#1k event. a letter to you

[amongemeraldclouds]

Ruin The Friendship

A letter gets mailed to its intended recipient. A letter confessing your feelings. A letter you never meant to send.

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

Warning: fluff, no use of y/n

Author’s note: My final entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt five. This was such a fun challenge, thanks for hosting @thatdammchickennugget ♡

✿ Masterlist | 1k words

“What letter? I didn’t have any mail to send, Daisy,” I ask our house elf as she updates me about the chores she’s done for the day.

“The letter beneath your bed. Daisy found it and to thank you kind miss for saving Daisy from your father’s fury yesterday, Daisy went the extra mile to send it,” she announces proudly.

“You mean,” I whisper, a sinking feeling growing in my chest, “the letter containing my deep and honest thoughts and feelings, about the boy I love, that I swore to myself I would never - and I mean never - send?” I exhale, feeling the edges of a panic attack creep in.

Daisy frowns. “Sorry miss, Daisy did not know. Daisy thought she was helping,” she apologizes, cowering in the corner.

“Stand up, Daisy. I’m not going to hit you,” I reassure her. “But I could hit myself so I don’t have to attend class tomorrow and face the mortifying events that are sure to follow.”

I jump up from my bed and nod, waving my wand. I could do that.

“Miss, please!” Daisy pleads. “Don’t hurt yourself. It’s Daisy’s fault,” she hisses. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid Daisy!” She chides, punctuating each word by banging her head against my drawers.

“Stop, Daisy,” I reach out, touching her shoulder. "Fine” I sigh, “no one is hurting themselves.”

I am just going to have to go to school tomorrow and die from shame.

The letter

My sweet Enzo,  It’s ironic you admire me for my bravery for taking down our childhood bullies and for being one of the top students in our DADA class. Yet here I am in a moment of weakness, thinking of you. Actually, even when I feel strong, defeated, or happy, I still think of you. In an ideal world, I’d be brave enough to tell you face to face. But we live in an imperfect world where hearts can break and relationships end, far more often than anyone would like. So if it saves our friendship, I can and must lock my heart away. I wish I can tell you when or how it happened, but I myself don’t understand. All I know is that I’m hopelessly in love with you. There, I said it.

The aftermath

I peer into Enzo’s dorm, head snaking past the door.

Please, please, please, let it be vacant. Let it be vacant, I chant in my head.

I sigh when silence greets me and move the rest of my body inside, sagging against the door in relief.

What are the odds that Enzo has already read a letter that just arrived this morning? He’s probably at quidditch practice, which means I still have a shot at saving myself from utter mortification. And more importantly, to save our friendship.

I scan his room and hurry towards the table littered with books, dried ink splotches stain the oak wood. If the letter were anywhere, it would be somewhere he—

I yelp when a door opens and turn towards Enzo stepping out from the bathroom with damp hair clinging to his scalp, water dripping down his sculpted chest, running along his toned abs. All hail quidditch.

He clears his throat and I bite my treacherous tongue - the one that unconsciously moved across my lips. Salazar, if I don’t get my act together, I won’t even need some stupid letter to reveal my feelings.

My cheeks burn as I return my gaze to his amused expression. “What the hell are you doing here and why are you naked?” I accuse. That’s right, I’m just blushing because I’m angry.

He adjusts the towel across his hips and I turn away, shoving the image of his toned figure from my mind, trying not to imagine whatever else is beneath his towel. “First of all, not naked,” he states.

“And more importantly, you’re asking me what I am doing, taking a shower, here in my dorm?” he points to the floor for emphasis. I wince and kick myself internally.

“I thought you’d be at quidditch practice,” I try. “I just - I just lost something and thought it might be with you.”

“What is it? I can help you look,” he offers, moving towards me and I step back.

“Enz please, put some clothes on first!” I plead, reminding myself to breathe.

I stop midstep when I feel something cool and solid behind me and I realize I’ve backed into a wall. Why the hell is Enzo prowling towards me like I’m his prey?

I close my eyes when he stops just in front of me, heat radiating from his body. I will myself to disappear, to fuse with the wall, to—

“By any chance,” he starts, “the thing you’re looking for. Is it white and made of paper—”

No, no, no, no, I chant this time, my eyes opening to stare at him in horror.

He continues, “the one with your handwriting scrawled inside?”

All the words leave my mind.

He smirks, “it would be a shame if you lost it and wanted it back because I rather liked it.”

“Y-you do?” I whisper.

His smirk gives way to a warm smile. “Darling, you’re more courageous than I am and I still admire you for your bravery. You managed to write it. Here’s my response: I love you too.”

“Well technically, I never meant to send it. It was Daisy,” I try to explain.

“So I have Daisy to thank. I’ll bring her flowers next time,” he says, making a mental note before continuing. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time too, but I was also worried it could ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same.”

“Now that we’ve established we feel the same…” I begin but trail off when he rests his arm on the wall above me and leans in. My breath hitches.

“I won’t need my clothes until much later,” he ends my sentence.

It’s not what I was going to say but the second I open my lips to protest, his mouth crashes into mine and nothing else matters.

[wongyuuu]

midnight rain | lsm

pairing: seokmin x f!reader genre: angst, smut, a little bit of fluff word count: 17k summary: after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, oral, swearing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this) a/n: this is part of 1k event, it was requested the dearest @ressonancee. but also, it's part of svt ans songs from midnights. i just wrote two in one and something that was supposed to be short became this monster. i hope i wrote seokmin in a way you'll like it. prompt: “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do." Seokmin ➝ Midnight Rain He was sunshine, I was midnight rain ↳ it was the oldest story in the world, the bright boy fell for the grumpy girl.

Letter #1

Seokmin,

You know, I've always been very proud of not being a very attached person. I've always been proud that I can put myself first and second, because I know I need to do it, because I know that no one else will do it for me. So, when I came here and dropped everything I had, I thought it would be a lot easier than it actually is.

When I turn around in bed at night, after days of trying to get used to the time zone and weeks to the weather and the people here — which are both bad and for completely different reasons, nothing is like in the movies — I always hope to find you there by my side and being able to snuggle up to you like I always did. I wake up in the morning and make enough coffee for two people and take two mugs out of the cupboard, and only then do I realize I'm alone here. I don't need two mugs and I made too much coffee. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, I find myself typing your number, which I have memorized despite the fact that no one remembers phone numbers, because phones exist for a reason.

You have no idea how much I miss you and what I would do to be able to hear your voice again. I would do anything, I swear I could. But I know I no longer have that right. I know that what I did is unforgivable and although I want your forgiveness, I hope you never forget what I did to you.

You were still good to me on the last day. You took me to the airport, you said goodbye to me, you hugged me tight like you know I like it and you did your best not to shed a tear in front of me.

Every now and then I catch myself thinking that I messed up. I could have done my master's where we graduated, I didn't need to move to the other side of the world and leave the life I knew behind. But at the same time, I accept it. Coming here was my dream, it was always what I dreamed of even when you were by my side as well. And maybe that's why I never told you about the application, about being approved. Maybe I waited until the end, until the very last second to tell you because I knew you were the only one capable of changing my mind.

When I was by your side, I started to dream of a different life, a life that had you at all times and in all aspects. But, as you may have already noticed, I chose my first dream.

I know I won't regret it. I can't afford to regret it. You’ll become who you always wanted to be and I’ll be there to give you a standing ovation. Not there, next to you, but from afar.

yn 

“That was Sunday Morning, by Hong Joshua. Ah, whenever I hear this song I remember my college days. I've said this here a few times, and I think I sound like a broken record by this point, but Joshua and I went to the same college and he was always singing this song in the hallways. Any small gathering between friends he would pull out the guitar and sing. So I'm sorry, but you're going to have to listen to this song at least once a week for the next year. Or until he releases the next one.”

Seokmin looked at the monitor to his right as a pre-recorded commercial for the next show started. The comments were going up too quickly, which made reading them an almost impossible mission.

On the other side of the glass, Chan made a sign indicating that the commercial was over. Seokmin looked at his friend as he lowered one finger after another and finally pointed at him. Chan placed a sheet of paper, which was always used, against the glass, which said “last, chat”. Indicating that he still had one more question to answer.

“We have time for one more question” Seokmin said, opening the internal chat he used with the other radio employees and read the question that Chan had sent “I ended a relationship of almost four years a few months ago, but I still can't understand what happened. I haven't even returned his things yet. How do I get in touch saying I want to return it?”

Seokmin swallowed. He knew that Chan hadn't done it on purpose, that he had no way of knowing everything that had happened between him and you, but he hated how much the question resonated in his head. It was a feeling he shared and for him it had been a little worse because you lived together during your last year of college. So when he entered the house and saw all the furniture, the decorations, your clothes still in the closet, it was like entering a time machine. In that 30 square meter space, for a few minutes, you still hadn't left.

He took a deep breath, away from the microphone so the sound wouldn't be picked, and leaned forward.

“It's a difficult question, really. If it's been a few months and he still hasn't picked his things up, it's because he doesn't need them, so I don't think you should bother contacting him. Hmmm”

He bit his lip and rested his elbows on the table, thinking if he should continue talking or if it would be better to stop there. Seokmin always thought it was better not to let personal feelings show on the radio, but he had moments when he couldn't follow his own rules.

“I can tell you from experience that sometimes silence is better. Because if you know the truth, it could hurt you even more. When I was in a similar situation, after a while I simply discarded the person's belongings. At first, it will be difficult, because you’ll see that shirt you gave as a gift, that letter you wrote and remember what it meant, the moment you gave those things to him. But little by little you will achieve it. Don't feel obligated to just move on when you're not ready. People will always tell you that it's about time, that it's been so many weeks or months. You’re the one who knows about your feelings.”

Chan knocked on the glass again, almost desperate because Seokmin's answer had been too long. It wasn't the first time he had gotten lost in what he was saying and maybe had been talking in circles. It always happened that he remembered you when he answered a question.

And in that specific question he was being a hypocrite because he knew that if he opened his closet, deep inside it, he would find at least two boxes full of your things hidden. He rarely went near those boxes, he liked to pretend they didn't exist and most days he managed to achieve that thought. But there were other days…

“So we come to the end of another Cupid's Corner with Minnie. See you again next week. Cupid’s Corner with Minnie: Unveiling Love’s Melody, One Relationship at a Time!”

Seokmin removed his headphones, stood up, and waved at the cameras he knew were pointed at him. He grabbed his phone and the bottle of water he always carried with him. The red light above the door finally went out and Seokmin left the studio.

Immediately, Chan appeared beside him. He had just gone blond, and it strangely suited him.

He knew the youngest was desperate, not that he was doing a good job of hiding it. The disheveled hair, pointing in all directions, also helped a lot.

“You’re going to have a heart attack if you continue like this” Seokmin said laughing.

Chan was the newest employee, handpicked by Seokmin a few months before. Seokmin needed someone to help him organize the broadcasts after his previous assistant quit because she had gotten a job in the field she had studied. Seokmin even talked to her and offered a higher salary that would come out of his own pocket, but nothing seemed to help. Not that he blamed her, in her place he would have done the same thing. But in the position he was in, changes made him uncomfortable so he did what he could to make sure everything stayed the same.

Maybe it was trauma.

“It’s because they yell at me, not you.”

One of the reasons Seokmin chose Chan as his new assistant was his sincerity. In the middle of the interview he “I think there are things in your program that need to change” and started listing things that he thought were dated or ideas that had been used too much and therefore didn't have the same effect on listeners. The others had found him presumptuous as if he wanted to know more than those who worked at the radio. Seokmin disagreed and that's how Chan got the job.

“They yell at you because you’re the new guy, no one yelled at Jiah”

Chan made a sound in the back of his throat, like a scoff.

“That's because everyone was afraid of her” Seokmin rolled his eyes and reached for the folder Chan was carrying “Oh, right. Tomorrow is your lecture for the communication classes, but they said it is possible that students from other courses will also be there, because it’llll be in the auditorium”

Seokmin nodded, reading the guidelines Chan had made. He needed to admit that he was organized and had absolute control over everything he did. He was sure that if he asked about Wonwoo's program, Chan would know how to answer as if he worked directly with him.

“You know how it is, I have fans” Chan pretended to vomit “If you go tomorrow, we’ll go out to dinner later, I’ll pay”

"Deal"

Seokmin always found it strange to be called to give lectures at the college where he studied. He wasn't a teacher and he didn't think he had done enough to be someone who could give advice to someone. In fact, Seokmin was sure he hadn't done anything big. His life, to put it very simply, was flat. At least, almost all of his life.

Seokmin has always been the type of guy who makes plans and follows through on those plans. When he was sixteen he got it into his head that he wanted to work in radio. It wasn't without reasons, of course. He joined the school radio and despite doing very little, because the school director had to know everything that would be done, even the nouns he would use in the sentence, he fell in love with the idea. That's why he decided he should study journalism in college, that way even if his radio career didn't work out, he would still have a profession.

But his dream was to work on a radio, to have his own program. So that's what he did.

He entered college as planned, sunk into student debt, and graduated exactly as he had planned. In his last semester, he got an internship at the biggest radio station in the country. He was on cloud nine. It was as if he had received the green light in life and everything was on the right track.

At least that's what he thought. At least that was what he had forced himself to believe. The internship became a permanent position and one day he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. That's why he never felt prepared to give anyone advice. Despite having decided on the career he wanted to pursue, he knew that he also needed to count on a little luck and help. The only words he could offer were “you work hard, study, make contacts, and throw the rest into luck’s hands”. It wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to hear when he was a student looking forward to the future, so he certainly wouldn't say it to anyone.

However, Chan convinced him that it would be a good idea to give the talk.

“You’re going to tell me how you got here, that’s all. An unknown face who quickly went on air to cover someone for one of the most beloved radio broadcasters in the country. I'm sure if you say that shit fell on your head, they'll like it” Chan had said laughing.

Overall the lecture went very well. Better than expected. He answered the questions as honestly as possible and used his best smile to get rid of the more awkward questions.

Despite the good day, he knew he didn't want to repeat the dose anytime soon.

“They want to know if you would be willing to do one of these a semester” Chan whispered because he knew the answer Seokmin would give, so it was better for the students not to hear.

“No” was all Seokmin said “But I’ll still buy you dinner”

Chan punched the air in celebration, catching the eyes of those around him, but he seemed to care very little.

"I just…"

What Seokmin was about to say, an announcement that he needed to go to the bathroom, died in his throat as he looked straight ahead.

Letter #2

Seokmin,

I thought I would be able to adapt faster here. It was very hard in the beginning with transport, getting around in general was very difficult. So I chose a weekend and went walking around the neighborhood where I live. I don't know how long I'll stay here, but I thought I should check it out. Besides, I can wake up in the middle of the night and decide that I want to eat something that I don't have at home, so it's good to know if there are any stores or markets that open in the middle of the night (in this neighborhood there aren't any, maybe that's why I won’t stay here).

I discovered that going out there, although productive, wasn't such a good idea. Nothing wrong happened, I didn't get hit on or someone was rude to me. Quite the contrary, most people pretended they weren't even seeing me. The problem was that everything made me think about you.

I walked by the store that sold a lot of random old things and decided to go in. You know I love filling the house with trinkets. I didn't find anything there that I liked, but I saw that they were selling camera films. For a moment I forgot everything that had happened and all I could think was, I think Seokmin is running out of film, I need to buy more because he will only realize when he doesn't have any left.

I bought it and brought it to the apartment. I opened the door and called your name. It was only later, when I noticed where I was, that it wasn't our apartment, that I realized what I had done.

Even without meaning to, even when I try not to, I find myself looking for you. Everywhere. I go to a restaurant and think about what you would like to eat, I see a dog on the street and I imagine you bending down to pet it. It's not on purpose, I just can't help it. I try, but it's in vain.

I wonder if it will pass. Will this feeling that I succeeded in my career but ruined my personal life disappear or will I feel like this forever — or at least for a good few years?

yn.

It was as if all the air had been ripped from your lungs and there was no way in the world to get you to breathe.

Somehow, some way, Seokmin was standing in front of you, in the middle of the college hallway.

For a moment it was as if you had been transported back in time, to when you were still 22 years old. In another moment you would have simply run up to him and thrown yourself into his arms as if you hadn't spent the whole night clinging to him, as if you hadn't seen each other before classes, as if you hadn't shared the smallest space in the world on the subway for 20 minutes. And your body seemed to remember all of this, like some kind of muscle memory, because you felt like you were being projected forward. Towards him.

You thought Seokmin would talk to you, you were sure he would. But you saw the way his gaze changed, the way it went from complete surprise to a hard look, completely different from anything you had ever seen from him.

In your memory, Seokmin was always brilliant and was always willing to welcome everyone with open arms, even when he felt more shy. You didn’t understand, that look he gave you was completely different from what you imagined could happen.

When you made the decision to return, you knew that there was a possibility of meeting Seokmin, no matter how small it was. You didn't know if he was still friends with the same people, if he still kept in touch with them. You certainly hadn't kept in touch with anyone - except for the two times you talked to Joshua. The possibility existed, but being realistic you knew it was as big as winning the lottery.

Of all the places you thought you could find Seokmin, college was the last one and maybe that was even why you accepted the job. When you were taking the last tests, the ones that would say whether you would graduate at the end of the semester or not, Seokmin was categorical in saying that he would never set foot inside college again. So you thought it was a place he would never go, but there he was. And in your first week, when you needed everything to go well. Not to show that you were ready and that you could do the job, but to reassure yourself that you had made the right choice in accepting the job.

You didn't have time to decide whether to talk to him or not. Seokmin made the decision for both of you. He continued walking as if you weren't there, talking to the boy next to him, laughing. The only indication that he knew who you were was silent once and one that only you could distinguish.

He turned around and left as if nothing had happened.

Was it possible that only you had felt that way? That just your heart had decided it didn't know how to beat, as if a storm was raging inside your body?

You didn't have time to analyze what had just happened. You just forced yourself to take a deep breath and also keep walking as if those brief seconds weren't enough to make your entire world turn completely upside down.

Seokmin dragged his feet into the room, tripping over the rug at the foot of the bed. A curse came out of his mouth, followed by a burp. When he invited Chan to dinner he had no intention of ending the night drunk, being carried home like someone who had just had his first drink.

It had been years since he had gotten that bad and it was comical that the previous occasion was also connected to you.

The memory of leaving you at the airport, on a flight in the middle of the night, was still vivid in Seokmin's mind. Worse than that memory, was the one of you telling him that you had gotten a place in a master's degree on the other side of the world, 18 hours before leaving the country.

“I need to tell you something” you said as he pulled his coat over his head and patted his pockets, making sure he had grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone. He needed to leave as quickly as possible, he was already late.

Seokmin had plans to ask you to marry him. He had rented a house where you could spend the weekend, where it would be possible to see the stars. He had prepared himself, but he needed to leave right that second so he would have enough time to go to the house, get everything ready and come back to get you. The owner of the house would help him, since Seokmin decided that he wouldn't tell any of his friends because they might just ruin the surprise.

“I'm already late” he said, quickly looking at his watch. "Did something happen?"

He asked, noticing your already somewhat desperate look. He knew that whatever had happened couldn't be good.

To be honest, he had noticed that something was wrong a few weeks before, and for a while, he decided it would be better not to get into it too much. He knew you well enough to know that you would offer the information when you felt ready to do so. But thinking back on everything, he wished he had asked before, he wished he hadn't given you space, he wished he had forced you to talk to him sooner.

“I passed my master’s degree abroad”

Seokmin’s first reaction was to be happy for you. He knew how much you wanted that, that it was your dream. So he did what any boyfriend would do, he hugged you and congratulated you, told you that you had tried so hard and that they would be idiots not to accept you. The feeling was true and his smile was genuine. He was happy for you.

Knowing what he knew, every now and then Seokmin wondered if he would have done anything differently if he knew what the next words would be out of your mouth. He could have made a fuss, he could have begged you to stay, he could have offered to go with you. But at the time he didn't do any of that.

“I’m leaving today, I need to be at the airport at 11 pm”

Seokmin's ears rang deafeningly. It was as if he had been punched and needed to brace himself against something. The sofa was the closest piece of furniture.

He thought he heard it wrong, he wished he was dreaming, but all he had to do was look at you. It was true. It was as if a puzzle was being completed in Seokmin's mind. The way you had suddenly become distant, how every time he entered the room you hurried to change or close whatever you were looking at on the computer. He didn't even know you signed up. He imagined that you must have done some kind of test, some interview and he didn't even know anything about it.

He had no idea.

Had he been a bad boyfriend, someone who was so focused on making the long-awaited proposal that he had ignored everything else? Or had you hidden it so well that he hadn't noticed?

"What? You’re leaving today?"

It was like the world was spinning too fast and he was trying to keep up with what was happening. It was like being on a roller coaster that kept on falling. He remembered well how the little box with the ring he had carefully chosen weighed in his pocket.

“I didn’t even know you had applied for a position” he whispered, almost just to himself “You didn’t tell me”

And it was at that exact moment, when he looked at you, that Seokmin realized that your relationship was over. You avoided looking at him, your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your coat, which was his. He saw your eyes fill with tears, you swallow hard, and remain silent.

It was unlike you, to stay quiet when you had too many things going through your head. He desperately wanted you to talk to him, to tell him what had been going through your head. He just wanted to understand. Did you believe he would somehow stop you from going? If there was one thing he knew about you, it was the fact that you always put your education first. It wasn't a secret and you didn't want it to be. He just didn't expect things to happen that way.

Seokmin sat in front of the closet, on the floor, and with difficulty opened the doors. Deep in the back, behind several shoe boxes, were two old boxes that he hadn't moved in years. Part of him wished the things inside the boxes were ruined, that they had mold and anything else that could ruin its content. But he had been careful, kept everything in order, taken all necessary precautions, and cleaned the closet periodically.

He ignored the first box and pulled the smaller one towards him, placing it on his bent legs. Seokmin wasn't one to revisit those memories, he liked to keep them as far away from him as possible, but on nights like those, it was impossible.

Seokmin knew what he would find and was sure how he would feel, but he still took the lid off the box, but he didn't dare take out any of the items inside it.

He knew he had reached his lowest point when he was holding on to memories he had of you and not focusing on what was actually happening in his life.

Letter #3

Seokmin,

I talked to Joshua today. Talk is a bit too strong of a word. We exchanged a few words on Instagram. He posted a photo and I liked it, he sent me a DM asking if I was ok and how things were going. I lied, of course. He said everything was fine and he was happy. He didn't talk about you and I didn't ask.

It was very hard to contain myself. I want to know how you are. The more selfish part of my brain wants you to be just as bad as I feel. You know that little demon that sits on our shoulder? He assures me you're even worse. And I hate to think that's the case, but at the same time, I'm sure you're not okay. I know you, we dated for four years, we lived together for almost two years

You were always the more emotional one of the two of us. You were never afraid to show your feelings, not for me or anyone else. You always loved so openly, without any fear. I admit that at first, it scared me a little.

I was an 18-year-old girl who came from a family that had no idea how to show affection, so I was always more reserved in that aspect. And there you were with your beautiful, bright smile, with open arms, affectionate with anyone who came along. I thought you were a crazy person who didn't have the slightest notion of the world. It took a while for me to realize that your world was brighter than mine in ways I couldn't understand.

You were always so untethered, free, showing yourself to anyone who had eyes. When I was closed and more reclusive, you were open and expansive. When I was very shy or reserved, you were more charming and brighter than usual. Not even my worst mood, which seemed endless at times, was a problem for you.

One day you just showed up and decided that you would stay by my side, no matter what. Believe me when I say, I tried to push you away. But with each passing day you were further under my skin.

A kiss at a random party turned into a date at every party, parties became meetings at the college library, which led to coffee dates. One day you decided at the end of each date you had to take me back to the dorms and you kissed me for a long time on the side of the building where no one could see — or at least I made myself believe no one did. Then that alone wasn't enough and you were always with your fingers intertwined with mine, or your arm around my waist. And kisses were no longer reserved for empty streets, of course not. You kissed me anywhere, anytime, no matter who was watching.

You were sneaky, Seokmin.

When I realized it, I was in love with you. Your arms were my refuge. You were my safe space. My home.

yn.

You hated that Seokmin’s reaction, or lack thereof, had gotten to you so much. It was like being punched, and then one more, soon the punch became a beating and to finish with a flourish, it was as if a truck had run over you.

You had plans to go out at the weekend, though alone. Everything was so different, the places you knew no longer existed and friends from the past no longer spoke to you. You would have to rediscover the city without anyone's help. Despite your plans, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the house.

When you decided to return, you knew there would be no way to escape Seokmin. He had become successful not only in his career as a broadcaster but also as a celebrity of sorts. You never imagined you would see his face in magazines or on billboards selling fried chicken. You didn't expect that when you turned on the TV you would see his face in different programs.

In fact, you knew all of that was happening, but somehow you managed to convince yourself that you wouldn't have to see any of it. You managed to make yourself believe that you would not be haunted by his images and voice.

When you were away, you always listened to his programs, more than once each one, but it was almost like a relationship between fan and celebrity. You could separate very well what was him and what was you. But being there, in the same country, in the same city, it was much more difficult to make that separation.

Because once you were back, Seokmin was no longer just the radio host with a show about relationships. Far from it. Seokmin was your college sweetheart, the guy whose heart you broke but who, even after seven years, was still in love with.

That was the reality. you were still in love with him. There was no relationship in the world, no man in the world, that would have made you forget about Seokmin. Sometimes it worked, sometimes you managed to forget about him for a few months and that feeling of loss, of emptiness, that had settled deep inside your heart became smaller and smaller. And then it would come back full on as if it had never left.

Maybe that was your curse, your punishment for leaving behind someone you could have spent the rest of your life with. And somehow you knew you would have been happy. Or at least a different kind of happiness.

After spending the weekend holed up inside your apartment, after convincing yourself that you needed to prepare for teaching classes and unpacking the move, she decided that on Tuesday night she would explore the city.

Exploring wasn't the right word. You had discovered that one of your favorite restaurants still existed, it had just changed location. And, despite being on the other side of the city and being completely aware that you would have to pay a fortune for a taxi or risk taking the subway alone almost at closing time, you decided to go anyway.

You needed to feel like one thing hadn't changed, or at least still be recognizable.

You heard your name being called a few minutes after sitting down. You raised your head, recognizing the voice, but couldn't tell who it belonged to. Directly in front of you was a woman, with short hair, in her fifties.

“It’s really you!”

You stood up and a second later you were being hugged. Maybe you had gone there for that reason, knowing that there would be someone there who would recognize you. Or at least you hoped there was. And when you were welcomed with open arms by her owner, Niah, you wanted to cry for the first time in a long time.

“Hi” was all you could offer, your voice weak.

You quickly turned your face away, trying to be discreet as you wiped away your tears. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of someone else. Tears were reserved for dark moments in the silence of your apartment, they weren't meant to be seen by people you didn't even know in a crowded restaurant.

“Look how beautiful you look. You haven't been around for so long. Seokmin told us that you had gone abroad to study, but I thought you would come back sooner.”

You just managed to smile, even though it was embarrassing. It was strange to hear his name coming out of someone else's mouth so easily. For years, his name was just an echo in your own mind, almost as if it were a fantasy of yours.

There were days when you managed to convince yourself of this, that Seokmin was nothing more than a dream.

“Are you just visiting or are you back to stay?”

“I'm staying” you said after a second, when you managed to find your voice again “I got a job here, I have nowhere to run”

Niah laughed and hugged you once again, tighter this time.

"Great, that makes me happy. We always miss you” Niah smiled and ran her fingers down your cheeks, brushing away some tears that were stubborn to fall “What do you want to eat? Today it's on the house. Consider it a welcome gift.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat and the remaining tears.

"What do you recommend?"

The amazing thing about meeting Niah again was that she still acted exactly the same way. She didn't see you as someone who had simply packed a suitcase of clothes and left the country overnight. To Niah you were still that same person from 7 years ago who ate whatever she put in front of. You and Seokmin were always guinea pigs for all the new recipes.

The food was still wonderful, if anything it had just gotten better.

You had a fork halfway to your mouth when you heard the door open, the sound of the bell indicating the entry of a new customer. You almost instinctively turned to look. You choked on your own saliva when your eyes met Seokmin's.

It was as if you were back in the hallway that day. Your heart simply stopped, and the world fell into suspension. For a moment, it was as if you had been transported to the past. You were almost certain that if you looked at the table you would see books open next to the cutlery; you knew that if you looked at Seokmin for another second or two his face would break into the most beautiful smile, he would wave and call your name.

But your illusion shattered into small pieces as his neutral expression contorted into a frown. With the same foot he entered he turned to leave.

“Seokmin!” you called him, getting up from your chair.

Part of you thought he was going to continue out the door, but he stopped. Half of his body was outside the restaurant, the other inside.

“Hurry up and close that door!” Niah said leaving the kitchen “You’re letting out all the heat”

Even with Niah's voice calling him, Seokmin remained standing at the door. You sat back down, but without taking your eyes off him. He didn't know what he expected of him, but he felt an indescribable relief when Niah pulled him by the sleeve of his coat and forced him to sit in front of you.

“The restaurant is packed, so you will have to share a table” she said as she turned her back.

Seokmin shook his head, clearly against sitting there, staying in the restaurant, but he still took off his coat and hung it on the chair before leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

It was clear he was working out, his shoulders had gotten broader and his arms bigger since you last saw each other. You almost laughed at the pose, remembering all the times you had seen him in a similar situation. But this wasn't the time to laugh when everything else was screaming that he was uncomfortable with the situation, that he didn't want to be there.

It didn't take a genius to know that Seokmin wanted nothing to do with you. His reaction to seeing you in the hallway the week before and the way he was looking at you in that moment were enough answers.

You felt like the walls were closing in around you and there wasn't enough air in the room.

What were you thinking when you called his name? What were you thinking when you silently watched Niah pull him inside? Why were you still sitting there?

A waiter who worked with Niah passed by your table and you called him discreetly, not wanting to attract the attention of the restaurant owner.

“Can you wrap everything to go, please?” you turned to Seokmin “You can have the table. I was already leaving”

It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Seokmin laughed lowly, scornfully, his sideways smile making the hair on your arms stand on end. In general, Seokmin has always been the type of guy who didn’t lose his cool easily, who would always rather let things go than have any kind of confrontation. But when he really got stressed out or nervous, it took a while for him to calm down again.

You had seen that storm in his eyes very few times in the years you spent together. The last one was when he went to the airport to say goodbye to you. That day the storm was just confusion and pain, you knew you had done that to him. But he sat there in the restaurant, in front of you, in silence while the people around him chatted animatedly, completely oblivious to what was happening between the two of you.

"What it was?" you rolled your eyes.

“Ah, nothing” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “It’s just like you to do that”

You narrowed your eyes at the same time you felt your cheeks get hot.

"Do what?"

"Runaway"

Letter #4

Seokmin, 

It took me almost a year to convince myself that it was okay for me to look at social media. I convinced myself that every woman does this, that every now and then we look at our ex-boyfriend's Instagram, just to find out if his new girlfriend is ugly. I've told you this several times, but every female experience is universal.

I wish you were one of those low profile people, who post a picture every 6 months and it's a cut mango on a pretty plate. I wish you hadn't posted so many pictures. But more than anything, I wish I hadn't spent hours and hours looking at the photos. I wish I hadn't been analyzing every photo of you, I wish I hadn't thought “that's a new mole” and wondered which others had appeared since the last time we saw each other.

I had memorized every mole of yours. On your face, on your arms, on your back. On the worst days, when I missed you in a way that almost made me give up everything and go home, I kept remembering each one of them. I tried to remember the sound of your laugh, your voice, how you stroked my hair until I fell asleep when it wasn't a good day.

I keep wondering if one day this feeling will just go away.

It's been a year since I left. I went out with other guys, and I almost dated one of them, but you're always there in the back of my mind, almost comically because even against my will I can't help but compare them to you. I can't help but think that only you know how I like my coffee, how only you know that if I'm in my worst mood, there's no joke in the world that can make me laugh.

I know it's not fair to them. I gave you the chance to get to know me, I allowed you to get closer. I wanted you to come closer to me. Now I wonder if you're doing this for someone other than me.

I like to imagine that you also compare other women to me, that even now that you're dating I stay there, in the back of your mind, making fun of you.

Unfortunately, she's not ugly, but your smile was brighter when I was next to you.

yn.

To say that Seokmin had spent the rest of the week in an envious mood was an understatement. He was stressed and everyone around him soon noticed the change. He really tried not to let his personal life get in the way of his work. It was something he never struggled with. Work was work, what happened when the lights went out and he left the radio should never cross paths with each other. That week, however, it was impossible.

Meeting you at the restaurant caught him off guard. That day in the college hallway had been difficult, but he managed to just keep walking as if nothing had happened. He liked to pretend like he hadn't gone out with Chan right after and drank like there was no tomorrow, like he hadn't opened the boxes he had kept for years and cried while looking at the photos of the two of you together.

He had gone to the restaurant that day because he needed some form of comfort and didn't want to call any of his friends because he knew he would end up telling them everything that happened and would receive advice and words he would rather not hear. The restaurant was the best idea he had. Or maybe the worst possible one.

Maybe he had done it consciously, because he wanted to see you one more time, and wanted to make sure he hadn't imagined you. It wouldn't have been the first time.

In the first few months after you left, Seokmin got into the habit of visiting places he went with you, or places you liked to go alone. It was probably a form of torture, but he liked to imagine it was a way to forget and overcome the breakup. On several of those days, he believed he saw you. He realistically knew it wasn't you, he clearly remembered seeing you get on the plane and waited until it took off to leave the airport.

The worst thing that could have happened to him was you calling for him. Seokmin couldn't help but wonder if he had always reacted that way to you, if your presence was always so great that before he even saw you he knew you were nearby. That day, as soon as he opened the door, before he even saw you sitting there with your eyes wide open, he knew. He knew you were there.

The last thing he expected from you was you saying his name, as if asking him to sit with you, that Niah, knowing how the relationship had ended, would have made him sit in front of you.

Seokmin noticed your discomfort, the way your spine had become a little straighter, the way your eyes were hard and cautious at the same time. Your reaction made him angry. What right did you have to behave that way, as if you were hurt when all the decisions regarding a relationship both of you were in had been made by you?

You were the one who signed up for a master's degree abroad. It was you who never told him about your decision. It was you who kept everything secret, making him believe that the two of you were on the same page and that despite your different goals, you would be able to pursue them together.

Turns out he was wrong, those dreams were just his and didn't include him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chan asked for the thousandth time.

For the first time in a long time, Seokmin was having a hard time hiding how he really felt. That polished, carefully carved mask had fallen. It was a completely atypical day and everyone was able to notice his sudden change in mood. Even Chan, who normally did a great job of ignoring all the problems around him and focusing solely on his work, seemed to be walking on eggshells around him.

“It’s really obvious, isn’t it?” Seokmin asked in a low voice and Chan just nodded "And if I pretend it's because of the new segment, will anyone believe it?"

Again, Chan nodded. Since he had started the program, 3 years before, Seokmin would receive calls and speak directly to listeners. Although there were always interactions, those were always done through live chat and email when he received questions or stories from people who were not listening to the program when it was airing.

Seokmin wasn't nervous about the idea, he was actually excited. Chan knew this and knew that whatever the problem was, it was still the same as the day of the lecture. He didn't want to ask, and he didn't want to seem invasive, but he still wanted to make sure Seokmin was okay — or at least, well enough to do the program.

“I think everyone is already thinking that” was a lie and even Seokmin knew it, but he was grateful.

“You may already know this, but today we will start a new segment. We'll call it the heart to heart helpline, at least until we find a better name at least” Seokmin's voice and laugh resonated through the taxi “We'll take your calls and some of you will be able to talk to me and ask your questions live, instead of by chat. Each person will have a maximum of 2 minutes and we will answer 6 calls today”

You had left the house completely willing to avoid anything related to Seokmin. Realistically, you knew you couldn't do anything about the billboards and his face at bus stops, but you could very well avoid his radio show. And for a few weeks you had managed to do just that.

That day at the restaurant had almost been a cathartic moment. Somehow, it was as if something had clicked and fallen into place. The Seokmin you left behind no longer existed. It had been a naive thought to think so. You didn't expect that he would still be exactly the same person, of course not. Seven years had passed and Seokmin, like you, was approaching his thirties. Obviously, many things had changed, but you still expected to see traces of that 22-year-old boy you had known and loved.

You didn't spend more than five minutes with him at that table. And it was much more than enough. He had accused you of running away, of continuing to do this for years. Of course, that could be his view on everything, but it was never your intention. The only problem was that you hadn't been able to tell him those things. You had been so lost and so completely helpless in front of him that you had forgotten that you knew how to speak and form sentences.

You had spent years of your life writing letters to him, letters that he would never read, but that was beside the point. You wrote letters as a way to appease the emptiness you felt in your heart. You never, not for a second, thought you were running away. You never wanted to run away, but Seokmin seemed to believe you did.

In a sudden burst of anger, you took your phone out of your bag and dialed the number Seokmin spoke on the radio. You didn't expect your call to go through. In fact, you didn't even know what you expected.

“Please wait a minute, we will connect your call” a non-robotic voice said as you paid for the taxi.

Seokmin was still chatting animatedly with a listener who didn't have a real question, but who “just wanted to say that I really liked your show and that I’m a fan.” It was impossible not to roll your eyes. If she, and everyone else, knew how much of a complete asshole he could be just because he had the opportunity, they would never want to see his face again.

Or maybe they would team up against you in favor of the immaculate Seokmin. God knew how easily a man could turn public opinion in his favor with a beautiful smile. And God was also a witness that Seokmin's smile was simply wonderful, one that took your breath away, one that made you smile along because it was contagious.

“Welcome to the heart to heart helpline” Seokmin’s voice sounded in your ear “What’s your question?”

You didn't really think that your call would get through to Seokmin, you didn't think the signal would be good enough inside the elevator, but none of that seemed to be a problem.

“Hello, can you hear me?” he asked.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You knew you were going really crazy, but you decided to throw caution out the window and be the crazy person everyone used to believe you were.

“Yes, I’m here” you could have sworn, that even over the phone, you felt Seokmin tense up “It’s a question about an old relationship, we broke up years ago, if that’s okay”

You struggled with your keys, trying to unlock the door as quickly as possible. You needed to get to your computer or tablet, whichever was closer. It was almost a physical necessity to see Seokmin's reaction to your voice, your question.

You always knew how to tell if he was truly calm or if he was masking what he was feeling. You wanted to know if you still had any other sort of effect on him. Whatever it was, it was better than angry disdain.

“Old relationships should stay in the past, don’t you think?” he finally said.

You nodded as you ran into your room. You knew you would find the tablet under your pillow — you were sure that if your mother saw it she would say that your brain would explode due to the radiation from the device. With a few taps, you opened the stream of Seokmin's program.

“I think so. But the problem is that we keep seeing each other. I don’t think it’s something either of us want, but it seems inevitable.”

You turned the sound off, you just wanted to focus on his reactions. Seokmin swallowed hard, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fixed on the microphone in front of him. To anyone, it just seemed like he was concentrating on the call, on what the person on the other end of the line had to say, but you knew very well that it was to hide his reactions.

"Your question?"

“Well, he called me selfish and said I ran away when we broke up, but that's not exactly what happened. I wanted to talk to him, but I don’t think he wants to listen to me.”

Seokmin took a deep breath and seemed to think about what to say next, his eyes no longer on the microphone, but on the ceiling.

“And why does he think that about you? You probably gave him reasons, don't you think? I don’t think anyone would think that about someone without anything having happened.”

“I always dreamed of studying abroad, so when the opportunity came, I went. I…"

“Did you tell him you were going?” Seokmin clenched his fists on the desk, his fingers gripped the pen in his hand tightly until his knuckles were white. “Did you give him a chance to say something or did you just walk away?”

You were speechless, eyes focused only on Seokmin. The way his hair perfectly framed his face, his sculpted thin nose. He was still exactly like he was seven years ago, just somehow different. He was the same, but he also wasn't.

You hadn't given him the chance to say anything, you had just walked away, but because you believed it was the best thing to do. You would have stayed if he had asked, I would have aborted all of your plans for him,

“Long distance relationships don’t work” you said finally, your voice lower “especially when there’s an ocean separating people”

“I'm going to guess and say that you were together for a while because I don't think anyone would care that much about a quick relationship” his voice became more sober, completely in control of his emotions, the opposite of what you felt,  like you were enclosed every second that passed “I agree with you, long-distance relationships don’t work. Different cities are already complicated, I can't imagine what it would be like to be with someone who lives in another country. You didn't give many details, but I believe he had reasons to feel that way, just as you had your reasons for leaving without warning. I think the best thing for both of you is to let it fall into oblivion. It makes no sense for either of you to dwell on these feelings. Maybe your desire to talk exists because you think you've left things open with him, but he may think that what's in the past shouldn't be remembered. Maybe you're just a bad relationship he wants to forget.”

Letter #5

Seokmin

I found out by chance that you now have your own radio show. One day it was an empty slot in the schedule and the next it was your voice. To my joy and delight, it was one of those programs that also had video streaming. I say joy and delight in a very ironic way.

But I'm not lying when I say I'm happy for you. You always said it was your dream and in a way, here we are, achieving our dreams. It would have been better if we could have lived through this together, I think. Maybe if that were the case I wouldn't have this empty feeling inside my chest.

But I discovered a long time ago that I can't keep crying over spilled milk. I left and you moved on with your life. They were conscious choices, I knew what I was doing. I knew that making this choice would have hurt both of us, but I also knew that we could overcome it. It's just taking longer than expected. I honestly thought that by this point, so many years later, we would have been able to live as if the past were just that, the past.

But it's not like that for me or for you.

I may be completely crazy, but your show is about love advice and how to deal with heartbreak. Sometimes, when I hear you talk, I'm sure you've already dealt with all your feelings, after all, you've had other girlfriends. But there are other moments, when you answer a question or when you read one of the pre-written texts when I'm sure that what you said applies directly to what we both had.

I'm going crazy, aren't I?

It's been four years since I left. I already finished my master's degree and started my PhD, exactly as planned. I have a date tonight with a guy who seems genuinely nice, but here I am, writing yet another letter that will never be sent to the guy I was in love with.

What am I still doing?

yn

Seokmin had always believed that for a relationship to truly end there must be no trace of it anywhere. When he told his listeners that they should get rid of items, it was not a lie. He was just terrible at following his own advice. The old story of do as I say, not as I do.

Finally, he decided it was time to take his own advice. With a little pain and resentment added to the mix, of course. At this point, he wondered if he could already be considered a masochist or if he still had a few boxes to tick to get the title.

Getting your address had been easier than expected. All he had to do was ask Niah, who offered the information without any resistance.

“Being thirty didn't make either of you any smarter,” she said as she leaned across the table and wrote the address on the napkin.

“Almost thirty” he felt the need to correct her, but decided he would ignore the hidden message in her words.

Seokmin never stopped going to Niah's restaurant. It was there that he had cried his sorrows over the cheapest drinks possible, he didn't have the money to pay for the good ones, while Joshua tried to console him. He had never seen Niah so stressed and angry. She hadn't said anything, but you could clearly hear the sound of her cutting the vegetables more aggressively than necessary.

Little by little she became calmer about the situation and started talking about you with the same affection as before. Seokmin always thought she had somehow kept in touch with you, or at least found a way to get your number or a way to contact you. At first, he had been angry, but somehow he believed he didn't have that right. It was only after a year that Seokmin decided to ask and the answer he received was “if I still had contact with her, I would have already screamed at her about disappearing without telling anyone”.

Asking Niah for your address was the only option he had. He refused to go to college, where you worked. He didn't know what would happen, whether you would be friendly with each other or the conversation would end in a shouting match just because. Because after years of no contact and considering the way things ended, it was pretty obvious that resentment could resurface — at least Seokmin had resentment up to his neck and knew that not releasing them all at once required almost inhuman self-control. 

He looked at the building one more time before getting out of the car. It was one of those without a doorman. Seokmin knew that if he rang and asked to be let in, the probability of being sent to hell was very high. So he pulled up his cap down and covered as much of his face as he could while he balanced the boxes on his arms.

He stood there like a madman for almost twenty minutes until someone finally left the building. Seokmin felt like he was committing a crime when he slipped through the door before it closed. Even though the feeling was strange he made himself believe it was the only option he had and he really didn't have any bad intentions. He just wanted to return your things and, hopefully, arrange that if you ever met again, you’d simply pretend you don't know each other, instead of talking nonsense to each other.

Seokmin took a deep breath once before knocking on the door. He heard footsteps and a second later the door opened.

When you imagined what your Wednesday night would be like, the only option that crossed your mind was to order a pizza and watch a movie — the random option of Netflix seemed like your best friend and the only possible option because you weren't even able to choose what to watch by yourself.

Not even in your wildest daydreams could you have imagined that Seokmin would show up at your door with two boxes in his hand.

You were partially tempted to close the door on his face, but you knew that doing so would only make the whole situation worse. If Seokmin, who clearly didn't have any good feelings about you, was standing there at your door it was because he had something to say. Or more precisely to hand it over to you, considering the boxes in his arms.

Silently you stepped aside so he had enough room to enter. You wanted to slap yourself for the complete war zone that your living room was in. You were still unpacking the moving boxes, not that you had taken much with you. It was too expensive to send things from one country to another, especially furniture. You had only focused on your clothes and books and a few things you wanted to keep, and that alone was more than you were willing to spend. In addition to the boxes, you had all the things you still had to buy, but you still didn't have the mind to do it.

You had so much going through your head that cleaning the apartment was just another task you wanted to avoid. But it was one that could be left for later. In the few minutes that Seokmin spent there, you wished you had tidied it up, that he hadn't seen how that room represented your life at that moment: a complete mess.

"What are you doing here?" you finally asked when you managed to get your vocal cords to work properly.

Seokmin didn't seem to care about the mess but paid attention to everything else around him.

He placed the boxes on the counter and took off his cap, pressing the brims with his fingertips looking for what to say next. He had rehearsed an almost poetic speech in the car, something about being adults and how your relationship had ended a long time ago, so neither of you should have any regrets left. But the moment you opened the door and looked at him it was as if all the words had simply evaporated from his mind, as if he had never learned to speak in the first place.

It had always been that way with you. Sometimes when he looked at you, even when you were still together, he got lost. He was like a man adrift who had finally found solid land. It was as if he heard a click and the world started to move once again.

One of his favorite things, when you were dating and living together, was being able to come home after an exhausting day and see you sitting on the sofa in the living room, your computer on your lap, while you studied, occasionally shouting profanities at the computer. On those days, Seokmin would simply push the computer away and lay his head on your lap.

“Just five minutes” he used to say with his eyes closed.

You’d laugh, fingers immediately running through his hair, as if it was the most natural movement in the world.

“Who do you want me to insult today? You know my vocabulary is very colorful.”

How many times had he slept in that position, without meaning to, and you had to drag him to bed because “it's comfortable for you, but my legs are numb and you have to take a shower, you won't sleep dirty next to me, sir”.

It was impossible not to wonder where it all went wrong.

“I came to return your things” he pointed at the boxes.

You suppressed the urge to bend down and rummage through the boxes. You wanted to know what he had kept, what he considered important enough to keep for so many years. You knew he no longer lived in the apartment you shared. When you were looking for apartments you saw that that one was up for rent. It was necessary to restrain yourself from choosing it. It wasn't a good apartment, at least not at the time — the photos on the website said the property had undergone renovations two years earlier and had no tenants since. It wasn't big, it barely fit one person, but it was what your extremely limited budget could afford at the time. Somehow you and Seokmin turned that small space into a home full of life. Of love.

In the places where you lived, you bought all kinds of trinkets to fill the space, furniture you didn't need and never used, hoping to imitate, for even a second, the feeling you had in that little 35 square meter apartment.

You never quite managed to do that.

“Thank you” you said sincerely “I thought all my things had gone in the trash”

You laughed and Seokmin squeezed the back of his head and pointed at the boxes.

“I sold what I could, I didn't want to put it in storage because I really thought we would never see each other again. The money is in an envelope”

“Why did you keep all this?” the words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself “You should have thrown it away or, since you sold it, you should have spent the money”

Seokmin had asked himself that question several times before, sober or not, and he never had an answer. After a while, he simply stopped questioning and accepted it as something he had to do, to have some kind of sanity. It didn’t. Knowing that those boxes were inside his wardrobe, having to go through them the two times he moved, only brought back memories that he would like to forget.

Ever since you had seen each other again for the first time, memories that Seokmin had struggled to bury came to the surface as if they had just happened. He started to dream about you, dreams that range from memories to things that never actually happened, he started to wonder if it would be okay to talk with someone. His brain always screamed NO, so he was stuck just dreaming.

“I don’t have a good enough reason. It is what it is, I guess,” he said.

The last time Seokmin felt so embarrassed around you was right when you met and even then it only lasted a few minutes. The 18 year old Seokmin was much braver than the 29 year old man in front of him.

That boy, without any guilt or remorse, would have asked every question that could cross his mind. You’d say “your mind is beautiful, it even echoes sometimes”. Seokmin wanted to still have some of that boy's strength. Maybe that was the only way to know what he wanted. He wouldn't ask and he knew you wouldn't offer the information to him without being pressured.

“I think in the end, we both got what we wanted.”

You realized you said the wrong thing when you looked at Seokmin’s hands. A second before he was clutching his cap until his knuckles turned white, the next his long fingers were still. You didn't want to see the expression on his face. You knew what you’d find. You messed up, but couldn’t take back what you said.

“You got what you wanted” Seokmin corrected you, his voice firm, his tone hard.

“You always wanted to have a radio show”

“No, I wanted you. I could adapt to everything else if it meant I would have you.”

You shook your head. You knew it wasn't true. Hell, even Seokmin knew it wasn’t true. The first time you talked, Seokmin mentioned how much he wanted to be a radio host and have his own show, of any kind. I don't have a preference, I know I can give anything my own colors. You felt envious of his certainty, of the way he knew he could do it.

“The show has always been your dream” you tried again, despite knowing it was in vain to argue with him.

“My dream was to have a life by your side. You never, not once, told me that you signed up to study abroad, you never even mentioned it. When it was time to go you just got on a plane and disappeared. You never even gave me the chance to follow you. I could have been a journalist anywhere in the world”

Seokmin hated the direction of that conversation, hated being so exposed in front of you after so many years. In the past, it wasn't a problem. Before he wanted to be exposed in front of you, he wanted to share everything he was, every aspect of himself with you. No more. The problem was that he couldn't just stop. A gate was opened and there was no way to close it.

“So, what? Would we both be living based on our dreams? Because this is a dream, and you know it very well.”

You clung to the top rail of the chair, your head lolling forward in an almost futile attempt to stop him from seeing the tears forming in your eyes. You knew you couldn't hold them.

You weren't the type of person who cried often, you did what you could to avoid it, but when the tears came it was impossible to simply stop them from falling.

“Yeah, maybe I was really dreaming, because I believed that you loved me in the same proportion, but it’s quite obvious that you didn’t”

Seven years of pent-up frustration couldn't just disappear, he should have known. He should have imagined that going there would be a problem, that being in the same space as you without any kind of interference was a mistake. But he was still there and there was no way to escape. It was better to end everything quickly than to keep those feelings for another seven years in the hopes of one day being able to say something.

Seokmin watched as you went to one of the boxes in the corner of the room and opened it forcefully, tearing the cardboard, and causing some of the contents to slide across the floor. He felt his body freeze as a roll of film stopped at his feet.

“So explain to me, why do I buy a roll of film every time I pass by a store?” you put both hands inside the box and took out several rolls of film, of different brands and models. “Explain to me, why have I followed your career all this time and never missed a damn show in the last 3 years? Why would I wake up in the middle of the night to watch the broadcast and then listen to the show again while going to work because I just wanted to hear your voice?”

You walked to another box, but you opened this one a little more carefully as if wanting to protect the contents.

“Why did I spend 7 years writing letters that would never be read to a guy I never loved?”

You threw several envelopes at Seokmin’s chest. Your face and body shook out of anger or another feeling he couldn't quite tell.

Seokmin bent down to pick up one of the envelopes from the floor. His name was written in your careful handwriting. He didn't need to look at all the other ones to know that they were also addressed to him. He didn't know how many letters were scattered on the floor, or if there were any left in the box. The only thing he was sure of was that he had no idea how to proceed.

“If that doesn’t say I loved you, if that doesn’t say I still love you, I don’t know what the fuck does.”

Seokmin saw the first tear run down your face and fell silent. He knew he should turn his back, he knew he should walk away, just like you did seven years before. Instead, he took four steps in your direction, his eyes never left your heaving chest and the tears that ran freely over your cheeks. 

At that moment he knew that he only had two options: he could turn around and leave, he gave you back your things that alone made his plan a success; or he could kiss you like he had been wanting to since the moment he saw you again.

To hell with his plan.

Seokmin held your face in his hands and pulled you to him, crashing his lips on yours. It was an all too new feeling but also familiar, almost like coming to a remodeled home. It was him and it was you, if only it was just that simple. 

You sighed into him, your arms wrapping around his slim waist while your hand balled a fist full of his shirt. There were so many moments where you wished you could be right in that spot, again in his arms. Dreams and daydreams, wishful thinking, whatever you could call it. Thoughts of Seokmin had always been a constant in your mind. It was impossible not to compare other people you went out with to him. 

Your longest relationship had been one of almost a full year. Although the beginning had been good and easy, with you somehow managing to avoid any and all Seokmin related dreams and thoughts, it turned sour the second he crossed your mind.

“Seokmin, I…”

He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes so intense that it was difficult to keep looking at him. 

“Let’s not overthink it, okay?” was all he said. 

You held his face for a couple, searching for something in his features, anything at all, that could indicate that the moment wasn’t for that. But all you saw in him was the same emotions you felt, the same need and desire. 

You pulled Seokmin to you again, this time hungrier, your chest pressed to his. Your mind was loud telling you all the reasons why you shouldn’t be doing that, why having him so close to you was truly the most dangerous situation you could possibly put yourself in. But all of those voices, all of those words and thoughts were silenced the moment he kissed you again. 

His lips were hungry, demanding all of you. And it was so easy to just give in to him, to his hands roaming on your body, down your back until he reached your ass. He gave it a light squeeze and ran his hand back up again, this time under your shirt. You moaned softly at the contact of his skin on yours, as he kissed your neck, bitting on the exact same spot he found years before. 

He smiled over your skin. 

“At least this hasn’t changed”

It was all too much but not nearly enough. Just having him that close to you was dizzying enough but him touching you and enjoying the fact that you were just as weak for him at twenty nine made you never want to let go of him again.

“Where’s your room?”

You took Seokmin by the hand, guiding him through the narrow corridor. 

Your room was barely a room to begin with. You had no furniture except for the mattress lying on the floor, your clothes were either on the suitcase or on the chair on the side. 

“This is unlike you” Seokmin said, his chest pressed to your back while he nibbled on the skin of your neck. 

“I… hm… I” you sturred a little when he bit into a particularly sensitive spot, making him chuckle “I’m waiting on delivery”

Seokmin turned you around in his arms while lightly pushing you down on the mattress. His eyes never left yours as he ran his hand under your shirt, moving the fabric up until your chest was exposed. 

It had been so long since you had been with anyone, it was almost like a reflex to want to pull your shirt back down. Since him, it had been hard to just let yourself be exposed to someone like that. You had become awfully aware of your body and things you never cared for or paid attention to before suddenly became worries. You didn't like that insecure version of yourself but when Seokmin cupped your breast in his hand his touch was almost solemn. 

It was probably the worst timing in the world when you felt tears burn on the back of your eyes. You pulled his face to yours again, trying to hide your tears from him once again. 

Suddenly, his touch was tender when he pushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers careful. 

Seokmin moved down on your body. When you saw his fingers on the waistband of shorts you lifted your hips off of the mattress to help him move the fabric down quicker. 

He kissed your hips and inner thigh. You moaned in anticipation, your hand taking a fist full of his soft hair. When his lips finally found your clit it was like fireworks erupted behind your closed eyelids.

Seokmin was impossibly hard in his pants, embarrassingly so like he was a teenager having his first time. 

He never thought that he would have you in his arms again and yet there you were in front of him, no reservations. Just for him. And for a moment it was like his brain was in short circuit, the small electric waves running all over his body, down to his toes. 

He licked a path from your cunt to your clit. He went down on you almost in desperation, his nose brushing on your clit every now and then. 

"Seokmin..." his name was barely a whisper in your lips, but it was also a chant. 

Your orgasm hits you quickly, leaving you short of air and with shaky legs. You were spiraling in the most enticing way possible. It didn't stop Seokmin though as he kept sucking you frantically. 

You tugged on his hair, pulling him up and to you again. 

I love you,  the words almost fell out of your lips. It would have been so easy to just say them, to be open about your feelings just this once. 

Deep down you knew that that moment would be a one time kind of thing. It was just the kind of moment people sometimes needed to just completely let go of everything. Or in this case, nothing. It was to let go of seven years of complete nothingness and silence.

You opened the button of his jeans and pushed it down, his boxers following along. You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping him a couple of times. Realization suddenly came over you. You never expected Seokmin to show up to your place, much less that it would lead to that moment, and there wasn't anyone else in your life, so you weren't ready for it. 

"I don't have a condom" you said breathlessly.

Seokmin looked lost for a second, his brain going to his wallet, questioning whether or not he had one in him. 

"I can pull out," he said "if that's okay"

All you did was nod and Seokmin aligned himself with your hole. He pushed in slowly, savoring each moment when your pussy pulled him in until there was no space between the two of you. 

Seokmin kissed you again to give himself time to adjust to you squeezing him. You held his face close to yours, in your eyes a mix of emotions he didn't want to understand. Not in that moment at least.

"I don't want anyone else," you said looking into his eyes, your thumb running over his bottom lip "No one else can make me feel the way you do"

To hell with care and self-preservation. You let go of those the moment you opened the door for him, the moment you let him into your home, the moment you didn't push him away when he kissed you. 

Seokmin fucks you slowly, his pace torturous as you beg and beg for more. He intertwined his fingers with yours and held one of your hands above your head while the other one held your hips in place. 

"Seokmin... harder"

And it's like a switch has gone off inside his brain. His once slow pace becomes shallow. The sound of your breaths and his skin slapping against yours were the only ones heard, echoing through the empty room. 

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, catching you so off guard you scream because it's too much. 

You pushed Seokmin away and watched in ecstasy as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his hand working fast as your name left his lips when his release fell on the sheet by your side. 

Seokmin dropped his body over yours again, his forehead on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and ran your hand over his hair. 

"I love you" you allowed yourself to say, even if it meant nothing to him. 

Letter #6

Seokmin,

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm coming home. Or the closest thing I still have to a home. Needless to say, my mother is happy with the news. She's been tormenting me for years, asking me to come back, but since I set foot here I decided I wasn't going back.

I wanted to, but I wouldn't go back.

Every time I thought about going back, the first thing that came into my head was the last image I had of you. Your teary eyes wishing me a safe flight, saying I love you and hope you accomplish everything you want. I regretted it the moment I gave my things away and handed my passport into the hand of the airline girl. I should have come back, I should have given up, but I couldn't. That old story of putting myself first and second, you know how it goes. In this case, my entire top 10 was just different versions of me.

I think I actually felt scared because as time went by, little by little without me realizing it right away, you became a very big part of my life. A part that could change everything. I felt like I depended on you too much. It wasn't fair to you or me.

We were only 22, Seokmin. When we were so young, we thought that life was conquered and today I know that is not the case. Far from it. At 22 I had a degree and worked part-time at a cafe to pay the bills, just like you.

You might think I'm selfish, I'm sure you do based on the things you say on your show. I was selfish and on some level, I don't regret it. I did what I always planned to do, what I always wanted to do. And now I'm coming home.

Part of me wants to run and find you, explain why I made the decisions I did, why I never told you. But I know you won't want to listen to me. I wouldn't want to listen to me either. Why would I listen to someone who left just like that? It really wouldn't make sense.

But another part, this one a little more rational, says that I shouldn't throw salt into the wound after so many years have gone by. I have the scar here, hidden enough for no one to see, but prominent enough for me to remember what I did every single day.

I think that's what I'm going to do. I think that's what I have to do. It wouldn't be fair to just show up in front of you and say “hi, I'm back” after seven years.

You have become a big “what if” for me. What if I had stayed? Would we have stayed together or would our relationship have ended years ago? What if I had told you what I was doing while I was doing it? Would you have asked me to stay? What if I had given the possibility of a long-distance relationship? Would we have worked out or would you start to resent me for leaving and end up hurting each other anyway?

The most absurd thing is that I still like you, I'm still in love with you. I've always heard that distance makes love end or something like that. I haven't seen you in seven years, I don't know what's going on in your life — you're really good at hiding everything being a celebrity now — so it doesn't make any sense that my feelings haven't changed even after all this time. This guy I see online might not be the Seokmin I fell in love with, just like I'm not the same person you remember.

Every time I hear your voice I still feel butterflies in my stomach. I sleep and dream about you. When I wake up I think about you and I wonder if you think about me too. It is not normal. It's not healthy. Life went on and I think it is our obligation to move forward together. We are not a museum to only feed on the past.

Let's continue as we are now, what do you think? We will once again be in the same country, in the same city, but I think it's best for both of us to pretend that nothing will change. It's a huge city, what are the chances of us meeting?

yn

Before you even opened your eyes, you already knew what you would find. Or who you wouldn't find. You knew the space next to you on the mattress would be empty. You had noticed the exact moment Seokmin had gotten up, but you forced yourself to believe that he had just gone to the bathroom. You had kept your eyes closed and had somehow gone back to sleep.

You had been naive to think that the night had changed something, that the way everything seemed like it would be fine was an indication that things had finally gotten back on track. If any, the train simply ended up derailing.

When Seokmin kissed you it was magical, no matter how cliché and teenage it may sound. It was as if the world had fallen into place again, as if you had finally returned home after being away for so long. You couldn't help but wonder if that was why you'd taken the job, in the foolish, unconscious hope that there might be a chance, however slight, of being with him again.

You forced yourself to sit up and pulled the sheet up to cover your naked body. The shirt and shorts you wore the night before were next to you on the floor, but you refused to wear those clothes, opting to rummage through the boxes in the corner of the room looking for clean ones.

You didn't want to go to the living room, didn't want to be mocked by the two boxes that Seokmin had left on the counter, but you couldn't help it. It was as if your feet had a life of their own. When you realized it, you were already sitting on the living room floor with the two boxes in front of you.

You momentarily decided to ignore the smaller black box and pulled the large one closer. The first thing you saw was the envelope Seokmin mentioned the night before. Money, especially the one in the envelope, wasn't something you were going to worry about. You didn't care about it, you didn't lie when you told him that he should have spent it. That money would remain untouched.

There were also a few books you read and made annotations on, two stuffed animals, and all the picture frames you had left behind.

One of the things you regretted the most was not taking with you when you left were photos of you and Seokmin. You had only taken one, which was folded inside your wallet. It was already so old and worn out that it had almost turned to dust, but you would never get it out. It was you and Seokmin at Niah's old restaurant, he was smiling at the camera while you looked at him. It was your favorite picture.

At the bottom of the box was the camera you had given Seokmin as a birthday present a few months before you left. You had saved whatever money you could for months to buy him the camera he wanted, one that he always talked about and whenever you passed by a store you stood outside looking at it, almost as if it would magically appear in his hands.

You understood his reasons for leaving the camera there — or, at least, the reasons you could imagine—but you wished he had kept using it. Not because it was a gift from you, but because it was something he wanted. His smile was so big when you gave it to him, the tip of his nose slightly pointed down because of it.

Carefully you put everything back inside and put it aside.

The smaller box, for some reason, was scary. It was light and black, and you could hear its contents moving as you held it in your hands. You took one last deep breath and removed the lid.

Inside were photos you had never seen before. Photos of you alone, Seokmin wasn't in any of them. In none of them were you posing or smiling directly at the camera.

Most of them had been taken from a distance, without you noticing. In some you were inside the cafe where you worked, smiling at customers and serving tables, in others you were simply walking down the street, looking through window shops and pointing at something. Seokmin had taken countless photos of you without you even realizing it.

It was strange to see yourself through his eyes, even if it was a version of you that no longer existed. A much younger and more optimistic version. Did I smile that much? you couldn't help but ask. You never saw yourself as particularly optimistic or constantly smiling. You were happy, that's undeniable, but you didn't know that's how people saw you.

There were so many photos, from completely different moments, both from the beginning of your relationship with Seokmin, and from all the phases you went through together.

Behind the pictures were the post-its that you left around the apartment, reminding Seokmin of somewhere you had together or simply saying that you loved him. So many had a simple “I love you” written on them, others said “have a good day today!”.

You had no idea he had kept them. You always thought that once read, they were discarded, but there they were, intact as if you had just written them.

The very first one you had ever written, when you had just started dating, was also there. At the time, unlike Seokmin who never had a hard time expressing how he felt, it was almost impossible for you to be openly honest. So you wrote it on a post-it and stuck it inside one of his notebooks. He had shown up at the dorm a few hours after you left the library.

“Say it again, but this time looking at me”

You frowned, pretending you didn't understand.

“Your nose is beautiful”

You laughed when Seokmin wrapped his arms around you, squeezing a little, trapping your arms close to your body. His face was very close to yours.

“What you wrote in the note” he said softly, his cheek pressed against yours “Say it again, please”

The truth was that you had loved Seokmin, in a way you didn't believe was possible and maybe that was why you spent the last seven years writing letters to him.

Seokmin never left your mind, not truly. There was always a desire, even if veiled, to return home, to find out how he was, to just say “I know I messed up, I’m sorry”.

It was that desire that made your entire body go cold as you took one last item out of the box. A smaller box that fit in the palm of your hand. You knew what it was before you even opened it and opening it was the worst choice at that moment. Your heart, which was already broken, somehow managed to break even more, into a billion, shiny, new pieces.

Seokmin would have proposed if you hadn't left.

When the first sob echoed through the living room, you didn't try to hold it back, you just accepted the feeling of being absolutely lost and heartbroken.

The weather outside the building seemed to mimic the way you had felt in the last few weeks, torrential rain that had no end in sight. You watched the news hoping for an improvement, hoping that the rain would stop for at least a few hours, but it seemed like a distant dream.

All your students were already gone and there was nothing left for you to do. The handed in assignments were graded and the tests were ready to be applied the following week. You had never hated yourself so much for simply doing your job. You wanted to be, at least for that day, like other teachers who left corrections until the last possible second and left students desperate for their grades.

The hallway was in complete silence, a clear sign that everyone had left already. And you had already waited hours for the rain to stop, until the sky was completely dark, and if anything the rain had only gotten worse.

You sighed and picked up your bag from the chair. You wouldn't risk taking any books, papers, or documents home, the possibility of everything getting ruined was too big. Besides, you needed a rest, at that point it was well deserved.

Ever since you had opened the boxes Seokmin left behind, you had immersed yourself in work in every way possible. You had accepted all of the dean's requests and even offered to teach extra classes whenever there was a missing professor.

And even so, even though you had more work than you wanted, you still found time to look at all of his social media. You still listened to all his programs, even listened to the old ones before going to sleep.

It was almost like a form of elaborate torture done solely and exclusively with you in mind. And worst of all, it was self-inflicted. It was as if your brain liked it, begged for it.

The box with the engagement ring was next to your pseudo bed. It was the last thing you saw before going to sleep and the first thing you saw when you woke up. Instead of spending hours on your phone, you sat there, staring at the small box.

You hadn't dared to open it again. You had never felt so lost as you did that day, looking at that ring.

You wouldn't be a hypocrite to say that you had never imagined your life if you had married Seokmin, but before it was nothing more than a daydream. The ring made that dream an attainable reality. It had been in your hands and you just walked away.

A curse left your lips when you noticed that the umbrella you had used that morning was missing from the umbrella holder next to the door.

“Great, that’s exactly what I needed” you muttered, slamming the door shut behind you.

You were tired, exhausted to tell the truth. All you wanted was to get home, take a shower, and watch some relationship reality show, to escape the tragedy that was your own love life.

You closed your eyes and sighed as you reached the entrance. The next bus stop or subway station was at least a 15 minute walk away. That was a problem that existed when you went to school there, everything was far away. One would think that they would do something to improve that, but one would be wrong.

You thought about taking shelter in the nearest coffee shop, but you knew it was almost closing time. You wouldn't be the person who forces employees to stay late, not when you had worked at that exact coffee shop years ago.

Even with your heavy coat covering most of your body, the rain was cold on your back and it was hard to see anything ahead, even if it was just a few steps away. Even the sound of cars was muffled by the rain.

“yn?” a car was on your left, and it was moving at the same speed as you. The face of whoever was behind the wheel was blurred by the rain, but you would have recognized that voice anywhere in the world.

“Let me give you a ride”

You shook your head. The last thing you should do was get in the car with him. It was too dangerous, you were sure that if you looked at him for more than a second you’d start crying. Just by hearing his voice your eyes were burning and a lump was forming in your throat.

“It’s fine, the bus stop is right there”

“There was an accident back there, the bus won’t be here anytime soon”

You grumbled. Of course, there was an accident, of course, there wouldn't be a bus and with your luck, the subway would probably be closed too.

"If your car went through the accident, a taxi will too”

You quickened your pace, not because of the rain, but because you wanted to get away from him. You needed to get away from him.

“Jesus, yn, just get in the car. You’re going to get sick”

You pretended you didn't hear what he said and kept walking, face down – trying to escape both the rain and him. The first tear fell from your eyes. For the first time in days, you were grateful for the rain, because you could pretend it was just water and not a visual representation of your broken heart on your cheeks.

Seokmin stopped the car right there, in the middle of the street. He didn't care if someone was standing behind him honking like crazy — something that was bound to happen.

When he left your apartment that day he felt like he was 22 again, but this time he was the one leaving.

Hearing that you loved him was everything he had wanted, but the timing was strangely right and wrong, both at the same time.

Both of you screamed, shouted, and said what you wanted to say — or at least part of what you wanted to say. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, at the same time a new one was placed on it.

After you fell asleep in his arms, the only thing Seokmin could think about were the letters scattered across the living room floor. There were so many. He couldn't believe you had spent all those years writing letters to him.

He needed to read them all. He would have done it in the living room, but he didn't know what awaited him, so he collected them all from the floor and a few more that had been left in the box and left.

He read the first one in the car, he couldn't wait until he got home. 

Seokmin cried right there, the same way he cried when you left. Inconsolable. His heart broke and healed in equal measure with every word of yours he read.

Seokmin always believed that you left like that, without a single word, because you didn't like him that much, because you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Not that he thought the entire relationship had been a lie, but he thought that somehow the love had ended. It happened to everyone, the probability of it happening to him was also high.

The truth could not be different. There wasn't a letter in which you didn't say you loved him, not always in those words, but he knew you well enough to know that was what you said.

After reading all the letters, Seokmin called Joshua. He cried on the phone with his friend and then once again when he showed up at his place with bad beer and takeout food. “Since we’re going to talk about our college days, I think we should do the same thing we did back then” was all he said.

Seokmin was on his way to you when he saw you walking without an umbrella. He wanted to talk to you, to know if even after so long you still wanted to try with him one more time. It was better to try than to always wonder what could have been.

“I read your letters!” he shouted louder than the rain.

His words were enough to make you stop walking, but you still didn't turn to face him. It was too hard to breathe. Your chest rose and fell irregularly each time you tried to pull the air in.

You knew Seokmin had taken the letters. Part of you knew he would read them, but the last thing you expected was for him to want to talk about them.

“I know” you said when he approached “I saw they were gone, and you were the only person who came by”

“Do you know why I accepted to host a love advice show? Besides it being something I've always wanted, of course” he didn't give you time to answer “Because a part of me wanted you to listen, to know that I was okay, even if it was a lie. I thought that if I talked about it on a show that had used the nickname you gave me, you’d regret it. I thought that I should make you regret it because it was the only way I could still think about you without looking like a fool after so long. I thought you didn’t care, that you had left because you didn’t like me anymore, so making you regret your decision was the only option I had”

You shook your head. It wasn't true, not by a long shot.

“I'm sorry” you said softly “I should have told you what I was doing, that I had applied for the and got in. I thought it was my only option. It was so stupid. I was so stupid”

Seokmin laughed a little, fingers running under your eyes. A second later he pressed his lips over yours.

“I know, I read your letters”

Seokmin,

It's been a good few years since I wrote you a letter. After a while, I didn't think I needed it anymore because I started saying everything I wanted, everything I felt, looking at you. Of course, this new arrangement has its demerits, as the paper and pen don't look at me like a lost puppy. But paper and pen don't kiss me either, so it has its bonus.

I thought when I came home four years ago, I would never see you again. I thought you would just be the guy who has a radio show that I would listen to every now and then. I didn't expect to see you my first week back and again and, well,  again.

As you probably know, I've never been a big fan of rainy days. I always preferred sunny days because those were the days I woke up ready to face the world. I felt better overall. But also because they reminded me of you. You know, when the sun appears after gray days? For me, you were always like that. Grand and brilliant.

But after that day, I started to like rainy days too because they started to be full of the two of us. Rain was no longer synonymous of an unproductive day, but rather of the memory of our fresh start.

You know this, we've talked about it a few times, but I spent a few months waiting for it to sink in. Sort of expecting that one day I would wake up and it would all be a dream. It was hard for both of us, I know. It was seven years of hurt and resentment and we had to navigate this uncertain sea without a map. Nobody teaches you how to do this, believe me, I looked. I found countless books on how to start dating, how to save a relationship, and how to get over a relationship. The problem is that none of them teach you how to rekindle a relationship after seven years apart, but during those seven years one of the parties wrote letters and the other had a program just to mourn the sorrows of the relationship.

I've read several, so you can trust what I say on this.

It really wasn't easy, but I think we came out better, stronger, in some way.

I love you and I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Our forever begins today, in a little while. So stop crying, put ice on your eyes to help the swelling go down, and go to the aisle because I miss you already.

I love you.

yn

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[mcu-coworkers]

Where do broken hearts go?

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Summary: You decide to do Miguel a favor and give him what he wants. or so you thought you did.

Word count:1k+

A/n: I came up with this at 1am:0 pt.2 is in the works

Parts: I^ II  III

Ever since the multiverse was disrupted he changed.

Little by little, day by day, you began to see it worsen. You began to see him worsen.

And there was nothing you could do to help him, he made that very clear.

You loved Miguel with every fiber of your being. It was almost embarrassing considering he barely did so much as look your way when he came home.

It wasn't always like this, and those were the moments you clung to when your thoughts were at their darkest.

Before all of this he was happy, we were happy.

The man   I   loved kissed me almost every second we were together and never went a day without telling me a cheesy punch line to get a laugh out of me.

When he proposed to you it was the happiest day of your life, you thought it could only get better from here.

You were marrying the love of your life. What could go wrong?

You understood him, or at least you tried but it was hard at times when the closest you could get to him lately was standing on the other side of the door to his office where he’d just ignore you some more.

The furthest you got was when you urged him to talk to you but all he said was “ You? What could you possibly do to help me? You don't even know what a cannon event is let alone an anomaly! Por dios.” and straight into his office he went.

As much as you loved your husband you knew that a minute more of this would kill you.

You were two strangers living under the safe roof at this point, he wouldn't even notice if you left.

So you did.

First you called your lawyer to prepare the divorce papers, next you found a place to stay, packed your bags and now you were ready.

You wanted to tell him face to face but as soon as you looked his way he shrugged you off once again.

“Not now Y/n  I   have reports to write for the spider society.”  and like always you were just another fly on the wall.

Sighing with tears brimming your eyes you grabbed a notebook and a pen.

You began writing a goodbye that he probably wouldn't even bother to read.

Dear Miguel,

Things haven't been the same for sometime now. It feels like the man  I   once fell in love with doesn't love me anymore and I've been hurting ever since.   I   feel like I'm holding you back from achieving your goal with all of these canon events and things  I   don't understand. I   can't live like this anymore and I'm sorry it took me so long to realize.   I   guess what I'm trying  to tell you is that I'm leaving. Next to this note that you might not even read is an envelope with divorce papers that I've already signed and left ready for you to give to my lawyer to finalize the divorce. Lastly,  I   want to thank you for giving me what will always be the best years of my life. I'll cherish them with everything  I   am and always smile at the beautiful memories we made together. I'm sorry things didn't work out the way we thought they would.

With love always,

Y/n L/n

You didn't realize at what moment you began to cry but you’d managed to stain the letter. At that point you had no energy to write the damn thing all over again so you just folded it up and left it on top of the envelope.

Taking off your ring and wedding bang you set them next to it and walked out the door.

Giving what was once your home one last look, you turned your back to it and let the cool air hit your face as you got in your car and made your way to the airport.

No more going back Y/n, no more Miguel O’hara.

Little did you know as soon as you’d closed that front door Miguel's head poked out of his office, you never went out this late at night.

“Y/n? What did  I   tell you about taking out the trash?  I  ‘ll do it.” he said as he came out of his office annoyed by your lack of communication.

“Y/n? Y/n! Donde estas mujer?” (where are you woman?) he spoke out as he walked around the house.

No response.

After checking all the rooms and coming up empty handed Miguel started to feel a tightness in his chest.

“Boss, you should see these reports.” Lyla said over his shoulder.

“Not now Lyla  I  ‘m looking for my wife.” he said, shrugging the AI off.

“You think that stuff on the counter will give some clues?” she said pointing towards the letters in the kitchen.

Stopping in his tracks he turned towards the kitchen.

There was no fucking way, he thought to himself.

You’d never do this to him.

But you did.

Opening the letter he read it and quickly that tightness in his chest got tighter and his body began to shake as he felt panic consume him.

“Miguel… that envelope.” Lyla said quietly hoping it wasn't what she thought. But it was and she could just see her boss begin to break.

Ripping the envelope open he realized this isn't some kind of sick joke from your part.

Seeing your signature at the end of the page broke Miguel to pieces.

He read over the letter over and over hoping to find some clue as to where you went so he could bring you back home to him.

He knew he'd been distant for some time now but he didnt know it had affected you this badly, if he did he would've changed.

He would do anything to keep you by his side. He thought that by coming home at a decent hour you'd be happy even if he was just in his office.

Well fuck was he so wrong about that.

Picking up your rings Miguel finally let go of the tears he’d been trying so hard to hold back.

The feeling of the cold silver in the palm of his hands was like a slap in the face forcing him to accept that you’d left him.

You left thinking he hated you and for that he’d never be able to forgive himself, not for that or any of this.

Taking a deep breath he tried to focus.

“Lyla, call Jess, tell her she's in charge of the spider society until  I find my wife and bring her home.” he ordered as he stood up walking towards your shared bedroom.

“Yes boss. Go get your girl back!.” she replied wishing him the best of luck before heading off to find his sub in.

Miguel had all the resources in the world, finding you would only take him seconds.

It was convincing you to come back that would be his biggest challenge.

But first he was paying a visit to your lawyer.

[fairy-writes]

FAIRY!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON 1K FOLLOWERS!! MAY MANY MORE COME!!! :O <3

May I request Edward Elric with the action propmpt 10? That would be awesome!! <3

APPLE PIES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Fullmetal Alchemist

Pairing(s): Edward Elric x Gender Neutral!Reader

Prompt: Putting their head on their lover’s shoulder (Action Prompt #10)

Notes: POST-FMAB EVENTS

AND THANK YOU RU

This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!

__________________________________________________________________________

Even after all Father had put you through, some things never changed. 

That thing being Edward’s obnoxious love for apple pies. 

Specifically Gracia’s recipe. She had been kind enough to gift you and Winry the recipe years ago. The scrap of paper was well-loved and worn out, stained with butter, and the writing barely legible. But that didn’t matter. You knew the recipe by heart after years of making it for your lover. 

Your forearms were covered in flour, and you were pretty sure you had something on your face as you worked butter into your dry ingredients. Your hands felt sticky with dough, but you didn’t mind. This would make Edward happy, and that alone made your day. 

It always did. 

Especially after all he had gone through growing up and through his young adult life. 

You cracked an egg on the corner of the bowl and added it to the dough mixture, mixing everything by hand until you had the consistency you wanted. It had grown warm in the process, so you stuck it in the ice box to chill for at least an hour while you got to work on the filling. 

Two tablespoons of lemon juice. Nine apples peeled, cored, and sliced into wedges. Both went into a bowl with some sugar and tossed until combined. Then a skillet was turned on, and everything was put in with more butter and mixed until the apples were soft. The scent of fruit filled the air, making your mouth water, and you felt giddy at the idea of eating the dessert later. 

You may not have been Edward, but you still loved a good apple pie now and then. 

Just then, warm arms wrapped around your waist, and a chin was put on your shoulder. 

“What are you making?” Came Edward’s voice, and you hummed, leaning your head on his as you tossed the apples once again in the skillet. The sugar was melting. It was almost time. 

“Apple pie. You asked for one last week.” You said warmly and felt him grin as he turned his head to place a kiss where your shoulder met your neck. 

“You remembered?” At this, you huff out a laugh,

“Have I ever forgotten something?” You say, and he thinks it over, pecking your cheek this time. 

“No. It’s like Ling said. Something about elephants never forgetting. Wait, no—Alphonse said that in one of his letters. He’s studying them with May Chang in between alkahestry lessons.” He said, tapping his fingers against your waist. 

You gently pry his arms away from around you, ignoring his whine, and go to pull the dough from the fridge, turning off the stovetop as you do so.

“Now that you’re here, you can help me.” You say, and he raises an eyebrow,

“You’re trusting me in the kitchen? I thought I was banned after Valentine’s Day.” He says but grabs an apron from where it’s hanging on the wall nonetheless. You hold a finger up, smearing some flour on his nose,

“I’m trusting you with supervision. Don’t think I’ll let you in the kitchen with anything less than that. Alphonse can cook better than you, and he didn’t even have a body growing up!”

Edward mutters under his breath, something about how “that isn’t fair,” but he smiles at you nonetheless when he notices you watching him tie the apron.

“Like what you see?” He teases, and you offer a mischievous grin. “I always do.” You retort and delight in the way his cheeks flush a pretty pink.

You quickly put Edward to work with the dough from the ice box. You carefully instruct him how to make pie crust and are actually rather impressed with how they turn out. Soon, you have two perfectly constructed pie crusts ready to be filled. 

Maybe you can actually trust your lover in the kitchen. But then you remember the burnt attempt at breakfast from Valentine’s Day. 

Like you had said before, he’s allowed in the kitchen with supervision.

You blink and are torn from your thoughts when something is smeared on your cheek. You look up from where you are preparing the second pie to see Edward with that grin of his that means he’s up to no good. Egg yolk is coating his finger, and you assume that’s what he just put on your face. 

“You're supposed to be brushing the pie. Not my face.” You say, and he laughs. 

It’s one of your favorite sounds in the world. 

“Just seeing if you’re paying attention.” He says, and you smile. His own grin softens as you step into his side, wrapping a flour-stained hand around his waist. 

“I love you, y’know?” You whisper, and he gently grasps your chin, turning you to face him, and kisses you so gently as if you’ll break. He tastes like stolen pie filling, but you don’t mind. 

He’s so gentle with his love. He always has been. 

It was one of the things you love about him. 

And it was soft, domestic times like this that you treasured the most. 

[cheeseceli]

House of Cards

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong × Gn!reader

Genre: angst, idol!au, short drabble

Prompt: "A house made of cards and stupidly us inside. Even if you say it's a useless dream, just stay a little more like this"

Warnings: no happy ending

A/n: this was enough to break even me who was writing ngl. I really hope you like it <3 | join the 1k event

When Hongjoong first met you, he thought he created a palace.

You were each other's safe place. No matter what in the outside world could break the walls of said palace. And it was beautiful. Your love would remind him of gardens full of life, of ballrooms filled with music and laughter. It was a love all yours.

However, time would soon show Hongjoong that what he thought was a resilient castle was actually a house of cards. No matter how incredible it looked or how big it seemed to be, it would be fragile no matter what.

He should've been more careful. He knew that even the weakest of breezes could bring his house of cards down, but he forgot it. It looked so great, so permanent, that he didn't look around for any threats, and neither did you.

That's how they found out. The media, the company, the fans... Suddenly everyone knew that the idol Y/n was dating the leader of Ateez. Photos leaked, by God knows who, of you and Hongjoong going out on dates. Without masks, not worried about the surroundings and clearly in love. Sadly, no one cares about that last part.

The talk of the town was about how the couple, the very one Hongjoong considered to be grandiose and marvelous, should not exist. You were in the very beginning of your career - a dating scandal being the last thing you could afford. And he? He was the captain of his team. His life choices could and would have an impact on the rest of his members, wrongfully so.

After a few hours of talk with both his and yours managers, almost everyone came to a consensus: you both should break up. "Fans" were getting angrier by the minute, the gossip was escalating. Neither of you were on top just yet - both were stars ascending. It took little to nothing, a small mistake, to cause you a downfall. He was forced to agree on the end of your relationship.

Now, you were waiting. Waiting for dispatch to tell the media that you were now broken up. Waiting for the managers to post the apology letter - the very one neither you or Hongjoong were able to write as you do not regret falling in love - so the staff had to write the lie themselves.

You were waiting for the house of cards to fall with you both inside of it, as none would willingly let the other behind. Hopefully, one day you'd be able to go back to each other's embrace without hundreds of cameras and commentators around. For now, you hug your love while the tears fall down and the words "I love you" get out of your mouth like a promise.

And you watch as the breeze becomes stronger and takes down the last standing card.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when I was your man

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans

Credits for image 1 , 2 and 3

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[ssentimentals]

like a sunflower {choi hansol}

pairing: hansol x fem!reader

prompt: 'your heart is beating so fast right now' (this work is part of my 1k event, go check out other works of mine here )

warnings: none, this is pure fluff!

hansol doesn't know how to do it. how to just- say it. words are usually so easy for him, they spring themselves into sentences and lyrics so effortlessly, so he doesn't really know why he's having such a hard time here. it's just- how can he say it? how can he tell you that sometimes he feels like he was born for you without making it weird? how he can explain that he thinks a lot about how so many people spend so much time trying to find their place in this world and yet he has no intention searching for it cause his is right next to you? words don't feel quite right whenever he tries to open his mouth and talk about it; words don't do justice to everything what's bubbling and brewing inside his heart, they fall flat when he tries to put it all on the paper. with a frustrated groan, he tears off yet another unfinished love letter, throwing it down.

'you're overthinking it,' joshua admonishes him gently. he's been quietly observing his roommate for the past twenty minutes and starts getting a little anxious at the sight of torn notebook pages at his feet. 'you two are so close, i think she'll understand what you mean even if you won't write an ode to her.'

'i want it to be perfect,' hansol replies, stubbornly tearing up another page. 'she deserves nothing but.'

'don't get so worked up,' joshua pacifies, standing up and coming over to his friend, patting his back comfortingly. 'i don't think she wants perfect, though.'

at this hansol looks up at him, frowning. joshua chuckles, putting his finger right between hansol's eyebrows, making him go a little cross eyed. joshua doesn't know how hansol can be this blind, how he can't see how you two are so close that whoever sees you for the first time always ends up thinking that you're a couple. he's never seen any other two people who care about each other so deeply as you two do, so hansol being nervous before asking you out is laughable. only hansol doesn't find it funny. joshua sighs, patting his roommate's shoulder. 'she doesn't want perfect, she just wants you.'

hansol blinks, mulling over what he heard. it sounds a bit too good to be true, but joshua is not cruel, he'd never joke with him about something so important. before he can properly give this idea a good thought, his phone beeps and from the ringtone alone he knows it's from you. hansol instantly jumps on his bed, ignoring joshua's loud snort at this and unlocks his phone, smiling at the text message from you.

'judging from your smile, i take it she invited you to come over,' joshua speaks, watching with amusement as his friend hastily starts to get dressed. 'what for?'

'i'll help with her halloween prep,' hansol mutters, pulling on his favorite sweater, the one that you gifted him for christmas. he wears it with utmost care, loving the most how you light up at the sight of this sweater on him every single time. 'and she'll help me with my statistics exam.'

'don't forget the umbrella,' joshua's voice reaches him when he's almost out of the door. 'it's gonna rain soon!'

hansol ignores it in favor of rushing to you, zipping up his backpack on the way. the road to your place is his favorite one, he knows every single crook down the alley, every single tree is familiar to him - he spent so many hours memorizing it all, because this road leads him to you and his mind shuffles everything which is even remotely close to you to the folder in his brain called 'important'. he huffs in annoyance when it first rain drops fall on his head and then groans loudly, when two rain drops turn into a full on downpour, making him look around in search of the hideout. without thinking he runs to the nearest shop, announcing his presence with a grunt, blinking up at variety of flowers in front of him in stupor.

'hello, how can i help you?'

he passed this flower shop so many times but never really went it, so young man in dark brown apron,who stares at him too kind eyes, is entirely unfamiliar. hansol clears his throat, helplessly staring back, gesturing towards the exit and mumbling something about the rain.

'oh!' understanding lights up in stranger's eyes and he smiles, nodding. 'seeking shelter from rain? it's fine, you can sit here.'

it's very kind and it makes hansol shuffle from side to side with unease as his eyes take in beauiful array of flowers. there are all kind of them, colors vary from dark to bright ones and sunflowers stick out amongst everything in their yellow-orange glory; hansol takes a step towards them. his eyes gravitated towards them just like they do with you and this thought makes him smile. 'sunflowers are not very popular,' the stranger chimes in, watching hansol with a smile on his face. 'which is a shame, really. they are very beautiful.'

'what do they mean?' hansol asks quietly, not looking away from the flowers. their color is so warm - it reminds him of you. something sparks up at the back of his mind, something that demands his attention as he stares at these flowers.

'hm, adoration in most cases, longevity in others. they are known for being 'happy' flowers, you know? like i'd give them to someone who make me happy, to person who i want to stay in my life for a long, long time.'

hansol blinks and moves on instinct, grabbing bunch of sunflowers due to his inner voice basically screaming at him to do it. 'i'll take those.'

'oh, okay. i can wrap them up in-'

'no-no, i'll take them like that, how much is it?' hansol interrupts, suddenly needing to get out of here and run to you like right now. his heart starts beating faster as ideas form in his head, joshua's voice loud and clear in his head with 'she doesn't want perfect, she just wants you'.

he hastily pays, ignores surprised looks from the guy and runs to you with sunflowers in his hand, getting wet in seconds under the pouring rain. it's cold and his clothes stick to him in the most uncomfortable ways, but his heart is marching so loud in his head, he can't think of anything else but... you. and how you will love these sunflowers. how he's an idiot for trying to capture perfect words in lyrics because perfection in this world exists only in you and nothing else. how he really can shake off any pretense and come to you with an open heart, soaked clothes and unwrapped sunflowers and that you will take him in, because that's what you always did, have done from the start. it's you-you-you and by the time he stands in front of your door, knocking urgently, hansol thinks he might have gone a bit delirious.

'who- oh my god,' you gasp, stopping on tracks at the sight of him. 'hansol, what even-' you blink, gazing in confusion at the flowers in his hand and then back at his wet clothes. there's thousand questions in your head, he can tell, but instead of voicing them out loud, you say: 'get in, god, are you okay?'

is he okay? this questions makes him want to laugh and he barely holds it in. is he okay? he doesn't know but despite the shivers running up and down his body from the cold, he feels like he's on fire. you say something about him being dumb for forgetting umbrella and every second which passes by and he doesn't confess to you feels like a second wasted.

'-you'll catch a cold if you keep on standing in these wet clothes!' you huff, pushing towel in his hands. 'and... um, these flowers..' you trail off, unsure. something ugle tugs in your chest at the thought of these flowers not belonging to you, but you stomp at these feelings. 'do you want me to put them-'

'these are for you,' he rushes out, tripping on his words. 'i mean- obviously. obviously these are for you.' hansol looks down and grimaces: 'i'm soaking your carpet, sorry.' he then quickly looks up, handing you the flowers: 'sorry, here. i hope you like them.'

'sunflowers,' you voice, carefully cradling them in your hands. 'they are beautiful.'

like you is on the tip of his tongue and hansol holds it back but then thinks better of it; why the hell he'd hold back? 'like you,' he says, smiling at surprised look on your face. 'and they make me feel warm just by looking at them and you do, too. i look at you and i- it makes me warm all over.'

you blink at him, not exactly sure what to do with this information. hansol, with this crazy look in his eyes, looks like he's on the brink of fever and you frown, stepping closer to him and feeling up his forehead for any signs of high temperature. 'you're not warm,' you state, buffled.

second passes and hansol huffs in disbelief. he takes your hand in his and moves it towards his chest, knowing very well what you'll find there. just like he predicted, your eyes widen: 'your heart is beating so fast right now.'

'i assume it would, considering how i'm about to confess.'

a stupor and then, cautious and hopeful: 'confess?'

'and ask you out as well,' hansol nods. he's mindful of not pulling you very close, not wanting to get your clothes wet too; but he still tugs at your sleeves so you'd step more in his personal space. this is where he wants you all the time. 'i tore up two notebooks, trying to write you a perfect song, or poem, or love letter. but it's hard cause i can't really find the right words for this feeling, you know? you feel it, don't you know? you know what i'm talking about, right?'

your eyes glow with a keen understanding but you still press on: 'what feeling?'

hansol sighs and when your fingers squeeze at his sweater unconsciously, in tredipation for what's to come, he knows he just needs to be honest: 'like i was made for you. like everything could change, but there's one constant thing in this world and it's us. what you and i have.' he pushes your hand tighter to his chest, searching for your eyes desperately: 'don't you feel it too?'

a fire can break down for all he cares, but he'd never look away from your eyes. you open up to him like a sunflower opens up to the sun, it's a beautiful thing. all you can do is nod, because hansol has always been better with words between you two and because you're afraid your voice might crack in the end from all of the emotions.

'i ran all the way here like a dying man cause one more second without you knowing how i feel just didn't make any sense.'

you shut your eyes, trying not to start crying. hansol, who you always seen as your soulmate, who has always been your side to the point that it's hard to imagine life without him; this hansol is the very same hansol, who tried to write you a perfect song, who ran under the rain here with sunflowers to tell you that he thinks he was made for you. you open your eyes, taking a deep breath. glancing at him and then at the flowers, you smile shakily: 'this is perfect.'

'it is?' he lights up like a little child. 'really?'

'i mean, i never really cared or wanted the perfect, i just wanted you.'

hansol sucks in breath, feeling like he was punched in the gut. god, he really needs to listen to joshua more. he opens his mouth and then tremor wracks his whole body, making him cringe: 'i..really need to change out from these wet clothes.'

sound of your laugh is the music to his ears. he watches the way your head falls back at your laugh and feels love pour out from his pores, unrestricted anymore. he may be shivering of cold now, but just by looking at you he feels warmer. just like a sunflower.

a/n: i think this ended up being way too long and maybe a bit too mushy but!! no blaming me, i had a rough time and i cope by writing something like this. to the anon who requested it - hope you like it! - nini

tagging @prpldahy

[misc-obeyme]

Hello!!!! Congratulations on your 1k followers, i love your writing!! Could I please request "I need to hear you say it" with Solomon?? It's OK if not, tysm!!! ✨

Hello, anon!! Thank you so much!!

Okay since the last Solomon request was so angsty, I really tried for some fluff with this one! I also have another one upcoming that I think is going to be angsty, so yeah I really wanted to try to fluff it up. Hopefully it turned out okay!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

GN!MC x Solomon with prompt "I need to hear you say it."

Warnings: none!

It all started innocently enough. It was almost an inside joke at first. Solomon had made a witty remark about how your time was always monopolized by the demon brothers and that he would be happy just to get a letter from you. So you wrote him a letter - a brief four sentence message that you actually sent to Purgatory Hall through the Devildom mail.

And of course Solomon had written you back - sending you a letter four pages long.

This continued for some time, your letters getting longer and his getting shorter until you were both regularly writing page long letters to each other.

And at some point, the letters became something more. The two of you never talked about them. You never discussed their contents. So the letters became more and more about feelings, emotions that neither of you could speak out loud, either to each other or to anyone else. They started to hold things like your hopes and fears and dreams. Sometimes Solomon just wrote poetry and other times it was an idea for a new spell, but so frequently it was almost a confession. He would talk about things like his jealousy of the brothers, his experience of being immortal, his thoughts on the Devildom, his relationships with your mutual friends.

Your letters were similar, meeting the level of confidence that his letters seemed to indicate he had in you. You would talk about your feelings, share your personal thoughts, the things you didn’t speak to anyone.

When you became Solomon’s apprentice, the letters would sometimes refer to real life events. Solomon would tell you how proud he was of you mastering a complicated spell recently. He would write you letters of encouragement when you were struggling to get a potion just right. Sometimes he would tell you about what it meant to be a sorcerer and how it had affected his life.

You would respond with your doubts about your abilities, your happiness at having figured out something complicated, your gratitude that he was your teacher. You spoke about how patient and kind he was. That it was because of him that you were as powerful as you were.

And then one day you realized that the person you were in those letters was not the same person you were when you were actually with Solomon. The letter writer was more open, more vulnerable, capable of saying things to him that you could never dream of saying to his face.

But Solomon was different. You never got the sense that he was holding back when he was actually with you. Although he never alluded to anything he had written in his letters, he had spoken to you about similar things.

You paid more attention when you were with him. And inevitably your letters became more brief.

You couldn’t deny the pounding of your heart. You couldn’t ignore the look in his eyes. You could not even begin to express to yourself or anyone else how seeing his smile was the same as basking in the afternoon sun. How Solomon had become something so much more than a teacher and a friend. How his words, the ones he wrote and the ones he said, became the narrative of your heart. How each one made every nerve within you sing.

There was something about this man that made him different from everyone else in your life. Something about every single thing he did that caused you to feel more than you should. The fire that ran through your veins any time he touched you. The goosebumps you would get from the sound of his voice.

You couldn’t hope to be honest. You couldn’t imagine it. You couldn’t-

But if you didn’t-

You wrote him a letter. It was only a single sentence. It was the one thing you wanted to say, but that you just couldn’t manage.

You were so scared to send it. He could easily pretend he never got it, the way you both so often did. Never discussing the letters was part of their charm.

When you finally sent it, you spent your time forcing yourself to think about anything else.

A few days later, you were sitting in your favorite cafe, taking a break from everything with some coffee. You were alone because you needed some space to think.

You looked up when Solomon sat down across from you. He placed the piece of paper with your single sentence face up on the table in front of you. You looked at it and then you looked up at his face. The serious expression there made your stomach drop.

“I need to hear you say it,” Solomon said. His voice was quiet, but intense.

You stared at him for a moment, at a loss. Could you even say those words? You had written them because they couldn’t be said. You couldn’t even speak them to yourself, let alone to him. He had to know that.

You thought about saying something else. About explaining why you couldn’t say it.

But then you looked into his eyes again. And what you saw there revealed something that Solomon had never told you, either verbally or in written form. He was scared, too.

You saw your own fear and uncertainty reflected back at you. That was how you recognized it for what it was.

The truth was that you had two relationships with Solomon. The one where you talked to each other, spent time together, went to school and learned magic together. And the one where you wrote to each other. Your written selves had gone on ahead and reached a place your other selves weren’t ready for.

But now you saw the opportunity to entwine those selves, to let each piece of you be known fully to each other.

You put your coffee aside. You reached across the table to take both of his hands. The paper with your words sat between your arms. You looked across it to meet his eyes.

“I’m in love with you.”

You watched as the fear you had seen morphed into a tentative relief. As though he wasn’t sure if this was real.

“MC…”

“It's just that we never talked about the letters,” you said. “And I wasn’t sure if you…”

You were looking down at your message now, unable to maintain eye contact.

You felt him squeeze your hands. When you looked back up, he had a fond smile on his face.

“Did you really think I didn’t know?” Solomon said gently. “That I couldn’t read between the lines of every letter you sent? I tried to make it clear to you. I tried to write things that would give me away. I was waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, I thought I must have been the one who misunderstood. I thought I had been reading a truth in your words that wasn’t actually there.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Solomon chuckled and squeezed your hands again. “Don’t be. I’m just happy to know that I wasn’t wrong after all. Because you wrote me something I couldn’t possibly misunderstand. And I hope it’s clear to you by now that I’m in love with you, too. I’ve been in love with you ever since you wrote me that first short letter so long ago.”

You sighed, flustered by this, annoyed with yourself for not understanding sooner. You let go of Solomon’s hands and stood up from the table, grabbing the coffee and tossing it in the trash on your way out.

Solomon came after you instantly, grabbing your hand as you started down the street.

“MC?” he said, the fear and uncertainty back in his expression. It nearly broke your heart.

"I'm sorry, Solomon," you said. "I just… I'm just…"

You didn't know how to say that you were feeling overwhelmed. That his words meant more to you than anything he had ever said or written before. Could he really have been in love with you for that long?

Solomon somehow seemed to understand you in that moment. He tugged on your hand, making you take several steps toward him so he could wrap his arms around you.

You returned the embrace, your bodies fitting together perfectly like little puzzle pieces.

"I didn't know how to say it," you said quietly. "Because I'd been writing it between the lines for so long."

"You knew exactly what to say," Solomon said, his volume matching yours. "You said it, didn't you? You said it because I asked. I wasn't sure you would."

You sighed. "Honestly? I'll probably do anything you ask."

Solomon looked at you and the twinkle of mischief in his eyes made you regret saying that. "Oh? In that case… will you kiss me, MC?"

A heartbeat passed between you, a single moment where you processed his words.

And then you kissed him.

All of your previous concerns fell away. The feelings were just as intense as they had always been, but the second your lips met, everything simply felt right. You were filled with the warmth of him, the sunshine that always seemed to come out of nowhere to hold you sweetly whenever he smiled. Solomon was the brightness that guided you through every day, no matter how dark things became.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

covey’s 1k follower event 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹

oh. my. god. are you shitting me??? bffr. like, seriously guys. this is INSANE LIKE WHAT. THE. FUCK. anyways, i’ll stop screaming- jk, thANK YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH. i am the most grateful person on the planet right now, you guys are so so good to me and i couldn’t be happier i started posting on here!! honest!! this wasn’t even a dream of mine- honestly?? i thought id get lost and forgotten in the tags, destined to never be found. and even THAT i would have been grateful for. so…yeah, thank you!! this feels me with a joy that can’t even be measured 🥹🫶

AIR MAIL��

playlist for fic, blurb, or hc of your choice!! (mind you, these are probs gonna be like 3 or 5 songs, nothing too crazy!!)

PACKING PEANUTS —

tweets that give off the same vibe as you or i think you would find funny!!

POSTAGE —

moodboards! either for a work of mine or any character from pjo + hoo!!

SHIP ME A SURFBOARD —

memes to make yall laugh. thats it bc im a silly girl

BUBBLE WRAP —

i pick a marine animal plushie that reminds me of you or i feel matches your vibe!!

POST OFFICE AFTER HOURS —

poetry for the soul!! poems that i feel you (or the world) needs to hear!!

NEWSPAPERS—

more little tiny blurbs!! this time around, let's get a little crazy with the characters!! i wanna write some platonic stuff if you guys are down to ask for it!! but also the romantic stuff too!!

MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE —

(moots only! sorry!) basically, i give yall a letter telling you what i think about you and things that you remind me of and whatever else i have to yap about!!

EVENT MASTERLIST —

₊✩‧｡⋆𐙚 𓆝

RULES —

pls, only one option per request !!

up to three separate requests in one day, as to not completely flood my inbox !!

make it clear that the ask is for the event and not a request, please and thank you !!

event will be over on MAY 10TH

normal requests will open MAY 14TH (UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED)

some kindness and patience is always appreciated !!

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞.• ° . 𓆟

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞.• ° . 𓆟

TAGLIST/MOOTS —

@ivyy-covered-walls @puffoz @brodieland @sunshine-of-ur-life @literallyimthenerdemoji @aezuria @wren-that-writes @imasimpdealwithit @shimas-things12 @pumpkinbxtch @starrynightmovietheatre @static-symphony-fm @aezuria @ellipsisspelled @percys-princess @aryxchse @vodkori @annybah @riordanness @balletfilmss @meerpea @ssparksflyy @simha-nakshatra @waitingonher @jgracie @maybxlle @bvttoneyes @blondwhowrites @canonfeminine @chbgigi1 @crownofgildedlilies @cinemaconrad @sunnitheapollokid @pinkdiorluvr @s1utlvr

[hobivore]

4:29 p.m.

Han Jisung x reader (f)

Genre: smut (minors DNI)

WC: 1k

Warnings: semi-public sex, photographing sexual acts (photobooth)

A/N: This is a reupload from my old sideblog linoguistics, so you might've seen this on tumblr before!

© hobivore Reposts, translations and modifications are not allowed. All events and characters are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

SKZ masterlist | Ask box

“Smile, baby.” 

You force your eyes open, heavy-lidded, head rolled back against his shoulder. The display in front of you mirrors your face—jaw slack, pupils blown wide—as a woman’s voice counts down through the tinny speakers. 

“C—can’t,” you answer, floundering, stumbling over the letters.

“Why?” Jisung asks. His lips are hot against your neck, teeth grazing the tender skin behind your ear, and you shudder. “You’re so cute when you smile.” 

“Fuck—Ji, shut up,” you whine, annoyed, and he laughs, slippery fingers circling your clit. “Okay,” he chuckles, “I changed my mind. You’re even cuter like this.”

His hand dips lower between your thighs, two fingers sliding in with ease. “Is this why?” You swallow a whimper at the curl of his digits, slick sounds filling the small booth. “Too focused on wanting to come, aren’t you?” He blows your hair out of his face, cheeks puffing up. “Always so needy.” 

Your protest dies in your throat as he grinds the heel of his palm down. He had been the needy one, dragging you inside the photo booth with the excuse of wanting cute couple pictures, only to sneak his hands up your skirt the second you sat down in his lap. But it doesn’t matter now, it never did, not when his mouth is on your skin and his cock is pressing against your ass. 

“Can you suck me off?” 

The sudden question makes you clench around his fingers, the thought more than tempting, but—

“What if people see us?” You lower your voice, the floor-length curtain shielding you from view, yet hardly a reliable barrier between the pair of you and the world outside. “Or hear us?”

“I don’t care,” Jisung counters, uncharacteristically confident in his want. He senses your hesitation, mouth soothing your skin, soft butterfly kisses to ease the tension. “Please—” his fingers pick up their pace again and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out, “—need you. Let’s go to my house, we can take the bus, it’s only a thirty minute ride—”

Fragments of the world outside drift in and out of focus: piped music playing in the background, faint voices, footsteps of people going about their daily lives, oblivious to what’s happening a few feet away from them. It sets your nerves alight; your body reacting, the felonious traitor it is, heat pooling between your legs. 

“No.” You push his arm away and rise to your feet, hoisting him up by his hands. His wide-eyed stare follows you as you sink to your knees in front of him, hands fumbling with the button of his jeans before sliding them down his thighs in one motion, cock popping out of its confines. 

Jisung kicks his head back with a grunt as you kitten-lick a drop of precum off his slit, humming at the taste. It’s a little salty, familiar, the thought of him filling you up making your thighs slippery with arousal. 

You take him as deep as you can, hands clutching at his thighs as he secures his fingers into your hair. “Shit, you feel like heaven.” His hips twitch, involuntary, chest heaving with the exertion of holding back as your throat constricts around him. 

“Hnng—baby, you look so perfect with my cock in your mouth, wanna take a picture, keep it in my wallet forever—” Jisung’s rambling now, in the way he always does when he’s losing himself in you. “Just stay there, plea—ah, fuck.” He pushes the OK button again, metallic voice ringing in your ears as white specks stain the edges of your vision, the weight of him heavy on your tongue. 

“Wait—” he pulls out of your mouth, helping you to your feet. “Don’t wanna come, not yet,” his movements are desperate, urgent as he kisses you, “want to feel you first.” 

He sits down on the bench and pulls you onto his lap, back flush against his chest, pushing your panties to the side so you can sink onto him in one smooth motion, gasping at the feeling of him filling you up completely. 

“Baby, shh, quiet,” he mumbles, more aimed at himself than you. It’s futile; he's breaking the silence after mere seconds, unable to keep his mouth shut as he starts moving. “You like this, hm? You’re so wet, fuck—like being stuffed with my c—ah—all the time, anywhere, don’t you—” 

You nod, his words making you feel dizzy, the knot in your stomach quickly tightening. When his fingers find your clit again you shove your own into your mouth to stop yourself from moaning loudly. Jisung must feel your walls flutter around him because he slows down to collect himself, a torturous drag before snapping his hips up again. “I’m so close, baby—come for me, please,” he pleads, eyes glossy, thighs shaking with effort. 

“Jisung, I—” your fingers leave your mouth to fist into his hair, your words cut off by the wavering curtain as someone walks past, too close—

It sends you over the edge, heart hammering against your ribcage, your orgasm cresting over you in waves. Jisung’s thrusts slow down to a grind as you collapse against him, his face buried into the crook of your neck when he spills inside of you. 

You stay there for a moment until the pounding in your ears eases and the sounds of the mall bleed back into your perception. The two of you laugh, giddy at the prospect of what could’ve gone wrong, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. 

“You’re an idiot.” You stand up, knees wobbly, voice too affectionate for your words to carry any weight. Jisung wraps his arms around you and kisses you, softer, slower than before— 

“Ah!” you yelp as he gives your pussy a gentle tap, grinning, adjusting your panties to their original position. He takes the strip of pictures from the machine and kisses you one more time, smiling against your lips. 

“Let’s go home.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked this story please reblog, leave a comment, tell a friend, send me a pigeon, launch a mars rover. Your encouragement fuels my inner writer cryptid 👾

[sophiethewitch1]

1K CELEBRATION EVENT OPEN! CLOSED!

Hello, welcome! This event is going to celebrate my first thousand followers :D!! It's as the header says, a yandere alphabet, but with my special brand of soft yandere. Please feel free to send in letters for whoever you'd like, there's no limit, I might just pick and choose if you request a lot of letters. Thank you so much for following, I'm so happy you're here! Let's keep having lots of fun together <3 <3

ACCEPTING A-Z REQUESTS FOR:

The batboys (Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke) The batgirls (Barbara, Steph, Cass) My OCs (Silvan, Daire, etc.) MAYBE for most DC characters, blue lock characters, bnha characters

Alphabet made by @/jaydenchip404 tysm for making this!

List below the cut!

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

C = Cruelty (Once Abducted, How is Their Treatment Marked by a Twisted Sense of Devotion? Does Mockery Become a Dark Form of Endearment?):

D = Darling (Beyond Morality, is Any Act Justified in Their Pursuit of Their Darling? Is Consent Merely an Obstacle to Be Overcome?):

E = Exposed (To What Extent Do They Bare Their Heart to Their Darling? How Vulnerable Are They When It Comes to Their Obsession?):

F = Fight (Does Resistance Only Fuel Their Passion? Do They Find Thrill in the Chase and the Challenge of Subduing Their Darling?):

G = Game (Is Every Move Meticulously Orchestrated, Turning the Pursuit Into a Twisted Game? Do They Derive Pleasure From Watching Their Darling Attempt Escape?):

H = Hell (How Carefully Crafted is Their Darling's Worst Experience, Designed to Break the Spirit While Strengthening the Bonds of Possession?):

I = Ideals (Does Their Envisioned Future Solely Revolve Around the Union With Their Darling? Is Their Love the Only Guiding Force?):

J = Jealousy (Does Jealousy Course Through Their Veins, Leading to Possessive Outbursts and a Relentless Need to Eliminate Perceived Threats?):

K = Kisses (Are Their Acts of Affection Both Tender and Suffocating? Do Their Kisses Blend Love and Possession, Leaving No Room for Escape?):

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

M = Mask (How Drastic is the Difference Between Their Public Facade and True Self? Is the World Seeing a Mask, While Their Darling Witnesses Unfiltered Madness?):

N = Naughty (Is Punishment a Dark Art, a Methodical Infliction of Pain Designed to Correct Perceived Transgressions and Reinforce Control?):

O = Oppression (How Many Rights Are They Willing to Take Away From Their Darling, Molding Their World Into a Prison of Their Design?):

P = Patience (Is Their Patience a Calculated Facade, Concealing the Storm Brewing Beneath the Surface? Is It a Waiting Game for the Perfect Moment?):

Q = Quit (Is Moving on an Alien Concept for Them? Would the Death, Departure, or Escape of Their Darling Shatter Their World, Leaving Behind an Irreparable Void?):

R = Regret (Would Guilt Ever Be a Foreign Emotion, Overridden by the Conviction That Their Actions Are Justified? Is the Idea of Letting Their Darling Go Inconceivable?):

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

T = Tears (Does the Sight of Their Darling's Suffering Evoke a Twisted Pleasure, a Morbid Satisfaction Reinforcing Their Control?):

U = Unique (Do They Defy the Classic Yandere Archetype, Adding Layers of Complexity That Make Them Unpredictable and More Unnerving?):

V = Vice (Do Exploitable Weaknesses Exist, and is Discovering Them a Perilous Endeavor? Does Their Darling Tread on a Thin Line Between Manipulation and Survival?):

W = Wit's End (Is Hurting Their Darling a Dark Possibility, a Consequence of Their Unraveling Sanity When Faced With the Threat of Loss?):

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Y = Yearn (Is the Pining Relentless, an Insatiable Hunger That Consumes Their Every Waking Moment Until It Inevitably Snaps Into Obsession?):

Z = Zenith (Is Breaking Their Darling a Twisted Fantasy, the Ultimate Expression of Possession and the Culmination of Their Demented Love?):

[cloudcountry]

happy 1k!!! 💚 would you be willing to do malleus and flowers? go crazy!

thank you!! <3 i'll go crazy just like he will C;

MALLEUS DRACONIA + FLOWERS (1k event details)

~~~~~

“Nyehh!” Grim wails, slamming the front door shut with a bang.

You jump, whipping around to see the cat monster clutching his nose as though someone had punched him.

“Grim? What happened?” you ask, rushing over to your companion.

Grim lets you scoop him up into his arms, whining about something about flowers and pollen before he lets out the most earth shattering sneeze you’ve ever heard. You set him down and he bolts away from the door as fast as his little legs will carry him.

You turn towards the door, curious about what could be on the other side as you reach for the doorknob.

It opens.

You gasp, hands shooting up to cover your gaping mouth.

There are mountains and mountains of flowers on Ramshackle’s front porch, all of varying sizes and shapes and colors. There must be at least fifty bouquets that you can see in the entryway alone, all tied together with shimmering ribbons lined with gold.

Who did this?!

You step out onto the porch to examine the bouquets more closely, and something crunches under your foot. You flinch and jump back, hoping you didn’t step on another beautiful bouquet, but when you look down you find it's only a letter. You pick it up and gently tear open the envelope, unfolding the creamy white paper you find inside. The letter is written in a swirling handwriting written in dark green ink.

Dear Child of Man,

I heard that you like flowers. I hope these bouquets are satisfactory. If you ever require anything, please lean on me.

M. D.

Straight to the point, but so adorably foolish. You can’t help the bubbly laughter that escapes you—only Malleus would take a small piece of information about you so far.

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Series Masterlist

Pinterest Board | Spotify Playlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attention. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug. first meetings. age gap. pining. falling in love. love letters. true love. memory alteration. ice powers. elemental magics. trauma. attempt murder. blood and violence. swordfighting. near death experience. wargs. spiders. gandalf likes to keep secrests. saruman is a asshole. awesome galadriel.

first chapter: Thranduil traveled to a village that reported spider attacks with his army to protect those who need it, and accepted when a respected family offered their inn so his army could rest. He didn't expect to find a mage there. Or for the dam to break. [3K]

second chapter: Curious about last night's events, Thranduil dedicates his dawn to understanding who exactly you are. Accumulating questions and very few answers, you allow yourself to remember the past. Aerin, uncertain of your future, tries to make sure that you won’t be around to attract more attention to yourself. She should’ve known better than that. [4K]

third chapter: After being bitten by a warg, after almost dying, something changed. Something evolved. Things can't stay the same forever. You just didn't imagine they would change so fast. Or that Thranduil was as bad with goodbyes as you. [3K]

forth chapter: Letters are vessels capable of conveying so much. From the concern with survival, to the regret of having left. Letters speak of the most varied emotions, contain the most intrinsic truths, and are always written with someone in mind. It's a problem when that letter is read by the wrong person. But what can happens when it's read by right one? [3K]

fifth chapter: As the Enemy's actions became more and more clear, Thranduil discovers that there is a traitor among the free people. After an unexpected problem, you have to made a decision. [4K]

sixth chapter: It was a difficult choice, but Aerin made it for you. Now with nothing holding you back, you already had the answer Thranduil longed for: yes. Now your only concern is the anxiety about the reunion. [7K]

seventh chapter: Tomorrow came and became yesterday. In Woodland, you found more than just a roof over your head: you discovered a different way of living. And Thranduil also discovered something, a secret hidden by his own heart. [4K]

eigth chapter synopsis: A surprising invitation made you discover a different, incredible place hidden in Greenwood. You were glad that Thranduil showed you such a special place. But probably you were even more glad that he was there with you. [3K]

nineth chapter synopsis: Gandalf had his first good morning in ages. It ended as quickly as it started. [1K]

soon!

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @whore-of-many-hot-men @h0ly-fire @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @homewhereitsat

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[m1d-45]

I just used all my saved primogems on wanderer's banner and he still didnt come home 😭

Can I request a small sagau fic about him for comfort

rest

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: dialogue heavy reader, no spoilers though

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

your door was creaky. another thing to fix.

“why are you awake?”

but at least your wanderer was back.

you sit up from where you’re laying on the couch, taking a breath to clear your expression before turning to watch him come in. he shuts the door quietly despite the permanently sour look on his face, taking off his hat.

“welcome back. how was school?”

he made a face and you laughed, waving him over to join you. though he did walk closer, he merely crossed his arms and stood at the end of the couch. still, his voice wasn’t nearly as harsh as it could have been, “why do you insist on saying it like that?”

“the akademiya is a school, right?”

he stares, and you smile. it’s clear he doesn’t have an argument.

“i’m a professor.”

“you’re still going to school.”

“why are you upset?”

your smile slips. were you that transparent? “nothing for you to worry about. uh, you said you would be collecting draft essays today, right? how’d that go?”

his face shifts, softening just slightly around the edges. his hands fall, one propping on his side instead. “don’t change the subject.”

you could make a joke, but you’re too tired to try. the brief banter had given you some energy, but now…

you sigh, looking down to the discarded papers on the coffee table. letters, mostly, but a few diagrams you were supposed to look over. plans for a festival, a new shrine (how many did teyvat need?), the nth invitation to a lunch or event or whatever was going on that hour. you were honestly getting a headache before he showed up, and that wasn’t even addressing the other issues not on paper. “even gods can’t escape paperwork.”

he pulls all the papers—there’s a few not even taken from their envelopes yet, how did that happen—into a pile near the edge of the table, then sits beside you. he picks up a paper and skims it, then puts it to the side. “why are you handling this? shouldn’t someone else?”

you lean on his shoulder, watching as he begins to sort all the papers into two piles. you can’t pick out whatever pattern he’s using: some he lingers on for a few seconds, some he tosses in an instant. “they were addressed to me.”

“so? you don’t have to personally respond to every piece of fanmail.” he tosses one envelope into the second, larger pile with more force than the others. “it’s ridiculous. you should know better than to try and do all of this yourself.”

he’s probably right. as prickly as he can be, nine out of ten he at least had a good idea on how to approach an issue. he’d even clocked that you were stressed despite the fact that there was no was he could have seen your expression from the door.. though that may have something to do with your inability to hide your exhaustion when you turned.

“there.” he sets a final paper in the first, much smaller pile, then taps it into a neater stack. “this are the things that actually require your attention. don’t waste your time with things that don’t matter.”

“what about the other pile?”

“they don’t matter.”

“that’s rude.”

“it’s true. i can tell you’re tired already-“ damn, you didn’t want to worry him “-and i can guarantee most problems people have faced you with are better handled by others.”

“dear…”

“i’m serious.” he picks up the larger second pile, arranging them into a neater stack. “what do you have to do? name them.”

“theres a merchant in liyue-“

“that can be handled by the ministry of civil affairs.” he sets the pile down, leaning back. “what else?”

“an outbreak in mondstat-“

“knights of favonius’ problem.”

“a few rogues in sumeru have been defacing my statues.”

he paused, and you adjusted your position, leaning your back against him instead. he lifted his arm and put it across your chest, and when he spoke it was much softer. “still better handled by the mahamatra. if you aren’t directly involved, there’s no need to worry about them.”

“but they’re asking for help…”

“they’re asking the wrong person. trust me, you’re above them and their petty squabbles. in fact.. you should take a nap.”

“what?”

he moved toward the end of the couch, laying your head in his lap. “take a nap. or just lie down, i don’t care. relax for a bit. these people have given you too much stress already, it’s better if you didn’t waste any more energy on them.”

he was looking away, still obviously trying to keep up the image of indifference, but you could still spot the cracks. his hand still stayed on your shoulder, tracing random shapes across your shirt, and he didn’t say anything snarky when you put your own hand over his.

he cared for you, just as you cared for him. he cared enough that he’d remind you not to worry about unnecessary things, that he’d physically put himself between you and whatever problem the world demanded you face, even though on the surface it wouldn’t seem like he viewed you with anything less than distaste.

well, to others it was a conundrum. to you it was pretty clear, as who else would he sit with like this? he regularly ranted on about those who attended his lectures, still dismissed the words of mahamatra, still ignored most other authorities save for possibly nahida. but for you, he’d sort through your paperwork and have you sleep where he could ensure you did… he was sweet like that.

you smiled. “you’re adorable.”

“i am not.”

[mngo-jii]

Okay but I really need to fill the gap as to WHY Daniel was casually carrying Amortentia around during that erumpent event. I don't think he'd use it, but maybe it's because his smell just like MC? 👀

Perhaps the reader finally gives into their curiosity and asks over why Daniel had *that* potion, and he gets too flustered to even give an excuse? Btw I really loved your crushing hc, these were adorable! 💖

“ AMORTENTIA. ” d. page

wc: 1k

letter ✉️: i rlly was also wondering how i’d turn the amortentia scene into a fic without having him turn into a maniac and use it on reader 😭 ty for this idea 🙏🏻 idk if i did it justice though because this kinda sucks um *scratches head*

“Right. Let’s see. I’ve got... Amortentia, that’s a love potion, definitely not. Essence of Dittany, hm... Ah, here we go. A calming draught.”

You narrow your eyes at a peculiar potion he just mentioned. Yet the situation at hand is more important than the question as to why he has the most powerful love potion in existence. You digress.

Of course, it’s not hard to catch onto how Daniel is a potions prodigy. It’s particularly impossible to miss it. Given how much time he spends in the Potions Classroom brewing maybe nearly every potion in existence. Sometimes, you tend to question how he doesn’t get exhausted from the hours he spends in front of the cauldron. But you suppose it’s just a passion of his that differs from everyone else’s.

Like how Lottie, herself, can spend hours painting anything that comes to mind. A wave of creativity just happening to hit her at some random time, like how the light shines oh-so perfectly down into the classroom windows, or when she realizes how fascinating the flames look when she casts the confringo spell.

But there are times she exhausts herself too, like times she’s mentally drained from an art block she’s been desperately trying to escape.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen Daniel tired of creating potions. It’s quite impressive—no, farther than that, that you sometimes find yourself admiring how well he can work his way around the cauldron with little to no errors.

And because of how well he ferments potions and how much time he spends on doing so, it’s no surprise to find that he has quite the collection of distinctive potions. However, he always either gives them away, displays them on the Potions Classroom shelf, or keeps them somewhere in his dorm.

So why did he so casually carry Amortentia, of all potions, in his pocket?

Of course it isn’t as bad as the Death potion, but your point still stands!

After that day you couldn’t help but let your mind wander on the possibilities on why in the world he would have such a powerful potion easily-accessed. After all, he doesn’t seem like the type to use it on someone. Actually, does he even have a ‘someone’ to use it on, nevertheless?

Maybe it’s not your place to ask. But as time goes by, you can’t look at Daniel without being reminded that he literally has the most formidable love potion known to man in his pocket.

“...W-What are you looking at?” He asks you, aware of your unwavering, however thoughtful gaze.

“Daniel,” you lean towards him, taking note of the crimson hue spreading his cheeks, “Is there any reason for you to be carrying the Amortentia potion right now...?”

Daniel visibly panics. He stammers out an incoherent response that’s cut off by Professor Flitwick.

“Please pay close attention to the instructions. Today we will be learning a disarming charm known as Expelliarmus.”

The two of you gently shuffle back to place, turning your attention to the man standing atop a very thick book. You suppose he can answer you later.

Daniel scampers to collect his belongings the very second Professor Flitwick dismisses class, unbeknownst to you. He scoots towards the very edge of the table and races out the door, stumbling into the hallway for an escape as if he had just seen a dementor.

Very quickly, he scans his surroundings, paying no mind to his classmates who barely glance at him as they walk by. He decides to draw himself a little farther from the doorway and towards the stairways of the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom, where he presses his side against the wall.

Unluckily for him, you just so happened to be reaching to grab his hand right now, making him feverishly twirl around to face you.

“Daniel, I’ll keep it a secret, I promise !” you whisper-shout, bouncing a little in place.

“It’s nothing—” He backs away from you in an attempt to escape your clutches, but you only step forward.

“Then why run? Why are you sweating so much?” You furrow your eyebrows, clearly concerned for your friend who is, yes, sweating bullets now.

“It’s just—”

“Pleeease tell me, Daniel.”

“I—”

“Pleeease.” Now both of your hands are grabbing his. You muster up the best pair of puppy eyes you can do at the moment, and lean yourself towards him trying to get him to just tell you.

Daniel’s face, which is inches away from yours at this point, is basically red.

“It’s— I— For—..” Why is your face still leaning in?! Why are you so close?! Haven’t you heard of personal space? (He kind of doesn’t want you to back away.) He shuts his eyes.

Before he could process it, his mouth moves on his own, blurting out the reason of which was not on your list of possibilities at all.

It was like a survival instinct.

“It smells nice...! It smells like you—your-robe-that-you-lent-to-me-last-week.”

Daniel wishes the floor would swallow him up.

He barely opens his eyes when you slowly let go of his hands and back away, and he only snaps them open when he hears a familiar hysteric laughter from above and behind him.

He slowly turns around, as if he hadn't already known who it is.

“You cannot be serious!” Robyn wipes a comical tear from her eye as she dramatically leans over a stone wall, “Ahhh, you’re daft, Page!”

Daniel doesn’t bother to say anything as he somberly stares at her above the staircase. His arms falling limp and his entire body stiff.

“I can’t believe I witnessed this at such a perfect timing...!” She drunkenly makes her way down, clapping her hands slowly in such passionate amusement despite the silence between you and him. “I can’t—” She pitilessly snickers at Daniel.

She gracefully turns to the opposite side of where you two came from and slowly disappears into the halls, her voice fading out in the distance—“I can’t wait to tell everyone else about this!”

Daniel stares as her figure slowly shrinks in his vision, as if he were trying to make her explode with his mind despite the distracting and repetitive sounds of her claps and cackling.

However, he’s taken aback when he feels a familiar piece of clothing gently wrap around his shoulder. He looks over, noticing that you’re no longer wearing your robe.

“I’ll gladly keep lending you my robe if you want me to...”

a/n: this is short ohmyy im sorry 😞

[lawsvalentine]

congrats on 1k pooks👯‍♀️!! for your event I choose Eren, letters e, g and x (sfw alphabet)

and sabo; letters i, l, and s (sfw alphabet as well)

ty and congrats again on reaching such a milestone🫶🏾🫶🏾 you deserve it!

Eren Yeager Fluff Alphabet • E, G, X •

Cee’s Note: thank you pooks 😭🤍 ilysm and for you ofc I’ll do both. I’ll make a seperate post for Sabo 😉also eren is going to be an interesting one to write. His personality does a 180 in season 4 but I’m up for the challenge 😉

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around

you?)

Pre season 4 Eren, I think he was better at expressing his emotions.

He was very much a “wear your heart on your sleeve” type of person so you never had to guess how he was feeling

But now he is more closed off. It’s not you, don’t worry, he just has a lot on his mind and a lot of heaviness in his heart due to everything that has happened with him

You try to be there for him as best as you can and help him when you feel he needs it the most

Although he won’t say it, he appreciates you so much for everything you do for him

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What

are their habits when it comes to this?)

I don’t see him giving gifts often tbh

I see him as more of an acts of service type of lover

If your love language is gift giving, he will learn over time to give you small thoughtful gifts if that is what you desire

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Let’s be real, Eren is a hopeless idiot shsjdj and i mean that in the best way possible

He may not be the best at picking up how you feel so there will be times you have to literally spell it out to him for him to get it

But once he knows how you feel, trust he will do anything in his power to take care of you and make sure you are ok

[parkerslatte]

Songbird || ONE

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!reader

Warnings: non-consensual touch of thigh

Word Count: 1k

Part summary: After Y/N’s first ever performance goes terribly and her parents try to persuade her to pursue a new hobby, she vows to prove them wrong…and she does.

next chapter

Series Mastlist

Main Masterlist

•••

TRACK ONE;

OH NO!

…

Y/N L/N (singer): I was nine when I knew I wanted to be a singer. 

…

Nine year-old Y/N L/N stands in the middle of the large stage, lights beaming down on her. The crowd of people stared up at her with anticipation. Y/N stared back at them, the microphone clutched tightly in her hands. She found her parents' eyes in the crowd, looking for a sense of reassurance from them, however she didn’t get that, she didn’t even get a smile, they simply watched like everyone else. 

Once the music started, Y/N froze. In that split second where the room went from complete silence to the sound of the music echoing around it, the young girl forgot the lyrics to the song. The moment Y/N was meant to start singing, she stayed silent. Mumbled from the crowd surrounding her. 

The girl's bottom lip wavered before she ran from the stage, her face flushed. The other kids from the talent show simply watched her as she tried her best to conceal her tears. 

“Y/N, it’s okay.” Her teacher, Miss Reyne, tried to console her. Y/N hugged her teacher and finally let the tears flow until her parents came backstage to take her home. 

In the car, Y/N stared out the window, the events of the afternoon replaying in her head. She hated that she froze up, she hated that she forgot the words, and she hated that her parents didn’t care. 

“Y/N, honey, it’s not the end of the world,” Her mother said, “Maybe being in the limelight isn’t for you.”

“I want to be a singer.” Y/N finally spoke for the first time since getting into the car.

“But today didn’t go so well, did it?” Her mother said, her voice dripping with a condescending tone, “You should put your efforts into something sustainable.”

“I want to be a singer.” Y/N said again. 

“Let’s be realistic here Y/N.” Her father spoke up. 

“I’m going to be a singer.” Y/N mumbled and continued to stare out the window.

…

Y/N L/N: That talent show was a disaster. [laughs] But I wanted to prove my parents wrong. And that’s exactly what I did.

…

As the last note fell past Y/N’s lips, the room erupted into claps and cheers. The girl took in the applause and closed her eyes briefly, imagining she were in a stadium packed with thousands of people instead of the thirty that inhabited the room. She imagined people cheering her name, banners lifted into the air with her name written across with big bold letters. She imagined the praise of it all. Opening her eyes again, she was brought back to reality, the small crowd was enough for now. 

“Thank you all!” Y/N said into the microphone before placing the guitar back down on the stand. 

Heading off the stage and into the crowd, she walked over to the bar, a drink already waiting for her. The venue wasn’t large and she wasn’t even getting paid but it was enough for Y/N at the moment. She got to perform in front of people and they loved her voice and music. Everything she was doing was proving her parents wrong. 

“You were great up there.” 

Y/N turned to her left and was greeted with a man. From first glances he appeared to be like nearly every other man she had come across before, only interested in sex. Of course Y/N would normally be after the same thing but with people like this man, they were only ever interested in getting off themselves never the other person.

“I know I was.” Y/N responded, finishing her drink. 

“David.” the man said, introducing himself. He moved his hand so it lightly brushed against Y/N’s thigh. When she didn’t react, he moved it higher.

“David,” Y/N repeated, leaning in, her voice low. She moved her hand so it gripped his tightly, “Fuck off.”

Y/N threw his hand back before rising to her feet. 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” David said, reaching out for Y/N. 

Impulsive, Y/N reached her hand out and grabbed her drink and poured it over David’s head, “Here’s your drink back.”

“You bitch!” David exclaimed. 

Y/N flipped him off before she hurried out of the front doors of McNasites and out into the fresh air. Once the cool night air hit her face, she let out a sigh of relief. Y/N had encountered men like David countless times before but that didn’t mean it never affected her. 

“Are you okay?” A voice asked from beside her. 

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied without a glance at the person, “Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”

Y/N continued down the street, her feet taking her to her apartment. The girl moved out of her parents three years ago, moving into a small apartment with two other girls she barely knew, she still barely knew them three years later. When she was in the safety of her room she collapsed on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I hate men.” She sighed. 

…

INTERVIEWER: Tell me about Y/N L/N.

WARREN ROJAS (drummer): I didn’t even realise it was Y/N I met that night. The interaction was quick and I was high out of my mind. But she became one of my closest friends. 

KAREN SIRKO (keyboardist): There is nothing bad I can say about her. She was something else. 

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitarist): Incredibly talented is the first thing that comes to mind. Other than that, she was fierce and loyal and, other than Daisy, one of the only people to stand up to Billy.

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer): Y/N had talent, there was no denying that but she often underestimated herself. 

EDDIE ROUNDTREE (bassist): [smiling] What do you want to know?

__________________