses. Changes. Everyone falls silent and Chan finds himself holding his breath as he waits for what he knows will come next—

Your lovely figure draped head to toe in white silk edged in gold that just catches the moonlight, a ray of the moon sent specially to bless the kingdom now. 

Chan’s breath lodges in his throat. His chest aches. You’re always lovely, always so lovely, but as you begin to dance, he wonders if the word lovely even begins to capture the mystery, the beauty of your existence. No, not a single word could. But that is what his kingdom’s art is for—dance. A way to express what words cannot. 

Just as your performance does now. 

It’s no ordinary dance, the way you flit through the air. No. Throughout the kingdom there are those blessed by the goddess herself with magical abilities that come with dancing talent—painting memories through the air through a well-placed movement, calling on rain or sun to bathe the earth. Chan himself has no magic though he loves to dance, but his mother was blessed with the ability to recreate memories through her movement. 

But those of the noble and royal lines may be blessed with a different ability, one that marks their special honor by the goddess Terpischore herself. They can weave emotion as they dance.

Just as you do now. 

The crowd gasps, sighs, cries as one as you whirl across the stage, painting sorrow, joy, hope—all emotions Terpsichore felt through her journey to godhood, to patronage of this kingdom, to her ultimate tie to the moon. For all Chan watches, almost refusing to blink for fear of missing a single moment, he knows he could never hope to describe the sight before him, for words could never capture the beauty of your movement. 

The song ends. You flutter your way to the front of the stage amidst cheers and shouts for an encore, and you bow once, twice, five more times before the crowd quiets enough for you to disappear behind the stage, leaving everyone to disperse under the rising moon.

Chan allows himself to be swept away with the crowd, filtering into the streets as musicians take up their instruments and begin filling the roads with cheer. He tries to stay by the palace, though, remembering your request.

“I know the chances are not large, but if we see each other…please save a dance for me.”

Ordinarily, he would never presume to take a dance from your hand. But you requested. 

And never would he even think of saying no. 

The minutes tick past, though, the moon rising steadily in the sky, bathing the streets in cool, lovely light. Chan laughs, dances, even catches a glimpse of his apprentices as they spin through the crowds shouting things he can’t hear, but though he keeps a hopeful eye out, not once does he see you until—

Someone taps his shoulder, and he spins around to see a very familiar face. 

“Your—” Just in time, he sees the finger you have on your lips and cuts himself off before revealing your location to everyone in his vicinity. 

“Sorry,” you say, smiling sheepishly. “I snuck away, I don’t want to be found out so quickly.”

You’ve changed out of the filmy white robes you danced in. You still wear white, just like the rest of the crowd, but your clothes are certainly sturdier and more serviceable than your dance garments were. Even then, though, your beauty still shines beneath the moon, and Chan has to remind himself to breathe. 

“You were beautiful,” he says, all in a rush. Then he blushes. “I mean—you’re always beautiful.” His blush deepens as you giggle behind a hand. “But your performance…it was beyond words.”

“Thank you, Chan,” you reply sincerely, eyes shining. “I’m glad you were there to see it.”

“How did you feel about it?” he asks. “Were you happy?”

You nod immediately. “I think it was probably the best I’ve ever danced in my life,” you laugh, pulling him clear of someone whirling past. “I was nervous, for certain. But I love this piece, and I’ve practiced it so much. I’m very happy with how I did.”

Chan’s heart seems to burst under the brightness of your smile. “I’m incredibly happy you feel that way, Your Highness.”

“Well, I must thank you for it, too.” You hike up your skirts slightly, waggling a very familiar pair of slippers at him—white satin embroidered with gold accents, every stitch done by his own fingers. “Your shoes are incredibly comfortable, Chan. And so beautiful. I say this all the time, but I almost feel bad dancing in them, they’re such works of art.”

“Well, that is what they are made for.” Your smile gives Chan the courage to continue. “And I will always be happy to make you more, whenever you’ve worn a pair out.”

You look truly moved, your smile growing softer, shyer under the pale light of the moon. Chan himself can feel the redness of his cheeks creeping up his ears. You reach out and take his hands. “Thank you, Chan. I hope this does not come across as…too much, but you are very precious to me.” Your voice takes on a serious note that wasn’t there before, but your eyes shine brighter. “Not just your shoes. You are a wonderful person, and I am happy to have known you, even for the brief duration of our lives.”

Chan’s heart thuds in his chest, his ears echoing with your words. “You—you are very precious to me too, Your Highness,” he gets out, voice trembling. “I will forever be endlessly grateful that we have met.”

For a moment, you only stand, staring into each other’s eyes. Chan forces himself to breathe, to take in the moment—he will never be as close to you again as he is now. 

“I do recall asking that you save me a dance,” you finally say, eyes sparkling. Chan’s heart leaps as you continue. “Do you have the time to indulge me, just this once?”

“Of course,” he breathes, squeezing your hand lightly. “Your Highness.”

He doesn’t say the words that ached to come after, though.

For you—I have all the time in the world. 

. . . . .

In the end, you’re not sure how long you dance with Chan. It started as one dance, but even when the crowd separated the two of you, sending you off to other partners as the crowd laughed and cheered and spun, you always came back together, over and over again, like…

Like it was meant to be. 

A sudden ache races through your heart, and in response, you hold Chan tighter. Not enough to hurt, hopefully not enough for him to even notice. Because as right as this feels, as right as you know this is, so many others would tell you in a heartbeat that this is not your place—would even go so far as to physically pull the two of you apart, if they could. 

You love Chan. Have known it for a long time, actually, ever since the day you watched him place Yuna’s first pair of slippers on her feet with the softest smile on his face and every confusing feeling you’d been trying to figure out hit you with the force of a thousand suns. It’s been years since then and the love you have for him has never lessened, only grown. 

And, you’re almost sure, it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe that Chan loves you too. 

Which makes it all the worse. Because if this was one-sided, at least you could comfort yourself with the cold knowledge that you’d be the only one suffering in this love that no one would accept. But if Chan loves you too, then what is this, this something-but-nothing that the two of you have now? Something that won’t just hurt you, but will also hurt him. The best thing you could do would be to end things cleanly on your end, and pray Chan will move on. 

Only you can’t. Selfishness, you suppose. The knowledge of how it feels to have Chan’s arms wrapped around you like this only makes it harder—safe, warm, peaceful, even in this chaos of dancers under the full moon. Even this simple frame for partner dancing, closer than you’ve ever dreamed but still leaving some distance that closes every so often as he pulls you out of reach of another laughing couple, is enough to make you feel lightheaded. You’re in too deep. You couldn’t try to drag yourself out of this if you tried. 

This is the closest you’ve ever been to Chan, wrapped in each other’s arms as you spin about the roads in front of the palace, cheeks warm with sweat and laughter. Perhaps only your oldest sisters and Chaeyoung know how much courage it took for you to ask him for a dance, how nervous you were for this one little tryst to work out—but it was worth it. Because this is likely the closest you’ll ever be. The closest you’ll ever allow yourself to be. 

You’ll never tell him how you feel, after all. Even if you know, and he knows, and everyone knows. Because even though it’s meant to be, it isn’t. And that hurts. 

Chan seems to be oblivious to your thoughts as the music begins winding to a close, which you’re forever grateful for as you smile at him. His dark curls stick to his forehead with sweat. His eyes shine almost brighter than the moon itself. 

Dancing stars, you love him. You love this gentle man who holds you with so much care, who looks at you like you hung the full moon in the sky. You love him so much. 

“Your Highness?” 

You blink at Chan, whose expression has turned worried. Damn. You let yourself slip. “Are you tired?” he asks, already guiding you to the edge of the fray, away from the brunt of the music and noise. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time. You must need to return soon.”

“No, I—it’s all right.” You try to cheer up, but reviving your fallen smile proves harder than you thought it would. Fumbling for an excuse that isn’t I was thinking about our hopeless love story and made myself upset, you say, “It’s…a lot of things. With the festival.”

Chan’s eyes narrow slightly. “Was it…”

Your heart drops in your chest, and suddenly all the previous lightheartedness of the night has gone, replaced by a curtain of dread. “Kereseia,” you finish quietly. 

A short silence punctuates the air between you two. In the whirl of your performance, the final day of celebration, and the ecstasy of dancing in Chan’s arms for the first time in your life, you’d forgotten about the problems that sprouted in your life, fully formed, just a week ago. 

The hand holding yours tightens its grip. You welcome the added pressure, squeezing harder as you try to ground yourself against the anxiety beginning to seep back into your chest. “So it’s true,” Chan says lowly, his eyes turning dark. “They’re here.”

You nod slightly. It’s not surprising that he’s heard something already. Rumors spread quickly, and it would only take one whisper about a kingdom as notorious as Kereseia to spark a wildfire. Really, you wish that was it. That it was just a strange delegation from a kingdom never before seen, come to demand that you include them in your celebrations once more. 

But the king. He…

“Your Highness!” 

Your eyes snap open. You hadn’t realized you even closed them. Chan is gripping your arms now, almost like he’s holding you upright, and you realize you must have been falling, and he caught you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying to breathe. After the first gasp, breath comes more easily. “I just—this week has been—I love the festival, and I love planning it, but—”

Against your will, unwanted memories of the past week come flashing into your mind. The first time you spoke with the Kereseian king, when he interrupted the opening ceremony for nobility with his grand entrance. Those many times—too many to be coincidence—when you ran into him in the hallways and he begged so graciously for a moment of your time, only for you to feel dirty all over after he spoke to you, his eyes wandering over your figure all the while. When you were trying to speak with your sister and he suddenly appeared, somehow snatched you away, and by the time you realized he was holding your wrist it already felt like snakes had been wiggling up your arm. 

“He’s terrible,” you whisper. 

Chan sucks in a breath and immediately you regret speaking. “Who?” he asks, voice quiet. Dangerous, maybe. “The Kereseian king?”

Well, there’s no denying it now. Even if you tried, he would know, anyway. “Yes,” you reply miserably.

Chan’s eyes, worried and concerned, despite their hardness. Nothing like the sickly sweet, oily looks the Kereseian king had for you every time you spoke. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Yet. You pray Chan didn’t hear the word you left out, though something tells you he did. “It’s just—the circumstances surrounding their visit. My father won’t tell me anything.” Not for lack of trying, too. You stormed into his office the minute you had time, seething with embarrassment at having to take responsibility for the whole mess of “missing” the invites for the Kereseian delegation, and beyond his trite apology for not telling you earlier, you couldn’t get a word out of him beyond it will be cleared up soon and don’t anger them.

You’ve seen him four times since then. Each time, though you tried, he wouldn’t tell you a thing. 

“It’s nothing, Chan,” you say again, as though repeating it will make it true. You attempt a smile. “Really. The festival will soon be over, and this Kereseian business will…go away.” Hopefully. Chan doesn’t look convinced, so you curve your lips wider even though you know this smile is far from reaching your eyes. You try for a joke. “At least, it won’t be my problem to deal with. It’ll be my father’s.”

Chan looks at you closely, and in that moment, you want nothing more than to sink into his arms and cry and tell him everything. Instead, though, you bolster that smile, and though by the end you’re sure Chan hasn’t been convinced of anything, he doesn’t continue to pry. “All right,” he says, worry still on his face, but the concern melting into a small smile instead. “But in any case, it’s late. Maybe—”

“Maybe, Your Highness, it’s time for you to return.”

. . .

For a moment, you think that this is just a bad dream. That you’ll pinch yourself and wake up, and when you do you’ll be back in bed. Safe. Away from the voice. 

But you slowly turn around, coming face to face with the Kereseian king himself. 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

“Your Highness.” He tilts his head in what looks like an attempt at respect, the little smirk that makes your skin crawl never leaving his handsome face. “Your family is looking for you.”

“Your Majesty.” You take a small step in front of Chan, who seems to be frozen to the spot, and give  a slight curtsy. “My sisters knew where I was. Did they send you?”

There’s no way they did.

“Not exactly.” His smile widens. “I heard your father ask where you were, and volunteered my services to find you.”

Behind you, Chan shifts. You raise a foot beneath your skirts and step slightly on his toes. He’s smart. He’ll understand that that means please don’t get involved. 

“Who’s this?” The king peers past you and you actually feel your throat close up. Not Chan, not Chan, not Chan! “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I don’t believe we have either,” Chan replies, voice polite but cold. You’ve heard that tone before. It usually comes out when one of the more aloof nobles doesn’t plan to give him the time of day or the proper respect due to a human being. “Your Majesty…?”

For all the situation, Chan’s blatantly fake confusion almost makes you want to laugh. “Chan, allow me to introduce His Majesty, the king of Kereseia.” You realize then that you don’t know the king’s name and that almost makes you laugh for real, especially as Chan dips into a stiff bow that looks anything but natural. “Your Majesty, my good friend, Chan.”

“Your good friend,” the king repeats, slowly, like he’s testing out those words on his tongue. You can almost feel Chan stiffen next to you, and you pray you won’t have to step on his foot again to keep him from trying to interject. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Chan. I do have a duty to escort Her Highness back to her family, however, so I fear we must part.”

“Do not worry,” you reply quickly, as smoothly as you can before Chan can retort. “I was going to return soon, anyway. Please, Chan, have fun at the festival.” Your smile turns real, if only for a moment, as you meet his gaze. “It’s the final night. You should enjoy it.”

Chan’s eyes flicker to the side, where you know the Kereseian king stands. “So should you.”

“And I did, thanks to you.” You take his hand, squeeze it for a minute—far longer than you should, with the king’s gaze boring into your shoulder, but you ignore it until you have to let Chan go. “I will be all right,” you add in a whisper that hopefully only he can hear. “Really.”

He doesn’t look happy. His lips press together almost into a line, his eyes dark and serious like you’ve never seen before. But he must sense it when you want this to end, so he only nods, curves his lips slightly, and bows. “In that case, have a good night, Your Highness.” When he rises, his smile is wider. “I had a wonderful time.” With that, Chan disappears into the crowd, leaving you with a man you don’t trust at all. 

Without another word, you turn back towards the palace and begin walking. If it’s a little quicker than your usual pace, you try not to let that on.

Unfortunately, the king keeps up. “I didn’t know that princesses of Terpsichani were allowed dalliances outside of nobility.”

You laugh a little, trying not to let the edge in your voice sound. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, you’ve only been here a week. There is a lot of you don’t know about us.” Annoyance creeps into your tone, despite your efforts to keep it out. “And Chan isn’t a dalliance.”

“Well, he seems quite taken with you.”

Anger fizzles in your chest, threatening to spill into your words. “We’re friends,” is all you say.

“Good, then.”

Frowning, you turn toward him. “Good?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” The king’s eyes seem to glow under the moonlight, pulsing pools of shadow. You almost fear drowning in them. “Do you know why I have come here, to your kingdom?”

Nothing about this feels right. “I was under the impression it was for the Moonlight Festival, Your Majesty.” You turn to continue on to the palace, but his cold hand catches your wrist. Pulls you back. 

“So your father really told you nothing,” he murmurs, almost as though to himself. Before you can digest that, though, he continues. “It was for the festival, Your Highness. Partially. But that was not the promise your father gave me, you know.” His lips curve and you can only think of the cruel blade of a knife, silver under the moonlight before it sinks into your flesh. “He promised me you.”

He promised me you. 

“…What?”

“He promised your mother, first.” The king laughs as though you aren’t reeling, about to fall if not for his wrist still grasping yours. “And to my father, not to me. But the poor woman was so sickly after your birth, and ill. My father wouldn’t want a weak woman to bear his own child.” He peers into your eyes and you can do nothing to pull away. “This my father said, and so yours bargained a second time. One of his daughters for my father’s son.” White teeth glint as he grins. “Me.”

Disgust roils in your stomach and gives you the courage to speak. “But why?” you cry out. “Why would my father make such a bargain in the first place?”

“Don’t you know how much trouble your father and mother had, conceiving you?” He smirks. “I suppose, at some point, your father had to take matters into his own hands. And my own father wasn’t going to say no to a princess with magic as strong as yours.”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up. In a horrible way, it makes sense—you know your mother had trouble with your birth and had always wanted more children even after you were born, which is why she adopted your sisters before she died—but this can’t be true. It can’t be. “I don’t believe you,” you snap, ripping your arm out of his. “I don’t believe you!”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you believe me.” Suddenly he has both of your wrists clamped between his fingers, his skin seeping cold into yours. “I will have you, a darling queen to dance with me and entertain my court day and night, and you will have my child. And with your blood, that child will be able to walk in the sun, as so many of us Kereseians cannot.” 

Vaguely, you realize you’ve never seen one of the Kereseian delegation under daylight—always in a room with no windows during the day, or milling about at night. You didn’t know they couldn’t walk in the sunlight. 

You’re learning so much tonight, and none of it is good. 

“So we can do this one of two ways.” His face is so close to yours, so handsome but so cold and so repulsive when his breath hits your skin. “You can come willingly, and we will announce our engagement tonight to your father. It will be wonderful news to crown the final night of the Moonlight Festival, will it not? Our marriage two weeks from now on the new moon, as befits Kereseian royalty.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips. Engagement. As if—as if you would ever—

“Over my dead body,” you snap. 

The king isn’t even fazed. “I thought you might say that,” he says with flippant ease, though if you didn’t know better you’d think you heard a ripple of a snarl in his tone. “But think wisely, Your Highness. Your father signed a contract with our kingdom of hell. We did not coerce him. He came to us. We delivered on our end, and now he must deliver on his.” He laughs. “Will you try to resist fate?”

Despair claws its way into your heart, ripping open your throat as you try to think. Try to speak. Your head is spinning and everything is wrong—your father, who you trusted, your mother, who is dead—

Against your will you wish you had never told Chan to leave. That he was still here with you. That you could draw from his strength in this moment where you feel so powerless. But he shouldn’t be caught in this, though. You’d never want him injured. Never want him hurt. 

Not in the way you’re sure the Kereseian king could manage.

His memory lends you courage, though. Fate. This is no fate—it will not be your fate. You will not go willingly into the kingdom of hell, and you will not sign your life quietly away to this monster who dares claim you so.

“Over. My. Dead. Body.”

The king’s eyes darken. “Very well, then,” he says, and just for a second his grip loosens. You try to snatch the moment to break free but then it tightens and you gasp against the pain as he brings you even closer. “I should make this clear now, though, Your Highness.”

Flames whirl up from the ground. Heat flares at your skin. And then you’re falling, falling, falling into the earth and the blistering wind is tearing your body apart piece by piece and there’s a horrible noise in your ears that you have a terrible suspicion is your own scream—

Your feet slam into a hard floor. You nearly buckle where you stand, knees shaking, only held up by the painful grip the king still has on your hands. Everything around you is dark, lit up by strange, curling flames, and it is cold. So cold.

He smiles down at you now. Knife blades. Weapons to kill you as his mouth comes closer to whisper in your ear. 

“You don’t have a choice."

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

[apriltearsbringmayfears]

M6 dreaming about MC after their death asking "Did you love me?"

The Arcana- MC is dead and appears in M6’s Dreams, asking “Did you love me?”

~Angst~

// I had so much fun writing this, never written angst before//

Asra:

For a minute, Asra assumes he’s awake

He’s in the shop, with you next to his side, shoulders touching

It’s like you never died (again)

But he can tell somethings wrong, somethings off

He turns and tries to speak to you but he’s unable to say anything

The “you” in his dream, turns to him, “Did you love me?”

He still can’t say anything, desperately trying to form words

He couldn’t save you a second time…

Wakes in a cold sweat, hands shaking

Faust has to calm him down

Nadia:

She’s on the balcony of the palace, looking out at the night sky

At first she thinks she’s alone but she hears footsteps from behind

Turning around, she sees you

Wind blowing, the air has become chilly

“MC….are you feeling well, darling?”

“Did you love me, Nadia?”

“Of- of-course I did? I still do, why would you quest-”

She’s awaken by Chandra’s hooting

She ends up journaling her experience, trying to find comfort

Julian:

He’s out on the sea, looking at the ocean with you by his side

The salty air feels so genuine

He thinks maybe for once, he’s not having a nightmare

“Oh MC, what a wonderful day for an adventure!”

He smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder

But you feel cold

“MC?”, there’s fear in his voice

“Did you love me, Ilya?”

His face drops, his eyes feeling heavy

Not again please, not another nightmare

Before he can answer he wakes up, cold and out of breath

He won’t be sleeping again for a long while 

Muriel:

The sun is beating down on him, slight humidity in the air, he’s at the coliseum

He knows this is a dream, he’s often alone in them

But this time its different, he hears footsteps in the distance

He spots you walking through the halls of the Coliseum, his heart begins to race

“MC? MC!!” He begins walking towards you but can’t seem to catch up

He feels lost and trapped, he can’t seem to pin you down

He feels a tap on his back, making his entire body tense

He turns around and sees you 

“Muriel, did you love me?”

His face goes red, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t find the point in it-

He’s awoken by Inanna, poking her nose in his face and whimpering

His entire day is silent

Portia:

She often has work related dreams, she assumes this one is the same

She’s running around the palace, but she’s stops in her tracks

You’re standing at the end of hall, no one else is around

“MC?”, the hall echoes

She begins walking towards you, the walls of the hallway begin closing in

“Portia, did you love me?”

There’s tears forming in her eyes

“W-what?” she sputters out

She begins running towards you, just to touch again

But she trips and falls, resulting in her waking up

Pepi doesn’t leave her side all day

She ends up telling Nadia she’s sick, taking the day off

Lucio:

He’s in his old room at the palace, where you two first met

The old air is almost too realistic for it to be a dream

He looks in the mirror, his old goat reflection staring back

In the corner of the mirror, he spots you

“MC? MC!!!”

For a second he thinks it was all just a bad dream

That maybe, just maybe…time is starting over so he can save you from death

“Lucio, did you love me?”

He turns around to face you but he’s no longer in his room and you’re no where in sight

He’s far from Vesuvia, deep in snow, being pulled under the white ground

He wakes up in a fit of tearful rage

He’ll make another deal if he has to

[ode777]

But yall aren’t ready for that conversation

(Lyrics below)

My Tears Ricochet (Taylor Swift):

We gather here, we line up

Weepin' in a sunlit room, and

If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene

You wear the same jewels that I gave you

As you bury me

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears

And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain

Crossing out the good years

And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

Mad Woman (Taylor Swift):

What did you think I'd say to that?

Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?

They strike to kill and you know I will

You know I will

What do you sing on your drive home?

Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn?

Does she smile?

Or does she mouth, "Fuck you forever"?

Every time you call me crazy

I get more crazy

What about that?

And when you say I seem angry

I get more angry

And there's nothin' like a mad woman

What a shame she went mad

No one likes a mad woman

You made her like that

And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out

And you find something to wrap your noose around

And there's nothin' like a mad woman

Now I breathe flames each time I talk

My cannons all firin' at your yacht

They say, "Move on", but you know, I won't

I'm takin' my time

Takin' my time

'Cause you took everything from me

Watchin' you climb

Watchin' you climb

Over people like me

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve (Taylor Swift):

If you would've blinked then I would've

Looked away at the first glance

If you tasted poison, you could've

Spit me out at the first chance

If I was some paint, did it splatter

On a promising grown man?

And if I was a child, did it matter

If you got to wash your hands?

And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts

Memories feel like weapons

And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

But, Lord, you made me feel important

And then you tried to erase us

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind

I regret you all the time

I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep

The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign

I regret you all the time

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?

Years of tearing down our banners, you and I

Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts

Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

Coney Island (Taylor Swift):

Break my soul in two looking for you

But you’re right here

If I can’t relate to you anymore

Who am I related to?

Did I close my fist around something delicate?

Did I shatter you?

And I’m sitting on a bench in Coney Island wondering, “where did my baby go?”

The fast times, the bright lights, the merry-go

Over and over

Lost again with no surprises

Disappointment close your eyes

And it gets colder and colder

When the sun goes down

The question pounds my head

What a lifetime of achievement

If I pushed you to the edge?

Will you forgive my soul

When you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?

[eleganzadellarosa]

Coffee Kisses ☕️ | Part 1

pairing: barista!kyungsoo x poc reader (ft. Baekhyun)

genre: fluff (if you do a spin and blink), smut, angst

warnings: MDNI (masturbation (m), mentions of oral sex and penetration), fast paced plot

word count: 4.6k+

A/N: This is going to be a two part fic, this first part being from Kyungsoo’s POV and the second from the reader’s. As always, enjoy and thanks for reading :)

taglist: @sleepingbeautydo

part 2 here

Grind the beans, dose, tamp, purge, pull and pour. It was so much of a habit now that I knew it like the back of my hand; could do it with my eyes closed. Everyone has something they’re good at and for me it’s anything related to coffee. For someone who doesn’t drink it often, espressos are my favorite to make simply because of how precise you have to be with each step to ensure the perfect cup. It makes me feel like a master at work, something I can actually brag about even though I would never.

I love walking in every morning to start my day with the smell of the assortment of coffee beans. It keeps me awake during my shifts, caffeinating my senses with each whiff. But she, she was the highlight of my day. The excitement from hearing the bells chime above the door just to see her figure walk through. I’ve never known for my heart to beat so fast around anyone and to grow a blush on my cheeks immediately, my face so red that it spreads to my ears. Thankfully I’m successful from hiding it from her so she doesn’t notice.

"Hi Kyungsoo!"

Her voice and smile have to be the deadliest combination, just the way she says my name makes it feel exotic, fun, seductive. She easily remembered it after a few days of consistently seeing it on my name tag. I hope she didn’t catch me staring before the cat let go of my tongue.

“Hey, how are you? I’ll have your order ready in a bit.”

I knew what she wanted, why wouldn’t I? Her ability to stick to routine made it easier but even if she ordered something different off the menu each time I would know before she uttered a word. I shouldn’t be so consumed by her presence, yet every time she’s around, the perfection I’ve practiced gets clammy and slips through my fingers. My body was no longer on autopilot, her drink HAD to be perfect; the right amount of everything so I could get that gold star.

While waiting for her order to be ready, I reward myself with glances her way as she waits patiently. I’ve been lied to all my life about what angels look like because they never describe her. Skin brown like the coffee beans I brew every day, eyes like the sun setting upon the sand and hair fluffy like the inside of a castella cake. No exaggeration to say she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. If only I had the courage to tell her that since my lingering glances don’t do the job.

I cherish the split second my fingers brush against hers as I hand her the cup. She flashes me another prize winning smile that never fails to take my breath away. I can’t help but feel like a stalker with the way I watch her walk back to her table to take the first sip. The way she closes her eyes and a small smile spreads across her face like she’s in complete bliss. I wonder if her expression would be the same if my head was between her legs. Shit, I can’t think like that if I don't want an obvious tent in my pants.

“Umm excuse me, do you have alternative milks available?”

Oh right, I have other customers beside her that I have to tend to. It’s dumb how upset I get when I can’t follow her every movement but she’s my favorite show to watch and now I’m starting to think my job is getting in the way; yet it's the only channel where she's available. The middle of the week was usually pretty slow but of course on the day I could fill my day with nothing but her existence, the flood of people come rushing in. I’m obviously not the only employee here but it feels like it when I want to hurry and get everyone gone to go back to my favorite pastime.

Like clockwork, she always leaves 30 minutes after she finishes her coffee and I never have anything to say or do to make her stay; which in turn is one of my biggest downfalls. Why am I such a pussy when it comes to her? I want her so badly yet I can’t say anything off script. Instead of leaving immediately, she was coming back up to the counter. A break in routine? Something had to be up. I smiled at her, maybe a little too happily but she smiles back with just as much shine. I almost had the chance to break free from my monotonous dialogue but the customer in front of me finally speaks up to order.

Fuck, such a missed chance. Her eyes were sad but understanding and she waved before leaving out the door. I switched off with another worker as soon as I finished the order so I can take my break, hopefully catching her outside before she walks too far. To my disappointment, she was nowhere in sight no matter how far I looked in each direction. Fate was so cruel giving me the opportunity but not enough time to change my life for what I know would be the better.

Whatever she wanted to tell me had to be important as I haven’t seen her in weeks. I could only hope she was okay but I had no way of contacting her, something I could only blame myself for. I waited everyday for her but she never came and every cup of espresso I made felt pointless. Where was she? What did she want to tell me? It was time to clock out and taking the apron off made me want to quit altogether. I felt a hand tap me on my shoulder before I made it out the back.

“Hey Kyungsoo, listen I need to talk to you about something important. You’ve been here the longest and you’re my best barista so I figured I should tell you first.”

My boss. He was chill overall, teaching me some of the skills that I possess today. He’s what I’d call a father figure if my father wasn’t a big part of my life already. “Thank you for thinking of me first. What’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath and sighs loudly so I know the next words are going to be bad news. “I’m selling the cafe. I’m getting older and I’m ready to retire. I wanted to pass it down to you but I never got the chance to talk to you and I have way too much debt to pay back and wouldn’t want to put that on you.”

It was in fact bad news and not even because I was sad about losing my job. I was losing the only connection I had with her and I wasn’t able to tell her. “W-what? When? How much time do we have left?”

“Well I’ve already sold it, I didn’t have much time to decide before the buyer called off the deal. We’re closing next month. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner sport.”

Hah, calling me sport after giving me the worst news of my life. Such a parent thing to do. I didn’t have a say so in this, I definitely didn’t have the money to keep this business afloat and to be honest I’d only really want it just to have the chance of seeing her again. If I wasn't afraid of the way I'd be judged, I'd cry right now just to release all the anger I've accumulated in the last 3 minutes.

The drive home felt like an endless road, the thoughts running through my head making it hard for me to keep track of time. It's times like these that I wish I could call her and vent and be comforted by the warm tone of her voice. I fucked up badly and it hurts knowing there's no one else to blame.

I hung my coat on the rack next to the front door and dragged myself over to the couch to flop down onto it face first. There had to be some way I could find out who she is just to let her know that the cafe wouldn't be here much longer; that I wouldn't be there much longer. I tried and tried to think but every plan fell through right into the shredder. I felt like I was being laughed at for not excusing myself and finding out what she wanted to say to me. The one day that she was actually going to say something different, I did the polite thing. Whatever. I still had a month left to wait for her, to see her again, to speak to her again. All I could do now was hope she actually showed up.

This was it, the last day open for business. I had already grown tired of telling everyone why we were closing especially since I didn’t get to tell the most important person. Was she really gone for good? Did I really miss my chance to talk to her and build a relationship outside of this cafe? It felt weird knowing this would be my last time wiping down the tables, mopping the floor, coming to a place that felt like a second home. I reluctantly locked the door and changed the sign from open to closed. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass, I looked pitiful. I was desperate, if she came to the door right now, I’d unlock it in a heartbeat.

She never came.

My boss came and patted me on the shoulder before he told me it was time to go. "Sorry sport, gotta turn these lights out, it's time to lock up for good."

I grabbed my stuff and made sure my locker was empty before following him out. One last look around the cafe and the gate was pulled down as if I was closing my eyes. Doing that alone already made it look abandoned. I tried again to rack my brain for any way that I could let her know where I was and how to contact me, but once again there was nothing I could do.

I walked to my car and made sure the boss got to his safely. He turned around before getting in. "Hey uh Kyungsoo, wait just a sec." He walked over to me and swallowed the lump in his throat before hugging me tight. "Don't become a stranger, you have my number."

"Don't worry Frank, I won't forget about you. Thank you for everything."

He nodded and patted me on the back before we each went out separate ways.

I no longer had to set my alarm so early and having so much time on my hands felt like a crime. My life had no purpose besides finding her and telling her exactly how I felt but even that dream seems far fetched. I started drinking more coffee, having a cup every day just to feel something; just to get a spark of energy.

I realized how I never developed any other hobbies besides making coffee now that I was no longer doing it. I guess this is why people endlessly scroll on social media and to be honest I didn't have the energy to do anything else. Unfortunately for me, my entertainment was cut short when my phone started ringing, the name "Baekhyun" flashing at the top. I'm sure if I rolled my eyes any harder they would have fallen out my head. Baekhyun is a very close friend of mine, but I knew why he was calling and I was over the conversation before it even started.

Reluctantly I answered it, waiting for his high pitched voice on the other end. "Kyungsoo~" he said in a sing-songy voice, already getting me upset before he reveals the reason for his call.

"What do you want Baek?"

"That's not how you speak to a friend who has something you want."

"Something I want?" I didn't expect much from him, but I was curious what he found interesting enough to think I wanted it. "What is it?"

"See, I knew you'd be curious! But first are you still sad over that girl from the cafe?"

I can't help but scoff hearing him say what I knew was true, but coming from him made it sound like he interrupted me from digging my grave as we spoke. "I have some regrets...just tell me what it is Baek."

I could hear him lowly chuckle on the other end and now I was starting to get annoyed with his confidence. I’ve known Baekhyun for years know, I consider him a good friend but now I’m rethinking my decision.

“What if I told you, I found your precious jewel?”

My ears perked up at the word precious. “Why are you talking about?”

“I happen to know someone who knows her and now I have an IG you can stalk.”

My heart was racing, more so than I’d have liked. But knowing that I finally had a way to contact the love of my life excites me in ways I couldn’t describe.

“What the hell Baek? How do you even know what she looks like?” I questioned him but it was more so for me to stall. Did I actually want to know what she’s been up to? Why she chose to leave in the first place?

“Stop asking so many questions! Do you want it or not?”

“Wha- I-I mean I guess so?”

He sucked his teeth, telling me he already sent me the info and to take advantage of it before hanging up. I couldn’t help but stare at the message containing the change to my fate. My fingers were shaking just opening the app so I could search her up. I found it without me being finished typing. Surprisingly her account was public, any pair of eyes able to see the goods. She’s absolutely gorgeous and seeing a new side of her only made me love her more. Once again, I felt like a creep just mindlessly scrolling through her pictures.

Then, like a thorn on a rose, there was a picture of her with some guy. I shouldn't feel jealous but I do. He has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Harmless right? The captions showing three confetti popper emojis. Could it symbolize an anniversary? A birthday? She tagged him in the post but his account was private so there was no way I could continue to snoop and find out who this guy was. Maybe I was thinking about this too deeply. And hell, who's to say that I would even have a chance with her. Just wishful thinking I suppose.

Baekhyun was calling me again like he could hear me doubting myself. "What Baek?"

"Oh I'm sorry, did I interrupt your stalking?" I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Hey I'm not stalking her, this is my first time being on her page."

"Sure suuure buddy, whatever you wanna call it. Are you gonna message her?"

It didn't cross my mind that way. I could actually "slide into her DMs" and talk to her. Would she want to talk to me? What if that is her boyfriend and I just end up making myself look stupid? "I-I don't know..."

"Ahh come on Kyungsoo, you're right there man, all you gotta do is hit her up. I'm sure if she had something to tell you that day, she wouldn't mind telling you now."

"What if she has a boyfriend?" I dazed myself with the question and I bit the nail on my thumb trying to shake the nervousness out of my system.

"A boyfriend? Hmm...I mean then she has a boyfriend, but at least you can find out now instead of letting this go on forever. If you like her, just make it known and see where it gets you."

He was right, but I couldn't accept the rejection if it came down to it. She was the light in a dark tunnel and I would hate for it to be blocked off. For now I could just follow her and see if she followed me back. My sweaty finger pressed onto the follow button and I wanted to throw my phone just so I didn’t have to see what happened next.

It had been going on a few months now and still no follow back. I would occasionally check to see if she posted but she never did. It almost felt like she didn't just so she wouldn't have to interact with me. I felt stupid, stupid for allowing myself to fall in love so quickly and be so hasty with everything. If she were to ever show her face again, I hope to get even a little bit of an explanation.

I had found another job working at a different cafe, but of course it didn't feel the same. Today was my only day off for the week and I decided to finally give in to Baekhyun's begging and pleading to hang with him and a few friends at a bar. It wasn't a typical bar, it felt more like a restaurant with a bar attached to it, but the piss drunk guys that left would probably say otherwise. Baek's shoulder bumped into mine and I looked over at him to see he looked like he was waiting for me to say something.

"Sorry, what?" Maybe the drinks were getting to me and I just hadn’t noticed.

"I said, this is the friend that knows the girl from the cafe."

My face felt warm and I wanted to hide in a corner. Why'd he have to put me on the spot like that? It made me sound like a crazy person. "Oh, really? Nice to meet you." I tried to sound as calm as possible but knowing me, my face or ears were red with embarrassment.

The guy leaned over to shake my hand. His grip was firm and his hands were kind of big. Actually he was kind of big. I didn't pay him much mind before now, but boy was this dude tall.

"Nice to meet you too, Kyungsoo right? I'm Chanyeol."

He had a mouth full of teeth and when he smiled, all of them showed so easily. He seemed bubbly just like Baek, which is probably why they're friends. His head would fall back and he would hit the person next to him every time he laughed. The jokes weren't even that funny, but then again, he's been downing his drinks like they're water.

"So, Kyungsoo, I heard you got ignored." Baekhyun shot him a death glare, and punched him in the arm making him wince.

I'm going to fucking kill you Baekhyun I said in my mind but showed with my gritted teeth and clenched jaw. "If you wanna put it that way, sure."

"Well I wouldn't say you got ghosted because I haven't spoken to her either. She's been kind of MIA. I mean we didn't talk too often, but she hasn't responded to any of the messages I sent her."

I was hopeful again but this time I didn't want to get too ahead of myself. Knowing she wasn't active with anyone made it a lot better for me but it also made me worry. "Maybe she's just spending a lot of time with her boyfriend."

"Her boyfriend? She's single...haha oh dude, you must have seen that picture with her and her best friend. Trust me, he's far from a boyfriend. She probably just had to go back to the states for something. I'm sure she'll be back."

Well, that's a relief. She doesn't have a boyfriend but there's no guarantee she'd be back here to see me. "Wait, how'd you know she's the girl I was talking about?" This question has always lingered in the back of my mind but I just trusted Baek enough to give me the right information.

"Uh probably because she's mentioned you so many times before? She would only go to that cafe to see you, she doesn't even like coffee unless you make it. I wasn't sure you were who she was talking about until Baek told me which cafe you worked at and mentioned you were the "bald guy who makes espressos."

Before I could even protest, Baek rubbed his hands together apologetically. None of that mattered right now, I couldn't dwell on the anger. She only liked the coffee that I made her? What a way to make a guy's dick hard, or mine at least. And the fact that I was on her mind too didn't make it any better for the blood rushing to my lower half. "What? She came in there every day, there's no way she came in to just see me."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's the reason. She kept trying to make me come with her just to get a cup but no offense, I'm not into espressos like that. She also said something about you being really cute and always so ready to take her order. I think she has a crush on you man, trust me she doesn't talk about any other guy like that."

Now I really felt the heat in my face. Maybe the alcohol was kicking in because my head felt dizzy too. Maybe I needed to put the drinks down. A conversation has never gotten me so excited, but I've also never spoken to her besides taking her order so we'll stick a pin in it for now. As much as I wanted it to, it didn't give me the confidence to try and message her, especially since she doesn't seem to be logged in anymore. Now all I could do was pray that she came back just so I could have the chance to speak to her one more time. I wouldn't be too shy this time, I would actually tell her how I felt and ask her out on a date.

By the time I got back home, my head was pounding, all the drinks I consumed finally catching up to me. Flopping onto the bed on my stomach, my head filled with nothing but thoughts of her. Was she actually attracted to me or did I just make good coffee? I mean both could be taken as a compliment but I could care less how she felt about my espressos. The intoxication made me horny to the point that I felt like I'd explode if I didn't do something about it.

I rushed to lay on my back and release my dick from the jeans I wore, pressure noticeably getting better no longer constricted by the fabric. The tip leaked viciously, indicating just how lewd my thoughts were becoming. The blood rushed back to the aching length when I wrapped my warm hand around it, only increasing the sticky substance.

It felt good, to imagine it was her hand instead of mine. I could only dream of what it would be like seeing her sitting in front of me in nothing but a lacy set, perfect hands engulfing my shaft enjoying every second our skin made contact. It was becoming all too much, the sweat accumulating on my forehead and neck.

I pumped my hand faster and thought of her more and more as I started to remove the last pieces of fabric that shielded her from nudity. Soon she was in nothing but her skin, more beautiful than she was just a few seconds ago. She paused her movements only to drape a legs over my waist and position herself so that she was aligned perfectly with the angry red head.

Slowly…slowly…she eased her way down and before I could reach the deepest depths of her, I snapped out of my thoughts, body tensing up viciously, slightly shaking. I made a mess. My hands covered in the white liquid that also landed on my chest and stomach. It made me realize it’s been quite some time since I had some alone time with myself. Well now this shirt had to go in the wash along with my jeans.

On the way back from the laundry room I had to ask myself what I was doing. There’s no point of using her as a thought to push me over the edge if our future was still undetermined. I now sat on the bed in just my boxers feeling guilty about thinking about her like that. I was too caught up in my feelings and luckily I could blame most of it on the alcohol.

It would be hard but I had to be patient and wait it out. Please return to me is all I could ask for as I fell back against my pillow and closed my eyes for the night.

It's been a year now. A year since I've last seen her and it's safe to say I've given up. No one has spoken to her that I know of and for all I know, she could never plan on coming back. Things were going well for me at my new job though, I was promoted to manager within the first 6 months and I've been giving everyone pointers on how to make the best drinks. There was of course a sense of happiness I felt being in my element again but I wish I could go back and try again. No one has made me as happy as she did and it was snatched away from me before I had the chance to savor it, but in my defense I never knew it would be gone.

It was almost time for me to clock out, much needed as the day was quite busy. "Hey, I'm getting ready to head out. You got everything covered yeah?" I was confident the new girl knew what she was doing but I wanted her to feel confident in herself. She gave me a bright smile and thumbs up but I could tell there was still some doubt there.

On days like these, I walk and sit at the bus stop before going home. It sounds crazy because I don't ever actually get on, it just brings me a sense of comfort that I can't explain. The bus is right on time, as always. The driver is used to me now, giving me a knowing nod of his head before closing the big glass doors and pulling off. The next bus should be coming in 15 minutes and I had no problem waiting.

As clear as the sky was 5 minutes ago, I didn’t expect for rain to be pouring down right now. But I should be used to things not going the way I imagined. The next bus pulled up and I almost ran up to the window. Right before my very eyes was the one and only princess herself. I couldn’t believe it, I waited a whole year to see her again and here she was casually riding the bus I watched drive by almost everyday.

My heartbeat thumped in my ears, telling me to be brave and take the chance. She hasn’t even looked to her side yet, headphones over her ears obviously distracting her from the real world. It was time to make up for what I didn’t do one year ago. Courageously, I stood from where I sat and rushed onto the bus, just to stand at the front with my chest heaving as if I ran a marathon, my clothes halfway drenched.

She looked up, her eyes squinting before that gorgeous smile spread across her face. That has to be a good sign right? She quickly removed the headphones from her ears and stood up. I hurriedly walked over to her as she almost fell against the seats in front of her from how quickly she tried to move in between them. Thankfully, I caught her arm and helped her stand upright.

Just as I thought, a simple touch still sent electric through the tips of my fingers. She’s even more beautiful than I remembered. Like a flashback, I was standing there staring at her unable to say anything, so she spoke up for me instead.

“Kyungsoo…is that you?”

[neobubz]

✖ Quiet Down Pt. 1 (M)✖

☆ okay, hi everyone! this story is a renjun x fem reader x haechan story. please look at the pairings to figure out who the part/chapter will be based around. also, the warnings will be based off each part/chapter as well, so please take notice to that too. i hope you enjoy the story! ☆

Word Count: approx. 8k Pairings (based on each part): haechan x fem reader Warnings (based on each part): mature audiences only, explicit language, bossy fem reader, smut, hand job, masturbation (male), c*m swapping, exhibitionism, co-worker relations, consensual relations, where did my brain go with this one? Preview: Snorting on the inside you watch as Haechan attempts to seduce you. He must not have learned his lesson the last time he tried to get you to cave into him. Having little sleep last night, both excited and dreading this little long weekend getaway and the fact that Haechan is right, you are stuck with Renjun — you may be more affected by his advances, but considering your dead tired…there was only one option, to throw it back in his face and hope he leaves you alone. “If you saw me, why didn’t you come over and talk to me instead,” you lean into him keeping your voice to a whisper. “I mean, it was hard not to notice you. You looked very handsome,” you place your hand on his chest, feeling his racing heart. “Your golden skin glistening in the sun. You were so,” placing your lips to his ear you giggle. “Yummy,” you whisper.

✖-----------------------✖

“Haechan?” You turn to where she nonchalantly gestures with the upturn of her nose.

Sitting on the grass off the side of the garden on his suit jacket Haechan props himself up with his arms. Negating to eat anything during lunch today he leans back soaking in the sun. His already beautiful sun-kissed skin getting darker each passing day.

“Pass.” You go back to your phone.

“You fucking liar!” She scoffs. “We both know you would smash.”

Smirking you finish off the items you needed before turning back to look at Haechan. It’s true. Haechan is…tempting. So very tempting. You bring your fork from your salad up to your lips. The cold metal bringing goosebumps to your skin. Leaning farther back, resting on his elbows now, Haechan unbuttons the first three buttons on his white button-down shirt. Running a hand across the nape of his neck in the sexiest way humanly possible. Turning in your direction he slides the pair of sunglasses down sending a wink your way.

Sneering you turn away from him and back to Charlotte who was doing everything in power not to droll all over her Italian sub. It’s a known fact around the female section of your office that Charlotte has the biggest crush on Haechan. Being a married woman herself, she can’t act on impulse but that doesn’t stop her mind from wondering what it would be like to be with him. Glancing back to where Haechan was seated, noticing that he was still looking your way – actually his whole group of friends were looking towards you and Charlotte.

“The hell?” You mumble seeing their gazes on you. Shaking your head, you take a bite from your salad. “Sorry. Even though I would want to smash, boy would I ever want to, he himself thinks everyone wants to smash him.” You bring your attention back to your friend. “I wouldn’t do it at all.” Giggling to yourself at the thought of Haechan’s face when you deny him. The glare and pout of his lips followed by whiny demands that you give in to him. “It would piss him off so much.”

“And then he would throw you against your desk and fuck you from behind, is that the plan?” Charlotte asks.

“No,” you stab your fork into your salad a devilish smirk coming to you. “The plan is to get him to grovel on his hands and knees like the whiny little bitch he is.”

Gasping dramatically Charlotte throws you a knowing look. “Damn girl… Didn’t know you had a mistress kink.”

“I don’t,” you place your phone into your jacket pocket. “I just know that Haechan gets really whiny and sulky when he doesn’t get what he wants. He likes to act big and bad but he’s a total switch, sub leaning. I’d bet a $100 on it too!”

“Oh, I agree completely. Remember when he came up to you before the Christmas party asking if you had a date? The face he made when you flirted right back even to the point of running your hand up his arm had me screaming on the inside! He gulped so fucking loud! Not to mention his eyes said it all. He totally wanted you to use him any way you wished!” She licks her lips wiggling her brows. “I’d SMASH! 100%! He’s so fucking hot! I mean look at him,” she sighs lovingly, propping her face up with her hands. “His glowing skin, chubby cheeks, juicy thighs and that ass!” Her lower lip gets snagged between her teeth. “I’d fuckin’ eat that ass out while jerking him off if he’d let me!”

“Dude!” You grab her attention pointing to your food. “Don’t talk about eating ass when I’m eating!”

“Shut it, you whore! You know you’d do it too!”

“I wouldn’t! You do know what —"

She holds up a finger to your lips stopping you from finishing your question. Always seeming to be three steps ahead of you with everything. Then again, she knew you like the back of her hand.

She moves onto the next person in Haechan’s click. “Jeno, smash or pass?”

“Fucking smash are you kidding me?”

You don’t hesitate to answer. Jeno is gorgeous! Who wouldn’t want to smash him? Plus, the few times you’ve seen him sleeveless at the company ‘bonding retreats’ his arm muscles flexing every which way when everyone was together doing the activities. And then the one time he was in the pool, his length showing proudly when he came out of the water – his trunks sticking to him like glue. The mere image that’s now imprinted to your brain makes you clench your legs together. Unholy thoughts filling your head before you went to sleep for months after. Mainly you being contorted in every possible way while he slams his large cock into your wet core until your fucked brainless.

Shaking her head Charlotte takes a bite of her sub. “I’d pass. He’s gorg, don’t get me wrong but he’s too much of a gym rat. I’ve gotten a hug from him before when I got that promotion last year and he felt like a fucking rock. No lie. I don’t think he has much body fat. I mean imagine someone firm as stone pounding into your pussy. It already makes my pussy ache, and not in a good way. Not to mention the bruises you’d probably get. Nope not for me. I like my men to have some softness.”

“So, Haechan?” You snort.

Offended she growls towards you. “Hey! He’s perfect!”

Holding your hands up sensing her change in demeanor you placate her. “I never said he wasn’t. Remember I said I would totally smash after he was on his hands and knees begging. Plus, I like how he’s different too. It’s nice to see some guys not working out at the gym ALL THE TIME,” sighing you poke at your salad. “Even I’m getting tired of seeing Jaemin and Jeno’s gym selfies on Instagram.”

“Not only that but what’s with Jaemin having so many pictures of Jeno?” Charlotte side eyes Jaemin from across the small path separating the six of you. “Do you think they might be…”

“Jaemin and Jeno?!” You look towards them letting her question sink in. “I mean, I wouldn’t be shocked if they were but wasn’t Jeno making out with his assistant? It was at the Christmas party; I swear I saw him groping her ass with his tongue down her throat.”

“Eh?! No…way…isn’t she like…married?”

“You know what,” realization hits you. “You’re fucking right, she is! I remember we threw her a small bridal shower a few years back. Damn, must be rough waters in the relationship.”

“Our she’s a thirty hoe,” Charlotte snickers. “Since we’re on the topic of Jaemin, smash or pass?”

“I’d absolutely smash,” you sigh pushing your salad away feeling far too hot and horny to even think about food. “He’s so hot. I mean I would gladly be his submissive princess any time any day. Mother fucker is too sexy to say no to.”

“You’re such a whore!” Charlotte cackles like a hyena garnering everyone’s attention, including Haechan and his friends. “You little slut!” She practically screams to the world.

“Charlotte! Shut. The. Fuck. Up” You smack her arm.

“I can’t…” she throws her head back in laughter. “You are so fucking amazing…” she wipes her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” you turn to Haechan’s group of friends noticing a set of eyes staring towards you and Charlotte. Immediately they lower their head and find refuge in playing with the laces of Haechan’s dress shoes. “You never asked about Renjun,” smirking you hear her laughter die down immediately. “Smash or pass?”

“Pass. Never! Not in a million years! What about you my little slut, smash or pass?”

“Pass as well. I don’t think he’s even into women,” you stare at him noticing his ears have turned a bright shade of pink. “I’ve never seen him with anyone aside from Haechan and the others. It’s weird if you think about it. I mean I wouldn’t care if he was but he just…he doesn’t leave their sides.”

“Agree. But now that we’re done with them, what about —"

✖-----------------------✖

“Finally… the weather cleared up,” Haechan sighs taking off his jacket before placing it on the ground. “I thought we’d have to be stuck inside for the whole day.” He leaves out a huge sigh as he sits under the sun, his head already being thrown back.

“You make it seem like we weren’t just outside yesterday,” Renjun joins him.

“I just meant that this whole is it going to downpour or is it going to stay sunny thing the weathers been doing is getting ridiculous.”

“They do say the weather is unpredictable. It does what it wants when it wants.” Renjun peels back some plastic wrapping from his ham and cheese sandwich. “Did you get everything done in the copy room?”

“Ugh, can we not talk about work? It’s called a break for a reason.” He reaches into his pocket pulling out his sunglasses.

“So, that means you didn’t get it done, huh?” Jaemin plops down next to Renjun. “Charlotte’s going to be up your ass when we get back inside.”

“I think you mean I’ll be up her ass,” he smirks in Jaemin’s direction. “Do you think I’m an idiot? All I have to do is sit back while papers are printed out. Not rocket science.”

“You do it on purpose?” Jeno sits on the opposite side of Jaemin next to Renjun. “Why do you do that?”

“He likes the attention,” Renjun sighs. “Also, he likes when she yells at him.” He takes a bite of his sandwich. “It’s a kink of his.”

“Dude…really?” Jeno chuckles. “What you want a woman to put you in your place?”

“No, I want her to think she’s putting me in place and when the time is right, I’ll go and pound into her pussy so hard she’ll see stars.” He licks his lips. “And have you seen Charlotte? Those juicy thighs of hers will be the death of me. And when we were on that company retreat, her wetsuit showed her puffy —"

“Enough! Have some respect for her!” Renjun growls. “Plus, she’s married!”

“She’s married?” Haechan pulls down his glasses to see Renjun’s face.

“Yeah, she’s is. So, stop talking about her like some horny teenager.”

Sliding up his sunglasses Haechan leans his head back. “Sorry, not all of us are as pure as you,” He rolls his eyes under his sunglasses.

“I never said I was pure,” Renjun mumbles. “I just don’t talk about that kind of stuff…”

“‘That kind of stuff?’” Jaemin nudges him. “We’re all bros here it’s okay you know. We won’t judge.”

“Speak for yourself!” Jeno glares in Haechan’s direction. “This little shit didn’t let me forget that night at the Christmas party for months!”

“Not my fault you were dry humping a married woman with your tongue down her throat. Plus, it didn’t seem like she or you were complaining much so why get pissy about it?”

“Because I was drunk off my ass that’s why!” Jeno throws a water bottle at Haechan almost hitting his dick in the process.

“Watch the merchandise! I’ll need it for the upcoming company retreat!” Haechan shouts.

Jaemin whispers looks towards you and Charlotte, “hey, we’ve got some company…”

Scoffing Haechan leans back on his elbows turning in the direction you and Charlotte were sitting. “Knew she found me hot,” he smirks. “But then again, who doesn’t?”

“It’s not Charlotte who’s looking at you,” Jaemin snickers.

“Eh?” Haechan lowers his glasses to see your eyes meeting his. “No…fucking…way…Well, isn’t this interesting,” he starts to unbutton his shirt. “Didn’t think she liked me.” He runs a hand over his neck while he keeps you in his peripheral vision but not without sending a wink your way.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Renjun asks shocked.

“Giving our little peeping tom a show,” he licks his lips.

Renjun reaches over smacking Haechan’s hand. “Stop that!”

“Yeah,” Jeno shivers. “You’re grossing us out. Plus, she was just looking over here. Doesn’t mean she thinks you’re hot.”

“The hell it doesn’t! I saw the look in her eyes. She was screaming for me to fuck her out here in the open. I bet she’s a freak in bed. What do they say…’a lady in the streets a freak in sheets?’ Bet she’s a screamer too. She’s always sweet and soft spoken…I know she’s a whore in the bedroom.”

“Doesn’t matter what you think,” Jeno leans in keeping his voice down. “I’m not bullshitting, I saw her and Charlotte making out at the Christmas party.”

Haechan rips his glasses off his face. Eyes wide as saucers. “You’re a fucking liar! They did not!”

“I swear I saw it! Went to take a piss and there they were…Charlotte had her pressed up against the wall. If I didn’t have to piss so bad, I would have stayed and watched the show. Fucking hot as hell.”

“Sh-She-She’s gay?!” Renjun gasps looking in your direction. “She can’t be…” he whispers to himself but Jaemin catches it.

“Wait a second. Renjun,” his hand rests on Renjun’s shoulder as he peeks his head around to see more of his face. “Don’t tell me you like her…”

“Wh-What?!” Renjun’s voice cracks.

“You’re shitting me,” Jeno starts laughing. “You like her, don’t you?”

“I-I-I never said I did!” Renjun starts whining. “Stop playing, I was just shocked to find out she and Charlotte kissed that’s all. I swear!” He holds his hands up.

Haechan sits up into a seated position. His head tilting at his best friend’s words. “You do like her,” he points an accusatory finger. “Admit it! Damn this is too good!” He starts to laugh along with Jeno. “The offices angels in love! How fucking rich is this?!”

“Shut up!” Renjun tackles him his hands going straight to Haechan’s throat. “I never said I liked her.”

Haechan doesn’t stop laughing despite Renjun’s pleads. “You totally do! Want me to tell you what she’s like in bed? Get you the inside scoop?” He wiggles his brows.

“Knock it off!” Renjun’s grip on his neck tightens.

“Oh, someone’s getting mad,” he snickers. “Bet you wouldn’t have the balls to even talk to her.”

“I can talk to her if I wanted too! I just don’t want to!” With one final squeeze of Haechan’s throat Renjun pushes himself off of him and goes back to his spot, his sandwich long since squished. “Fucking dick…” he mumbles.

“It’s okay if you do like her,” Jaemin gives Renjun a squeeze. “She is really pretty. I don’t blame you. Plus, she’s nice and is a hard worker. Unlike someone we know,” he glances at Haechan.

“Yeah, so what if she made out with Charlotte,” Jeno looks to where Charlotte was now cackling her head off. The word ‘slut’ gaining everyone arounds attention as well as your stressed-out face.  “They seem to be really close friends.”

“Close friends who make out?” Renjun sighs. “Look, I just…I just think she’s pretty, okay? I’m not saying I like her. I just…” he turns in your direction your eyes meeting again for the second time today. “I…”

“Fifty bucks you won’t have the balls to talk to her,” Haechan smirks. “You have an entire week to go up to her and have an actual conversation. Not just a ‘hi’ and ‘bye.’ A full length thirty plus minute conversation. I’ll even give you $200 if you kiss her by the end of the week.”

“I’ll double down on that,” Jeno chimes in.

“Guys, for real,” Jaemin looks between Jeno and Haechan. “This isn’t something you bet on. Renjun really likes –”

“You think I won’t?!” Renjun stands his arms glued to his side. His hands in tight fists turning his knuckles white in the process. “I’ll show you! I’ll show all of you! Fucking jerks!”

Renjun storms off back into the building through the side door. Garnering the attention of everyone around at his sudden explosion of emotion – Charlotte and yourself included.

“Did you have to do that?” Jaemin sighs standing up, dusting off his pants.

“What? He won’t do it. He’s too shy to talk to anyone but us. How he’s managed to have us as friends is still shocking.”  

“Grow the fuck up, Haechan.” Jaemin leaves heading straight for the side door Renjun walked through.

“What’s up with him? He on his period or something?” Haechan asks Jeno.

“No, you’re just an ass.” He lays back onto the grass enjoying the sunny day. “But since I’ve decided to enter the bet, I guess I’m on your side for now,” he peeks up giving Haechan a smirk. “Think he’ll actually go through with it?”

Haechan turns to look at you and Charlotte getting up from the table you were sitting at and throwing your trash away. “If he’s smart, he will.”

✖-----------------------✖

This couldn’t be happening. Your eyes dart from one person to the next as bright cheers and smiles fill the larger-than-life conference room. No, seriously, this had to be some kind of joke. One-by-one, your boss holds open a large black top hat and those on the right side of the room, which you stand, were to pick from the hat drawing names on folded pieces of printer paper. Sasha, one of your friends at the office jumps for joy when she opens her paper seeing Jaemin’s name written in bold letters. Charlotte on your left side as well gasps when she pulls out Haechan’s name. The universe seeming to favor your two friends over yourself today. How could this have happened? What in your past life or current life ended you in this pickle?

“Who did you get?” Sasha squeals as she holds your hand up revealing the name that you chose. “No way,” her hand falls from your wrist.

“What? Who did she get?” Charlotte leans over to you her body freezing as she sees the name written in the same bold black font as Haechan and Jaemin’s. “Man, that sucks for you…” She snickers.

“This has to be a joke,” you mutter more to yourself than to anyone else.

“It isn’t. I’m sorry to say that you are not in the Twilight Zone.” Charlotte's hand firmly grips your ass cheek making you jump and swat her hand away. “Have fun in the land of celibacy,” she giggles.

“What the hell?!” You scream at her.

“Well, I’ve got to go to my man,” she waves Haechan’s name in the air. “He’s waiting for me.” She starts to head across the room light on her feet. “Oh, Haechan!!” She sings out over the chatter of your co-workers.

“Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” Sasha rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I mean, at least he’s nice, right? I’m sure you’ll have an amazing time.” She kisses your cheek a pout on her face. “I’m going to go and talk to Jaemin now, okay?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” smiling as best you could your friend follows the same path as Charlotte had moments before where both Haechan and Jaemin were sitting down. Haechan now talking to Charlotte happily.

It just didn’t make sense. How in the hell did Charlotte end up drawing Haechan’s name out of the hat? There are over thirty guys working on your floor and she just so happened to pull the name of the one guy she’d roll over onto her back for if he asked her to? And Sasha? Lord knows you love her but what the hell?! How did she get Jaemin? Even she pulled out her crush. Looking down at the name in the paper you drew your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

This was supposed to be a fun weekend. The whole company going to a lakefront hotel to do another round of bounding before the new quarter starts and everyone is forced to focus on the massive amounts of deadlines for the magazine. How the hell did you get the one person who can single handedly ruin this trip for you?

“Um, h-hello,” a soft whisper of a voice causes you to shake your head.

“Yes?” You turn in the direction of the voice to discover, Huang Renjun.

Freezing in an upright position, chest up, arms back, and head facing forward aside from it darting around the room to find everyone paired up already. Rigidly, as if you were the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz still extremely rusted, you turn in Renjun’s direction.

“We are, uh, partner’s, right?” He asks his head low. His fingers twisting together nervously. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I-I-I’m Huang Renjun,” he finally looks up as he extends his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Like on autopilot you say a quick hello and shake his hand. That is…until you noticed how small his hand is. It was actually…adorable? Not much bigger than your own. Trying not to stare you keep your eyes fixated on Renjun’s face. Bad idea. Terrible idea. Not taking much notice to him aside from a few encounters in the elevator with Sasha and Charlotte along with you, keeping yourself pressed in the corner disinterested in what they were going on about – and earlier this week when Charlotte asked if you would smash or pass him, it was the first time you had a close look at Renjun’s face. He’s positively adorable.

Gorgeous alabaster skin, twinkling dark brown eyes that seem to sparkle under the fluorescent lighting in the conference room. His round framed glasses giving him a webtoon character look. The type of guy who is the shy office nerd, most likely collecting manga or binges anime like his life depends on it – but just like Clark Kent, he has a secret about him. A secret waiting to be unfolded. In this very moment a spark shoots through your heart. A secret that is hidden behind Renjun’s eyes. Drawing you closer to him.

Your eyes travel down to his soft pink lips that glisten and his smile, lord does he have the sweetest smile. Slowly you turn into a puddle as he continues to babble about how excited he is to be partnered with you. He’s so pure and innocent. Everything about Renjun screamed virtuous. An earthly angel. A gift sent down from heaven to remind humanity that heaven is in fact, for real.

“I can’t believe we’re partners! Not to mention the lakefront hotel? It looks like it’ll be a lot of fun!” He gushes. “I hope we can become close after this.”

“Cl-Close?” You ask.

Nodding eagerly, he beams his ethereal light upon you. Instantaneously you’re showered in joy and tranquility. Heaven’s gates opening up to you. Signifying you have a place waiting for you, with this beautiful angel as your guide.

“Yes! I’ve admired you for quite some time,” he lowers his head bashfully. “I, uh, I was hoping one day I would be able to partner up with you. Now that it’s happening,” he peeks up his long dark lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. “I can’t help myself from hoping we’ll become friends after this.”

Friends? Renjun wants to become friends? That is…that has to be… Holding your arms tightly against your frame, resisting the urge to open your arms and welcome him into a tight embrace and smothering his cute adorable face in smooches you give him a polite nod.

“I hope we can become close as well, Renjun. I do want to warn you…when it comes to the group activities, I can be a bit bossy. I don’t like to lose at all. So, I won’t go easy on you.”

That part is true. Despite the huge urge to give up everything you owned for this beautiful angelic man in front of you, you weren’t going to baby him at all. The company bounding trips were to create a better work environment where everyone can become familiar with each other, but it was also the time for fun competitive games. Last year you ended up being partners with Jaehyun and you found out the hard way how shitty it was to lose. Both Jaehyun and yourself getting the worst room if you could even call it a room. Two beds so close that you were basically sleeping side-by-side. A tiny bathroom that had you hunched over like you were in one of those tiny houses. It was terrible! How your boss found that resort was beyond you, but this time you were determined to come out on top or at least within the top five.

Then again…a strange thought pops into your head. Being squished in a small room with Renjun. His glasses laying on the night stand. His large eyes staring into yours as you wish each other a good night, but when your eyes meet a tether of electricity seething between the two of you. Pulling you closer together until your sharing the same breath. His tongue skating over his lips, while you run your hand through his short black hair…

Shaking your head, you pull yourself away from that thought. That would never happen. Not with the way he’s gushing about wanting to be friends and to be close to you and how much he admires you. He’s talking more like a fan than a lover. Solidifying your theory that Renjun in fact doesn’t like women.

✖-----------------------✖

“What the fuck am I going to do?” You lay back onto your bed staring at your ceiling. “How did this happen?” You ask both Charlotte and Sasha who you were currently on a call with.

“It won’t be that bad,” Sasha tries to calm you down. “He’s a sweetheart. Trust me, I worked with him on the one article about the actress having an affair and he literally was super sweet to her despite the fact she was a lying cheating hoe. I mean she was cheating on Dustin Smith, like how can he be nice to her when that bitch cheated on the father of my future children?”

“Sasha…” you groan.

“Okay, okay, but seriously, he’s a nice guy.”

“That’s not her problem Sasha,” Charlotte finally speaks up. “Her problem is that she wanted to get some dick this trip and she’ll be left dry humping a pillow.”

“I never said I wanted to get dick this trip!” You sit up angrily. “Don’t put words in my mouth!”

“Please, you know you’ve been going through a dry spell. Hoping you’d get partnered up with Jaehyun again?” She growls playfully. “You want some of that hot prince cock,” she starts cackling.

"What makes you think she won’t get any this trip?” Sasha asks Charlotte.

“Renjun, he’s unsmashable, duh.”

“Unsmashable?” Sasha asks. “What the hell does that mean?”

Clarifying you sigh loudly, “we were playing smash or pass and we both confirmed we would pass on Renjun.”

“Well, that’s rude, you don’t even know him.” Sasha mumbles. “I don’t think he’s unsmashable. He’s just innocent. Probably doesn’t have a lot of experience.” She tries her best to defend him. “What makes him unsmashable?”

“The fact that he’s clearly gay,” Charlotte states. “I mean have you heard about him dating anyone, making out with them at the holiday parties? No! Because he’s clearly gay.”

“Says the two who were clawing at each other at the Christmas party! Oh! And one of them being a married woman!”

“Shut up!” Both you and Charlotte scream over the phone.

“We were drunk off our asses and my hubby was being a prick during that time,” Charlotte mumbles.

Nodding despite the fact they can’t see you. “We weren’t in the right state of mind back then.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t judge anyone until you get to know them. I don’t think he’s gay. I’ve never gotten that vibe from him. He’s just innocent. I’m sure once you get to know him, you’ll find out the answer to all of your questions. Just give him a chance. He’s super sweet.”

“She wants some of Renjun’s dick apparently,” Charlotte teases.

“Can’t agree with you more,” you start laughing finally feeling better about the trip tomorrow.

Sasha grumbles two seconds from hanging up on the two of you, “I hate you both.”

“WE LOVE YOU SASHA!”

✖-----------------------✖

Taking a seat towards the back of the bus you pull out your phone and AirPods. This was going to be an over four-hour drive to the lakefront and you made sure that you would keep yourself busy. Something about relaxing music while watching the scenery change from the busy city life to the quiet suburb and country life to the shore that helps create a calmness within you. Gearing you up for a nice trip before a hectic quarter. Just as you press the play button the open spot next to you dips down. Thinking it was Charlotte or Sasha you don’t bother to look up.

“I was wondering when you would get here. Have to take Richard to work again?” You ask thinking it was Charlotte.

“Not sure who Richard is so no, I didn’t have to take him to work.” An unfamiliar voice speaks up.

Gasping you turn to find the person was neither Sasha nor Charlotte but the evil little shit himself, Haechan.

“Wh- What are you doing? Why are you sitting here?”

Offended he places a hand over his heart. “Is this not a free country? Can’t a man sit anywhere he pleases?”

“Yeah…but…”

“But what? I saw you sitting back here all alone and thought you looked sad. So, I’m here to cheer you up! They don’t call me Fullsun for no reason.”

“Fullsun?” You scoff. “What is that supposed to mean and why does being a ‘Fullsun’ have anything to do with me?” You inquire.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed I have beautiful tan skin and I make everyone happy. So, Fullsun. Why it has something to do with you…I’m here to make you a very happy woman,” he leans in placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Shocked by his bold move you stare at him with dead eyes. “Did I give you permission to do that?” You flatly ask going back to your phone. “Also, who says I’m not happy? I’m perfectly content with everything at the moment. Thank you very much.”

“Even with being partnered up with Renjun?” He asks leaning his face close to yours. “You know I saw you looking at me the other day,” he places his hand on your thigh. “I was waiting for you to come over and talk to me.”

Snorting on the inside you watch as Haechan attempts to seduce you. He must not have learned his lesson the last time he tried to get you to cave into him. Having little sleep last night, both excited and dreading this little long weekend getaway and the fact that Haechan is right, you are stuck with Renjun — you may be more affected by his advances, but considering your dead tired…there was only one option, to throw it back in his face and hope he leaves you alone.

“If you saw me, why didn’t you come over and talk to me instead,” you lean into him keeping your voice to a whisper. “I mean, it was hard not to notice you. You looked very handsome,” you place your hand on his chest, feeling his racing heart. “Your golden skin glistening in the sun. You were so,” placing your lips to his ear you giggle. “Yummy,” you whisper.

“Fuck…” he gulps loudly moving his body closer to you. “I, uh, I didn’t think you, uh, liked me at all…” his eyes tremble in anticipation.

“Quite the contrary,” you slide your hand down his chest stopping at his tummy. Watching as he takes a sharp inhale. “I like you a lot.”

“Fuck, I hate Renjun right now,” he growls. “Why couldn’t you have pulled my name? Or switched with Charlotte?” He grabs your hand moving it lower, past the top of his pants. “You’re so hot.”

He places your hand over his hardening cock. Shocked your head shoots up looking around at the bus starting to fill up. He must be out of his mind! This wasn’t funny at all. On a bus! Where there are people! Not just people but people who you work with! Turning back to Haechan his lips are parted, eyes hooded, and his golden skin shows faint signs of turning red. He was already this aroused?!

“What exactly do think you’re doing?” You ask him trying to keep your cool. Never did you think your small teasing would have you in this predicament.

Moving your hand across his pelvis Haechan breathes in a shaky breath. “I think I’m starting my weekend off now,” he sits up as Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun head back to where the two of you were. “Fuck! Switch spots with me.” He gets up hopping up onto the seat. “Hurry!”

Quickly you move so that you’re on the outside and Haechan is on the inside. As the two of you get situated a throat clears next to you. Looking up you find Renjun and Jaemin staring down at you.

“G-Good morning,” you gulp hoping they don’t notice Haechan’s little problem.

“Good morning,” Jaemin beams. His smile truly the undoing of every man and woman’s hearts. “I didn’t expect to see the two of you together.” He gestures to Haechan and yourself.

“Just getting better acquainted,” Haechan wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Plus, I need to vet her to make sure she won’t hurt our man.”

Your head whips to Haechan. “Vet me?” You ask through gritted teeth.

Haechan gives you a look before smiling. Clearly telling you to go along with what he was saying otherwise you’ll be caught. “Renjun is very shy. Just checking out his partner is all. As his best friend it’s my responsibility to look after him.”

“And as her best friend it’s my job to call you out on your bullshit!” Charlotte’s voice appears in front of you and Haechan. “Admit it, Haechan, you’re smitten.” She sends you a wink before taking notice to Haechan’s lap. Her eyes going wide as she looks your way but you shake your head. Begging her with everything inside of you for her to keep what is clearly visual a secret.

“Renjun,” she calls still looking at you. “Since our partners are getting to know each other, why don’t we do the same?” She sends him a warm smile.

“I-I…” he looks at you lost and confused.

“Come on, I don’t bite.” She grabs his arm pulling him into the seat in front of you. “Jeno, Jaemin, sit there. We can talk easier this way!” She points to the seat across from her.

“Sure,” Jaemin shrugs giving Haechan a quick once over. “Why not?”

“What about Sasha?” You ask leaning over the seat, your face between Renjun and Charlotte’s. Turning to face Renjun you get a whiff of his shampoo. Even his damn shampoo makes him smell like an angel! What in the world is going on with this man?!

“Sasha is going to drive to the lakefront. She had an emergency last night. Her dad needed to go to the hospital. Don’t worry, she’s going to be there. Seems he just had a little fall is all.”

“Eh?!” You clammer to your feet. “Is he okay? Why is she still coming? Shouldn’t she stay with him?”

Waving you off Charlotte pushes you back with the tip of her finger. “She said he’s fine. He didn’t break anything and she’ll be at the lakefront around dinner time. Sorry Jaemin, looks like you’re going to have to represent both of you in the first game.”

Shrugging Jaemin sighs. “It can’t be helped. I just hope everything is fine.”

You were just about to ask one more question when a hand sliding up your leg has you looking behind you. Haechan now has his hand in his pants. His eyes half open while his lower lip snagged under his top teeth. Good lord this guy is crazy!

“Please,” he grabs your hand intertwining your fingers.

You sit down slowly. Pulse raising a mile a minute. What in the hell did you get yourself into? Haechan’s hand doesn’t leave yours. Gripping tighter as he continues to rub over his hardened length.

“H-Haechan…” you whisper reaching over to stop him. “You can’t do that. Not here!”

“Touch me, please…” he buries his face in the crook of your neck his lips resting gently on your moistening skin. “I need you…” he trembles just speaking those words. “I want to feel your hand around me.”

“Haechan,” you move away from him taking your hand out of his.

“No…” he whines reaching for you.

Grabbing his face between your hands you squish his cheeks together. “I’m not going to touch you until I want to.” You squish his cheeks together once more giggling internally with how cute he looks.

“I need you,” he whines through his squished cheeks. “Now…”

Lowering your hands, you move closer to him. Turning yourself so that no one will be able to see him at all. The last thing you needed was someone seeing him masturbating next to you and call everyone’s attention to it. Talk about a nightmare. You reach into him giving him a quick peck on the lips trying to calm him down. “I said,” you keep your voice barely above a whisper. “When I feel like touching you.”

Lifting his hips up, Haechan slides down his jeans just enough to free his hardened length. Seeing the impression, it leaves through his briefs has you licking his lips. Granted not the size that you saw with Jeno, but still enough to have you weak in the knees – you take notice to the wet stain of precum glistening under the light radiating from the window. Licking your lips to create some form of moisture you watch with hawk-like eyes as Haechan finally frees himself.

“Fuck,” he hisses stroking his hardened cock.

“Does it feel good?” You whisper.

Haechan turns to see you staring hungrily at his length. Your lips parted, tongue running over your dry lips as he strokes himself.

“So…fucking good…” his hips buck up into his hands. “Wish it were you instead.” He leans into you finding any type of solace he can with his body touching yours.

“Keep going,” you reach out tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “You look so hot right now.”

Humming Haechan grips his cock in his hand thrusting his hips upward. This has to be the hottest thing you’ve seen in your life. Knowing full well what a cute submissive Haechan would be you didn’t expect your teasing to end you here — Haechan’s cock out, him stroking himself and the hustle and bustle of people around you talking and laughing, completely unaware of the naughtiness going on in the back seat. Yeah, this was fucking hot!

Dropping your head down you open your mouth. A long strand of saliva dripping down helping to slick up Haechan’s cock.

“Sh-Shit,” he grabs the back of your head fisting a handful of your hair. “Please, please…” he begs.

“Not so fast,” you lift yourself up, your face close to his. “Only when you’re about to cum,” you kiss him gently enjoying this far too much. “Only then will I touch you.”

With one last kiss and a quick flick of your tongue over his lips, you sit back making sure to block him from the now two women sitting across from the two of you.

“Make sure to stay quiet,” you whisper close to his ear. “Won’t want anyone to know what you’re doing back here.”

Haechan strokes himself faster. “Fuck, I don’t care…” his head is thrown back, resting on your shoulder. “I don’t fucking care who sees,” he pumps himself faster.

“Such an attention whore,” you scold kissing his forehead. “Didn’t think you would be like this in public. Wanting everyone’s attention while you stroke your cock. To have people on their knees begging for your cum.”

“Only you,” he leaves out an airy moan. “Only you…I only want you…”

“Liar.” You giggle, wrapping your arm around him. Your fingers running through his hair. “You want everyone here to see you like this. Admit it.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t stop pumping his cock. “No. Only you…I only want you…”

Me?” You ask kissing his forehead again. “Why do you want me?”

“So sexy,” he moves his hand faster. His chest rising and falling quickly as he pushes himself closer to his release. “You’re so fucking sexy…”

“I’m sexy? What about me is sexy?”

“Here…now…” he cries out.

“Shut it!” You place a hand over his mouth. “Keep your voice down or else everyone will find out.”

His eyes roll into the back of his head. His hips and hand moving together in a sensuous rhythm. He was getting close.

“You have to promise me to keep your voice down, okay?” You ask your hand still flat across his mouth. Nodding eagerly Haechan kisses the palm of your hand. “You’ll be a good boy and won’t make a sound?” You ask him and again he nods his head. “Move your hand.” You order.

Like the good little whore he is, Haechan moves his hand. His cock twitching in the air desperate for attention. The head red and swollen eagerly waiting to release the cum building up. Spitting into your palm as quietly as you can — you rub over his swollen tip.

“Mother fucker…” Haechan moans into your neck. “Feels so good,” he kisses your neck in sloppy wet kisses.

“Like that?” You ask running your hand down his length.

Warm and solid in your hand. Not to veiny either. Squishing your legs together you fight off the urge to touch yourself. It was already risky to have Haechan in the state he was in, but to have you with your legs spread — co-workers just a seat away while he rammed his fingers inside your soaking wet core, well that was too much of a risk.

“Mmm…I want to feel your lips on me,” he sucks on your neck. “Such pretty lips would look amazing around my cock,” he nips your collarbone.

“Not today,” you bite down on your lower lip.

“Why?” He moves his head lower kisses along your décolletage. “I want it…”

Wrapping your hand around him tighter he grunts. “What you want doesn’t matter. Be glad I’m even doing this for you.” You scold him. “Didn’t know you were this much of a slut. Begging for me to suck you off in front of everyone. Disgusting...”

“No,” he looks at you with hooded eyes. The only thing behind them lust. “I’m not a—" he stops himself, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Gonna cum?” You whisper in his ear. “Cum for me. Cum like the good little slut you are.”

Thrusting his pelvis up into your hand, squelching sounds from your spit coating his cock start to fil up the back seat around you. Haechan’s breathing becomes erratic and louder as he gets closer to his release.

“Come on…” you kiss his ear. “Show me that you’re a good little slut and cum for me.”

You do the last thing you can think of to send him over the edge. Opening your mouth, you bite down on his earlobe. Showing your dominance over the twitching man next to you. Haechan lets out a low guttural growl as he shoots hot strands of cum onto your hand.

“Shit…” he bucks his hips continuing to coat your hand with his seed. “So…fucking…good…”

Watching him spill onto you the urge to bend down and suck up any remaining cum is shot down by the jolt of the bus being put into gear starting off to the lakefront. Cheers of your co-workers sounding out making you look up for just a second to see your boss holding the walkie-talkie to announce how long it will take to get to your destination. Approximately four hours and thirty minutes, traffic and weather permitting.

“Hey…” Haechan’s voice pulls you back to him. His cock still in your hand, cum dripping down from your fist onto his briefs.

“Oh!” You pull your hand away looking around for something to wipe his cum off with.

Grabbing your hand Haechan pulls it up to his mouth and does the unthinkable. Opening wide he slurps up his cum. His tongue and lips making sure to clean you as good as he can. You think he’s going to swallow but when he pulls you closer to him, his lips finding solace on yours — he pushes some of his cum into your mouth. The slight bitter and saltiness making you wiggle in his grasp. Wrapping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him, Haechan’s lips move along yours.

His cum swooping between his mouth to yours. This was absolutely the hottest thing in the world! Deepening the kiss, you cross your legs together feeling the trickle of arousal seeping through your panties. Your tongues swirl around each other, his cum beginning to smear onto your lips and chin as you fight for dominance. Desperate for air you pull back a thick strand of saliva and cum between the two of you. Haechan breaks the strand with his finger before swallowing what was left in his mouth. Doing the same you stare at him in awe. Never in your wildest dreams would you ever pictured Haechan likes this.

“I really wish you were my partner,” he leans in his lips gently caressing yours. Kissing you with feather like touches. “We’d be able to have more fun.” He mumbles against your lips. “Why couldn’t you have picked my name?” His lips move down to your neck where he nips and kisses you. “I want to finish what we started…”

“M-Me too…” You whisper getting lost in the residual taste of his essence that was left on his lips.

This fact was true. In this moment Haechan was the only person on your mind. The mere moment in time you just shared with him not enough to satisfy you. If this was any indication of what was to come for the long weekend, you were damn sure you were going to have the time of your life.

Readjusting himself, Haechan slides his cock back into briefs before pulling his jeans up. Reaching into your purse looking for your tin of Altoids, not wanting to have Haechan’s cum as the fragrance of your breath you hear your phone go off. A message from Charlotte showing on your screen.

Whatever just happened with you and Haechan you owe me big time! I heard a few noises from him and I’m dying up here! Renjun didn’t notice so you’re good! You’re welcome! I’ll take details as payment for my service. By the way, just got some juicy information… Renjun is not gay! Looks like you may be in for a nice weekend. Lucky bitch! I hate you!

Renjun? Perhaps this weekend could be fun after all? A smile coming to your lips as you pop a mint into your mouth.

✖-----------------------✖

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PART 2

[hansolmates]

test drive | 01

summary; hansol vernon chwe is crying at his doorstep like a taylor swift music video, and you’re for some reason there to help  pairing; hvc / reader (f) genre/warnings; neighbors to friends, friends to lovers!au, slice of life, fluff, angst, tw—cheating, mentions of pregnancy related to cheating, profanity w/c; 1k a/n; im still so oh so very sad over be the sun tour ending. i had such a great time and i miss vern so much, so i decided to write some sad!vern. would love to thank @theluttleprince​ for making this gorgeous banner with these scans. *this will be a very noncommittal drabble series, i know this isn’t the return many were expecting but pls be gentle with me—unedited unplanned and all around chaotic impulses, you know the drill! take care drink water and have a wonderful week!  [masterpost]

Vernon was (and is) always touted as a good guy. Way out of your league, if you remember college correctly. (To your chagrin, you were sober through most of it.) He was a talented producer in the music program, part of a drama-free fraternity that raised money as fast as they donated, and all-around Good Guy with professors and students alike. 

So when you see him sobbing like he’s the peak of Niagara Falls at the front of his apartment five years later, you can’t imagine what Good Guy Vernon could be going through to feel this way. 

It just so happened that the elevator is under repair tonight, otherwise you would’ve missed him and been in bed with your bowl of black bean noodles. 

The stairs are echoing on his floor, the telltale cries almost making you drop your take-out. You peek out the stairwell and Vernon’s forehead is pressed against the front door, unwilling to move his hand which clutched his keys. Poor guy, he couldn’t make it inside before he could cry in peace. 

He still is way out of your league, and therefore you really don’t feel like you’re equipped enough to approach him. The only reason that you’re living in the same complex is that he posted in your university Facebook group about a great apartment in a quiet part of the city. You never replied to the post, however you probably should’ve thanked him at least. This place was absolutely perfect, both within your budget and a short commute to your job. 

You wave hello to each other on occasion, very slight occasion. Without speaking. 

Palms sweaty, you decide to walk up to him. You really can’t leave him like this, not when he sounds so sad. 

“Vernon,” you say softly. No response. He’s shaking. “Vern,” you’re finally an arm’s length away from him when you say his name one more time. “Hansol Vernon Chwe!” 

You don't mean to exclaim, but you regret it as soon as he flinches. Your heart aches for him, you can see his face is patchy and while his eyes are still brown and beautiful, they're glassy with a never-ending stream of tears. 

He rubs his eyes with his oversized arm sleeve, "Shit, m'sorry. Do we know each other?" 

That question didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. "We went to college together. I attended a few of your mixes, which were always great.” And under your breath you mutter, “I may or may not have pushed Soonyoung in the gym pool sophomore year." 

A mixture of a huff and chuckle escape his lips, "I remember now. His phone was in his pocket." 

You smile. Even if you never did have a conversation in university, it feels good to have left a memory, however minute, in his student career. “So, do you wanna tell me what happened?” 

He sighs, “It’s Yoojung.” 

You blink back, tilting your head. Yoojung was the cute freshman that plopped on the scene the first week of September. It was no surprise that Vernon would be into her all those years ago. She was sassy, sexy, and packed a powerful personality in that petite body. In fact, you couldn’t imagine what could’ve been wrong, because last time you checked social media, they were doing peachy. 

But obviously there is something wrong. With two fingers, you tug apprehensively at his sleeve. It’s the one holding his house keys. “Do you wanna go inside?” 

“Eventually.” 

With a frown, you stare at the seemingly harmless off-white door. If it is girl trouble, you’d imagine that Vernon would be coming home to a lot of painful memories if that were the case. Maybe Yoojung left her clothes or something and he’d start wailing again. 

“How about you come chill in my apartment?” you blurt out, holding out your bag of take-out in hopes he’d be enticed by food. “I have jajangmyeon. We can share.” At the mention of food, his stomach growls in reply. A resounding yes. You bite your lip in an attempt to hide your smile, but it was no use. With a jerk of your head and a light pat on his shoulder, you lead him two more floors up to your room. 

You grimace at how evident it is that your apartment is not ready for guests. The door is only open two centimeters in and you can see your nude bra (not even the sexy kind) hanging from your ironing board. 

Vernon trails behind you, shutting the door. 

“God, what a bad first impression huh?” you chime, stalking up to snatch your bra and throw it in the laundry basket. “Sorry about that, do you want something to drink—”

“Yoojung might be pregnant.” 

You drop your take out, plastic clanging on your coffee table. Vernon is unmoving, shoes on. You take a tentative step towards him, offering him another unseen smile. “Oh? Well, did you guys get tested—”

“I wouldn’t be the father.” Vernon mutters bitterly, bangs falling on his eyes. “We’ve never had sex.” 

Oh. You’re quiet as Vernon finally shucks off his shoes, taking the time to push them neatly against the steps. He even hangs his denim jacket up, along with his bag. If he notices you staring at him, he ignores it. Breaking out of your reverie, you force yourself into your tiny kitchen, making as much noise as possible when taking out the kitchenware. 

“Do you want wine or tea?” you ask. 

“Tea, please. Do you have honey and milk?” 

You smile, picking out a Winnie the Pooh mug from your display case. “You got it.” 

With your water heater on, you busy yourself up. You notice for such a lanky guy, it’s easy for Vernon to appear so small. He’s curled up on your couch, poking at one of your stuffed animals as he settles for turning on your TV. The soft fluffy blanket matches his oversized sweatsuit, one big gray blob stretching over your couch.

Grabbing the bear-shaped honey bottle, you squeeze as much of the syrupy confection as you can into his mug. It looks like he needs it. 

[dumfanting]

Same Heart ch 30- Distraction

AO3 Link

Rating: E, explicit, if you’re not 18 get back to the rest of the cadets.

Warnings: arguments, dry humping/outercourse, love bites, being walked in on, Star Trek reference, face slapping (again), ass-grabbing, claustrophobia, medical scenario, full-body submersion

Notes: fem reader, force sensitive reader, second person pov, present tense

8400 Words

We’re getting close to the end! Not of the entire series, oho no, I have big plans for the rest. Just the end of this season/volume.

I know it’s been too long since the last update, but I’ve been busy. Got a job, worked for less than 3 months, then quit the job because my left leg is almost constantly in intense pain. So this took a backseat for a while.

The original draft of this chapter had close to 14,500 freakin words. After asking, the readers decided that it should be split into less intimidating pieces. So, that’s why this chapter ends, and the next one begins, kind of awkwardly.

F reader/ Echo

F reader/ Crosshair

There’s a ringing silence for just a second, but it’s quickly shattered by the sound of Crosshair’s laughter. You hadn’t even noticed him. 

An hour or so passes after you’ve fallen asleep, and in this time, Echo and Crosshair take turns between showering and keeping an eye on you, even though they don’t really need to. So far, the most alarming thing you’ve done is snore so loud you almost woke yourself back up. Once they’ve both bathed, they sit on the large bed on either side of you. Crosshair is sitting upright against the headboard with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms crossed. Echo is more relaxed, slouching and resting his scomp arm on his bent knee, his hand near your shoulder, but not touching. You suddenly make a sound similar to an engine that won’t start, startling them both.

“Does she usually snore like this?” Crosshair asks. Echo raises an eyebrow and sits forward to better see him. 

“Really? You’ve been in the same bunk room with her for how long and you’re asking me that?” he says. 

“Okay, fine. Ignoring how Wrecker drowns her out sometimes, I assumed that when she was with you she would sleep through the night and not cry out or scream during nightmares instead,” Crosshair responds, shooting Echo a hard look, making him flinch. 

“Point taken, damn,” Echo says, unconsciously rubbing at the back of his neck and cringing. He takes a breath and continues; “Anyway, no, she didn’t, so I’m guessing it’s whatever Kix gave her.”

You make another loud rumbling sound and they come to an unspoken agreement that you’ll be fine on your own for a little while, so they step outside onto the balcony and take a break from your snores. It’s quiet, by Coruscant standards, and the setting sun is warming their faces. Neither man speaks for about a minute before Echo curses under his breath. Crosshair makes a ‘what's up’ sound at him and he speaks again. 

“Kix is putting her into that bacta tank tomorrow,” he says. 

“Seems like a routine thing to me, what’s the issue?” Crosshair asks. 

“The issue is that she’s claustrophobic, and she’s going to panic if she goes alone,” Echo says. Crosshair nods, understanding. 

“And you’re supposed to be at the mechanics all day again,” Crosshair says. 

“Yeah. As much as I want to be there for her like she’s been for me, I can’t just skip a day, Shalka’s emptied the rest of the week for me,” Echo says. 

“So?” Crosshair says. Echo looks at him, confused. Crosshair rolls his eyes. 

“You seem to have forgotten that I’m here too. I’ll go with her,” Crosshair says. 

Crosshair has a point, but Echo hesitates, wondering if you have any other Force related tasks tomorrow. Crosshair seems to interpret Echo’s silence as doubt, if his words are any indication. 

“What, you don't trust me? If either of us are going to walk out on her, it’ll be you,” Crosshair says, turning towards Echo and staring him down.  

“Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Echo asks, also moving to face him, confused and on edge. 

“You know damn well what that means,” Crosshair says, irritated but trying to keep his voice down. Echo bristles at him, immediately defensive. 

“You don’t get to-,” he starts to say, but Crosshair cuts him off. 

“What was it you said when we got to Shalka’s place?” Crosshair asks. Echo looks confused again, so Crosshair clarifies. 

“‘If we're going to make this thing with her work we can’t keep doing this me versus you shit’ right?” Crosshair says. 

“What does that have to do with-,” Echo says, but Crosshair cuts him off again. 

“You and I both know that the problem is more than just us butting heads. You can’t keep running off on her when things get dicey,” Crosshair says, unaware that he’s getting louder. Echo looks like he wants to say something but Crosshair doesn’t let him. 

“I have been thinking about this for a while, yes. I told you already that I’m getting tired of picking up the pieces after you leave her, and you and I both know a day may come when I can't be here for her after that happens; what’s she supposed to do then?” Crosshair says, nearly shouting now.

“The others-,” Echo says, but he sounds guilty and unconvinced by his own words. 

“Have nothing to do with this ‘agreement’ of ours and you know it, do not deflect this onto them,” Crosshair spits before abruptly returning inside and Echo reluctantly follows. 

When the balcony door shuts, you mumble and roll over in your sleep. Crosshair takes a breath and steadies himself, then goes into his adjoining room, removing himself entirely from the situation before it gets ugly. Echo wants to be mad at Crosshair, but he has a point. 

Once Echo gets into bed with you, you unconsciously move closer to him. He holds his replaced arm around your shoulders and pulls you tightly to his chest. He drags his remaining hand down his face and spends a long time giving Crosshair's words some serious thought before deciding to apologize and make it up to you, even if he isn’t sure how.

When the morning comes, you wake up gradually before blinking at the sunlight that fills the room. You yawn and stretch, bumping into Echo, who is already awake and sitting up, but not Crosshair. You regain awareness quickly once you realize he’s not there, but take a breath and reason that he’s probably just in the refresher. Echo notices your movement and briefly looks at you, but doesn’t say anything. 

This is unlike him, and you sit up before resting your head on his shoulder. He glances at you again, but his eyes look distant, and you can tell he’s deep in thought about something. After a few more quiet minutes pass, you notice that there’s no noise coming from the refresher, and frown to yourself. You return your attention to Echo, softly nudging his side and asking if he’s alright. 

“Yeah, sorry, just thinking,” he says, before shaking himself and wrapping his replaced arm around you. You gently kiss his cheek. 

“What about?” you ask. 

“Crosshair,” Echo says. 

“I wondered where he was,” you say, glancing out onto the empty balcony. “Have you seen him?” you ask, and Echo sighs heavily. 

“Not since last night. He didn’t sleep here,” he says, and he sounds almost bitter, which confuses you. You move yourself so that you’re now sitting across from him and ask what happened. 

Echo hesitates and won’t meet your eyes. You don't need to be Sensitive to recognize guilt like this, but if it wasn’t already obvious enough, a strong gust of it, mixed with self deprecation, blows over you from him. You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, a mannerism you’ve unconsciously picked up from Hunter, and you sigh heavily. 

“You two got into it while I was asleep, didn’t you?” you ask, irritation simmering already. Echo nods, but stops you before you can go off on him. 

“We were talking about you being in the bacta tank today. He said he’d go with you, and I didn’t respond right away, so he must have thought I was doubting him,” Echo says. 

“Were you?” you ask, opening your eyes and watching him. 

“No, I wasn’t. I was trying to remember if you were going to go back to the Jedi library or anything else like that,” Echo says. 

“That’s fair,” you say quietly, then look back at Echo, prompting him to elaborate. 

“He said that I’m the one who’s most likely to walk out on you,” he says, sounding hesitant. “Referring to all the times I’ve stormed off,” he says quietly, and you sense his shame when he meets your eyes. You, meanwhile, are listening intently, but your face is blank and the room is quiet for a moment. 

“You agree with him,” Echo says, the feeling of shame intensifying. You hold back a sigh.

“Honestly? Yes, I do. I was thinking about it while the two of you were off talking that night. And while I do understand that you’re going through a lot-,” you say, and he gently interrupts you. 

“You’re absolutely right, it's no excuse. I was taking a hard look at my behavior for most of the night after he went into his own room,” Echo says. 

“And?” you say flatly. Echo takes your hand into his and softly says your name. 

“And I’m sorry. I can’t keep running off like that whenever there’s a problem. I know better and you definitely deserve better,” he says, not breaking eye contact with you. Sensitive or not, you can see in his eyes that he’s being serious about this. 

You say nothing, and your blank expression doesn’t change. Just as Echo wonders if he’s somehow made things worse, you suddenly move forward into his lap. You link your hands behind his neck and kiss him. He’s too surprised to react at first, but when you swipe your tongue across his lower lip he snaps out of it and opens up for you, morning breath be damned. The kiss quickly grows heated, and when you break apart, you’re both breathing heavily.

You shift your hands to his shoulders and lie backwards, pulling him down with you and kissing him as you both move. Echo holds his hand to the back of your head, and after a second of doubt, he presses his scomp link against your hip. You don’t flinch this time, and instead surprise him by tenderly taking it into your hand and holding it, even running your thumb across the very end. He can’t feel your touch there, but he shivers nonetheless before slotting himself between your legs. Ignoring the fact that you’re both still clothed from the waist down, you reposition yourself and move your hands to his hips, pulling him tightly against you. 

Even through the combined layers of your panties and his blacks, you can feel his growing bulge against your heated core, and when you grind yourself against it, Echo groans your name. He follows your lead, rutting against you and making the lace rub perfectly against your swollen clit. You let out a high gasp at the sensation. Echo notices, of course, and repeats the motion over and over until you’re a whining mess beneath him. You’re so wet that it’s soaking through and he can faintly feel it as he humps downward against you. His cock gets harder and you can feel it prodding at your entrance despite the fabric barriers. 

“Fuck Mesh’la, you’re so wet,” he says, supporting himself on his elbows as he looks down at you, still moving the entire time. You grind against him, hard, and he moans. 

“All for you,” you say between gasps for air. 

Echo moves his hand to one of your breasts and starts to rub his thumb against your pebbling nipple, making you whine with need. Impulsively, you wrap your legs around his waist and cross your ankles at the small of his back, trapping him and pulling him even closer to you. He makes a low groaning sound, then you feel his heated breath on your throat. 

“I know you’re close,” he says, speaking directly into your ear. He sucks at the mark he left on your neck a few nights ago, darkening it again. As he does, you whimper, right on the edge. 

“Tell me something, Mesh’la,” Echo says, speaking softly between kisses to your neck and jaw. You turn your head towards the door to give him better access. He nips at your pulse while continuing to grind himself into you, and just as the tight coil in your gut snaps, he speaks again. 

“Who’s making you come like this?” he says. Your eyes fly open and you look towards the door that leads into the hallway. 

“Tech?” you shout, startled when you see him standing there. 

“What!” Echo says, shocked, and pushes himself upward away from you while you prop yourself up on your elbows.

There’s a ringing silence for just a second, but it’s quickly shattered by the sound of Crosshair’s laughter. You hadn’t even noticed him. 

Less than an hour ago, Tech was waist deep in an electrical panel aboard the ship when his comm device began to beep at him. With a huff, he extricated himself and answered the call. 

“I told you not to comm me unless it’s important,” he said, annoyed by the interruption. 

“Oh, but it is important, Meds needs you,” Crosshair said. 

“She does?” Tech said, surprised, then paused. “Very well,” he says with a sigh. “On my way.” 

Crosshair snickered at him, then ended the call. Tech huffed again, knowing exactly what Crosshair had found so amusing. If anyone else had called for him, Tech would have told them he’s too busy to stop working, but he just can’t say no to you. The reason for this eludes and confuses him. 

About ten minutes later, the two men met up in the lobby area of the hotel. Crosshair noticed the way Tech was nervously looking around for you, and softly shook his head before getting his attention. 

“I thought you said Meds needed me?” Tech asked. 

“She does,” Crosshair said flatly before walking off. 

“Then where is she?” Tech asked as he followed Crosshair to your room.  

“In here. I’m going somewhere with her today, and we need you to go to the cybernetic mechanic’s with Echo,” Crosshair said, coming to a stop before your door. 

This shifted Tech’s attention, and after he asked, Crosshair gave him Shalka’s name. Tech immediately grabbed his data pad to run a holonet search on her and quickly became engrossed by what he found. So much so that he didn’t notice how Crosshair smirked at him before he unlocked the door. Tech blindly followed him through and into your room. Once inside, he was vaguely aware of your voice and Echo’s, but it wasn’t until you shouted his name, breathless and almost ecstatic, though confused, that he bothers to look up at his surroundings. 

When he does, he’s mortified to find that Crosshair has casually led him into the room while you and Echo appeared to be getting intimate, and he’s now staring right at the pair of you. He quickly realizes that you must have noticed him and therefore said his name as you were coming, and blazing heat erupts across his face and down his body. He sees Echo quickly push himself up away from you, his loud exclamation of ‘What!’ being quickly drowned out by Crosshair's laughter. 

Feeling almost detached, he hears you and Echo shouting at Crosshair, not for walking in on you, but for bringing him along. Even through the haze of embarrassment, this piques his interest, though he knows better than to ask about it now. You sit up on your knees and turn to face him, and it takes the both of you a second to realize that your breasts are bare. 

Tech’s mouth has gone dry as his heart beats even faster and the heat travels lower, triggering a vivid memory of your first night aboard the Marauder. 

The ship had been moving through hyperspace and the four of them were quietly discussing plans for the upcoming mission when you suddenly walked out of the bunks and into their midst. You loudly whistled at them, catching their attention. You kept it when they looked up and found you freshly showered with your hair damp. You were wearing nothing more than a simple bra and plain cotton panties, both black, but the sight had made his heart race and his mouth go dry then too. And he knew he wasn’t the only one; a quick glance at Crosshair, Wrecker, and Hunter found them all staring openly at you, different levels of shock on their faces. You set your hands onto your hips and said “quarters are tight, so I’m getting this out of the way now,” then spun around once on your heel to give them all a good look at you. Before any of them could say anything, you just as abruptly returned to the bunks, leaving behind a stunned silence and the faint floral smell of your body soap. 

Tech forces the memory away, with some effort, and focuses back on the current situation. 

He’d seen you in various states of undress before, but aside from that first time, it’s never affected him this way, though he quickly realizes why. For one, he doesn’t remember ever seeing your bare breasts, and for another, he’s definitely never seen you in this context, nude or otherwise.

Snapping out of it, he tears his gaze away from you and stares at the floor, sweating. He wonders if anyone would notice if he blasted a hole through it and jumped in. He hears you holler for them to wait in the hall outside, and is out of the door before the sentence has fully left your lips. Crosshair follows, still laughing, though thankfully not as loudly now. Once the door shuts completely, Tech rounds onto him, barely maintaining his composure. 

“If that was meant to be a joke I am not amused! That was a massive violation of their privacy,” he says loudly before pacing in place, fuming. “Did you even really need me here, or was the entire point of you dragging me away from my work to embarrass me?” he says, turning on his heel to face Crosshair and staring him down. 

“Oh no, we actually do need you around today,” Crosshair says, an infuriatingly smug look on his face. “That was just a bonus.”

A few minutes after you and Echo get dressed, you both step outside to meet Tech and Crosshair in the hall. You immediately notice that Tech is still sweating and unable to meet your eyes while Crosshair stands behind him, an infuriatingly smug look on his face. When you take a closer look at Tech, the humiliation coming from him is so strong that you nearly take a step backwards as it blows over you like a shockwave. This makes you so angry that your hand shakes, just enough to be noticeable. Echo sees the look on your face and seems to brace himself. 

“Okay, first of all, the only reason I’m not yelling at you right now is because we don’t need any more attention brought to this, especially not from Hunter,” you say, your low tone and relatively calm demeanor surprising everyone. 

“Good call,” Echo says, watching the door to Hunter's room. When it doesn’t open, you turn your focus to Crosshair and stand with your chest only inches from his before you continue. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I swear on the Maker, Crosshair, I am two seconds away from smacking you again,” you say as you stare him down. This wipes the smirk off of his face. He doesn’t answer you, and you can tell that he’s become distracted by what you said. You roll your eyes at him, making a sound of frustration before you take a deep breath, count for a few seconds, then calmly take a step back and turn to address Tech. 

When he briefly makes eye contact with you, the thin breeze of gratitude you sense from him is quickly overshadowed by want and arousal. Something about this sends a shiver through you, quickening your heart rate just enough to be noticeable. You pause for a moment, taken aback by all of these things, but quickly shrug it off as an uncontrolled and unconscious biological response to what he’d just seen and heard,’and what you felt.

“I thought you were working on the ship,” you say. There’s no trace of hostility toward him in your tone or body language, so he reluctantly looks back at your face. 

“Well, I- I was, but Crosshair commed me, saying you needed my assistance, and when I arrived he told me that, since he’ll be with you all day, I should accompany Echo to see the cyberneticist, then he went inside and I- I followed without thinking” he says, stuttering with nerves and mortification, and you feel horribly for him. You glare at Crosshair, who shrugs a shoulder.

“Shalka’s not shipping out with us, so I figured he should go and see whatever maintenance you’ll need,” he says, mostly speaking to Echo. Echo looks at you and also shrugs. 

“Makes sense to me,” he says, and though you agree with him, you’re still furious with Crosshair. 

“Fine. You two,” you say, looking between him and Echo, “get lost for a minute. We’ll catch up.” 

They both look mildly surprised, exchanging a glance, but do as they’re told. 

Once they’re out of earshot, you pinch the bridge of your nose again, sighing heavily before you turn back to Tech, who has buried himself behind his data pad. You know that this is how he handles uncomfortable situations, and so don’t move to stop him, but you do talk to him, knowing that he’ll at least be listening. 

“I’m going to have a serious conversation with him about this. He wants to barge in, that's fine, though annoying. But whether we needed you today or not, he had no reason and no right to drag you into our room like that,” you say firmly, then stop and take another deep, calming breath before continuing. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened, Tech,” you continue, your tone changing as you softly say his name. You want to touch him, just a gentle grasp of his shoulder to emphasize your words, but hold yourself back. He’s been made uncomfortable enough already. 

Tech chances another quick glance at you, and when he sees the same patience in your eyes that he had after telling you he had shown Echo those recordings, he relaxes a little more. He opens his mouth to speak, and his voice is raspy. 

“I do have a question about your statement, if I may ask it,” he says before trying to clear his throat. 

“Of course,” you say, “but let me get you something to drink first.”

“This early in the day?” he asks, confusion distracting him from his embarrassment and making you laugh.

“Nah, just some water or something,” you say, beginning to walk down the hall as he follows you. “Besides,” you continue, “I doubt any reputable place is open this early anyway.”

Tech glances at his data pad, then puts it away as he matches your stride, having just learned the hard way that he needs to be more aware of his surroundings. You lead him to the small caf stand in the lobby and ask the Romulan man working there for a bottle of water. He hands it to you and you thank him before handing over a few credits and leading Tech to an open bench nearby. Tech takes short sips of it, rehydrating his throat before saying a soft thank you. You respond by cautiously leaning against his arm for just a moment, and after you shift away, you’re surprised when he does the same. You decide not to acknowledge this and instead remind him that he had a question for you. 

“I did, yes,” he says, then finishes the water in one gulp. “Earlier, you said that Crosshair walking in doesn’t bother you, aside from being annoying. Surely that’s not a typical reaction to being interrupted like that?” he says. You chuckle at him. 

“I'm surprised you haven’t figured it out already, but then again, you haven’t seen any of us since we decided,” you say. Tech frowns at you. 

“Decided what?” he says, looking mildly confused, a rarity for him. It was almost cute. You chuckle again. 

“Cross and Echo are both with me now,” you say, managing to render him speechless, at least for a few seconds. 

“I wasn’t aware that was a possibility,” he eventually says, sounding more surprised than you expected. You brush this off and simply nod at him. He appears to be deep in thought about what you’ve said, then he stands and tosses the empty bottle into a rubbish bin nearby. Tech turns back to you and, in a move that would be totally innocuous to anyone else, he boldly offers you his hand. In disbelief, you cautiously take it and allow him to assist you to your feet. He releases your hand after a second and asks where Crosshair and Echo had gone.

“Not sure. Hopefully they haven’t killed each other,” you say, glancing around the lobby before spotting Echo and Crosshair watching the two of you from near the courtyard door. You wave to get their attention, Echo waves back, and once they meet up with you, you lead everyone outside. 

Earlier, Echo and Crosshair exchange a glance before making their way down the hall and into the lobby, eventually coming to a stop near the door that opens into the courtyard. 

“You didn’t really answer her,” Echo says, staring at the sniper, who shrugs. 

“We’ve all been telling Tech to be more aware of his surroundings for years. That obviously wasn’t working, so I decided he’d learn the hard way,” Crosshair says. 

“That’s not your call to make,” Echo says.

“So it’s yours?” Crosshair says, annoyed. 

“Of course not, but for fucks sake you could’ve warned us beforehand,” Echo says, equally annoyed. Crosshair opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself when he spots you and Tech near the caf stand. Echo glances between the two of you and Crosshair, who is intently watching your interactions. 

“Don’t forget to blink,” Echo says, rolling his eyes. “I haven’t been around long, but I doubt he’d try anything.” They’re both watching you now, and when you and Tech bump into each other, Crosshair looks at Echo and smirks. 

“He can’t stand being touched,” Crosshair says. 

“I’d hardly call that a touch,” Echo says, rolling his eyes again. 

“What’s that then?” Crosshair says, nodding in your direction. Echo looks back and sees Tech offer you his hand after getting to his feet. Even from here, he can see how surprised this makes you. 

“You haven’t been around long enough yet,” Crosshair says, smirking again. “He may as well have kissed her full on the mouth.” 

“If you say so,” Echo says. He sees you waving them over and raises his scomp in acknowledgment. While they make their way to you, Crosshair keeps talking, though his voice is low. 

“I said she needed him instead of you,” he says. Echo makes a ‘So?’ sound at him, and he continues. “She’s the only one he’ll stop working for. Tech would have completely ignored me if I’d asked on your behalf. He can’t say ‘no’ to her,” Crosshair says. 

“So, what, you think-,” Echo says, before Crosshair cuts him off. 

“I know,” he says. By this time the two of them have caught up with the two of you, so the subject is dropped, though Echo notices the pointed way Crosshair looks at his brother, who is just as pointedly ignoring him. You don’t notice any of this.

Once outside, Echo and Tech find a taxi quickly. That suits you just fine, as you don’t really want either of them around while you’re dealing with Crosshair. You glare at him and grab his wrist before marching off and dragging him behind you, much like you had outside of Purkoll. Once you’re alone in an alley behind a nearby building, you let him go. Before he can open his mouth, you slap him, nowhere near as hard as you had before, but hard enough to get the point across. 

“You-,” you start to say, but you’re suddenly cut off by Crosshair crashing his lips into yours as he backs you up against the wall, slotting his knee between your thighs like he had in the lift a few nights ago. He breaks away from you and, without thinking, you slap him again, making him curse and groan your name. Before you can react, he’s back on you and your tongues dance as he feels your chest up over your tunic. 

Your hot anger is quickly becoming a different kind of heat, and you struggle to focus on anything but Crosshair’s hands on your body. He pulls back and grabs your wrists before you can strike him again, lust blazing in his eyes. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he pants before dipping his head down to nip at your neck. 

“Is that why you embarrassed Tech? To piss me off?” you say, then fail to hold back a high whine when he sucks at the mark Echo had left on you, darkening it even further. He straightens back up to look at you, that infuriating smirk back on his face. 

“He needed a reminder to pay better attention. Besides,” he says, moving his head again to whisper into your ear, “I know you like being watched.” 

You open your mouth to tell him off, but a gasp comes out instead, and you tighten your thighs around his leg while being only partially aware of it. Crosshair chuckles darkly, now pressed so tightly against you that you can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest.

“You can’t lie to me, kitten, I can feel it,” he says. 

“Cross, that’s not the p-point,” you say, fighting against the need suddenly coursing through your body, barely able to stay coherent. 

Before things can escalate any further, the two of you are suddenly interrupted by someone wolf-whistling at you. 

“Oy, jackass! Go fuck her in that hotel like a gentleman!” they shout from above. 

Crosshair whips his head in the direction of the voice, but whoever it was had quickly returned inside, shutting the window behind themselves. You take the distraction as an opportunity to wiggle out from between him and the wall. Crosshair notices when you’ve freed yourself, but stops you from getting too far away by grabbing your hand and pulling you close again.

“You know,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and starting to kiss along your throat, “that’s not a bad idea.” 

Internally, you agree, but a sharp, painful twitch in your injured side reminds you of what you should be doing, and you break away from him once more, sighing heavily and straightening up your tunic. Besides, you think, you’re supposed to be mad at him.

“We will be finishing this conversation later,” you say curtly before heading out of the alleyway, and Crosshair quickly catches up. Back in the sunlight, you raise your arm to hail a taxi, and as one notices you, Crosshair wraps his arms around your waist from behind. 

“I look forward to it, kitten,” he says, practically purring into your ear and nipping at your neck again before releasing you as the cab parks. You fail to hide the excited tremble in your knees as you enter the vehicle with Crosshair right behind you, squeaking in surprise when he grabs your ass.

The taxi is enclosed and being driven by a large, green, boar-like man who seems unable to speak Basic; he only grunts at you after you tell him where to go. Once the speeder merges into traffic, you stretch out across the backseat, draping your legs across Crosshair’s knees, much like you had in the cab last night. He looks at you while moving a hand up your outer thigh and you can sense the desire he’s still feeling. Sith hells, he’s hard to resist with that look in his eyes, you think. You glance at the driver, who must have somehow known what was going on back there, because once you make eye contact through the rear view mirror he snorts loudly and pulls down a privacy screen. 

It doesn’t take long for Crosshair to seize this opportunity, and he grabs your hips, pulling you so that you’re straddling his lap as he sits with his legs open wide, watching you. You meet his eyes and bite your lip, nodding at him. Once you do, he wraps his arms around your waist again and pulls you closer, his lips crashing into yours. You open up for him and savor his uniquely smoky taste, giving over control to him. One of his hands slides down your back and smacks your ass. Knowing what he wants, you annoy yourself by breaking the kiss and moaning his name, clutching his shoulders. This prompts him to do it again, lust still burning in his eyes as you whine. 

“I missed you this morning, hotshot,” you say, panting softly into his ear and making him groan. 

“I missed you too, kitten. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he says, his voice a low growl. You shiver as he nips at the delicate skin of your neck yet again, and you unconsciously grind yourself down against him. He’s still holding your hips and as he kisses you, he pulls you down even closer to his groin. 

Just as you drop a hand to grope at him, the speeder comes to a stop and the driver thumps the privacy screen with a squeal. You and Crosshair both groan at the interruption, but disentangle yourselves before the screen is retracted. As you turn around and lean forward to pay the driver, Crosshair grabs your ass again while also leaning forward, his chest against your back as he speaks directly into your ear. 

“I am going to absolutely ruin you when we get back,” he says, his warm breath on the back of your neck making you shiver. You take your change, then get out of the cab, Crosshair following closely behind you as always. The cab drives away and the two of you head up the multitude of stairs that lead into the GAR headquarters, cooling off as you go. 

“I know why you weren’t there this morning, by the way. Echo told me what you said last night,” you say, annoyed, as you enter the building. 

“He needed to hear it,” Crosshair says flatly. Neither of you say anything else for a few minutes. You realize that you won’t be able to go into the Jedi Library with Crosshair in tow, he’d ask too many questions, so you quickly fish out your datapad from your bag and send Master Nu a short message to explain your absence. Crosshair doesn’t seem to notice this, and speaks again. 

“So, since when have you been claustrophobic?” he asks. 

“Uh, since I was a kid, I guess,” you say. Crosshair raises an eyebrow and barely stops himself from scoffing at you.

“Yeah, no, I’m calling bullshit. How do you deal with being on the ship or in the bunks?” he says. You roll your eyes at him. 

“That’s not too tight of a space. Besides, fears aren’t exactly logical, Tech,” you say, nudging his side. He smirks at you. 

“Point taken,” he says, and the two of you spend the remaining walk to the bacta tank chambers in companionable silence, his arm loosely around your waist and a hand on your hip.

Miles away, the ride to Shalka’s is silent in a painfully awkward way, as neither Echo nor Tech know what to say about what had just happened, or if they should even say anything at all. Just as the tension gets to be too much, the taxi comes to a stop. Internally thanking the Maker, Echo pays the cabbie and leads Tech outside. 

He moves to go through the door and into Shalka’s place, but notices Tech standing back a few feet, hesitating. Echo turns to him, holding back a sigh. 

“Okay, before we go in there, obviously one of us has to address the bantha in the room,” Echo says, albeit reluctantly. Tech nods once. 

“I suppose so,” he says. “I…” he pauses, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry to have intruded upon you both like that,” he says, having a hard time maintaining eye contact. 

“You do realize that wasn’t your fault, don’t you?” Echo says, frowning slightly. Tech shook his head. 

“If I’d been paying more attention to what was going on I wouldn’t have followed Crosshair inside,” Tech says. 

“Fair enough, I guess. Either way, neither of us blame you for it,” Echo says with a shrug. “But I’m sure she already told you that,” he says. Tech nods again. 

“She did. You’re lucky to have her,” Tech says, feeling comfortable enough to step closer and speak more freely. 

“I’d do well to remember that,” Echo says under his breath. 

“You sound regretful,” Tech says, now standing directly beside him. Echo glances over at him with an odd expression. 

“Sorry,” Tech says, appearing to choose his words carefully. “Was I not supposed to hear that?” he asks. Echo sighs and rubs at the back of his neck for a moment. 

“No, it’s fine,” he says, sounding tired. “You’re right, regardless,” he continues. Tech doesn’t speak, but Echo sighs again, dropping his hand back at his side. 

“When I stormed off back on Anaxes, it… wasn’t the only time I’ve done that to her,” he says. “Crosshair pointed out last night how damaging that’s been, and even if he was an ass with how he made his point, he isn’t wrong,” Echo says. Tech nods at him. 

“I believe that was his purpose for having me barge in on the two of you this morning,” Tech says as he looks away, still embarrassed. 

“Does he do that often, then? Prove a point by being a dick?” Echo asks, only half-serious. Tech rolls his eyes. 

“It seems to be his specialty,” he says with a shake of his head. It’s quiet, for a moment, until the stuttering groan of a door sliding open grabs their attention. They both look toward the sound and find Shalka standing in the open doorway, looking at them with an expression between annoyed and amused. 

“Well Hero, ya comin’ in or what?” she says. Echo chuckles at her. 

“No sneaking up on you today, huh?” he says, following her inside, Tech behind him. 

“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p’ sound as she makes her way to her workbench at the back of the room. Echo takes his now-familiar place across from her and settles in. Shalka glances over at Tech, who appears to be closely studying the organized chaos of the workshop. 

“I notice Sunshine and Jumpy ain’t here. He your sidekick today?” she asks, jerking her head at him. Echo nods, says he’s another squad mate, then quickly tells her where you and Crosshair are. 

“Never did say how she got shot you know,” she says curiously, starting to carefully remove the outer plates of his replaced arm. 

“I was shot at and she pushed me out of the way,” Echo says, the feeling of regret returning. Shalka sets down the objects in her hands and regards him with a serious expression. 

“You must really be somethin’,” she says. When Echo looks confused, she elaborates; “She took a shot for you. I wouldn’t do that,” she says before returning to her task. 

“For me or in general?” Echo asks without thinking. Shalka lets out a loud, bark-like laugh. 

“I don’t like ya that much,” she says, then sighs. “‘Sides, the only ones I would do that for ‘r dead,” she continues, lowering her voice. 

“Damn, I’m sorry,” he says. 

“Listen, unless you were the fucker on that ship who fired a cannon at my village eight years ago, it ain’t your fault, so don’t be,” she says, frowning at him. 

Echo remembers how Shalka had said ‘Ms Myrr has been dead for eight years,’ when they first met a few days ago and grimaces sympathetically before quietly asking if it was her mother. They both glance at Tech, who is now examining one of the hand drawn schematics pinned to the wall and paying them no attention. 

“Yes, and my sister,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I kept telling them to come here with me, I practically begged them, but,” she continued before trailing off. Glancing up again, she and Echo notice that Tech is finally making his way over towards them, and she clears her throat before speaking normally. 

“There’s nothing I can do about it now, other than fixin’ you guys up,” she says, removing another piece from Echo’s replaced arm. He nods at her. 

“‘Don’t let the fuckin’ seppies win,’ right?” he says, quoting her. 

“Goddamn right,” she says, a determined look in her eye. Tech sits beside Echo, who quickly changes the subject. 

“You still haven’t fixed the door chime then?” he says. 

“Haven’t had time, been busy workin’ on your parts. Can’t figure out the damn problem anyway,” she says. Tech, who is now on his data pad, barely looks at her as he says he could fix it. Shalka laughs at him, incredulous. 

“You really think so?” she says, sitting back and crossing her arms while raising an eyebrow at him. “I’ve been having issues with the damn thing for months, there’s no way you’ll figure it out,” she says, waving a dismissive hand at him. 

To Echo’s surprise, Tech sets the device down and looks directly at her with an odd glint in his eye. 

“Allow me to prove you wrong,” he says, unusually confident. Shalka smirks and points at the door. 

“Have at it then, genius,” she says. As Tech gets up, Echo wonders which of them is more hard-headed than the other. 

The next five minutes pass quietly, save for the noises that Shalka and Tech’s tools are making, until the front door suddenly slides open and a metallic chime can be heard. Shalka stops what she’s doing and stares at Tech, standing in the open doorway with a satisfied, almost smug expression. 

“No kriffing way,” she says under her breath. 

“Anything else?” Tech says. 

“Who the hell did you say this was?” Shalka quickly asks Echo, flummoxed. 

“Oh, I didn’t; he’s Tech,” he responds. 

“I can see how he got the damn name,” she says. 

After the door slides shut again, Tech returns to his seat at the workbench. After a few seconds, he notices a small but complex-looking part that Shalka is about to install onto one of the new plates. He sees a few others and delicately picks one up. 

“These are very difficult to find,” he says thoughtfully as he examines it. “How do you have so many?” he asks. 

“Oy, don’t touch,” she says, carefully taking the object from between his fingers. “It ain’t that difficult to find ‘em when I make my own in the room over there,” she continues, jabbing a thumb toward the smaller room on her left. “It’s a hell of a lot cheaper too,” she says. 

“That is no small feat, I’m impressed,” Tech says. Shalka rolls her eyes at him. 

“That must really mean something coming from you,” she says sarcastically. 

Echo, recalling how Tech had been the one to decrypt whatever Tambor had hooked him into, most likely keeping his mind intact, quietly tells her that yeah, it is. 

“That so?” she says. She sets down the tool and parts in her hands then stands and ducks into the smaller room before quickly returning with another object. This one is about the size of her fist, but appears just as complicated as the small one, and when she tosses it at Tech, he’s unprepared and fumbles not to drop it. 

“Go on then, what’s that?” she asks him. After looking it over for about half a minute, Tech says one very specific, very long word, and correctly identifies it. Shalka looks impressed but fails to hide it before either of the men notice. 

“Lucky guess,” she says, sitting back down and returning to work. Tech points out a few more very specific and very, well, technical, items hanging from the ceiling behind her. She pauses and looks him up and down before making a ‘not bad’ sound at him, and he abruptly looks away, clearing his throat. Shalka returns her focus onto Echo, and Tech to his data pad, the two of them glancing at each other every now and then. 

Echo looks between them both and fights the urge to drag his hand down his face. He’s got a sudden feeling that he’s in for a very long day.  

You’re familiar with the route to the bacta tank hall, having brought more than enough men there yourself, so you arrive sooner than you’d like. Crosshair steps through the open door and glances back at you when you hesitate. You really don’t want to do this, but you know how important it is, so you shake yourself and quickly follow him inside. Kix is waiting for you and looks surprised to see Crosshair. 

“Echo’s still getting worked on, I take it?” Kix says, glancing between you two. 

“Y-yeah,” you say, nerves creeping into your voice. Crosshair takes your trembling hand into his own, and you glance up at him, grateful that he’s come with you. You look back at Kix and feel a tinge of confusion coming from him, but he seems to brush it off. 

“It’ll be this third one from the right,” Kix says, leading the pair of you toward the upright tank. Once there, he draws the privacy curtains shut around it and you begin to strip down to just your bra and panties, this set plain cotton in a deep emerald green. You sense Kix’s confusion again, and look to find him glancing between you and Crosshair, who’s casually eyeing you up. 

“He’s seen me in less,” you say, nonchalantly waving your hand in his direction. Kix blinks at you in surprise. 

“I’m surprised word hasn’t spread yet. Looks like Captain Reg does know when to keep his mouth shut,” Crosshair says, smirking. You shoot him a warning look and he raises his palms in surrender before going quiet again. Kix looks even more confused, but pushes past it. Now that you’ve undressed enough, Kix approaches and carefully peels off the bandages over your wound before he gives you a small injection in the crook of your elbow. 

“I know how much you hate being in these things, so I figured a little sedative should help you sleep through it,” he says in explanation. 

You nod your thanks at him and take a shuddering breath before nervously stepping closer to the small platforms leading up to the top of the tank. Crosshair notices that you’re shaking again, and he dutifully helps you up, making sure you don’t lose your footing on the slick surfaces. Once there, you sit on the edge of the filling tank with your feet dangling down into it. Crosshair gives you a quick, soft kiss before moving back to the floor, making room for Kix to reach you. 

Kix hands you a clip for your nose and the mouthpiece of an airway hose. You put both on with shaking hands and slip yourself down into the room-temperature liquid. Your feet hit the bottom of the tank as the bacta reaches your waist, the stinging sensation in your injury making you grimace through your teeth. Crosshair, having watched all of this, stands beside you on the outside of the tank. He sees the way you’re shaking and says your name, getting your attention. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, holding a hand up to the glass. You do the same, and he continues; “I’ll be right here the entire time, kitten. Promise.” 

At this point, the bacta has reached your shoulders. You nod at him, then reluctantly pull your hand away, straighten yourself up, and close your eyes as you feel the liquid pass over your head. You lift your feet from the bottom of the tank, and you float in place, feeling weightless. You make an effort to take steady, even breaths from the air mask, keeping yourself surprisingly calm while the sedative knocks you out. 

On the other side of the glass, Crosshair doesn’t take his eyes off of you while Kix adjusts a few things on the tanks control panel. Satisfied, Kix returns to stand in front of it, and again glances between you and Crosshair. 

“So when did that happen?” Kix asks. 

“Don’t be stupid, you know how she got shot,” Crosshair snaps. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Kix says, trying his best not to snap back at him. Crosshair takes a breath and steps backwards a few paces from the tank. 

“That’s for her to tell you, not me,” he says. 

“Fair enough; though I can’t say I’m surprised,” he says, making Crosshair look away from you and over at him. 

“By what?” Crosshair says, an edge to his voice. Kix crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Did you already forget how you found us after Echo crashed?” he says. Crosshair huffs at him in annoyance. 

“Of course not, what about it?” he says, turning to fully face the other man. 

“I could see it on your face, while she held onto you,” Kix says. Crosshair stiffens, but says nothing, returning his focus to you. 

“I could see it on her face too, you know,” Kix says. 

“When?” Crosshair asks, curious in spite of himself. 

“When she said you sounded like an angry loth cat,” Kix says. Crosshair doesn’t react to this, and a quiet minute passes before he sighs. 

“How long will she be in there?” he asks quietly. 

“At least three hours, maybe longer,” Kix says, double checking something on the tank’s control panel. “But someone will be checking in on her every ninety minutes to see how it’s progressing.” 

Crosshair nods once at him, and Kix slips out of the curtained area without another word, leaving him alone with you. Crosshair spots a chair nearby and drags it over to your left side, against the tank, before sitting down and keeping a careful watch over you. He hates how helpless you look, floating there unconscious, and holds his hand to the glass near yours again. 

Taglist: @kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69 @the-cantina @jedi-hawkins @wolveria @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @whore4rex @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @vanyaluxz1007

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[oraclekleo]

Jake Sim (Enhypen) Ideal Partner Characteristics based on Tarot Reading

Hello and welcome!

I’m Kleo and I’m here to present some k-pop related tarot readings to you.

Disclaimer:

I would like to state that all these readings have a purely entertainment nature and their purpose is to bring some fun into my and hopefully yours lives. I have never ever met any of the idols / actors / celebrities in my readings, I don’t know them personally. Tarot reading isn’t an exact science and I can never guarantee any of it. Most of it is my intuition mixed with fantasy. Don’t take these readings seriously and don’t base any important decisions on tarot readings only, use your common sense.

If you wish to request a tarot reading, please read the pinned post on my profile first to see the instructions on how to request. I only do readings for idols / actors / celebrities of 18 years of age or older. Requests for readings including younger people will be automatically dismissed. If you feel uncomfortable with these tarot readings, do not engage in reading my posts. Thank you for understanding.

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Deck: Crow Tarot

Spread: Ideal Partner

Questions:

Body

Heart

Spirit

Soul

Time

Place

Full Name: Jake Sim

Stage Name: Jake

Group: Enhypen

Jake Sim

(Jake - Enhypen)

Deck: Crow Tarot

Spread: Ideal Partner

Body - Ace of Cups

Jake’s ideal partner is likely to be a pleasure for the senses. Whatever Jake’s ideal type is when it comes to appearance, his ideal partner meets those criteria and if not, Jake’s ideal type will change the minute they meet. His special person is likely loveable at first sight for him, he can’t stop looking at them. Their complexion is soft and encourages him to touch it often. Their lips are seducing him to kiss them and their eyes can hypnotise him.

Heart - Knight of Pentacles

While the shell of Jake’s special person is lovely, they are serious about their life at heart. They are focused, determined and methodical. It’s possible that Jake falling in love with them was their goal and they went after it with precision and flawless preparation. It might take them long to achieve what they want but the results are always perfect, flawless and solid.

Spirit - XV The Devil

Jake’s ideal partner is full of surprises. Lovable on the outside, meticulous at heart and they have a mischievous spirit. They are likely to tease Jake a lot, maybe even trying to corrupt some of his strict and serious views. They might show him the pleasures of life Jake never heard about before. It’s possible he will enjoy such encounters because he himself is a rather traditional type and he might find it appealing to try to tame his little dare devil playfully seducing him at the wrong time.

Soul - XIX The Sun

Jake’s special person has likely a youthful and joyful soul. They’re life optimists, they believe that they are in charge of their own happiness and will spread a good mood wherever they go. They’re either younger than Jake or at least they have a young soul. Jake might feel protective over them, even to the fatherly degree. He will likely enjoy caring for them, bringing smiles to their face and being the one and only prince for them.

Time - V The Hierophant

Jake and his special person are likely to meet through some sort of an official occasion. They might meet at some sort of a legal or government office. Or it might be through a teacher - student / master - apprentice situation where Jake takes the role of the more experienced one.

Place - Page of Cups

If Jake and his ideal partner decide to live together, their home will likely become a cave of wonders. It will be a place for curious and creative minds full of books, art pieces and with a unique and unconventional design. Their home is going to be filled with happiness and love and it will never be dull or boring there. Both Jake and his special person will indulge themselves and their family in various hobbies in order to expand their knowledge and skills.

Thank you for reading!

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[imnotoverlyobsessive]

In Your Dreams

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Chapter Three: Would It Really Kill You If We Kissed?

AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

I know you don’t belong, I know you  don’t belong to anyone. No, you can’t be tamed, love. And maybe I was wrong, maybe I was wrong for this, but you feel like the sun on my face.- All Time Low, Favorite Place

She was dreaming again. 

Lately, most of her Tim-related dreams were sexual in nature, and this one was no different. Of course, she could only really recall what was said and the actions they took rather than any actual sensations. 

Her head was bobbing in his lap as he sat on one of his couches, her tongue laving over the barbels in his shaft.

“Fuck, Lea,” he grunted before pulling her mouth off his dick and into his lap. “Lemme have you, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” she giggled.

“C’mon,” Tim muttered, aligning himself with her. “One last time, baby. C’mon.”

“One last time?” she questioned. “What’re you talking about?”

“Won’t get to do this anymore, even in dreams,” he breathed as he pulled her down onto him. “Fuck, that’s it. Bounce on it for me.”

She was too distracted by his body and general presence to question him further and did as she was told, and—like always—only really dreamed of the words between them.

“I love you, Lea,” he groaned into her mouth. “I love you so much.”

“Dream-Tim is the best,” she told him with a grin. “Wish I could have this all the time.”

“It’s me,” he insisted. “It’s me, baby. I’m real. You can have this whenever you want. If you want this, just fuckin’ tell me.”

“Don’t distract me from how hot you are with your dream-fantasy shenanigans,” Lea told him, running her hands over his bare chest.

“Dammit,” he moaned. “Fuck it, I’ll take what I can get.”

The dream faded away, morphing into his bedroom, where they lay tangled together amongst his sheets.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

Flushing despite the knowledge that it was a dream and therefore not the slightest bit real, Lea buried her face in his neck. “You’re a dork even when I dream you up, huh?”

He hummed, but didn’t respond directly. “You won’t forget me, will you?”

She pulled back, looking up at him with a frown. “What’re you talking about now?”

“When I’m gone,” he clarified, “I don’t want you to forget me.”

“What, you mean when you’re traveling or something?”

Even in her dreams, he still gave her that sad smile. “Or something, yeah.”

“No, I won’t forget you,” she told him slowly. “Though you should know that since you’re in my head.”

“Good,” he murmured, kissing her again. “I’m not in your head the way you seem to think, though.”

“Eh.” She waved him off. “Dream semantics.”

Tim looked at her for a long while before quietly asking, “Will you miss me?”

She blushed, burying her face in his neck again. “I always miss you. Whenever you’re not with me, I miss you.”

He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her temple.

“Why’re you asking me weird things, anyway?” she wanted to know.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” Tim said. “Just let me hold you.”

“Uh.” She blinked. “Okay then.”

His arms tightened around her, and he held her closer.

It was late at night in the middle of June when she got his text.

Her phone buzzed from where it sat on her bed, and she went to pick it up.

Tim

Come to the park with me ?

She frowned, wondering why he was randomly asking her to meet him somewhere so unusual. Still, she didn’t have anything else to do. She wasn’t visiting her mom back in North Carolina until the following month.

When?

He texted her back almost immediately.

Now, if you can.

She was always excited to see him, and she hadn’t seen him at all since May, too, so she squirmed happily as she replied. 

Okay! See you in a bit!

Lea managed to get ready in record time, pairing the ruby heart necklace and earrings he’d gotten her with a white ruffled top and bubble skirt from Saks.

She shot him a quick text that she’d see him in a bit, and then she skipped out the door.

——

She never got tired of hanging out with Tim. He was most definitely her best friend by that point.

He was sitting on a bench in Central Park when she found him.

“Hi,” she said with a grin, plopping down next to him on the bench.

“Hey,” he greeted, and then he looked over at her, turning towards her in the process, and she saw…

What the fuck?

He looked… well, he looked dilapidated, frankly. He’d always kinda looked nineteenth century orphan-esque, but now… now he looked starving. Starving and very, very sick. He was skinnier than normal—which was saying a lot, ‘cause he was already thin as a rail—and his cheeks were sunken in. His eyes were sunken, too, with dark circles under them, and his skin was even more pallid than it had been when she’d seen him last.

“Tim?” she asked tentatively. “Are you okay? You look like you should be in the hospital, not hanging out with me.”

He smiled at her slightly, his eyes sad. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“You look sick,” she pointed out, brow furrowing in concern.

“I know,” he said with a soft, barely-there chuckle. “Sorry you gotta see my sorry ass looking so awful. I’m sure it’s unpleasant.”

Lea shook her head with a frown. “No, I’m always happy to see you, I’m just worried.”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the bench.

“Don’t worry about me. Told you that before.” He sounded out of breath, almost.

“If I looked the way you do right now, would you worry about me?”

“Of course I would, sweetheart,” he muttered. “No way around that.”

“Then it’s hardly fair of you to not expect the same of me.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose not.”

“And wouldn’t you want me to tell you what was wrong if I was sick?”

Tim was silent for several moments before softly repeating, “Of course I would.”

“Then you should tell me, too, don’t you think?”

He sighed. “I’m sick, Lea.”

“Are you, y’know, getting treatment?”

Another sigh. “It’s terminal.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. “Terminal as, in, like— you can’t mean you’re—“

“I’m dying, yes.” He said it with such nonchalance that she wasn’t even sure if he was serious, but he didn’t laugh orsay he was joking, so he had to be serious, right?

Still, she hopefully said, “You’re joking, right? C’mon, tell me you’re joking.”

He looked at her sidelong. “No, I’m not joking. I asked you to come here so I could see you amongst the flowers when I went.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re dying now?!” 

He nodded slightly, a small dip of his chin. “Wanted to be next to you for it.”

“But— but why?” she asked brokenly. “Why are you dying? When did this happen? Why me?”

He stared at her with those sad eyes. “I’ve been dying since I met you.” She opened her mouth to speak, and he added, “It’s not your fault, and I wouldn’t change a thing if I had the choice. I’m happy I got to meet you. I’d do it a million times over. I just wish I’d had more time with you.”

“I don’t understand,” she said tearfully. “I don’t know what I’ve done to… to make you so sick, but—“

“No point in dancing around it, I suppose,” Tim mused. He watched her for a moment, considering. “I’m an incubus.”

She blinked at him. “A— a what?”

An exhausted smile. “An incubus, darling.”

“A demon who feeds on…” she trailed off, too embarrassed to say the words aloud. 

“Sex and orgasms, yes,” he confirmed with a tired sigh.

“Oh, well, um…” She recalled the dreams she’d had, the inexplicable pull she felt towards him, his strange ability to disappear. “I kinda figured you were a fae, but that… makes sense, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You believe me?”

She shrugged. “You can just poof in and out of places. Plus, the dreams—“ she cut herself off. 

His lips split in a slow, lazy smirk. “The dreams? If I had more time, I’d insist you tell me what you remember from them.” Lea blushed bright red, and he laughed softly.

“You’re very sick, Tim,” she said instead of answering him. “If you need, uh…” A gulp. “Someone in order to get better, then I know there’s countless people who would jump at the opportunity—“

“Won’t work,” he cut her off with another sigh.

She blinked at him. “What? Why? I doubt anyone would even mind the whole life-sucking issue.”

“Suppose I should explain this to you.” He exhaled. “We don’t take anyone’s life force. I don’t even know where that idea came from. We actually prolong the lives of those we feed on.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”

Tim nodded. “It’s possible for a human to survive indefinitely if one of us is feeding on them regularly. We’re symbiotic rather than parasitic.”

“Well… you should have no issues finding meals, then, if they have nothing to fear.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He looked away from her, gazing out at the trees surrounding them. “Finding a meal isn’t the issue. The issue is it no longer has any effect. I’ve tried plenty of times.”

“No effect?” she asked, concerned for this strange new friend she’d made these past few months. “So what, you’ll just starve?”

He hummed. “It would seem so.”

Tears prickled at the back of her eyes again. “I… I don’t want you to die, Tim.”

He turned his gaze to her once more. “I don’t mind it, really.”

She furrowed her brow. “You don’t want to live?”

“Of course I do,” he nodded, “but I don’t really mind the idea of dying.” At her shocked expression, he chuckled. “I have lived a very long time, Lea. Death doesn’t scare me.”

It was several seconds before she recovered from her shock. “And just like that, you’re fine with it being over?”

“Well,” Tim chuckled, “I’d certainly prefer to stay alive, but…” he paused, his eyes warm with affection as he gazed at her. “But if I’m going to die, I want it to be while I’m looking at the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that the real reason you asked me to come out with you today?” she asked. “So you could flirt?”

He smiled softly. “If you like.” 

His breathing was shallow, and his voice was breathless.

He was going to die. He was very close now.

“I don’t want you to die, Tim,” she said again tearfully. “Why… why can’t you eat? Is there anything I can do?”

Another sweet, gentle smile. “Nothing I could ask you for.”

Her heart leapt with frantic relief. “So there is something I can do!” Eager to help, she clasped his hand in hers, not really registering that his breathing evened out at her touch. “Tell me. Tell me so I can help you.”

“Alright,” he agreed reluctantly, his voice a bit stronger than it had been before. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you.” He took a deep breath. “Most human women can’t have the child of an incubus. They’ll waste away if they try. But there is an occasional woman who can. These women are our mates, intended for a specific one of us, should they accept what we have to offer.”

“Which is?” she prompted, though she had no idea how this could relate to her at all.

He stared at her thoughtfully before saying, “Safety, wealth, happiness, children, more pleasure than they can comprehend, and an eternity of worshipful adoration and love.”

Jealousy towards his mate—whoever she was—swirled in her stomach, acidic and burning, her hand tightening around his unintentionally. “But why does that mean you can’t feed?”

“Once we meet our mates,” Tim began, “we can’t feed from anyone else. If they don’t accept us in time, we will starve.”

“So she rejected you?” she asked, shocked.

He shook his head. “I haven’t been rejected. I haven’t said anything about it until now.”

“Then you should tell her!” Lea insisted, standing up abruptly. “Tell me where she is, and I’ll tell her myself. I’m not letting you die, stupid. I—“

“Lea.” He grabbed her hand again. When she looked down at him in surprise, his expression was resigned and fearful all at once. “It’s you. You’re my mate.”

Tag list

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake

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[primusfortuna]

Rouge ⟡ Love Wrapped in Ribbons of Gratitude (02)

[01] [XX] [03] [04] [05] [Sun] [Moon]

“Because They’re Family”

That afternoon— In order to smoothly make our way around town, we decide to split into pairs.

Rouge: ...Our random draw determines that—

Rouge: —me and Emma-chan will be together, and Cyrus and Emilio will be the other pair~!

Emilio & Cyrus: Oh... / ......

Rouge: So! I’m in your hands, Princess Emma ♪

Emma: P-Please don’t make fun of me by calling me “princess”.

Rouge: I’m not making fun of you, I swear.

Rouge: I’ve told you this over and over, haven’t I? You’re absolutely gorgeous, just like a real princess.

Emma: ......!

Rouge: Alright, guys! As the honorable preachers, we’ve gotta keep up the spirit for our afternoon run!

Emma: You weren’t here for the morning run, though.

Rouge: Let’s forget about that, Emma-chan!

Cyrus: ..........Ready, Emilio?

Emilio: ..........Yeah. We’ll put up announcements in the square.

(Cyrus and Emilio exit)

Emma: (I wonder if they’ll be okay... Cyrus-san and Emilio-san... There’s definitely some distance between them.)

Rouge: Man, “family” sure is a complicated thing, huh?

Emma: Huh?

Rouge: I heard that they’re twins. But being related doesn’t mean you’re bound to be best buds.

Rouge: Things can get especially messy when you’re close like that.

Emma: (So Rouge-san has picked up on it too.)

↪ Maybe so. (Moon +4)

Emma: Maybe so. Rouge: Are you worried about them? Emma: Yes... It might be none of my business, but I am a little. Rouge: Caring too much is one of your best qualities! Rouge: There are people like that, after all. Maybe you’ll be the link that binds them.

↪ You’re very observant. (Sun +4)

Emma: You’re very observant for someone who just met them. Rouge: Ahaha. It would take a fool not to notice that. Rouge: But... it doesn’t seem like they hate or loathe each other. Rouge: I think they’re still okay, for now. Emma: “For now”...?

Though barely noticeable, Rouge-san’s voice is tinged with heartache.

My gaze lingers on him before I can catch myself. But he sends back a gentle smile, melting away any unease I have.

Rouge: Okay, okay, let’s get a move on! I’ll escort you, Emma-chan.

Emma: Escort?

Rouge: ’Cause we’re the prince and princess! We can’t be strangers, right? Even better, let’s be lovebirds~

Emma: ...Hehe. I’m not confident about being lovebirds, but you’re right.

He offers his arm, I take it, and we walk together side-by-side.

Emma: Speaking of Love Day, are you going to give presents to anyone?

Rouge: Good question~ I think I’ll be giving lots of things to all the Moon Wanderers, alongside my daily inconvenience fees.

Rouge: You’ve gotta up your game or they’ll really get rid of you someday, right?

Emma: I’m sure they wouldn’t do that... But in that case, I want to give them all something this year, too.

Rouge: Good idea! I bet they’ll cry tears of joy.

Emma: Oh, you’re stretching it. Ah, of course I’ll get you something too.

Rouge: ...Mm.

Rouge: Thanks, Emma-chan.

Emma: (...Rouge-san?)

Rouge: What do you want in return? Wine? Liqueur? Or maybe you like a strong brandy every now and then?

Emma: Isn’t that all alcohol? Sounds like you just want a drink.

Rouge: No, of course n—maybe a little?

Emma: Thought so.

Rouge: But but, the point is to do it with you ♪

He looks the same as ever with that hearty grin, but...

Emma: (Was I just... imagining that a second ago?)

Just for a moment, he let a complicated smile slip, and it’s tugging at my heart.

← Prev ❖ Next →

[moonlightrei]

Cloud of Daggers Chapter 3 - Freezing

Chapter 3 is out now! Click here to read on AO3 or read below. You can find the other chapters on tumblr via the Cloud of Daggers tag.

Relationship: Astarion/Tav (or reader) Tags: Angst, Pining, Post-Canon, Aberrant Mind Sorcerer Tav, minor shadowzel, Fluff (currently in memories), others to be added Word count: 3.6k

Freezing. Biting cold swept through you, your skin cracking into splinters, your blood crystallising into slivers of ice that tore through your insides. You tried to cry out, but your lungs had frozen solid. Choking only threatened to shatter your organs into pieces, the pressure building within your hardened tissue as you struggled, your thrashing coming to a still as you were made thoroughly rigid. 

“You return to us.” Bleariness left your vision, and you could see Halsin hovering above you as you shivered, concern etched into his brow.  

You brought your hand up to your head to rub the ache that pounded behind your eyes, struggling at first as you worked the stiffness from your fingers. 

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” you croaked. With nightmares as intense as yours, it would have been of little surprise to learn your sleep was outwardly unsettled too. 

“Nonsense,” replied Halsin, shaking his head. “I rise with the sun. But tell me - what troubles you, friend?” 

You rubbed your hands together, eager to warm them from the chill that seemed to leak from your dream. The ring on your left hand shone softly with starlight, a sound focal point to stare at as you steadied your breathing and calmed yourself. 

“You are learned,” you began, your stomach twisting in discomfort at the prospect of sharing. Perhaps Halsin could offer some insight into your problem. “What do you know of Sildëyuir?” The wood elf sat back a little, his gaze shifting away from you as he considered your words. 

“The home of the Ruar'Tel'Quessir. One half of your family hail from there, I would assume,” he said. “I may be three and a half centuries old, but even I do not remember a time before the Nilshai invaded the plane. What relation does this have to your night terrors?” 

“I don’t know,” you whispered truthfully. “I was there, in Sildëyuir, when I was a babe. I hardly remember it.” You slid the ring off your hand again, passing it between your palms to keep your hands occupied. “I can’t help but wonder if my time there has any bearing on my troubles. On my gifts.” Halsin was looking at you steadily, taking in everything you were willing to divulge. He was a good listener. 

“I would be lying if I said I had never wondered about your abilities,” he said gently. You thought back to the assault on Last Light Inn, the hushed murmurs between your companions after you had unleashed the power you had tried so desperately to hide, it being necessary to protect everyone present. Your head had tipped back, your skin, hair and remaining eye shining with magic as you tore open an aperture to the far realm, darkness and chill seeping out of it to take hold of your enemies. The cries of twisted creatures filled the room, whispers and screams all at once that only you could comprehend. 

It had been the right decision to act, you were sure of it. Last Light remained a bastion of hope, and the tiefling refugees were safe once more. Yet the looks of fear from your friends had been difficult to ignore, a splinter of ice driven into your heart that made a fine reminder of why it was easier to ignore your so-called gifts. 

You had sat alone at the campfire that night, knees pulled up to your chest as you recounted the events over and over. Perhaps sticking to fire magic would have been better, more acceptable.  

Silently, Astarion had made his way over to you, seating himself beside the fire without a word. 

The two of you had remained like that, in quiet company, for some time. You had stared at the flames as though they could have swallowed you up and taken you away, nullified the rejection that stung so much. 

“You’re going to burn through your surviving retina if you keep that up,” Astarion had broken the silence. “I’m sure the replacement that fool Volo gave you is useful, but that’s no excuse to ruin your own. Besides, the violet is quite fetching.” 

You had remained silent and tucked your chin in to rest on your knees, your gaze set on the ground to comply with his words. 

“Come now, darling. If that bunch can deal with a Shar worshipper, a vampire, and a man with an explosive ball inside his chest, do you really think having some slightly unorthodox abilities is going to be an issue?” You had continued to ignore him. Their absence was indication enough of how they felt. He had stood up, to leave, you had assumed, but instead he had walked around to kneel on your other side, placing himself firmly in your line of vision. 

“It was impressive. Believe me, we need all the help we can get with this Absolute nonsense. I, for one, am delighted.” 

You wanted to believe him, desperately. If he was telling the truth, or even if he wasn’t, there was nothing to lose by indulging yourself in that fantasy. 

“And what of this?” You asked, though your lips did not move, and no sound came from your throat.  

“That... That wasn’t the tadpole, was it?” Astarion said steadily, his face betraying surprise for only a moment before he plastered on a reassuring smile. “But no matter. In a group of tadpole-infested people such as us, conversing through our heads is hardly special now, is it? Hells, if it’s only speech then it’s even less unusual than our current capabilities. Though I would wager people would prefer you stick to the boundaries we have in place already and not use it without asking first.” 

You had nodded slowly, feeling a speck better. 

“Personally, I have no issue with getting to hear your lovely voice more.” 

“Really?” you spoke into his head once more. 

“Really.” A telepathic reply. No one had ever replied to you using your link before. Children had run crying when you had asked them to play as a youth, townsfolk had screamed that there was something wrong with you, but not a single person had ever answered in kind. 

Your companions had fallen back into the comfortable dynamic you had fostered in time, doubtless with a little persuasion from a certain elf. You had gotten more confident in using your psionic talents around others, though you were more careful in Baldur’s Gate itself. No one had to know that the telekinesis you used to rebuild the city was an aspect of something greater than simple sorcery. 

As Astarion’s need for boundaries and choice became apparent, you had finally found a use for your shamed skill. 

“May I hold your hand?” you would ask. 

“Of course,” would come the reply, and you would interlink your fingers with his just as you had entwined your minds, the innocent touch a source of joy for both of you as you traversed the perilous paths of the shadow-cursed lands. 

“I am no expert,” Halsin said, pulling you back to present day. There were no pale fingers wrapped in yours. Only your ring sat in your palm. “But I would not think it unlikely that your strengths and difficulties could be connected. However, I suspect there could be another reason for these nightmares, as I do not recall them being an issue when I travelled alongside you previously.” He was right. “Though your abilities are beyond by understanding, I believe there may be a simpler answer for your disrupted sleep. I notice a companion is missing from your side. Your magic does not make you immune to emotions.” 

You sighed, slipping the ring back in place. 

“If only it did,” you said. To your surprise, Halsin chuckled. 

“You don’t mean that.” He smiled. “Shake off this icy exterior; it is not you. I am certain that if you dwell on your memories, although it may ache a little, you will find happiness. To have had that, and to miss it, is a privilege.” 

Halsin was wise, you knew, having not been archdruid without reason. You would do well to heed his advice, of course, but you wanted to scream and cry, to shut out reason in favour of a fountain of the very emotion you claimed to detest. It would achieve little, but wouldn’t it be nice, be easy, to do the wrong thing for once? To care not for how you should behave and surrender yourself to heartache, to misery and to rage. 

Lae’zel returned to camp, her wet hair indicating she had found a place to bathe. She gently picked up the night orchid, inspecting it carefully to check it was still up to her standards. Her face was soft, relaxed, a stark contrast from the aggressive githyanki you had once known. You felt the familiar pressure of tears bleeding into your eyes. Halsin was so right, it hurt. The beauty of feeling was all around, and you could continue in the bittersweet melancholy that held you too. 

“I saw Withers before we met with you yesterday,” you told him. “His words did not fill me with hope. I think that I will be continuing with this privilege of missing my happiness permanently.” 

“Withers is a being that I will not pretend to understand. What I have established, though, is that he speaks in riddles. I would not be so quick to assume you are doomed.” 

The information that Withers had bestowed upon you had seemed especially clear cut to you. You were certain that Halsin would agree if you repeated the words, but Astarion’s potential lack of soul was likely not the type of thing you should be sharing. 

“Perhaps you are right,” you said, knowing it to be false. 

You packed up your things and continued on your way. Time passed quickly, the city growing closer and closer on the horizon despite your urge to slow your paces. Maybe you would visit the palace today, you thought. The idea had your stomach churning, but you figured if you were going to worry about returning to the city anyway, you might as well tick off another task that you were putting off. 

Perhaps your relationship was not as tattered as you thought, you dared to wonder. It could be that you had obsessed over it, as you had a tendency to do, and made it into something much greater and more terrible than it truly was. Maybe Withers’ suggestion that he was soulless simply meant that he was in low spirits. Maybe he spent his days yearning for you, pacing the halls and worrying that you had abandoned him. Maybe you would walk into the castle and be met with your love, eager to see you and comforting. You would embrace and share a gentle kiss, before he would take your hand and lead you to comfortable furniture on which you would recount your journey, telling him excitedly about Lae’zel’s affections whilst he gazed at you lovingly, hanging onto every word you said. 

Yes, you resolved. You would go to him this night. You ignored the shiver that ran through your bones as you tried to convince yourself that you truly believed it would be good to be in his presence. 

It was nearing dinner time when you reached Baldur’s Gate, so you and your party headed straight for the tents where you knew people would be gathering for food. Shadowheart and Gale were busying themselves distributing rations when you arrived, the portions appearing meagre compared to when you had seen them last. 

Children skipped around you as you grew closer, enthusing about how impressive your armour looked and asking Halsin why he was so tall. Despite his reservations on the city, the wood elf seemed immediately at ease with entertaining the children and set himself up where you had played storyteller previously, commanding the attention of the gaggle of younglings as they waited for their food. 

You joined Gale in serving the meals, allowing Shadowheart a break from her duties. Mae was absent, you noticed, though you were swiftly distracted by the sight of Lae’zel and the object of her affections chatting in a corner, Shadowheart with a great smile across her face as the warrior presented her with the night orchid. A deft kiss on the cheek was given in return, and then the cleric hurried off with the bloom, presumably to find a safe place to store it. 

Lae’zel turned to look at you from across the room with a giddy grin. 

The sun sat heavy in the sky as you collected scraped-clean bowls. The people remained absorbed by Halsin, and you looked over to the palace. You could just remain here until the refugees settled in for the night, then return home to take your potion and sleep, and gods was that idea tempting. Yet the picture you had painted of Astarion sitting alone, wondering if you simply didn’t care for him anymore, tugged at your heartstrings too violently to allow you to retire for the night, even if you were sure that it was just make-believe.  

You slipped out from the gathering whilst your disappearance would go unnoticed, knowing that the longer you waited to leave, the less likely it was that you would follow through with your plan. 

The path to the palace ran by your home, and you lingered outside your door for a moment, considering if entering to drop off some of your belongings would lead to you abandoning your objective. You stared at the wooden door, shifting your weight between your feet, and finally elected to go inside. You worked quickly, not wanting to lose your nerve, and placed down your equipment and bag, checking yourself quickly in the mirror.  

Tired eyes met yours, but you had expected that. You slipped your armour off, worried it might give the wrong impression, and smoothed out the wrinkles in the simple shirt you had been wearing underneath. It would do, you concluded.  

You paced along the path up to the palace, the red sky tinging the city rouge in the dying light. 

Standing before the imposing entrance, you bit at the dry skin on your lips. You remembered the first time you had stood here, taking Astarion’s hand and gently reminding him that he didn’t have to do this, that you could all walk away now and never go near Cazador and his house of torture again. 

You reached out and pushed. Unexpectedly, the grand door swung open silently, almost more unnerving than a prolonged, eerie creak would have been. You stepped gingerly into the abode, candlelight flickering as you shut the door behind you. The flames illuminated the atrium well, and you could see that not a soul was present. 

You continued down corridors in search of your target, your footsteps disconcertingly loud in the hush of the manor. If it hadn’t been for the candles, you might have concluded that the dwelling was abandoned. 

After wandering for what felt like a lifetime, you stopped in your tracks at a sound so soft you might have missed it had your ears not been straining to hear any sign of life. 

You swallowed, your throat suddenly rather dry, and turned slowly to look behind you. 

There he stood. The candlelight cast sharp shadows on his face, his lips contorting into something between a grin and a sneer. 

“Darling,” he said, his voice echoing menacingly through the rambling halls. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.” 

His hair had grown out a little, the curls snaking down past his ears to nestle at his nape. It was pretty, you thought, though it highlighted just how long you had left it without visiting. 

He pouted, twisting his face into one of feigned hurt. “These halls are awfully empty without my precious treasure by my side.” With a flick of his wrist, every candle in the estate was snuffed out. Though your elven blood enabled you to make out some of the darkness, it was dingy and discoloured, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as anxious gnawing bled into your stomach. 

You stayed like that for a minute, the two of you still and silent in the pitch black. You cleared you throat and took a deep breath, almost expecting your voice box to fail. 

“I’ve been busy,” you proclaimed, cursing inwardly at the wavering of your voice. 

“Ah yes, saving the city.” You couldn’t place where exactly he was, his words almost disembodied. “I had rather thought you’d have grown bored of that by now.” 

“There is still much to be done,” you insisted, balling your hands into fists and digging your nails into your palms to ground yourself.  

“Yet there is time enough for you to gallivant off on a quick jaunt?” Cold fingers traced your throat and you flinched at the sudden contact. He ghosted over the scar that adorned your neck, tutting as he did so. “Did you really miss the wood elf that much?” 

“It was for the people that I went,” you said, glancing down at his hand, the only thing you could clearly see in the gloom, before he snatched it away again, leaving you disoriented in the endless void once more. You wondered if he knew of your visit to Withers, if he could possibly even know of what the undead had told you. “I’m surprised you even know of my journey.” 

“Of course I knew of it. Did you really think I wouldn’t keep tabs on you?” He seemed to be circling around you, a vulture scouting out its next meal. “I know all about those terrible nightmares that are haunting your pretty head.” He leant in to whisper directly in your left ear. “Poor pet. If you’d only join me, sleep needn’t be a worry any longer.” 

“I am certain that they will pass in time,” you said, bracing yourself to stay still and not recoil from his closeness. 

A laugh rang through the halls, everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

“Decline my generous offer once more, and you may find I rescind it.” He stood before you, and grabbed your right hand, sandwiching it between his and giving it a few gentle pats. “Such awful night terrors. I only want to help you.” Your daydreams of intimate gestures felt ridiculous now you stood here, hand in his as you had hoped, yet feeling as though the blood in your veins was ice. After processing his words for some moments, you pulled your hand away. You wanted to question how he knew of all this, but you refused to be on such unequal footing any longer.  

You cast light on your shirt, deeming it the most useful object to select. The cold glow lit up the room, but Astarion was nowhere to be seen. You tiptoed through several rooms for any sign of him, but there was nothing. Ordinarily you needed to see the object of your mental link to create it, yet this had ceased to be the case with Astarion, your connection becoming so frequent and comfortable that you could restore it with little effort. You attempted to reach out in this way, querying where he had gone, but you couldn’t feel his presence. It seemed you would be getting no answers today. 

Not wishing to spend more time creeping about in the darkness, you hurried back to the door, unsure that your path was correct, though you reached it eventually. The sky outside was inky black and dotted with stars, and you dismissed your cantrip to go by the starlight instead. 

Your thin shirt did little to protect you from the cold wind that rushed down the city streets. You slouched and hugged your arms around your body to try and fend off the chill, to limited avail. The city was still and quiet, a state you had rarely seen it in, the hush broken only momentarily by the flapping of a bird’s wings as it darted across buildings overhead. 

Electing to utilise your body’s aversion to sleep to your advantage, you fetched some water from the nearest pump after reaching your home. You conjured flames beneath your large pot to heat the liquid whilst you undressed, discarding your clothing on the floor. 

You dipped a toe into the bath to check the temperature and, satisfied, sat down in the vat. You took a deep breath and shut your eyes firmly, then submerged yourself fully, staying under the water until your lungs screamed for reprieve. Soap pressed with crushed violet removed the grime from your skin and hair, and you inspected your leg, which bore no reminder of the injury you had sustained on the road. 

You remained in the water for long after it had grown cold, your head resting on the rim of the pot and your eyes closed. It was the closest you had come to a good rest in an age, yet surely you should have been beside yourself following your visit to your beloved. Withers’ words repeated in your mind. Perhaps it was you that was becoming the empty vessel. 

With some effort you heaved yourself out of the bath, water streaming from your hair as you wrung it out. You removed your sleeping potions from your bag to line them up neatly next to your bed once more, then tossed your muddy clothes into the bath to soak them overnight, hoping it would make the task of washing them simpler when you found the time. 

You climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up, recalling how your mother would have scolded you for going to sleep with wet hair, worried that you would become sick. Though you were tired, sleep would not take you. You were growing used to your nightly ritual, the warmth of the potion almost a loving embrace by this point. The screech of a creature outside of your window might have bothered you, had your eyes not become heavier than lead. 

[invisiblegarters]

Eternal Yesterday Ep 3 Thoughts

For real this time. 

Okay I’m gonna try for coherence here but I make no promises. This episode has taken any ability I might have even pretended to have about being objective and tossed it in the bin like so much rubbish.

First of all, I guess I called it, in a way. Mitsuru is pining like it’s his job, he’s got feelings of both the romantic and sexual nature for the first time ever (and how relatable and sad was him saying that he’d never felt that way about girls? Very, is how relatable it was), he’s walking around half-terrified that he’s gonna do or say the wrong thing and then Koichi will know and he’ll lose him (and it was sweet that he thought to himself that he wouldn’t be mean about it. Even in the midst of his “I can never have this” doldrums he knows enough to know Koichi would never hurt him on purpose). No wonder he can’t tell that Koichi looks at him like he makes the sun rise.

I do love that we’re explicitly dealing with desire here, too. It’s not just “oh I see you and I get fluttery feelings.” It’s “I see you and I get fluttery feelings, then I see a bead of sweat dripping down your neck and all I want to do is lick it.” I expect very little in the way of actual physical expression of that desire, because this is Japan we’re dealing with, it’s not a movie, and while the BL isn’t all softness and light it’s hardly The Cornered Mouse Dreams of Cheese. That’s fine. The mere fact that we can see Mitsuru fixating on the line of Koichi’s throat (and the beads of sweat rolling down his skin) as he swallows is enough for me. So is Mitsuru being excited and nervous about sharing close quarters.

I am tickled that the old man hat Mitsuru is wearing came from Koichi:

I have to admit that up until now, I’ve been more of a Koichi fan, which is kind of unusual for me. But this episode evened the scales and now I adore them both equally, but oh, I feel for Mitsuru and everything he’s going through here. It’s hard enough liking someone but add on all the extra of falling for your possibly (probably, in Mitsuru’s head) straight BFF and the only person who made the effort to carve himself a space through your walls and in your heart and it’s no wonder he felt like the rainy weather perfectly reflected his mood. Watching him smile so fondly at Koichi before catching himself was just painful, as was his imagined conversation with Koichi. The worst part of it all is that if Koichi weren’t into Mitsuru, he totally would be apologetic about it. I do think that imaginary!Koichi was a lot colder than real!Koichi, though - even without the fact that he clearly adores him, Koichi would never in a million years dream of snatching that water bottle away from him. But man, I get it.

The bit in the tent was maybe my favorite part of the entire episode. I think that it was good for Koichi to let all that out, because he must have been thinking it for a while. Poor thing must have been worried that he’s just been forcing his unwanted presence into every aspect of Mitsuru’s life. And Mitsuru needed to hear it to understand how his holding back and acting cold was affecting Koichi, too (and it kinda makes me wonder about how pissy he got about Koichi saying he’d be a cold but talented doctor. Clearly that’s still a sore spot). I also liked the way Koichi immediately stopped when he caught sight of Mitsuru’s face, and the way his own face just froze. Because in his own way, he’s just as wrapped up in his own insecurity and fear as Mitsuru is. And then Mitsuru sprinted off for a good, cathartic cry. Tennis? Pfft, boy should have done track.

And also this one because I screen grabbed it and I like it:

And then aw, they worked it all out. I love that they were both equally worried that they couldn’t possibly have what they wanted from each other. And that Koichi was the one who braved the “I like you” first, because that makes so much sense, really. And then Mitsuru finally got a look at that besotted face Koichi wears around him like 90% of the time.

The kiss was...well. Underwhelming in a lot of ways, if I’m perfectly honest. I do think that it fit the moment, though. I liked the hesitance. But I will say that if they’re gonna be doing that again, I hope they take a leaf out of My Beautiful Man’s book and do some strategic hand placement (I forgive MBM the kisses because finger sucking; if this one wants to pull something like that I would not complain). It wasn’t as bad as it could have been and like I said it did kind of fit the tone of the moment but if the show wants to sell me on these two wanting each other physically (and thus far it has managed that, at least from Mitsuru’s end), they gotta give me a little more. I understand I probably won’t get much but you’d be surprised how willing I am to work with it.

But then I forgive it anyway because of these two dorks:

It’s so nice to see Mitsuru smiling. He’s got a good one.

Now I just have to wait not so patiently for next week. The last of the preview material features, and I’m pretty sure the entire thing will be in the present. Or at least in the part of the story where Koichi is a Living Dead Boy.

Confession: the fact that we’re getting all the promo material so early worries me. What if Koichi isn’t around past ep four or five? Probably I am worrying needlessly, but man, literally no promo stuff past ep 4? Is that unusual?

I was already hooked, but for my money this episode really ramped things up. It would have to do something extremely awful to turn me off of it at this point and no, i don’t mean a sad ending