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gunnrblze · 5 months ago

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What are friends for?

Here to bring you my poorly written, monthly ovulation freak/fluff writing. Enjoy whatever tf this is about Kick, Mr. Amber Eyes himself. Got away from myself and wrote MUCH more than intended lol (6400+ help me. lost the plot fr). MDNI, 18+

CW: period sex. it’s a little gross🥰. fluff and cuteness and the like

. . ・。 . ・゜ ✭ ・ ☽ ・ ✫ ・゜・。 . .

Stripping off your uniform, you felt icky from the days sweat and grime tacking your skin, the added sensation of a constant stream of blood trickling from between your legs never helped matters.

The shower steam eased your overused muscles as you scrubbed your body clean, deciding to go the extra mile and exfoliate because you’d be damned if you got into bed and still felt gross and sticky after the day you’ve had. Your scalp tingled sorely from having your hair tied back, and massaging it didn’t help much either.

To top it all off, your poor pussy fluttered everytime your fingers even broached the subject. Washing your inner thighs felt oddly agonizing, and washing your tender lips was a different matter. This was definitely not something they taught in torture resistance training, your melodramatic, hormonal thoughts couldn’t help but supply.

You ached. You typically didn’t even feel in the mood to touch or be touched on your period, but you swore you could feel the way your clit twitched as the shower water poured over your body. Why’d it feel so wrong, though? You watched your blood swirl with the shower water on the tile below, it’s all natural.

But you couldn’t quite bring yourself to do anything about it. You dried off, lotioned your damp skin, and pulled on your favorite military issue t-shirt. The ache in your lower belly was only partially relived by the painkillers you downed for the third time again today. The ache further south wasn’t perturbed by them, though. You couldn’t tell where the cramp ended and the needy ache of arousal started.

Despite feeling the need to retire early into the evening, your springy little bed looking more and more inviting the longer you stood upright, you forgot the godforsaken paper work that needed to be filled out and returned to your superior asap.

You sat your, literally sore, ass down on your desk chair, filling the papers out. You trudged through the hallways and toward Merricks office. You tried to be neutral and professional when he uncharacteristically yapped about the latest mission while you stood across from his desk.

You did a lot of things. You ignored the pain, the soreness, the need. Your hormones raged so much that you even had a sideways thought about your boss himself for a moment. Bald isn’t a bad look…

You almost visibly shook your head to remove the blooming thoughts from your skull, bouncing around like an untethered paddle ball. Get it together, that’s a little insane, even for you…your brain reasoned with itself for once.

What you almost couldn’t stand, was when Kick entered into Merricks office at the same time, prolonging the already dull conversation that had you cursing your choice of career.

Except he made it a bit more bearable. It’d be over soon, but you honest to god, did have more important things to attend to. The flaming heat licking up the walls of your core, for starters. Maybe you should’ve rubbed one out in the shower while you had a chance to be clean.

Kick wasn’t wearing his mask, so that square set jaw and dusting of stubble along his paled skin almost set you alight. You can’t fuck your coworkers. You can’t fuck the people you have to trust on such a deep level like this, bad girl. You reasoned and reasoned with yourself as you stood next to him, so much so that it took two booms of Merricks already commanding voice to snap you from your thoughts.

Apologizing like the good soldier you were, straightening your sore back out and professionally ignoring the way it almost ripped a whine from your throat, you focused on the topic at hand.

Which was…gun training drills? Yeah, you definitely weren’t listening.

You walked out of Merricks office with Kick in tow behind you, willfully ignoring the raised eyebrow the former man sent your way for a moment. It didn’t take much to intrigue him, but your lack of focus and attention was unlike you, your posture sloppier than it should be.

And that only intrigued Kick too.

“Feeling alright?” He offered as you pathetically padded down the weirdly lit hallway. You didn’t really trust all of your instincts right now, so if he was smelling you like you imagined he was, then so be it.

“Yeah” you forced one of those oddly specific fake smiles. The one where your lips stretched thin enough to let the other person know you were probably anything but fine.

He was too adept to fall for it, walking a pace behind you to your left. He knew you too well, knew that look too well.

“Not feeling well?” He didn’t take your word for it, the sound of boots squeaking down the hall the only noise other than the ambient sounds around base. You knew he’d pry a little, he couldn’t help it when it came to a friend. But hopefully he wouldn’t press too much.

“Guess not. Just tired. Long day” you offered up, a decent excuse and not entirely a lie. You were tired. It was a long day. You just had an insatiable, voracious little thing crawling around the walls of your skull, something that slithered its way down to your pussy and threatened to squeeze the life out of it, lest you snuff it out. A need that you knew would only be satisfied by letting yourself slip past the mental barrier of touching yourself while actively bleeding.

You were a soldier, for Christ’s sake. It was just blood. Seen plenty of it, been covered in plenty of it. Used to it. But something about it leaking from you, from an area already so sensitive…it felt wrong. Dirty. A little tainted, despite being so natural. And you hated that feeling. Like your own body was gross.

“Yeah” he nodded a bit more neutrally than you expected. He usually pried, like you’d already figured he’d do. Maybe he wouldn’t-

“Back hurts, huh?” He added before you could finish a thought. You knew not to doubt Kick, so expecting him to finish a thought with a simple yeah was on you.

“How’d you know?” You asked, intrigued laced in your voice, almost a bit of humor. How would he know? Were you that obvious or was he that attuned to his fellow operators?

“Practically slumped over back there in Merricks office…pull a muscle or something?” He asks, just a small smile gracing the corners of his mouth. A sight you ignored staring at for too long as he fell in step beside you, either of you pushing open the double doors to the command building. Synchronous in your steps and movements. You probably did pull a muscle during training, although your entire lower half was already in shambles anyhow.

The night air was a little stuffy, and it only proved to make you feel sticky all over again. You didn’t think to question where he was headed, he just sort of followed you in the direction of your quarters.

“Probably” you huffed a laugh, palming over your lower stomach instinctively when a particularly sharper cramp threatened to show itself. Not unseen by your fellow soldier, no…too observant for that. His eyes flicked down and then back up to yours, ahead once more as he walked alongside you.

“That’s not all, is it?” He gave an almost sympathetic look, that small, friendly sort of smile cresting his lips again as he tossed a look over to you. You met it with an eye roll that lacked any real attitude, unconsciously matching that hint of smile.

His eyes practically glowed in the dim lights around base. The scent of his natural musk mixed with whatever deodorant he had on made you feel stupid in the head. Needy for even the lightest of touch, just a fleeting hand on the small of your back would probably do it. You could go in your room again and just get over yourself, shove a hand down your pants, pretend the slick on your pussy is regular arousal and not the faint metallic scented blood that your body insisted on producing every month.

It’d be easy, actually. You were so needy you felt like a whine would escape you any moment. Aching for touch, comfort, a massive portion of something greasy and deep fried, even. But you’d settle for two fingers rubbing over your swollen clit if it meant your brain would turn itself off for a moment.

And if he didn’t seem to pick up on it with little to no visual cues…what was he, a bloodhound? You hated the double entendre your brain came up with, almost laughing where you should’ve responded already.

“It’s fine��just gonna go rest for the night” you said, the casual tone in your voice wavering a bit as you watched his amber eyes rake over your body from the corner of your eye.

Walking next to him suddenly felt electric. A live wire strung between your bodies, threatening to zap you if you approached it. The tension wasn’t anxiety inducing, it was hot. It licked up the front of your body, heating your cheeks and melting your brain a little. It inserted itself seemingly out of nowhere, and you couldn’t place what to do with it.

“Yeah?” His voice edged a little deeper. Already a bit low in its own right, the honeyed kind of voice that shot straight to your already swollen pussy. Tacking that onto his scent that was noticeable enough to fill your nostrils, and the warmth from his body that only added to the stuffy weather outside, well…it was almost too damn much.

“I wager you’ve already taken a wild amount of painkillers today…?” He asked rhetorically, trying and failing to hide the little smirk that rounded the corner of his mouth. You chanced a glance up at him, and regretted it as soon as you decided. He looked too handsome, and you looked too desperate for human contact.

“Maybe” you huffed out quieter, almost petulantly. Curling up under your blanket and holding onto a spare pillow for comfort wouldn’t be enough tonight, you’d also be flooded with that dull ache while doing so, lucky for you. The needy, almost clingy part of you threatened to escape, if not for the furrow of your eyebrows already doing most of the trick.

He visibly pondered something for a moment. Eyes flicking over to you once more as you two rounded the corner near your quarters. You didn’t know where he’d be going had he not met with you in Merricks office, but it obviously wasn’t too important as he followed you further.

“Need anything?” He asked, a probing sort of question. Too broad of a question for you to answer truthfully. Just bold enough for his style, obvious intentions clear, but not pushing you into any specific direction.

Yes. You needed a lot. You needed him to wrap you up in a hug so tight it made the thoughts leak from your ears. You needed him to hold you, to put something in your aching hole and make you forget your damned name. Your longing was at risk of being exposed the longer his deep, airy voice lingered between the two of you.

You shrugged like you always did, opening the door of your building with a weaker hand than normal. You were an expert at evading the obvious, subconsciously assuming a shrug and lack of any real answer would quell the feelings you had. Would turn them to dust and let this problem fade away.

But your dearest Kick was simply too generous for that.

“Not an answer, sweetheart” he supplied as he shamelessly followed you into the building and down the hall towards your quarters. It was so casual you almost didn’t think twice. Friendly, until he started to walk closer, started to put that hand right on your lower back, making you nearly pout on the spot.

“Kick” you audibly whined this time. Letting it fall right out of you as he practically ushered you down your hall. It made the smirk on his face blossom into a grin, which made you feel even worse. Trapped in a state of ache and longing, your uterus wreaking havoc on every cell in your body.

“C’mon honey…talk to me” he said, voice smooth and deeper and hotter. You couldn’t focus, not with the way his presence kept the fire inside you lit, the way it stretched that flame up and up and up until you felt like smoke would leak from your pores.

“Not feeling well” you pouted this time as you stopped at your door, hand on the doorknob, unsure of what to do next, but also not quite thinking about it too much. Your brain turned to mush from hormones, so many sensations wracking your body and mind it felt overwhelming. His presence only served to overstimulate, albeit it in a generally positive way.

“I know ya aren’t” he said, crossing his thick, muscled arms over his chest, looking down at you with a tilted head and a soft look on his face that made the monster of longing threaten to eat you up from the inside out. You willed tears not to well in your eyes, but they got a bit glassier in the hallway lighting and made it impossible not to notice.

“Asked you what you needed, honey…you can talk to me” he insisted softly, a big hand coming up to meet your cheek, long slender fingers curving around the underside of your jaw. The warm touch made your eyebrows furrow more, looking up at him with a need you didn’t possibly think could be conveyed with words.

He stepped closer and wrapped you into a hug, discreetly checking the hallway for any onlookers that conveniently weren’t there. His body was warm, his scent assaulting your senses even more now. You let out a sighing breath, partially of relief, the rest of something more whiny and pathetic.

“Need this” you murmured weakly into his broad chest, cheek resting between his pecs that were so well sculpted it made you want to rip your hair out. Unfair to be this hot.

“Yeah? What else do you need?” He asked lowly, a hand smoothing up and down your back as he held you tightly to his body, like a weighted blanket soothing your weakened nerves.

“I dunno…” you lied a little, unsure of what exactly you could or should ask from him. You worked with Kick, he was a fellow operator, a friend, and someone you knew you could trust with something like this, if anything. But you couldn’t exactly say the words ‘fuck me and pretend I’m not on my period pleasepleaseplease-‘ even if you wanted to.

The distant memory of getting yourself off in this state crossed your mind again, but with him almost literally knocking at your door as he hugged you outside of it, you wanted to grab onto the opportunity as presented. But you couldn’t. When was the last time you had a boyfriend or a fuck buddy that was willing to have period sex? Never. No reason to think he’d magically be different, you wagered.

“What would make you feel better right now, hm?” He’d test the waters a bit, unable to decipher if the little sniffles coming from your face smushed into his chest warranted an evening of hugs and cuddles, or for what that more diabolical part of his brain secretly wished for.

“Get you something to eat, maybe we could curl up and watch a movie? That what you need, baby?” And God above, if the way baby slid out of his lips alone didn’t have you pressing yourself against him further…

He took everything you gave him, resting his chin atop your head, smoothing your hair down, holding you closer as your boots shuffled on the squeaky tile of the hallway. You didn’t care that you were in the hallway, he didn’t seem to care either. You were alone with him as alone could get in this moment, for all you cared.

“Or do you need something else too, hm?” The question hung in the air as you tried not to lean into his strong body fully. You had to maintain some semblance of control, but the way his warmth enveloped you, the way it liquidated your brain matter and shot straight down to your pussy made it hard to think straight.

“Can’t do that…” you murmured more meekly than you would’ve preferred, voice tinged with dissatisfaction and disappointment that made your achy bones threaten to turn to sludge. “Wrong time of month” you decided to go ahead and admit what he already figured out.

Nothing wrong with admitting that. You may not be able to get around to touching yourself while on your period, but you don’t care to admit it to a friend. Too much of an adult now to feel ashamed.

You just weren’t quite expecting his follow up to be anything short of understanding and maybe some loose disappointment.

“Yeah, sweetheart…I know.” He nodded gently “Don’t care, either.” You were certain he may have just been saying that to say it, to comfort you perhaps. But he didn’t follow up. He let it hang in the air as he held you tightly against him, flickering hallway lights the last thing on your mind as you two exchanged hushed murmurs.

You felt like a rock stuck in the very hard place you didn’t want to be. You desperately craved something more from him. Something beyond the hug that was, fortunately, doing a lot to soothe you. Craved the cock you swore you could feel half hardened against your torso.

“A little…gross, don’t ya think?” You muttered into his chest, arms almost subconsciously wrapping around him tighter, anchoring your body against his.

His body rumbled with a little chuckle, hand still rubbing up and down your back, your entire body full of warmth and some ooey-gooey mix of comfort and arousal. Sticky sweet and threatening to consume you whole.

“Gross? Nothing gross about that…” he spoke more deeply, voice making a near shiver go down your spine, lips parting gently as you bit on the bottom one, a self soothing tactic, you convinced yourself.

“Only if you want, honey…only if you need…” he reminded. You couldn’t help the way you pressed chest further into his, sore breasts making you wince a little as he held you so tight against him.

“Heard it can help with cramps…you ever tried it?” He murmured as he lowered his head a bit, closer to your ear. Pressing a kiss to your temple, you almost whimpered this time. The idea of you touching yourself on your period was one thing you could hardly see past, but to have your sexy as hell coworker and friend offering to fuck you in this state? You weren’t sure if your brain was working correctly.

“No” you murmured, head lifting from his chest to not so confidently look up at him again. “Kick…” you almost pouted again, your tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. Something in between. Something that silently beckoned reassurance.

“I know, I know…” he nodded, bringing that same hand to your cheek again as he looked down at you, something new smoldering in his amber eyes. Something that looked almost as needy as whatever plagued your own.

His lips lowered themselves to yours before you could think, your mushy, hormonal brain lagging way too much. You let out a sigh, his lips warm and just a little chapped. Both hands sliding firmly but softly down your shoulders and back, holding you gently by the hips.

You peeled one of your arms off from around his waist, which had him stilling for just a moment until he heard the click of your door opening behind you. He guided you inside, mouth on yours as he took his turn grabbing for the doorknob, shutting you two up inside your room.

His hands were strong, securing you between the back of your door and his study, broad body. You were already too turned on for your own good, horny and needy and greedy for something. You couldn’t even think about the nerves prickling your skin at the thought of him fucking your bleeding hole, much as the thought also served to turn something on deep inside your brain. Something that felt gross to even enjoy.

Some kind of moan, a breathy little thing escaped you when he trailed his lips down the curved of your neck, towards the junction that turned into your shoulder. You felt his lips curl up into a smile over your skin, hands slowly sliding down to your hips, a thumb smoothing over your belt that had you ready to agree before anything was even asked of you.

“Please…please, Kick…” you found yourself already begging pathetically. Any reservations you had slowly started to dwindle as he gently untucked your shirt from the tactical pants you had to throw right back on after your earlier shower. Breaking away only to pull your shirt off your body, your arms lifting before you could consider it, you watched that flame flicker in his bright eyes again.

“Jesus, I knew you were just as beautiful underneath…” he’d rasp out, hands smoothing up your sides again, gently cupping over your bra. Your poor tits were so sore and tender underneath, but his touch soothed over it like a balm. You bit your lip on instinct as he led you over to your bed, lips practically glued to yours once more.

The next few minutes became clouded in your brain. His shirt came off, your hands immediately reaching for the toned muscle of his abdomen, climbing up over his pecs and to his broad shoulders. All thick and lean muscle wrapped taut under his skin, an unmistakably bullet wound scar that graced his paleness right next to the edge of his collarbone.

Your belt was undone somewhere in there, being tossed into the pile of clothes forming on your floor. Your body was littered with a heat that left you unable to do anything but make those soft little noises, the whines and little moans that escaped you as his lips trailed softly all over your skin.

He was gentle. Easy and soft and gentle with you. Holding your body with a care that could’ve made you emotional, had you not been blinded by arousal and the desire that claimed every inch of your body. Like you were a statue that could crack under the slightest pressure, a box of fine china with a sticker that read ‘handle with care’ strapped over top of it. With a reverence that could’ve had you wondering just how much of a friendly favor this really was.

But you couldn’t wonder when he peeled your bra off you, his hands cupping your sore tits again as he audibly sucked in a breath.

Your little squeak noise had him glancing back up at you, a smile on his face. It was all so natural with him it almost confused you. As if this were a routine you’d danced with him before.

“Sore?” He murmured, hardly giving you room to answer as his head descended toward a swole nipple. Licking the flat of his tongue over top it, your lips parted in a shaky moan, your body so reactive and sensitive it even surprised you a bit.

“Y-yeah” you nodded, voice weak and breathy. The darkness of your room only saved by some moonlight peaking through the slats of your window blinds, illuminating just enough for you to watch him cup the bottom of your tits and lick over your other taut nipple.

Your breath was shaky, moans soft and whiny and full of unspoken desire. A whimpery uttering of his name hardly changed his pace though, as he responded by wrapping his lips around the nipple he was working on, sucking just enough to have you squirming a little in your spot on the bed, mixing pleasantly with the tender ache in your tits.

“How ya wanna do this, sweetheart, hm?” He’d ask as he switched to suckle on your other sore nipple, making your back arch and voice shake.

“Wanna get a towel? Lay you out all pretty and let me make you feel better?” His voice huskier than it had been, passively hungry with desire. His own need flamed through his body, cock rock hard in his tac pants, hands gently rubbing over every inch of your exposed skin.

“Maybe a shower? You get whatever you want, pretty girl…just tell Kick what you want” he rasped lowly, the third person use of his name somehow hotter than you imagined it ever could be. You just couldn’t think very well what you wanted, unfortunately. His mouth, his cock, his hands all over you, certainly. But how, with your blood threatening to stain everywhere had you thinking once again about the logistics.

“Already showered…” you managed to squeak out as he sucked a little more firmly on your nipple, making your hands grasp at his shoulders, desperate for more. More of everything.

“Yeah? How about I get a towel while you lay out and get comfy…i’ll give you whatever you need, angel…promise” he whispered heavily as he kissed his way up your chest and collarbone, up your neck and to your ear. He could sense all your hesitation about this, and was determined to melt it away, under the very pads of his fingertips if he had to.

You could only relent, whining just a little as he pulled away from your body as stood up off the bed. A shirtless Kick was a sight you’d seen plenty times before during training, but this was different. He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead so tenderly it almost made your teeth ache from the sweetness.

You, rather unconfidently, peeled your pants off while he was in your bathroom. You had on regular issue underwear, and a pad. You didn’t get to actually think this far, your brain only attempted to.

You freaked just a little, what do you do with your panties? If he sees your pad, surely he’ll be turned off, no? That’s definitely too intimate of a thing for him to just see, right? Your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment, attempting to tar over all the nice, warm, gooey feelings you had.

But he returned with a clean towel before you could figure it out. Walking so confidently back over to your bed, breath hitching just a little as he watched you sitting in just your panties, his bottom lip finding its way between his teeth.

You looked up at him, breathing a little too heavily, tears nearly welling in your eyes once more from the overwhelm of it all. You knew you had no reason to be embarrassed of a period. He knew you were on it, offered to fuck you, wanted to fuck you. He wasn’t the one that cared…

“Hey, what is it, sweetheart?” He asked a little more confusedly this time, but the softness prevailed. A big hand reaching out to cup your cheek as he stepped closer to you, setting the towel on the bed and taking his own seat next to you again.

“I dunno…” you murmured, voice too meek for your liking, but you were too far gone to help yourself anymore. Tears dripped from your eyes, an odd mix of embarrassment and hormones sweeping you up and wrapping you in an unwelcome embrace.

“We don’t have to do this, love…we can get dressed and cuddle or something instead…it’s all up to you” he reassured, scooting closer and wrapping you into a hug. More caring and understanding than you told yourself you deserved.

You muttered something about being embarrassed before you could even think it through, and his hand stroking your hair paused only for a moment, before his voice, so airy in its depths, murmured in your ear.

“I’m not ashamed of your body or what it does, I only wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. Only wanna help you, if I can” his words were more tender and thoughtful than you figured they’d be. Maybe you should stop underestimating him, you briefly thought.

Your voice was absent for a moment, only a sniffle of the tears that served to make you feel more pathetic as time went on sounded in your room. You mumbled into his chest, voice quiet and unmistakably full of need and that aching longing for him. For all of him.

“M’wearing a pad…dunno what to do with it…or my panties” it sounded stupid coming out of your mouth, but you didn’t know how to handle any of this. Far too horny and emotional to think.

You couldn’t see his smile, as you had your face nuzzled into his bare chest, inhaling and getting lost in his scent, but you could hear it in his voice. He suggested you take them off, fold them up and set it on the nightstand for now, that you two could dispose of it all later.

And it sounded…idiotically straightforward. You almost got even more embarrassed, undecided if you were making a big deal of it all. You just weren’t aware that nothing you could say or do would perturb him.

You couldn’t help but relent to your insecurities and fears. You slowly lifted your head from his chest, watching the smile form on his lips again and feeling your heart melting at the sight, before you stood up slowly from your bed.

He watched, and took the towel from behind him, laying it on the bed to catch any leaks. It was all so strangely intimate, and he seemed almost well versed in how to handle something like this. Confidence not faltering once. You slowly slid your panties off, catching a sight of the blood stained pad before you folded them up, setting them on the nightstand like he said.

You wondered about cleanliness, your brain telling you the very blood from your body was still something to take with disgust, but you quickly realized there was nothing wrong with any of this, really. Nothing was getting tainted or ruined by a mildly soiled pad sitting folded on your nightstand for probably no more than an hour or two.

But then you worried about the smell. You tried not to get ashamed all over again. Instead, sitting on the towel that he laid on the bed. Your poor pussy aching and swollen already, hormones raging and cueing your body up, far before you got turned on earlier.

He only looked at you with that same reverence, taking in the sight of your now fully nude form, only slightly visibly in the dim moonlight coming from the window next to your bed. He smiled, something warm and fond, his eyes alight with a hunger, though.

He scooted closer still, bringing a hand to the back of your head to kiss you once more. It made you breathless all over again, and whiny. You babbled something about needing him, a please and a whimper laced in somewhere.

And thankfully he took mercy.

All while keeping his lips to yours, he reached for his belt. You listened loosely to the sounds of it clinking and unbuckling, before he slid it from his waist. Followed by the button and zipper of his tac pants being undone. Lifting his hips just enough to slide them off along with his boxers, his cock sprang free. Rock hard and beading precum at the tip, the sight you caught of it had your clit nearly twitching.

He lowered you gently to the bed, hovering atop you as he kissed along your jaw and neck. Your legs spread on instinct as he crawled between them. You were becoming less and less preoccupied with the fact that you were actively bleeding between them.

His arm on one side of your head as his free hand gently kneading your tit. The soreness only added to the sensation. His touch gentle enough to make it more pleasant than you thought it could be.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just let me take care of you…just relax…nothing to be embarrassed of” he murmured next to your ear, that free hand leaving your tit to take a hold of his throbbing cock, sliding it between the lips of your pussy, mutual noises escaping both your throats.

He eased the thick tip into your pussy, gently sliding it in, inch by inch. Agonizingly slow, the moans leaving you were full on whines at this point. Your blood was lube enough, but you were so swollen and tender that the pleasure was heightened ten fold.

You gasped as he buried himself inside you fully, a groan ripped from his throat as he held himself up over your body, years of training not making him even sweat.

What made him sweat was how tight you were. So tender and velvety, swallowing his cock with ease as you looked up at him with those pleading eyes.

He got the memo, and started to thrust slowly. His hard length dragging deliciously along your plump walls, your body alight with so much heat and warmth and tenderness that you got lost in the feeling immediately. Your arms wrapping around his neck, lips permanently parted as you let out those breathy moans that had him willing himself to keep at this slow pace he was starting with.

“There she is…that’s it, love…doing so well right now. That feel good for you?” He asked huskily, his words nearly flying right over your head as he thrusted languidly into your sticky hole. The relief of being fucked nearly brought tears to your eyes all over again, your poor hormones all over the place.

You nodded, breathing out a shaky yes as he slowly picked up the pace, groaning at how easy his cock slid in and out. He couldn’t help but look down, the view of it all obscured in the darkness of your room. But something about this had him pathetically holding himself back.

He wasn’t sure if he could admit it, but there was something about fucking you while you were in this state that ticked off some box in his brain. Something almost icky, primal, perhaps. Feral. What mattered the most to him though was that he gave you that fix you so desperately needed.

He picked up the pace, setting one that had your moans getting louder, your hands slipping over your mouth as he kissed your neck. The husky, breathy sounds of his low grunts in your ear made you feel a similar feral feeling. A need you didn’t realize would overtake you so heavily.

He reached a hand down between your bodies to rub at your engorged clit, taking the awkward angle with stride. Well honed, your brain distantly thought. He fucked you like he knew what he was doing.

You couldn’t voice the worry about him getting your blood on his fingers, your eyes too busy rolling back for a moment at the white hot pleasure that seared through your lower half. It was intense, almost too much, but simultaneously not enough. You mewled and moaned and whimpered into your hand, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and glassy eyes.

A smirk curled onto his lips, his breathy grunts pouring out from his lips like a prayer. The sounds were loud, sloppy as he fucked your bloodied hole like it was something he’d been waiting for. Like he was filling a little need inside himself.

“So-so pretty like this…so gorgeous, sweetheart, taking it so damn good, yeah?” He grunted, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. You could only moan and babble into your hand, feeling an orgasm well up far sooner than it usually did. Your legs wrapped up around his waist, body nearly clinging onto him as he kept at it.

The new angle your hips canted up into had him thrusting his tip right where you needed it most. You whined, back arching after a few more thrusts and swipes over your swollen clit, you came on his cock.

It was blinding. Your whole body warm, heat searing in your lower half, shooting all the way down your thighs. So swollen and tender already, your pussy got even hotter, it made you dizzy and sweaty and satisfied.

The noises you made, the way your eyes clamped shut, your pussy clenching tighter around his length, it made him lose his mind before he could help it. Releasing shortly after you did, flooding your walls with his hot, viscous cum as he unraveled above you, moans leaving his throat that had you so beyond turned on, there wasn’t a word in the English language that could encompass how you felt.

He collapsed a bit on-top you, careful not to squish your boneless body as it lay on your bed. You two could only catch your breath as his cock softened a bit inside you. You could feel his cum mix with your own fluid and blood. And you could be bothered to care. The towel beneath you saving the day as your mind went blank from the overwhelming sensations.

He smoothed the hair out of your face, kissing you softly and cooing at how good of a job you did. How pretty you were and how beautiful your body was. You felt like you’d won some kind of fucking lottery with him.

Your coworker, friend at most, whom you quite literally trusted with your life, was cleaning your blood up, unperturbed by the way it smeared across his cock and fingertips. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he liked it.

You were cleaned up and dressed again before you could really comprehend any of it, letting him do every bit of the work. His thick arms held you tight to his chest after he laid the two of you back down, stroking your hair and breathing deeply with you. Whispering those words of praise that had you wondering.

“What are friends for, love?”

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enemiesofarda · 6 days ago

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throat clicks and warbles as he swallows, the tremble of his hands poorly concealed in the tight grip he has on rough-spun pants. so fierce is his hold, that the sharp points of his nails threaten to tear the tough material. his weakness makes glûg ashamed— an uruk needn't be afraid. if there is strength in his arms and legs && a head atop his shoulders, he is fine. bat-shaped ears twitch and droop, amber eyes fixed intently upon all ten— nine, of his bare toes. at last he exhales, slow and shaky. with a flutter his eyes slip shut, dormant senses taking over.

« a man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a shortcut to meet it. » @uruuk 's voice does not startle him, the gentle murmur a point to focus on instead. thus, even as the flowing water roars ever louder in his ears, he is not so afraid that he cannot stand it. adar is right, of course. he always is. sometimes, the patient wisdom of his words makes glûg feel small. not insignificant, but rather that there is a lot he yet has to glean. the flat tip of his nose trembles as he scents mud and silt && the green life betwixt.

no uruk he knows could swim, and that is not without its cause or reason. the waters are unfriendly, and will with joy drown the careless. && when he listens really, really closely, glûg is convinced that he can hear a voice in the streams, dancing along the waves and spindrift. « i know. but i also know that there are spirits in the water who don't much like uruk. » wetting dry lips, glûg at last lets go of his pants and wrings his hands instead, feet gross and cold by now as sink slowly deeper into the wet river bank. he is looking over his shoulder, eyes uncertain as he searches the gaze of his father. « would you... when it seizes me, will you pull me out? » words tumble over each other, chasing each other with how quick he speaks them. a weak uruk is a dead uruk.

and before he becomes a statue, before he turns tail and runs, glûg gathers what tattered shreds of courage he has left and makes a great step into the shallow water. he only manages one, the cold water a shock as it laps around his calves and creeps up the fabric of his pants. it bites, though he is not seized. not YET.

@uruuk asked for: jrr tolkien quotes || accepting

#━━ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔩 → ⸢ threads ⸥#━━ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔩 → ⸢ v: 2nd age ⸥#if he takes one more step; glûg will need life support #been thinking about what he could be afraid of #and this idea seemed cute to me #adar teaching his boy how to swim #or at least how to not die when wading through water :')#osse cannot be everywhere; right??

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despiterage · 8 months ago

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𝟑-𝟓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒:

verdant green

golden amber

jet black

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:

petrichor

spanish moss & orange blossoms

the sweat from a hard day's work in the unforgiving sun

the metallic punch of fresh blood in the air

campfire smoke

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍:

a well worn pair of leather boots; sunbleached; caked in mud and blood; laces full of prickly, clinging seedpods

ill-fitting sweaters and jeans and t-shirts pulled from donation bins and plucked from clotheslines

shitty plastic sunglasses stolen from tourist traps and unsuspecting hikers

clothes worn until they no longer serve their intended function; frayed at the seams; full of poorly patched holes; loved to dust

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒:

multitool pocket knives

fishing line and paracord

a wood axe in need of a good grinding

banged up tin cups and kettles

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄:

fists curling up tight and being shaken out at the wrist; an unsubtle bounce from foot to foot; heaving chest; flared nostrils and parted lips

deathly, tension-ridden stillness; slow, shallow breathing; darting eyes and dilated pupils

drawn in shoulders; head slung low and half hidden by a hood; arms crossed across the chest and fingers pressed down and under the upper arms

squared shoulders; defiance in the brow, in the set of the jaw; a clawed fist held high and fangs extended

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒:

jagged, uneven initials carved into stone and benches and walls and dirt, but never living trees

marshland and mangroves; lily pads bobbing on a slow moving body of water; streams snaking through untouched greenery

berry bushes with thorns studding every inch of their stems, keeping the sweet fruit safe from all but the most persistent

jewel toned scales on a snake coiled tight and posed to strike any who ignore its warnings

Tagged by : @milehighmechanic

#( efren |a study. )

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urologist-surgeon · 3 months ago

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What is the Normal Urine Test Range?

When it comes to understanding your health, urine tests are one of the simplest yet most effective diagnostic tools. Urine tests also referred to as urinalysis are simple and can tell a lot about physical health, kidney performance, and subclinical disease. In this urologist urine test guide, we’ll discuss the normal urine test range, what your numbers mean, and how they can signal your health.

Dr. Dushyant Pawar, a renowned urologist in Ahmedabad, will guide you through this important topic.

What is the Urine test?

A urine test usually known as urinalysis is a typical diagnostic tool that doctors, nurses, midwives, and other professionals of health care use today in confirming various diseases for instance kidney diseases, liver diseases, diabetes, and infections. It involves the evaluation of the density, acidity pH, chemical, and microbial profile of the urine you produce.

Types of Urine Tests

Physical Examination: This test is similar to the so-called basic inquiry which includes the assessment of the color, clarity or density, and smell of urine.

Chemical Examination: This tests for certain products in urologist urine examination samples that include the following: Glucose, protein, Bilirubin, and PH.

Microscopic Urologist Urine Examination: This involves the approach towards finding out cells, crystalluria, bacteriuria, and other substances present in the urine stream.

Why is a Urine Test Important?

An ordinary urine test is very important and relevant in diagnosing the patient, especially in identifying the current metabolism, the levels of electrolyte, and the current state of hydration. It also helps in the early diagnosis of diseases and is useful in disease prevention even without the symptoms of the ailments having manifested.

Normal Urine Test Ranges

Understanding the normal range of Healthy urine test results can help you interpret your health better. Below are some key parameters that are typically analyzed in a urine test:

Colour and Appearance

Normal Range: Pale yellow to amber in color

Significance: Another factor that affects the colour of urine is an individual’s hydration level. Transparency of the urine is related to water consumption: clear urine reflects proper hydration conditions, while dark-colored urine might show a lack of it. Bloody stool may well be red or brown due to blood or liver disease.

Specific Gravity

Normal Range: 1. 005 to 1. 030

Significance: Specific gravity measures how concentrated urine is. It enables the determination of the extent of kidney success in either concentrating or diluting urine. The specific gravity of greater than 1. 030 may point to dehydration whilst a value of less than that may suggest overhydration and or kidney problems.

pH Level

Normal Range: 4. 6 to 8. 0

Significance: The pH level of urine measures how acidic or alkaline it is. Habits such as diet, medication, and certain metabolism states are factors that influence the pH of the urine. For instance, acidosis is characterized by a low pH, while a high pH might, in turn, link to a vegetarian diet or even urinary tract infections.

Protein

Normal Range: 0 to 8 mg/dL

Significance: Protein in the urine, also known as proteinuria, should generally be absent or present in very low amounts. Elevated protein levels can be a sign of kidney disease, high blood pressure, or other medical conditions.

Glucose

Normal Range: Negative

Significance: The detection of glucose in the urine or, that is, glucosuria, is often an indication of diabetes or some other form of metabolic disorder causing alterations in the blood sugar levels.

Ketones

Normal Range: Negative

Significance: Ketones are products of fat metabolism and have been described previously. It is known that they are detectable in the urine when the body is burning fat as a fuel rather than carbohydrates. It can be fasting, starvation, poorly controlled diabetes, etc.

Blood

Normal Range: Negative

Significance: Hematuria is mostly a warning sign and may point to bacterial infections such as cystitis, kidney stones, and even cancer of the bladder.

Leukocytes

Normal Range: Negative

Significance: Leukocytes are white blood cells and hence, its identification in urine implies its infection or inflammation in the genitourinary system.

Urine Test for Kidney Function

Kidneys are responsible for cleaning the blood from waste and the management of a number of body processes. A urine test for kidney function is also a key to how effectively your kidneys are undergoing these tasks.

Proteinuria:

One of the earlier manifestations of kidney disease is proteinuria, a condition that is defined by the presence of protein in urine. It means that the kidney’s basic filtering structures are damaged and this results in proteins being passed through urine.

Microalbuminuria:

Microalbuminuria is the state where a small amount of protein, the albumin, leaks out into the urine as compared to full-blown proteinuria. It is harmless, yet it has been established as an indication of kidney soreness in case of diabetes or high blood pressure.

Creatinine Clearance:

Creatinine is a waste product that is produced by the muscles and this test determines the ability of your kidneys to filter this product. Reduced magnitude of creatinine clearance will be suggestive of moderate kidney dysfunction.

When it is Appropriate to See a Urologist

If somebody has abnormalities of any of the three parameters in the urine test, they should seek the services of a urologist. Consult with Dr. Dushyant Pawar, an efficient urologist in Ahmedabad, to get proper comprehension of the results of your urine tests and further necessary actions to be taken.

Common Symptoms to Watch For

Changes in Urine Colour: Containing blood, bacteria, pus, occurring after taking certain foods or drinks, any colored urine but not the natural colour of a person’s urine.

Painful Urination: Failure of passing urine, or feeling pain and /or burning sensation during urine may be due to infection or some other reasons.

Frequent Urination: Regular and especially nocturnal polyuria may therefore be due to some condition.

Blood in Urine: This is one particular that should make an individual go in and seek medical help as soon as possible.

Conclusion

Urine tests are one of the most basic but effective means of knowing the state of the human body. Thus, no matter what the doctor desires to determine kidney functions, possible infections, or some other conditions such as diabetes, a urine test will be helpful. Need to know how your tests are and see a specialist if something does not look right.

Dr. Dushyant Pawar, a leading urologist in Ahmedabad, is dedicated to helping you understand your Healthy urine test results and providing the necessary care for your urological health. If you have any concerns about your urine test or other urological issues, don’t hesitate to schedule a consultation with the doctor.

#Urologist in Ahmedabad #Urine test for kidney function #Healthy Urine Test Results

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ffxivfisher · 10 months ago

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There are strict processes I follow when testing anything for fishing. There are substantial changes made depending upon exactly what is being tested, but constants and factors when doing Cast quantitity tests are:

Everything done is recorded in order to be rewatched for verification, or streamed if there is not room on my HDD.

A private linkshell or FC chat is used to keep track of things and for documentation of when important things happen with video timestamp to easily refer to when the recording is done.

All abilities that have the potential to interfere with accurate data collection if used accidentially are removed from the hotbar while testing.

All fish are kept in inventory or FC chest tab 5 until testing is complete for easy verification of quantities.

Data is tracked in a spreadsheet in real-time, and then crosschecked.

In the middle of june 2021 I was working on the Big Fish title on an alt that had not done the Facet quests and got curious how much of an advantage it was not having Amber Monkfish available in The Hills of Amber. I did a small amount of testing and the statistically insignificant data I collected didn't look interesting enough for me to care about at the time, so I didn't continue. In Endwalker, I was curious again about the fish added to the holes when doing the Studium quests. Because Garlemald only has two fishing holes, and the quest fish was available in both, this meant the Studium fish was certain to be in the hole with Garlemald's legendary fish in the future. In december 2021, I began fishing in The Eblan Thaw with Mayfly idly as I felt like it and kept track of data in a spreadsheet as I normally do. I chose The Eblan Thaw and not The Stainless Course because it is closer to the aetheryte. At this time I was also doing significant testing on the scrip fish. Scrip testing was much more important to me, very time intensive and also inventory intensive, so I sold my fish from The Eblan Thaw each time I was done fishing for a session. In total, I collected data for over three weeks in this haphazard manner while I was working without recording the process as I already had significant purple scrip video to review. This is not unusual when it comes to things I'm curious but not serious about, to do lazier work to get a preliminary look and then to return when I'm able to dedicate serious effort if I feel like it. There is a significant amount of things I've looked into and left unfinished or poorly done and not shared the data for as it was done in this fashion. I keep my well-verified and less/un-verified data in separate places. After I was done the data from The Eblan Thaw stayed with my less/un-verified data and I didn't think about this testing again until this patch, when we got the legendary fish.

2021 data:

2024 data:

The 2024 data is easily verified. I recorded the entire process and completeted it over the course of 8 days (30/01/2024 - 07/02/2024) while fishing nowhere else on the character without Studium progress and never touching the inventory except adding Mayflies. On the character with Studium complete I fished in in Sidereal Whale, Furcacauda, or Hyphalosaurus windows and did not touch the inventory other than to sell fish from those windows. The characters upon completion of their respective 5000 catches:

The 2024 results, and similar quantity testing done by a twitter user, indicate the 2021 data is wrong. My question is: where? The answer is: It ultimately does not matter and I am unable to answer with any certainty because of the lack of QC I employed.

Knowing myself and being familiar with my weaknesses and typical mistakes, it's very likely just a data entry error, or multiple of them.

While entering data periodically before being done fishing for a session, I often catch myself entering in numbers incorrectly, though I also usually notice right away - but not always. This is usually never a serious issue with something I will be sharing publicly. With anything else I have shared publicly, I can either verify via recording the precise quantities at any given time, or the totals via the amount of fish in my inventory. I'm certain I went to correct any errors I made mid-session before selling my fish in 2021, but even when working with correct numbers it is possible to manually enter something that is incorrect. Errors like the one below were made during the 2024 test.

I also also on two occasions entered data for Before Quest into the same fishes field for After Quest, or the opposite. As stated, these are mistakes it is entirely reasonable to make and ones which I have a tendency to do. Reality is, much of large-scale individual FSH testing is very boring and tedious and lends itself to such errors.

It is easy to keep accurate counts when you maintain two means of keeping guaranteed accurate count.

This is why I take the mesaures that I do, and why I force myself to be very careful with what I share. That I shared the 2021 data was a much larger error on my part than whatever error(s) I made in collecting the data, so the exact nature of the error(s) in the 2021 data is irrelevant.

Conclusion: Mistakes are not acceptable, but understandable.

Though this is a hobby, it is one I take seriously. Data or research I provide is that which is done by an individual, and not peer reviewed. Due to this, I take what I consider to be strong measures to ensure that what I provide is accurate, and this is where the issue lies. I was aware that I could not validate the data I had. That should have prevented me from sharing it. There have been several instances where I did not provide information or data I had collected because of similar issues. Making a mistake in the research or data collection process is fine. When I become aware, or suspect, that I made a mistake, I determine where the error came from and correct it if possible. If this is not possible, the existing data is disregarded and the test is redone. This is also possible if I don't think I made a mistake but it is possible that I could have. This is time consuming, but it is the responsible thing to do.

I was given a small amount of statistically insignificant data from other parties with numbers that were simialr to my 2021 data. If one is a poor researcher, this could have been seen as validating my data. The 2021 data had also indicated certain numerical scaling, so when viewed while already seeking a specific conclusion "made sense." Neither of these two things are sufficient replacements for the QC which is normally employed, and is extremely poor research practice.

My personal life has been intensely hectic and my free time/access to a computer limited, so I was not going to have time to redo the test immediately. This is understandable. I shared the information against my better judgement with the intention to redo the test as soon as I was able. This is unacceptable.

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radioiaci · 5 months ago

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"Ah yes. I will do my utmost to not forget."

He had already forgotten. Ahem. But any guilt he has for doing so is assuaged by Pen's closer proximity to him. Turning his head, he offers a light press of it against the serpent's before he is drifting towards the door at the other end of the room which opens to his older fashioned - and rather humid - bathroom.

The room itself is reminiscent of the time period from which he originates - somewhat art deco in styling with a large brass tub and a variety of plant life that settles along counters and the floor. A few taxidermied creatures linger up on a cabinet or shelf - or on the ground like the massive snapping turtle with its mouth agape which positions itself beneath a large fern. More poorly hung photos of downtown New Orleans align the walls, though they are more sparse than his living room area.

He does not waste much time in leaning over to begin the stream of water - just a touch under what one might consider to be too hot. He imagines that the steam will do them both some good.

It is then that he hesitates. He has never fully undressed near Pentious. The thought stalls him when he remembers why he hides.

He clears his throat to try and diffuse his own tension.

"I can make a variety of types of soap - if there is a scent combination that you might prefer. My go-to is amber and bergamot, but I am sure I can make something more to your liking."

Distracting.

"And until you produce the pet name your promisssed to think about," Pentious reminds, hoisting himself up from the bed. He fans his face slightly with his hand, as his skin still feels hot. And speaking of hot...

"As long as the water is warm I could wash in a puddle, he admits, barely exaggerating. The serpent's own shirt is pulled back on and Pentious makes a mental note to remember to ask Alastor for a spare to borrow for the night. He is a tad taller than the deer, but they're both rather thin at the torso, (at least while not in their fully demonic forms-) so the fit shouldn't be too much of an issue.

A look is given to his languidly stretching tail, more massive in size and heavy to boot.

"You might want to sit in my lap, however. Lesssst you will to be crushed," the inventor then adds playfully, sneaking beside his now-dressed lover. He wraps a secure arm around the Radio Demon's waist.

"Lead the way."

#sirserpentine #verse ;; 🐍 i'm ready now 🐍#[ he wants to trust AND YET.... ]

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superfluouskeys · 5 years ago

Video

tumblr

i know you missed me

#twitch #amber streams poorly #overwatch #portal game #mass effect #the three heavily featured games in this catastrophe of yells LOL #stay tuned for when my world falls apart and i have to change the day #but everything should be all set by then #probably expect to see me testing shit in the next few days before the Big Day lol #anyway im excited!!!!!! and this was very fun to make LOL #personal

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silkenstarlight · 4 years ago

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a night in crimson valley

Summary: Reader is a bartender at the Crimson Valley Motel. After she is accosted by a drunk John Walker, a familiar face offers her protection and comfort.

Pairing: Biker!bucky x bartender!reader

Warning/s: language, violence, alcohol use; sorta fluffy end

Word count: 5.6k

Author’s note: I’m unsure whether I want to turn this into a series; please let me know your thoughts!

My masterlist

Join my taglist

Her nose burned with the scent of blood and cheap vodka, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

In the early days, when she had first been stationed at this bar, she had stocked the cupboard beneath the register with supplies. Lemon-scented bleach, candy-blue windex, a dried up tube of wet wipes. Every night before closing, she had tugged on a pair of yellow rubber gloves and gone to work. Rubbing, scouring, swabbing away every spilled shot, every stray fingerprint. The dirt and spit and grime seemed to accumulate instantly, and yet, she continued her sisyphean housekeeping, trying to paint over the bar’s run-down reality with a layer of chemical gloss. But, all of that effort was to no avail; this was a roadside establishment, so there would always be sloppy drunks, and there would, most assuredly, always be bar fights, new stains to replace old. No use in hiding it.

Now, she’d grown numb to it, the cleaning supplies below the register covered in an ever-thickening coat of dust. The once shiny, lacquered surface of the bar now reflected dully beneath the low light, encrusted with old dirt and sour deeds. The floor was sticky, a years’ worth of spilled cocktails accumulating in a tacky glue trap. The mirror behind the bar, its surface cloudy and warped, reflected the late-night debauchery of men in desperate need of respite.

Every night, she wiped foggy glasses with the same gray, fraying rag, watching the same blurred, bearded faces pass through. The Crimson Valley Motel, owned by (Y/N)’s father, was a dependable option for truckers looking for a night away from the cramped quarters and lumpy cots of their vehicles. With its low nightly fares and extensive parking, and her father’s promise of discounted drink prices at the attached bar, customers returned without fail. Even still, she tried not to grow too attached to any patrons. They were just passing through, after all, with separate lives waiting for them beyond the road and the walls of the motel. But, sometimes, she just couldn’t help herself.

Bucky Barnes was one such case.

The first things she had noticed the moment he walked into the bar two years ago were his eyes. Piercing blue, stern and ever-watchful, set beneath the overhang of his perpetually furrowed brow. That first night, he had nursed his whiskey glass with two gloved hands, staring at the bar’s surface as if he were trying to memorize every intricacy and flourish in its woodgrain. She had appreciated his presence ever since, so quiet and watchful, a stark departure from the raucous drunkards and wild military men who usually frequented the Crimson Valley Bar. And, despite the fact that he drank as much as the other patrons, he never seemed affected by the alcohol, his gaze as clear and haunting as ever, even well into the dark hours of morning. It almost made her laugh, his perfect stoicism and strong jaw, the classic image of unperturbed masculinity. But she could sense the ghost of some deep sadness in the downturned set of his mouth. His shoulders always seemed tense, and he continually shifted his weight in his seat, peering over his shoulder every once in a while, as if suspicious that he was being watched. It made her swallow any skepticism about his demeanor, instead deciding that he was likely a very broken man, deserving of the space and quiet his countenance demanded. For that reason, she never asked him any questions, never made a move to satiate that burning curiosity within her. Better to keep a respectful distance than stir up unwelcome memories.

She had never even really spoken to him, and only knew his name because she once caught his signature on a receipt. By the time she read it, he had whisked away to spend the night in his motel room and prepare for departure early the next morning.

Whenever he came back, it was like she could sense his presence, could feel his steely gaze sweeping the bar. It was comforting, a sweet bubble of solace beneath the humming neon and peeling rock n’ roll posters, a space of quiet surrounded by the pressing screech of electric guitar and deep boom of drums. She never knew when he would return, his trucking routes and schedule difficult to predict with such minimal information, but she secretly looked forward to it. Another day, another opportunity to unwrap the quiet mystery of Bucky Barnes.

Tonight, the bar was crowded. Hopeful thoughts of seeing Bucky retreated to the very back corner of her mind as she poured sparkling streams of amber liquid into lines of waiting glasses, shaking and stirring and swirling again and again in the rote, mindless motions that a full house required. She had no room to daydream, not on a Saturday night, when more lonely truckers sought out the bar for company, and when the local military base flooded in on their night out. In a room full of loud men with wanting mouths, she needed to work quickly.

On nights like these, the men mostly left her alone, too absorbed in their own festivities to take much note of her. Beyond the simple “pleases” and “thank yous,” they seemed to recognize that any attempt to strike up a conversation would interrupt her flow and leave her begrudging, frustrated, and not exactly an ideal conversation partner. But, some men couldn’t take a hint.

She had been cutting lemon wedges, concentrating on creating an even slice and avoiding her fingertips with the dull knife blade. She counted each slice before pouring the wedges into a chilled metal bowl, her movements precise and rhythmic. 1, 2. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, pour… 1, 2, 3--

“Hey, bartender! I asked you a question.”

She knew it was John before she even bothered to look up. She sighed heavily, placing the knife on the counter and wiping her hands before tilting her gaze upwards.

John Walker was another regular here, but her opinion of him was very different than the tentative infatuation she harbored for Bucky Barnes. To put it simply, she did not like John. Whenever he swaggered past the bar’s threshold, flanked by his two favored cronies, she shuddered. Unlike the relatively polite regulars who frequented the bar, John was demanding, expecting (Y/N) to cater to his every whim without complaint. He was, apparently, a favored recruit at the military base. She just thought he was a privileged asshole. One time, he refused to tip her because she didn’t smile at him when she served his drink. And, another time, he broke his glass on purpose just to watch her clean it up.

Now, he was staring at her, head cocked and arms crossed, expecting an answer to a question she hadn’t heard him utter.

She sighed again, leaning against the counter. “Sorry, John. Didn’t catch your question.” Her voice was flat, lacking in genuine sympathy. “Mind repeating it?”

“Can’t even listen,” he said to himself, shaking his head in disappointment. “As I asked earlier, did you water down my fuckin’ snakebite?”

She stared at him, eyes boring into his cold blue ones, and she thought for a second. She was annoyed by his interruption, but this could go poorly if she didn’t handle it with care. If she said the wrong thing, he could get offended, and she was the only woman in a room full of men. She could hold her own in a fight and had some experience with self-defense, sure, but that wouldn’t hold up against a man with John’s stature and training. She couldn’t predict if any of the other men in the room would come to her rescue if things went south, but she couldn’t really blame them. He was tall and strong, and had a temper to boot. But his fragile masculinity, which compelled him to talk down to her and order such ridiculous drinks as a snakebite, wouldn’t survive if she talked back. So, her decision was made.

“Well, John,” she said, her voice low as she smirked. “Usually, you’re already plastered by the time you make it to my bar. I always have to water down your drinks because you can’t hold your fucking liquor.”

His face darkened, brows drawing downwards in a chilling expression of anger. He gritted his teeth together and pushed back from the bar, motioning to turn away from her and back to his friends. “I can handle my liquor just fine, thank you.”

She cleared her throat, catching his attention. “Actually, just last weekend, you threw up all over the parking lot. My poor Pops had to clean it up.” She chuckled at the memory of her father, grumbling with a bucket and mop in hand, as John sat with his head in his hands in the front office. “You might not remember it, John, but I do. We all do.” The incident had occurred well before closing time, so many of the bar’s customers had seen it with their own eyes. One or two had surely caught it on camera.

“Are you fucking mocking me?” A vein popped out on his neck, his face growing read and hot.

She felt her pulse rise in fear, but she ignored it, hand resting next to the knife on the counter. “Maybe I am.” She leaned forward, leering at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I going to do about it?” He laughed incredulously, picking up his half-full glass and examining its amber-colored contents briefly before hurling it at the mirrored wall behind her.

She ducked, shielding her face from splattering liquid and broken glass. “Shit.” She dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled, frantically clambering below the bar for the cleaning cupboard. She knew how this encounter would go, but she was starting to realize that she shouldn’t have pushed it. He had never actually threatened her physical harm before, resigning himself to simply being an asshole. Tonight, that had obviously changed.

“Nuh-uh, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His voice was still loud enough to pierce her eardrums over the pulsating music. He reached down to where she was, grasping for Windex in the dusty, cavernous cabinet, and roughly gripped her hair in his fist. He pulled up harshly, causing an unpleasant sting to radiate down her scalp. The breath caught in her throat.

She had fucked up. Badly.

He wrenched her close, until their faces were just inches apart. He examined her face, his own visage arranged in an unpleasant sneer. She looked straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down, even though she was frightened of what he might do.

“I should put you in your place.” His voice was quiet, only audible to her. She shuddered, lip curling in distaste. The sour taste of bile rose on her tongue at the violating way his eyes scanned her face, as if he were a predator examining his prey. A few patrons were watching, pausing their conversations to watch the show. But, none were helping, jumping up to arrive at her aid. A dark pit grew in her stomach at the observation.

He loosened his grip on her hair and she moved to pull back, but before she could, he spit in her face, a thick, hot wad of saliva landing on her cheek. Her mouth gaped in disgust, nose flaring, and she stepped back, wiping the insult from her face with her sleeve and slipping the knife she had been using earlier into her hand, concealing it behind her back. She retreated until her back was flush with the mirror behind her, eyes flitting wildly, trying to find a gap in the crowd where she could disappear and distance herself from him. But all she could see was his face, his hooked nose and hooded eyes, that awful, sneering expression, as he prepared to jump over the bar and bridge the gap between them.

But, before he could, his head slammed into the bar’s wooden surface with a sickening crack!

Her mouth dropped open in confusion, the rushing bout of adrenaline quickly waning in her veins as she took in the sight of John, head pinned to the counter by a gloved hand. Wait, is that--?

Her suspicions were confirmed when she looked up from John’s floundering figure to find Bucky, his hand firmly wrapped in John’s hair, his face contorted in an expression of rage. She had never seen him like this, nose scrunched, eyes dark. His eyes briefly flickered to hers, and when their gazes met, his face softened slightly, as if to provide her with some sense of reassurance. The breath stalled in her throat, but before relief could flood into her limbs, she saw John stirring in Bucky’s grip.

“What… what the fuck, man?” John turned his head, cheek pressed against the bar’s cool surface, to stare at Bucky out of the corner of his eye.

“Watch yourself, buddy.” Bucky’s voice was gruff and uncaring.

“Buddy?” John scoffed.

“Well, what’s your name, then?”

A laugh rose in John’s throat, bubbling over into a bitter, joyless sound. He was trying to intimidate Bucky into backing off, shifting his weight below him in an effort to distract him.

It didn’t work. Bucky simply pressed John’s face even harder into the counter, until the breath whooshed from John’s lips in a muffled, defeated gasp.

“I asked you a question.”

“Fine-- fine. Name’s Walker.”

“Well, Walker,” Bucky replied, leaning in close until his face obstructed John’s vision. “Keep your fucking mitts off my girl here.”

“What?” She couldn’t help it as the question left her lips in a surprised gasp. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to her again, lips pulling down in an embarrassed grimace, as if he hadn’t meant to call her that.

That moment was enough time for John to act.

Bucky grunted and stumbled back a couple of steps as John pushed out from under him. There was no time to think, no time to act, before John strode towards Bucky and socked him straight in the nose, Bucky’s head whipping violently to the side.

(Y/N)’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She stayed anchored to her spot in front of the mirror, unable to move. There wasn’t much that she could do. Now that John had initiated a physical fight, he likely wasn’t going to stop throwing punches until either he or Bucky collapsed. And with Bucky eliminated as a threat, there would be no one standing between John and her. With that thought, she brought the knife out from behind her and clutched it to her chest like a lifeline. She watched Bucky and John with rapt attention, waiting for the fight to turn back in her direction again.

Blood began to gush from Bucky’s nostrils in a thick stream, staining his lips a wet scarlet and dribbling down his chin. But, he smiled, shaking his head slightly and chuckling darkly.

“You’re really askin’ for it now, Walker.”

Before (Y/N) could even blink, Bucky sprung, landing a jab and a right cross that hit John square in the chin. He grabbed John by the collar and slammed him into his knee, the pure force knocking the wind out of John’s chest with a meek groan. Bucky pushed John roughly into a table and John stumbled, causing a chair to clatter and fall, but he remained upright, leaning heavily against the table.

“You going to fight back at all?” Bucky’s goading tone took (Y/N) by surprise. Why was he egging him on?

John snorted and cracked his neck, trying to shake an encroaching sense of uncertainty from his limbs. He pushed off from the table and began a slow, circling orbit around the center of the room, sizing Bucky up with a violent, wolflike gaze, pushing the other customers flush against the wall. Bucky simply stood in place and watched, trying to anticipate John’s next move.

John stopped circling when he was directly across from (Y/N), Bucky between them. She felt John’s gaze slide from Bucky to her, his eyes languidly raking over her body, sensing out her fear. When he saw the knife in her hand, he raised an eyebrow in disapproval, shaking his head. Her heart pounded, adrenaline beginning to thrum through her veins once more.

John widened his stance and bent his knees, assuming an athletic stance in preparation to tackle Bucky. Bucky imitated his movement, planting his feet firmly into the floor. John inhaled deeply through his nose, once, twice, and then, he took off, running towards Bucky at full speed.

The room watched in silence, holding a collective breath. The only sound was the pounding of John’s boots against hardwood, the music paused long ago.

He hit Bucky with the force of a mack truck. It was enough to knock anyone off their feet, even someone who had fared as well as Bucky in the fight so far. John hit him so hard that they went flying, suspended in the air for a moment. For (Y/N), it felt so much longer, watching her savior struggle against the grip of his opponent in midair, uttering a quiet “Shit!” as his back slammed into the floor. And then, Bucky was still, John crouched over his immobile form, a triumphant smile plastered on his face.

(Y/N) felt her body move off its own accord, pushing away from the wall, past the safety of the bar’s counter, towards the aftermath of the fray. Her legs quivered, a hard lump rising in her throat as she pushed towards the edge of the crowd. She couldn’t see Bucky’s face, his head concealed by John’s hulking body. A shudder wracked her body, her hope waning.

It was like John could sense her presence. He looked up, his sickening grin showing glistening, too-white teeth. She flexed her fingers, adjusting her grip on the knife. John’s eyes caught the movement, sensing the glint of low light against the blade, and he smirked. He was about to rock back onto his knees, to get up and finish what he started, when Bucky’s head slammed into his.

Disoriented, (Y/N) stepped backwards, once again flush with the crowd. One moment, she had been preparing to fight, to let the blood-soaked evening devolve into even more violence. Then, the next, Bucky had suddenly reanimated, an almost superhuman force driving power into his limbs. He bucked John, still reeling from the unexpected headbutt, off of him with an aggressive, thrusting twist. John tumbled and collapsed on the floor next to Bucky, who slowly knelt, then stood, eyes on John the whole time. When John didn’t budge, splayed on the floor with a distant, vaguely dazed expression, Bucky turned his gaze to (Y/N).

The room was dead silent, save for John’s labored breathing and the sound of Bucky’s boots against the hardwood as he slowly walked towards (Y/N). The room seemed to fade around the two of them, the confused, awed, and fearful faces of the spectating patrons blurred together in an anonymous mass. It smelled of sweat and rust and spilled liquor, but she didn’t care, because Bucky was okay.

“Anyone else?” Bucky asked the rest of the room, not taking his eyes off of (Y/N), even for a moment, lest she disappear, or worse. But she didn’t, staying rooted to the same spot, eyes glistening with gratitude. And no one responded to Bucky’s challenge.

When Bucky came to a stop a foot in front of her, the other customers began to quietly file out, afraid to utter any remarks that may provoke another altercation. John’s two cronies picked him up from the floor, hefting his arms over their shoulders and bolting for the exit, his boots dragging on the floor. (Y/N) watched them exit, watched them stuff John into the backseat of their car before they peeled out of the parking lot and took off with the screeching sound of retreating rubber.

“You know,” Bucky said, his voice soft in spite of the evening’s violent course. “You don’t have to worry about using that. You’re safe with me.” He pointed at the knife, still clutched in (Y/N)’s hands.

She looked down at the knife in her hands and then looked up at him, formulating a response, when she noticed that he had a gash on his jaw, as well as a still steadily-flowing nosebleed. The knife clattered to the floor as she reached for his hand. “You’re bleeding.” Her voice was thick with worry, regretting the fact that he had suffered for her sake.

He shook his head. “I’ve gotten worse.”

“Let me help you.” She glanced urgently around the bar, now empty save for the two of them. “I can close up and bring the first aid kit to your room. I owe you, after all of that.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” He paused for a second, considering. “But, sure. A couple of bandaids wouldn’t hurt.”

She smiled. “I’ll be there in ten.”

His brows creased together slightly, a chagrined smile curling his lips upwards. “Oh, I’m not leaving you alone just yet. We didn’t see where Walker went. He could be waiting just outside with those two other guys.”

She knew that both she and Bucky had seen them drive away, but she nodded anyways. “Alright. Just let me grab the first aid kit and my keys.”

“Deal.”

She picked the knife up from the floor and walked back to the bar, placing it gently in the sink. As Bucky walked towards the entrance, surveying the parking lot outside from the small, frosted window, she reached into the cabinet of cleaning supplies, pulling out a rusted, white box with a blaring maroon cross emblazoned on its front. She blew off the thin layer of dust that coated it and stood, grabbing her keys from the hook next to the mirror and joining Bucky at the entrance.

He turned towards her, noting the first aid kit, and grinned. “Room 102, here we come.”

She returned his smile as he opened the door, midnight air washing over them in a brisk, drafty waft. They stepped outside, engulfed in nighttime chill, and she shut the door and locked it, fumbling with the cold metal of the keys. Bucky stepped closer to her, his arm brushing against hers, his body emanating an intoxicating warmth. She welcomed his proximity, wondering if he could sense the fact that she was cold, as they walked across the parking lot to his motel room.

He pulled his key from his back pocket and slid it through the card swipe, the door unlocking with a crisp click. She was looking out at the parking lot, at the trees and darkness beyond, wondering if John and his friends were in fact lurking out there somewhere, biding their time for the right moment to strike again. He was definitely the type to hold a grudge for a night like this. If he didn’t retaliate tonight, he would soon, would let her soak in the fear for a few days and then arrive at the bar unannounced with dues to pay.

Bucky cleared his throat, and (Y/N)’s attention snapped back to him. She looked up at him, eyes wide and surprised, and found that his smile was gentle and knowing.

“You’re safe with me. Come on, let’s get inside. It’s cold.”

When they stepped inside, they were greeted with a welcoming warmth. The door shut behind them. He walked over to the little oak nightstand next to the single queen-sized bed and turned on the bedside lamp, its bulb washing the room in a dim, glowing halo of amber. She sighed, muscles relaxing, seeming to melt into the warmth, into the comfort of being somewhere besides the bar. She placed the first aid kit on the bed and shrugged off her cardigan.

“So, doc,” Bucky teased, approaching her at the foot of the bed. “What’s the plan? How’re you going to fix me up?”

“Well,” she said, squinting as she examined his face. “We’ll have to wash all that blood off first, so I can assess the damage.”

He gestured to the bathroom with one hand. “Lead the way.”

They walked into the bathroom and he flipped the light on, its white fluorescence a stark contrast from the soft light in the other room. She grabbed a bleach-white washcloth from the shelf above the toilet and turned on the faucet, dampening the cloth under the steady stream of water. She turned off the faucet and stepped back as Bucky leaned against the sink, crossing his arms.

“This might sting,” she said quietly, stepping into the space between his legs, his stance framing hers. He simply nodded in response. She tried not to think about their sudden proximity, the fact that she was alone in a motel room with a man who had risked his own safety to protect hers, a man she had been secretly pining over for a while now. Instead, she smoothed the wet washcloth in her hands and brought it up to his face, dabbing gingerly at a stream of blood that had dried on his cheek. When she brushed against the cut on his jaw, he winced, a sharp huff of breath leaving his nose.

“Sorry,” she apologized, trying to handle the cloth with light fingers. “He really got you there.”

“Even if that’s true, part of me thinks I should thank the guy.”

(Y/N) paused. “W-what?”

“Well, he’s an absolute ass. Deserved what he got,” he chuckled. “But now, I’ve got the pretty girl who works at my favorite bar taking care of me. It was definitely worth a couple of scrapes.”

“I--” her response died in her throat, choked by the deep blush that was creeping up her neck. She paused dabbing at his face, looking at him quizzically.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, noting her creased brow and parted lips. “Too soon.”

“No-- no. It’s okay.” She shook her head and smiled, moving the washcloth to his upper lip as she wiped away the evidence of his bloody nose. I just didn’t think you felt that way, too.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, (Y/N) trying to avoid direct eye contact the whole time, lest her blush return, his face was clean. She stepped back and examined her handiwork before throwing the bloodied washcloth in the waste bin and leading Bucky back into the main room. She sat down on the bed, its springs groaning in a rusty bounce beneath her, and she opened the first aid kit, searching for a suitable bandage for his jaw. He knelt on the floor in front of her, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her, caging her in with his arms but refusing to let his touch drift any closer without permission. He watched her fingers flit indecisively between the different band-aid choices.

Finally, she plucked one from its box, carefully unpeeling its wrapping. Bucky tilted his head slightly, allowing her easy access to the cut on his jaw, and she delicately placed the band-aid over it, careful not to press too hard against the tender skin. Her touch unconsciously lingered a moment longer, lightly caressing his face with the pads of her fingers. But after a few seconds, when she didn’t pull away, they both inhaled sharply, his face quickly growing hot. Their eyes met, and she dropped her hands to her sides, his piercing blue gaze boring into hers.

He blinked and stood, walking over to the door and hunching down to glance at the parking lot through the peephole.

“I should get going,” (Y/N) said, voice hushed as she snapped the first aid kit shut. She stood, grabbing her cardigan, preparing to meet the cold outside and run to her permanent room. “Thank you. For everything.”

He turned away from the door. “Hold on.” His voice was grave, a stark contrast to the light, flirty turn of the evening since they had entered his room. “We still don’t know if he’s out there.”

(Y/N) bit her lip and shifted her weight, silently grateful for his hesitancy to let her be alone. “What are you suggesting?”

“You can take the bed.” He gestured to the spot on the carpet between the bed and the door. “I can take the floor.”

“A-are you sure?”

“If I was in your position, I wouldn’t want to be alone,” he said, voice rough and quiet. “But, it’s your decision to make. I can walk you back to your room, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

She thought for a second. She agreed with Bucky’s observation that John may still be out there, lying in wait, and he had been spot-on with the remark that it would be frightening to be alone after tonight’s violence. So far, Bucky had proven himself to be good. She felt comfortable around him. He didn’t try to touch her, and he still gave her options, despite the fact that he seemed oddly protective of her. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he wouldn’t try to slip into bed next to her in the darkest hours of morning. He was a good man. He would live up to his promise and give her space, acting as a blockade between her and the outside world. For tonight, he would be the promise of warmth, of comfort, of safety.

“I think I’d be more comfortable here. With you.”

“Alright.” He offered a simple reply, walking over to her and taking the first aid kit and her cardigan from her, placing them on top of the dresser. “You’ll be safe with me,” he reassured her, bending down to look her in the eyes when he said it, uttering each word with heavy truth.

She nodded and bit her lip. When she felt her blush creeping back up her face, those stern, icy blue eyes of his fixated on her, she turned away, directing her attention towards the bed, hands smoothing over the covers. She grabbed a pillow, its blanched case stiff and rough from continual washing, and handed it to him. He smiled and took it, humming a low laugh and placing it on the floor next to the bed.

She pulled back the sheets as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Her eyelids were suddenly heavy, her body absolutely exhausted, but grateful for a safe place to rest after the day’s peril. She felt herself lull into a hypnotic state of rest before she could even pull the covers over her body, listening to the rumble of the motel’s heater and the whoosh of cars driving past on the distant highway.

Bucky finished in the bathroom and tiptoed to the closet. He grabbed the extra blanket from the top shelf, its woolen fabric starchy and coarse, and plopped it onto the floor next to his pillow. Then, he looked down at (Y/N), curled up on the bed, already halfway into a dream. He sighed, a soft smile gracing his lips, and he reached for the blankets on the bed, pulling them up over her sedated form. She shifted under the covers, settling into their warmth, and he turned off the bedside lamp, the room submerged in a sudden, but not unwelcome, darkness.

✧

She woke to light streaming through the gap in the curtains.

The room smelled of lavender detergent and carpet cleaner, and of something distinctly masculine and unfamiliar, the scent of mint toothpaste and rainfall. She stretched, her body grateful for a restful night as memories of the previous day trickled back in. John’s threats, Bucky’s heroism. Her shyness, her inability to tell him how she felt, despite the fact that he so clearly reciprocated those feelings he had hinted at.

She sat up in bed and looked around the room. On the floor next to her, the spare blanket was folded neatly, the pillow she had given to Bucky the previous night stacked on top of it. His duffel was gone from its perch on the dresser. Any trace of him had disappeared, save for the scent that hung in the air and the memories that clung to (Y/N)’s brain.

She sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. She had a lot of work to do today. She supposed that she should probably clean up the bar after last night’s incident, and should break open the cleaning supplies that she had left untouched for so long. She wished that she had had the chance to say goodbye to Bucky before he left, a faint sense of longing gripping her throat. But, at least the cleaning would take her mind off of that, for the time being.

As she stood, she brushed through her hair roughly with her fingers, gathering the first aid kit and her cardigan. She surveyed the room one last time, bathed in soft morning light, when a square of white on the nightstand caught her eye.

Brows furrowed with confusion, she walked over, abandoning her things on the bed. On the nightstand was a notepad, an uncapped pen sitting next to it. A brief note was scribbled on it.

Call me if he comes back.

Or, if you need me. For anything.

-Bucky

The message was followed by a phone number.

(Y/N) ripped the note from the pad and stared at Bucky’s slanted, spiked handwriting for a moment, noting the sharp angles and rushed script of his letters.

She stuffed the note in her back pocket and smiled.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes self insert #bucky barnes fluff #fluff #bucky barnes one shot #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier

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ultrastellara · 4 years ago

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DREAMS

part two of my birthday posts for xiao but this one is in the canon universe!

part one

xiao x gender neutral reader

authors note: i wrote this after his birthday ended in america but it doesnt hurt to still write for him. i wrote this around 1 am so it's not edited. appreciate the feels i had around this time haah! as well please enjoy my xiao stans!

"don't leave me..." he states, seeing the way you were facing the door of his room. the aura you two had was slowly disappearing, coming in came the aura of the great adeptus. you had no knowledge of your boyfriend's nightmares until tonight. the night of his birthday.

the words kept repeating once you had to get up to use the bathroom. your eyes were slightly closed but were focusing on the door knob of your shared bedroom. the room you both rented, has a bathroom inside of the room rather than it being public.

you didn't hear his repeated words, clearly until you heard sobs. sobs were coming out of him in his sleep.

"my love..." he kept saying, "im sorry..." tears were streaming down his cheeks. many thoughts came into your head but the one that got you the most was knowing how much baggage xiao had carried because of his past and his destiny of being an adepti.

you went back to your shared bed, gently entering the bed not caring about the bathroom for now. you tried allowing your arms to hold him, he didnt move at all. stiff. he felt cold and his breathing had changed. he didnt realize it was you trying to comfort him until he open his eyes.

the tears no longer shed once he saw you, cupping his cheeks.

"xiao, im here. you're alright, i dont plan on leaving you " you reminded him. he didnt react much until the memories of the nightmare he just had. poorly, tears came out of his amber eyes. water leaking out of them, sadly he wished he didnt have to feel weak showing his true scars of his past.

however you manage to calm him down, once you started talking to him softly.

"xiao, remember im here for you. you're no longer an adeptus living under the baggage of many lives that you once had destroyed. you're an entire new being, i mean you're an adepti but you act and react just as a person. a person, knowing that you're human almost like me.." you try your best to cheer him up, still wrapping your arms around him.

he was the small spoon tonight rather than yourself. the words you kept telling him once he calmed down. the tears he stop shedding because you mange to come into his heart, sharing your thoughts to him.

you opened him up.

"hm...thank you my love. im sorry you had to see me like this." he states. quickly you felt yourself being pushed to his toned chest. his fingers tangle into your hair, whispering sweet things of how much he loves you in your ear. the thing you mostly remember from tonight of his birthday was him telling you, " you drive me to my fullest. meaning, you help aid me to strive to want become a better person for myself but for you as well. i love you, my love".

you went out as a light once he realized his sweet words made you fall back asleep. he held you closely to him, not wanting to let go until the sun came up. thankfully he had more hours before you two would have to wake up for the separate paths because of your jobs. however now, seeing and feeling you in his arms. made his nightmare become a better dream because he had dreamt of you in the fields of gulli plains. laughter came from you once you had turn to face him. the smile you gave him, running towards him with your hand holding a sweet flower crown for him. ah yes, he thought to himself. the dreams he always had were full of you and the bright smile you shed onto his dim life.

"thank you for everything, my love.." he lastly whisper before him too, falling asleep right in your arms.

#genshin x reader #xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao comfort #happy birthday xiao #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #pls i love xiao a lot #gender neutral mc #genshin x gender neutral reader #gender netural reader

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helreginn · 10 months ago

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"No you're not!" She cried as she unbuckled her shoes and kicked them off. She couldn't even bring herself to look at him, much less reply to his poorly timed attempt at humour.

Her whole body felt like pins and needles. Adrenaline was a hell of a thing and anxiety, it's worthy adversary. Both things mingled in her chest, making her feel like she might pass out or throw up. The stench of his blood almost unbearable and though she knew with a certainty even the gods could not contest that she was staying? Hel was more than happy to stumble off towards the closet.

She took the moment with her back turned to focus on steadying her shaking breath. And cry tears so heavy her shirt - his shirt - would be wet by the time she returned with the giant kit.

With no regard for herself, the redhead slammed her knees down on the ground and made fast work of unpacking the box and setting things out that would be useful, while setting others aside. All the while ignoring the steady stream of tears that made her eyes sting and her nose run.

If they thought Wanda or Storm were terrifying, they ought to have seen the slow turning glare she fixed him with as he continued to joke. The anger and fear and raw emotion in her amber eyes.. could make them seem like a child's party magician. Playing with illusion and flash paper.

She said nothing as she blindly picked up a bottle of antiseptic solution and applied it to the cloth in her other hand.

Pietro sighed, he really didn't like the fact he made her cry. "Don't worry, I'm fine." By fine he meant alive. Which probably meant nothing for her. "Just think of this as a way to practice some good first aid on a real person." A real person who was her boyfriend. It probably wasn't the best learning or practice time.

"Medical bag is in the closet over there," he said pointing it out for her. Much more than a small first-aid kit. Basically what a paramedic's bag would be, and a few special things for his mutation to make sure bones went back the right way. He might not have a healing factor like some of the others, but it was still much better than a normal human.

He would need to think of a good excuse. There was no way she was going to be happy about him joining underground mutant fights, hiding his mutation, or probably not really liking the sort of things he used to do. "Would you believe me if I said I fell up some stairs? Or a stage dive gone wrong?"

#Élqueueðnir #thefastestaround

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snoopysfriendwoodstock · 3 years ago

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hellooo, loved ur post about Taylor's songwriting on evermore I think ur so right! would love for you to elaborate more on it, and on when you think her songwriting is at its worst/best 💕

hi beck!!! 💋 i think evermore suffers from a lot of what lover suffers from (evermore is my #4 album and lover is in dead LAST in my ranking i’m not comparing them like that ❤️) where taylor got so carried away by the success of folklore (where imo she really reigned herself in and only kept what was necessary) and the response to her more poetic/flowery writing that no one could tell her no when it came to writing evermore. lover is that but with 1989 where she made such a perfect pop album with no fluff, then lover she thought she could recreate 1989 but without the fear of doing it for the first time. so in folklore you’ve got this really, really beautiful writing that clearly was written and re-written but also put through a lot of scrutiny. folklore was a new venture for taylor similar to 1989 which i think made her be a lot more cautious about what she put on the album and how airtight it was. this is obviously speculation but it feels like after folklore did so well she realized this could be her new “brand” or her new “era” or whatever and suddenly evermore was so much more in your face about like her woods and witchy vibes and fantasy land or whatever and a lot of lines from the album feel like “look how good i am at figurative language! you love this dont you?” like what the fuck does “life was a willow and it bent right to your wind / but i come back stronger than a 90s trend” even MEAN. she also does thing thing where she explains her metaphors which just makes them even clunkier to try and listen to. “we were like the mall before the internet / it was the one place to be” sounds … just poorly paced? and even tho this isn’t a metaphor it’s like… isn’t that literally just “we were something don’t you think so?” i think taylor’s song writing is at its best when she’s detail oriented but leaves enough up for interpretation that it feels like an actual mineable text. i did not see the same weeks of interpretive writings on evermore as i did on folklore because it feels like she left less for us to actually explore on our own. i saw people over and over arguing about the “evergreen our group of friends / don’t think we’ll say that word again” line from champagne problems and which word she was talking about but isn’t that the best part? it feels so much more like a stream of consciousness than a carefully crafted line which lets you get drawn into the world of the song. i love the little details in marjorie, i always end up crying during the “the autumn chill that wakes me up / you loved the amber skies so much / long limbs and frozen swims / you always went past where our feet could touch” part because it’s those little specificities that make you feel like you can see exactly what she’s seeing. the coney island/the 1 comparison works here too since that little question, drawing the audience in with the second person POV in the song, just has more emotional appeal in my opinion than a really awkward metaphor. taylor has always been at her best with diary entry level honesty but i think lately she’s been replacing that with these easter eggs that just feel a little cheap? the diary style writing (which has matured into the honest fiction of folklore/evermore) worked because it gave you an insight into taylor that helped you really understand her side and her feelings whereas the easter eggs of rep/lover make you use your already existing knowledge of taylor to gain anything from it. that’s why while i think the bridge of coney island has some great writing, she gets away with not really writing anything interesting because she depends on the fans and their interest in her to fill in the gaps. that’s not good writing it’s just a parasocial relationship. but when it comes to cardigan/betty/august she’s given us these characters that we knew nothing about but people have been able to grow attached to because of that ability she has to craft characters and narratives, something she’s been doing for herself the last 13 years and why she’s able to over and over depict herself convincingly as an underdog to her fans.

BASICALLY folklore showcases the best of taylor’s songwriting by having her turn what she’s been doing for herself since the beginning of her career into fictional narratives rather than mine her own life or depend on her fans to find meaning out of her own experiences. evermore has some great moments because she uses some of those same techniques to story-tell and add lush details to her writing but she also does this thing she tends to do where once a project is successful she tries to center her identity around it in an attempt to replicate it and ends up totally missing the mark by not reigning herself in.

#this is long and i don’t think it’s very coherent but oh well! ❤️#long post

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kate-river · 3 years ago

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Proud to present you “Toussaint’s Finest” - my witcher fic written for the Eskel Big Bang, featuring incredible art from the wonderful @justhereforeskel Enjoy! ;)

Relationship: Eskel/Geralt

Rating: M

Word Count: 9K

Summary:

Eskel is still roaming the Continent. But in recent years the Path has become harder and harder. Eskel has made it a habit to come by Corvo Bianco around vintage and this year's events might change a few things in his life forever.

Read the first chapter below and or the completed fic on AO3.

Check out @justhereforeskel‘s artwork!

Eskel knelt down beside the riverbank. The gravel scrunched under his boots and for a second, his cat-like eyes flashed in the sun. He sighed when he reached into the water and watched as the stream carried away a tiny trail of blood.

The wind rustled in the nearby trees and the witcher, still rubbing his hands clean, turned his gaze southeast. In the distance shimmered the familiar vineyards of the Sansretour valley and the sight of their natural beauty stirred something in his heart.

Behind him though, the monstrous cadaver of a bear lay on the blood-soaked ground. The beast had a ferocious wound on its shoulder and the once so powerful creature seemed shrunken now that its body was lifeless. The most apparent feature of the corpse however, was its missing head. The very same that dangled from Scorpion’s saddle.

When Eskel got up, he was disgusted and sick at the sight. As a witcher he was supposed to kill beasts. But a bear? It had just been another curiosity that had suffered from coming too close to a village.

Eskel sighed as he mounted Scorpion. He strongly felt the need to leave this place; to move on. To get away from a task that he had only been compelled to accept in order not to arrive at Corvo Bianco empty handed.

As Scorpion fell into a powerful gallop, Eskel relaxed into the movement and his thoughts wandered off. A sensation of freedom pulsated through his veins and for a moment his doubts vanished.

A few hours earlier…

“Hey Master witcher, over here!”

A young man dressed in a worn-out leather jerkin waved in Eskel’s direction. His eyes were blown wide and his straightforwardness suggested an urgent matter. Eskel reigned in Scorpion, left the dusty path and took a halt next to the man.

“Master witcher, an evil spirit is roaming the woods.! Two days ago, one of our men was killed – I beg your help! We’re poor country folk, but we will pay!”

You better do, Eskel thought to himself. Although empty, his purse weighed heavy on his conscience. Arriving at Corvo Bianco without money would embarrassing – tolerable still - but heading for a winter at Kaer Morhen penniless would even be dangerous.

Eskel immediately recognized the hostile reactions when they entered a small woodworker’s settlement. Children were hushed and hastily dragged into their homes by their parents. Doors were hurriedly shut and if Eskel would have wanted to see, he would have noticed the people starring and pointing at him behind drawn curtains.

But he had no other choice. For weeks there weren’t any good contracts and a mysterious monster in the woods sounded like something profitable for once.

The young man led Eskel to the biggest hut of the settlement and a sturdy, yet bald man standing underneath the nearby oak tree suddenly stopped his wood carvings. Eskel noticed that the man’s left hand was missing a finger and his expression was anything but welcoming. He gave the younger man a sharp look and then turned to Eskel.

“Master witcher, how can I be of service?”, with a feigned smile he added, “I’m afraid but… we can’t offer children.”

Eskel, already used to this kind of reaction, sighed and looked him straight in the eye, making a dirty brown iris meet his shiny amber one.

“I was told there was a contract.”, he stated slowly, distinctly.

“I fear there must have been a mistake.”

Suddenly the door behind the man opened and a dangerously beautiful mage entered the place. She was dressed in luxurious fabrics and her long black hair nearly reached her waist. The two men bowed before her. But Eskel, weary of the hostile welcome, denied the courtesy.

“What do we have here?” she mockingly asked. “A mutant –created by the most senseless representatives of my guild. You’re a rarity these days, witcher.”

“With all due respect, your guild indeed comprises some senseless individuals, sorceress.”

“Witcher, you have a wicked tongue too. What a pleasure!”

She smiled slyly and gestured him to follow into the hut. He did, but with sharpened senses. Surprisingly the mage, as rude as she had appeared, was straight forward about the monster – beast to be more accurate - and sincerely promised Eskel a reasonable reward.

But when Eskel returned to the woodworker’s settlement with his trophy his doubts returned as well. The village seemed abandoned. Nobody tried to hide and nobody pointed at him. Alarmed he scanned the few huts and carefully pushed Scorpion to move on. Something was wrong and he wasn’t eager to find out what or why.

At a twitch of his medallion Eskel tensed up. The vibration grew stronger while he neared the main hut, but as he was close enough, the sickness he had already felt once today returned. From the old oak tree hang the lifeless body of a young man dressed in a worn-out leather jerkin.

Anger welled up in the witcher’s chest. He tied Scorpion to the old tree and suppressed the need to let out a furious roar. Eskel soundlessly drew his sword – the steal one, as it befitted the monsters he was going to fight. But before he could come any closer, the door of the hut opened. The mage shielded by the poorly armed woodworkers emerged.

She gestured the men to let her through, but the moment she left their shielding ring Eskel’s blade touched her throat.

“One step closer and you’ll be next. What happened to him?”, he barked.

The mage laughed hysterically and answered “Sawyer? He brought a mutant to our village, the poor lad. In these parts people get killed for less.”

At this exact moment, she tried to conjure up a portal, but Eskel was faster. He stunned her hand and instead of a portal a wobbly structure appeared behind him. She screamed angrily and used the few seconds to pull a simple dagger from her boots. In the meantime, her ever so brave protectors advanced, coming for Eskel with raised axes and pitchforks. The witcher growled and parried the blows easily, but the distraction was enough. The mage leapt at him, missing his throat by the fraction of an inch. Eskel roared and suddenly he couldn’t contain his anger. He was a monster? A mutant? Well, then they should have their mutant!

Taking his left hand from the grip of his sword Eskel felt the tingle of magic flow through his hand. His powerful Igni struck the line of woodworkers and chaos broke loose. They screamed trying to shield their burned faces, dropping their weapons in order to stifle the fire on their cloths. The fire caught hold of the hut too and the less wounded men tried to keep it under control.

Meanwhile the mage had prepared to conjure up another portal. But Eskel wouldn’t let her go through with it. With a swift movement he left behind the inexperienced fighters and blocked the mage’s way.

“Go to hell, witcher!”, she gasped out as Eskel launched into an attack. But before his sword could come close to her again the bald man with the missing finger threw himself between them raising a rusty pitchfork. But the witcher’s sword pierced his lung and his last words drowned in a pained gurgling.

Hysterically laughing the mage cried out “A monster slayer! Look around you witcher –are these men monsters to you?”

“Why did you hang the boy?” he panted. He knew he wouldn’t have long until the shock of killing innocent people would settle in. He had to finish this quickly.

The mage’s insane laughter didn’t help. She managed to open the portal and just before she slipped away a precise blow separated her torso from her lower body.

In his rage Eskel turned around and roared. He grabbed the pitchfork of the dying man and went over to the old oak tree. He rammed the pitchfork into the earth just below the hanged man’s corpse.

Scorpion whinnied and Eskel, still half in fight mode, took down the bear’s head from his horse’s saddle.

Wordlessly he impaled it on the pitchfork – leaving an unmistakable sign.

#eskel #geralt of rivia #eskel x geralt #justhereforeskel #ebb

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unpassive-viewer · 2 years ago

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Prey

Hey y’all I’m back. I know I said I’d get to the Northman review, but I wanted to watch it like... three more times because I want this to be a well assembled essay instead of just a review, but I was having too good a time neglecting my responsibilities to want to watch a three hour movie that many times. I’m sure my handful of followers will understand.

Anyways, let’s get into it. I watched Prey this weekend, and I’m really impressed! While I’d also like to give this one a second watch, it was really good in the initial viewing. It felt like a pretty simple action movie, but it was actually interesting because - and thank god for this - Hollywood actually managed to give us something new for a change. I’ll preface what I’m about to say next with this: I have never seen the original Predator movies. It never struck my fancy. I think alien movies are very often the same - you’ve seen one and you’ve seen them all. This one felt genuinely different, though!

First of all, the movie isn’t set in an era where humans have some insane military tech to fight off said alien. The protagonist isn’t some poorly-veiled product placement for the US government or military (*cough* Transformers, The Avengers, Godzilla, etc). Even better, it’s a new story. Never in a million years did I expect an action movie like this to surround an Indigenous story, let alone one of an Indigenous woman. What the movie lacks in production value, it absolutely makes up for with originality. Prey was interesting to watch first and foremost because it was different.

Next! The fight scenes. If you’ve seen Prey, there’s one sequence in particular that I think everyone jumps to when fight choreo is mentioned. The last 30 or so minutes is just edge-of-your-seat action. I sincerely don’t know if I blinked in that time. The utilization of the Indigenous weaponry plus the utilization of the horses was SO COOL. The visual effects were super neat, too. If you’ve not seen any of the behind the scenes footage, it turns out the Predator’s face was animatronic, not done with CGI!

Next, the acting was pretty damned good for a bunch of newbie actors. Dakota Beavers (who plays Taabe) hadn’t acted before this! I love seeing some up-and-comers in bigger films. Amber Midthunder (who plays Naru) is also cast as Yue for the upcoming Avatar live action series! After this performance, I’m more than excited to see what she brings to the role.

Finally, the movie comes with a Comanche dub! I’ve heard it’s quite unique to watch with the dub, but I didn’t know it had one until after the first viewing.

Now, onto my gripes.

1) simplistic writing. 100 minutes is not long to establish good character arcs for every single character. I wish we had been afforded a little more insight into the people we were supposed to be rooting for, though. I was rooting for them by the end, but for the first 2/3 of the movie I was not entirely interested. That said, I’ve seen a few people mention that they liked how straightforward the narrative was, because it was an action movie. Some people would rather watch lots of effects and big-picture fights than interpersonal battles and complex narrative. Different strokes, I suppose. Hence why I was never attracted much to action movies.

2) adding onto this - playing up the “unstoppable female hero” trope. I love love love that they chose to make an Indigenous woman the protagonist of this movie. However, I detest when writers attempt to make strong women invincible. I want character flaws, I want brushes with death, I want DRAMA. However I did like the eventual achievement of the warriors right of passage, I felt the pride of the group was well communicated. And the end shot of her face painted with the glowing alien blood? Incredible.

3) clunky directing. The area the movie was shot in is so beautiful that it almost made up for it, but for a movie that went straight to streaming services, the shots weren’t something that translated well to a laptop screen. I’d be interested to learn about the logistics surrounding attempting to make the mountains look like they were close based on the filming locations, because some of the wide shots were just so awkward. This is mostly because I felt the director was trying to fit too many things into both the foreground and the background.

So there’s my take! Overall it’s not the most artistic, amazing film that I’ve ever seen, but I think it understood what it was. No one went into it expecting a grandiose narrative. I was just happy to see something new. Indigenous stories have really been gaining traction in Hollywood recently, which is exciting. And with Prey, we aren’t just seeing stories that highlight Indigenous pain and suffering. Between this and Reservation Dogs, I’m excited to see what’s next.

As an aside, and this will sound nerdy, but I have a sleeve of movie-inspired tattoos and this film was cool enough that I’m considering adding it.

I’m hesitant to continue using any kind of rating anymore, as I’ve discovered I have absolutely 0 objective criteria with which to rate films. Just know I liked Prey and I highly recommending watching it if you have Disney+ or Hulu and an hour and a half to spare.

Did you like Prey? Tell me what you think!

#prey #prey spoilers #amber midthunder #dakota beavers #action movies #movie review #writing #review #predator

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years ago

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Alright y'all, in honor of Valentine's I'm doing a quick break from requests and making a holiday post! Enjoy, and happy Valentine's to all from me AND the boys!

Relationship or not, remember that you are more then enough and I love each and every one of you mwah!!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💝💖💗

Imagine: what each of the boys would do as your Valentine

George

George would treat you to an at home spa day!

First things first of course, and that being a nice hot breakfast

But after that, it’s all you baby!!

You guys would take a nice warm (and scented ofc) bath together and just relax and unwind

Then when you’re all nice and clean, you go get changed into what’s most comfortable for you, ie fresh PJs, a robe, ect.

And then back to bed, where George has a whole set up that he’s been planning for you

A fragrent, but not overwhelming candle burns in the corner, offering a low, amber light

Nearby, a slow record plays quietly, adding the perfect amount of white noise to the background

And finally, a few rose petals are scattered on the freshly made bed

George invites you to come lay down, while he works some lavender scented oil into his hands

You can’t hide your excitement as you trot over to the bed and get comfortable

“Stop squirming now, you’ll tense up again!”, George laughs, as he respectfully exposes your back to the cool air

Somehow you manage to settle yourself, and George goes to work, rubbing slowly outward from the base of your spine to the curves of your hips

He repeats this gesture aaaall the way up your spine, placing kisses here and there to your bare skin and using his expert thumbs to gently loosen any knots his palms can’t stretch out

But before moving on, he makes sure to pay extra attention to the stress knots in your shoulder blades until they’re as loose as he can get them

He slides up to your arms, getting all the pressure out of the joints as he rubs from your wrists up, then down to your legs to help relieve the soreness from your day to day hustle and bustle

and when all’s said and done, you feel weightless from the relief and steady massage, ready to go back to sleep

George grabs a nearby blanket and drapes it over you, the warmth helping to lock the oil into your skin and muscles

He lays down beside you and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, and with but a soft whisper he says, “Happy Valentine’s, love”

John

For Valentine’s day, John wants to do something extra special!

But what?

He’s pretty good about being sweet and sentimental when he wants to be, but how can he turn that into a gift...

Under normal circumstances, he’d tell you that a day of good behavior on his behalf is a gift in itself

And while that could certainly be true, you deserve better then that

So, he does some thinking and goes for the one gift he can give that few to none have ever received

John works tirelessly and in secret so as to keep it a surprise

Judging on obsession and perfectionist work ethic alone, you would almost mistake him for Paul

But finally, finally it’s all ready to go

You wake up that day like any other, and you almost forget what day it is

John appears to already be awake somewhere in the house considering he’s not beside you

Then, it comes to you

Excited to see if he’s been planning something, you hop out of bed and go off to find him

If he doesn’t have any plans today, you certainly can come up with a few!

John hears you coming and catches you around a corner

You give a yelp of surprise as john picks you up in his strong arms and gives you a spin

He wishes you a good morning and happy valentine’s day followed immediately after by a smattering of kisses before he sets you down

“Now come on, I have a surprise for you!”

John leads you into the living room amd sets you on the couch

Looking a bit antsy, he tells you to close your eyes

You comply, and by now the suspense is killing you

At last John’s footsetps return, “Now promise you won’t laugh, alright?”

You gasp in mock hurt, “I would never!”

John sighs and rolls his eyes, but he suposes that’ll sufice

Fianlly you get to open and you’re... well, you’re lost for words

In John’s arms is a large framed canvas, and painted there upon it is a loving, beautiful rendering of a photogrpah he keeps on his desk

It’s of the first dance you and he ever shared

He carefully guides it into your lap so you can get a better look

“Well? Do you like it?”

You trace your finger ever so lightly along the curve of John’s painted back as he holds you close in the picture still slow dance, a soft smile drawn onto his lips

Tears well up in your eyes as you slowly put the treasured piece down

“John...”, you turn to face him, unable to get the words out

But you don’t have to

John’s expresion softeneds and he leans in for a kiss, “...Happy Valentine’s”

Paul

Paul also has a bit of thinking to do for his gift

His knee jerk response is to dedicate a song to you!

...Again!

And while he does start working on one (for later, of course), he decides perhaps he should think a bit deeper for today

But what can he do that’s more personal then music?

He doesn’t really have much else in the way of outstanding talent

(Or so he thinks)

Well... He definitely knows he wants to produce a labor of love for you

After all, he would go to great extents to make you happy, so whatever he can do to make that happen, he’d gladly do it!

So, he thinks and thinks, and at last it comes to him

He breaks out some paper and some colorful things to write with and sets to work

When the day comes, he preps a little tray of breakfast and nestles his gift to you along with the plate and utensils

“Room service!”, he knocks sharply on the bedroom door and lets himself in without waiting for a response

Slowly, you begin to stir at the disturbance, but you awaken for sure after Paul snaps the shades open

A stream of soft light floods the bedroom, forcing you to get up

“Paul, wha...?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”, he happily declares

He swings around to fetch the tray from where he left it, then crosses back over to your bed side

“Here we are!”, Paul lays the tray in your lap, then comes around to sit beside you

“Oh, thank you Paul, this is lovely”, still a bit sleepy, you give him a kiss then pick up your fork and knife

“Wait wait! Look at this first!”, he retrieves a small stack of what appears to be printer paper neatly tied together by the corner

You take it and examine it

The front has a big, poorly drawn heart done in red crayon with you and Paul’s initials written in the middle

Already a smile blooms across your face, which grows into a full laugh as you flip through each page

It’s a little coupon book of romantic favors, all written in assorted, Valentine’s themed colors and messy handwriting

Breakfast in bed, dinner at a restaurant of your choice, a massage, movie night, 5 kisses, and more are among your choices

“Paul, I love it! Thank you...”, you land on a coupon that says 1 makeout session, then shoot him a look

“...Can I redeem this one now?”

Paul glances at it and chuckles, giving you a sly smile, “Hm, I think I can give you that one for free. Just this once...”

Breakfast will have to wait ;)

Ringo

Now, Ringo is a simple man

He loves you very much of course, and would do anything to give you the best day ever!

But considering the gift is supposed to be something of a surprise...

That does complicate things a bit on what he should do for you, given that he can’t, you know, ask

He does a bit of thinking and even asks the other lads for ideas, despite the fact they aren’t much help

“How should we know?”, they say... Can you believe that?

‘How should they know’, how should he know?

So, he invests lots of thought into it...

All the spare brainpower he can muster...

And then... He’s got it!

He has to move quick to get everything together, given that Valentine’s is just around the corner, but he just might manage!

With everything set, he takes some time to get everything together for the big day, all neat and pretty

He even throws in some overtime while you sleep to spruce the place up a bit

The next day you climb out of bed in the morning and make your way downstairs

How strange that Ringo didn’t come to bed last night...

Not that you’re exactly complaining, that is

That man can snore something fierce

Hardly a few steps from the hall to the living room and you can already hear the good old sound of your boyfriend's rhythmic snoring

You yawn, closing your eyes and stretching as you round the corner, “...Dear, are yo-?”

But when you open your eyes, all you see is wall to wall of what appear to be handmade Valentine’s decorations

Sparkly, cut out heart banners, paper steamers, and a few clusters of balloons blown at various sizes are hung randomly around the room

Then, there on the coffee table, a massive bouquet of roses, over a hundred at least, provide a fragrant backdrop to a small teddy bear and a handmade card

You pick up the bear and give it a cuddle, then go for the card

On the front, two stick figures, one of which has been illustrated with quite a comically large nose, stand on a green hill with some hearts floating between them over their connected stick hands

The inside is addressed to you with a simple message of “Happy Valentine’s Day! Peace and love, Ringo”

You gasp and coo at the overwhelmingly sweet gesture, “Oh, Ritchie! Did you do all this yourself?”

Ringo snorts abruptly at the sound of his name and mutters, “Surprise!”, as he falls off the couch with a thump

Groggily, he comes to his senses, “Oh, uh... Happy Valentine’s! Uhm, D-do you like it?”, he asks nervously

You laugh and kneel down, your head hovering just above his as you give his forehead a kiss

“I love it”, you smile, and when you kiss him again, and again, and again, Ringo thinks...

Perhaps he did alright after all

#the beatles #the beatles x reader #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney x reader #ringo starr x reader #george harrison x reader #valentine's day #beatles imagines

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hyucksong · 5 years ago

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come on saturday afternoons, when it’s golden hour.| lee donghyuck

summary: Falling in love for a decade with a boy who’s as confusing as could be may be a mistake, but you’re too distracted by his nimble fingers making poisonous flower crowns and his golden honey-like skin to care. He seems too busy looking bitterly at the moon to forget to stop leading you on, too. So all is fair.

word count: 10.0k words

warnings: angsty and talks about insecurity and lowkey obsession with a person

a/n: by the way; haechan is called two different names in this. he’s called “donghyuck” when he’s thinking about himself and when y/n talks, thinks, or references him. he’s called “haechan” when it’s one of his other friends interacting with him, and also by y/n towards the end. it’s meant to signify the distance she puts between him and herself.

///

Donghyuck is the son of the golden hour. He has to be, you think, because there is no one that embodies the epitome of sun-kissed beauty as well as he does. You are a witness to this ethereal beauty because you’ve spent your whole life living next to him.

It’s funny, his house emits the same beauty he does. The way the vines are overgrown in the prettiest way, running over the window sills and growing into the muted yellow-painted wooden paneling. The way the cracks on the sidewalk leading up to his humble abode are filled with yearning budding flowers instead of cement and milkweed. Even the sculptures on the pathway to his house are covered in beautiful vines that wrap themselves around the bodies of the solid stone art, silently suffocating their inanimate figures. To most, that may seem dull, but nothing related to Lee Donghyuck could be dull to you. In some strange way, you saw the beauty in his beat-down and poorly taken-care-of yard.

You remember the first time you met him, a decade ago, when you walked past your chatting parents into his yard. It was golden hour then, too, you recall, because you remember the orange light soaking your memory’s walls. You walked up to the kneeling boy with caramel skin; he was picking flowers from the ground in the farthest corner of the house lot, the only place the ugly flowers sprouted. It was a corner shrouded in dark shadow and it was noticeably a few degrees cooler there. Every once in a while, before he moved in, you’d pass by the old house and stare at the corner, feeling a somber feeling come over you. But somehow the boy lit the area up, warms streams of light flooding the previously cold patch.

He was picking weeds, lacing them together into a wicked flower crown. He paid no mind to your mud-stained sneakers stopping in front of him, he only continued on with his actions.

“You know those are bad for you, right?” The young boy stopped his movements, looking up at you for the first time. You immediately took note of his dark brown eyes with flecks of amber in them, almost getting mesmerized by their still gaze.

His eyes scanned you, not really caring. He automatically went back to his poisonous flower crown, causing an uneasy feeling to stir within you. “I know.”

Silence ensued, making the air feel suffocating. Despite his cold shoulder, you sat down next to him in the patch of mud by his side, not daring to cross onto the patch of grass he sad comfortable on. He seemed surprised but quickly went back to his indifferent facade, scooting away from you.

Hours passed as he made more and more flower crowns, and you simply watched. There was no conversation between you both, only a mutually appreciated quietness. It was when there was no warmth left of the sun, and instead, there was only the biting chilly air of the moon that nipped at your skin, did he finally speak again.

“Don’t you think the flower crowns are pretty?” He asked, his head tilted to the side as he held one out to you. You saw the intricate interweaving of the milkweed stems with one another, not even the hairy peach fuzz took away from the delicate-looking crown. You nodded vigorously, hoping to please him. And you did, because he offered you one of the many he made before getting up and looking at the sky.

“The moon is kind of ugly, don’t you think?” You looked up at him, surprised at his randomness. But, you paid no mind to it, opting to simply stare at how his nose scrunched at the sight of the glowing orb in the sky.

“Yeah.” No, you didn’t. You loved the moon, the way it shone beautifully. The moon was subtle beauty. Donghyuck (his parents told you his name) was obvious, infinite beauty. But you wanted to please him.

He smiled a little, “Cool. We agree.” You awkwardly shifted on your feet, only giving him a tight-lipped smile. He didn’t even show you out of his yard, and he walked up the steps to his house that had warm orange lights illuminating the bushes in front of the windows softly. Not knowing what to do, you stood in place, watching him walked gracefully closer to the door.

Before he fully stepped in, he looked back at you with an emotion that you could never fully recall, speaking in a strangely authoritative voice, “Come back tomorrow and actually help me make some flower crowns. At golden hour.”

You went back the next day. And the day after that, and the week after that, and the month after that. Years passed and you’d still regularly meet with him in the back of his yard on warm Saturday afternoons. You never interacted with him outside of those times, and you were content with that. As you passed him in the school halls, only you would know the sacred time you spent together. You loved it because it was like having a little piece of him just to yourself.

You were eight then. You still had the milkweed flower crown, just now it was pressed into a glass frame that hung across from the foot of your bed.

///

When your legs started growing a little longer, and you noticed changes to your body that hadn’t been apparent before, you were eleven. You only realized you were going through puberty because the little patch of hair that started to grow under your arms, and the way you crinkled your nose when you sweated, the smell unfamiliar.

Some would call you a late bloomer, but you’d disagree. Late bloomers didn’t fall in love early. Late bloomers didn’t spend their days counting the freckles on Donghyuck’s nose -- late bloomers didn’t love so strongly. You told your friend that you thought Donghyuck was cute, and she laughed at you, muttering how he looked like a pumpkin with his chubby face. You frowned, reminding yourself to get new friends who were nicer. (She was the same friend who told you years later that he was light-years out of your league.)

Donghyuck still seemed to be stuck in his elementary school days, his baby fat still sticking to him cutely. You found it endearing, the way you had to look down at him when you talked with him in the cool corner of his backyard. You didn’t mind being taller than him, it gave you the perfect view of his eyelashes casting shadows against his golden skin.

“Can you stop staring at me and actually do something?” He sneered playfully, sighing dramatically and placing his nearly-finished flower crown on his knee. The surface layer skin was broken, little pellets of blood pooling. He had fallen at school, the mulch on the school playground rather unforgiving.

“Geez, sorry.” You muttered back, a small smile spreading across your face. You pick back up your flowers, interweaving the leave with delicate motions, careful not to break the bonds. It was silent again, the only sounds the ones of the leaves rustling as the sun dove under the horizon.

These were the moments you treasured with him. The ones where neither of you spoke and the sun would quietly dip under the horizon. The moments where you could stare freely as he paid no mind to you, off in his own little world.

“Haechan!” A voice called from inside. You both looked up, stopping your ministrations. His mom walked out of the backyard door, a bright smile taking your attention. “Your friends are here!” With the mention of those words, the temperature dropped. You tilted your head in question and glanced at him, confused. “It’s Saturday? I thought we were hanging out today?” The words seemed to swim past his ears. Hastily, he stood up, his hand reaching for yours. The burn of his skin on yours was enjoyable but it didn’t last, because he suddenly started to shove you out of the back fence. You watched as his pearl white sneakers stepped on the flower crown you were working on, the white blood of the flower spilling out, soaking the dirt beneath it.

The image of him stepping on your hard work caused your eyes to well up, your bottom lip started to quiver.

“Hurry and -- What? Why are you crying?” You wish you could say you heard care in his voice, but it felt more like you were an annoyance, like you were a problem to be dealt with. You shook your head, not giving him an answer. He groaned, quickly looking back at the silhouettes of his ‘friends’ in the window. His eyes analyzed the yard, grabbing the first thing laying next to your shoe on the ground and shoving it into your chest.

“Here, have this. I got to go. See you later.” And like that, Lee Donghyuck shoved an enormous hoodie in your hands that still hung in your closet. It was so big back then that you could wear it as a dress, but now it fits like a large sweatshirt. Even after all these years, it still smells like the freshly cut grass from back then.

///

Donghyuck always had a habit of flicking his thumb and pointer finger against each other when he was nervous. You didn’t notice it until you were in your Freshmen year of high school, age fourteen, and he got called by the teacher to stay after class and talk to her.

He nodded, and for the whole hour, his leg was bouncing up and down. You decided to stay after and take a little longer to pack your things up before school let out for the day. After the bell rang and the students poured out the single door, rushing to get to the buses, he got up shakily from his spot behind you.

You didn’t know why he didn’t sit next to you, you distinctly remember patting the seat next to you on the first day of class, but he just moved past your seat to the row behind you. He sat down with Jeno, a boy you recall was on the swim team. At least he sat behind you, you thought.

“Did you cheat on your test, Mr.Lee?”

Your eyes snapped up to look at the expression on his face. You frowned at his stuttering lip. “N-No.”

She raised an unconvinced brow, “Oh, really? Then why does your short answer look exactly like Ms. L/n Y/n?”

You saw his fingers start to move, anxiously flicking each other as he thought up a lie. You felt bad because you had told him he could cheat off of you before class; you knew he didn’t get much sleep the night before due to the soccer team practicing late that day.

Shoving your binder into your bag, you quickly zipped up the large pocket and headed over to the teacher's desk, a shy smile on your lips. She was unimpressed by your interruption, opting to glare at you. “Yes, Ms. L/n?”

“I’m sorry Mrs.Kim, but I heard you accusing Donghyuck of cheating,” she frowned at your choice of words, “and I’d just like to say, that it wasn’t him who cheated.”

A scoff left her red lips, and you couldn’t help but notice the wearing of the cherry red lipstick in the middle of her mouth. “That’s very cute of you, Ms. L/n. But he cheated off of you, I graded the papers.”

Donghyuck’s wide eyes stared at you, waiting for your next move. His fingers were still flicking each other rapidly, but his gaze was different. It looked like he was depending on you. Like he needed you.

“Sorry Mrs.Kim, but I was the one who cheated off of him.”

She didn’t buy it for a minute, “How? He sits behind you.”

Your eyes did a quick scan of the room, hoping to find something, anything, that could prove your lie. That’s when your eyes found a mirror hanging in the wall buy your seat. You fought your smile, “Well, I looked through the mirror next to me.” The teacher’s head snapped to the reflection of you three standing at her desk. “I learned to read backward in seventh grade for a science project.” It was true.

With a huff, she quickly grabbed a red pen and wrote a big ‘0′ on your paper before dismissing you both to go home. She left after mumbling things to herself, something about “bratty kids”.

The classroom was completely empty, the sun was dipping under the horizon again, a little early this time. It was daylight savings time, you remembered.

“Hey,” A smooth voice let out. You looked behind you, tearing your attention away from the golden light pouring in through the windows and at the handsome smile on Donghyuck’s face. His baby fat disappeared, his shoulders got wider, and his legs grew longer. But he still had that same breath-taking smile he always did.

“Yes?”

“Thanks. I’ll be more careful next time.” You recognized a playful tone, you nodded and giggled at him. “Please do that. I don’t think my mom will be very happy about the zero for a test grade.” He flung his black backpack over his shoulder and stuck one of his hands in the front pocket of his jeans.

“See you on Saturday.” He let his hand gently grab your shoulder, before letting it fall and trail down to your hand. He gave it one squeeze before walking away, not sparing you a single glance. Your hand burned at his warm, golden touch.

You didn’t mind taking the blame, because he let you see a little part of him no one else noticed. It was an eye for an eye, you told yourself.

///

You were sixteen and hated parties. They always reminded you of some bad teen movie where the girl’s heart gets broken and the boy watches as she goes to someone else to console herself from his memory. But Donghyuck’s strange persistence was new to you, and you happily obliged to go.

“Y/n, are you going to the party at Jaemin’s tonight?” You quirked a brow playfully at the busy boy, smiling. “What do you think? Hyuck, I’ve never talked to the guy. I don’t know anyone who’s going to be there.”

“Errnt. Wrong -- you know me.” He replied, a smile adorning his features as he tilted his head and closed his eyes childishly. You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your place on the white table set his mom had recently bought, stating, “You two are too old to be sitting on the grass and getting your pants dirty.”

“And you want me to go this time, why?” Donghyuck proceeded to put down his fifth flower crown and place his chin between his thumb and forefinger, thinking. “Hmmm, Oh, I don’t know -- because you’re my best friend and I want to take you places?”

Your fingers stopped moving, the plant temporarily forgotten as you stared, shocked, at an unnoticing Donghyuck. “W-What?” He had never called you his best friend before. Hell, he’d never called you his friend before. Some may have taken that as strange, but you considered it a weird aspect of your friendship. But hearing the words leave his pretty pink heart-shaped lips wasn’t good for your heart rate.

“What?” He shrugged, reaching over the table to push your forehead back with his pointer finger. “You didn’t think we were friends? After eight years?” You shook your head, a smile breaking onto your face. “No, it’s nothing. When do you need me to be there?”

“On second thought, can you pick me up with you? At eight tonight? Oh, and bring your polaroid -- I wanna take pictures.”

That was how you were standing outside, your yellow polaroid around your neck as the flies buzzed around your red solo-cupped drink. From the smell, you were sure it was vodka. You crinkled your nose and dumped it on the owner’s lawn. Sorry, not sorry.

Donghyuck said he’d meet you out on the barren back patio at nine, reassuring you that you could manage on your own for an hour and that he just wanted to say hi to some people and get a little alcohol in his system. You didn’t have the strength to tell him you didn’t care about his need for some illegal product -- you just wanted to go home -- so you nodded and agreed to wait.

But considering the weather forecast stated that it was supposed to reach forty degrees by nine, your decision wasn’t the best. You sat on the concrete ledge, butt cold and snuggling into your hoodie that Haechan had given you so long ago.

When your lungs got sore from the cold air, you buried your nose in the warm hoodie. It still smelled like him even after all this time.

“Ditched, I’m guessing?” A pair of vans with black straight-legged jeans appeared next to you, and you couldn't help the jolt that left your body. A laugh sounded, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” A boy you recognized as Jaemin, the host, sat next to you, a half-full red solo cup in his ring-covered hand.

“Oh, It’s...okay. You didn’t scare me. I was just thinking.” You shifted away from him, not too familiar with Donghyuck’s friends. His latter words popped into your head again, “and no, I didn’t get ditched. I’m here with...someone”. He noticed your pause and grinned, letting his gaze drop to the grass blades beneath his feet. “Relax, I’m not going to try anything.” He rested his arms and head on his knees that were near his chest.

“I didn’t think you were.” You assured. A silence that made your skin crawl ensued, but the attractive boy didn’t leave. “So,” he bobbed his head and looked around the yard, “who did you come with?”

“Donghyuck.” You answered, lifting the red cup to your lips, only to find that there was nothing there and awkwardly placing it down by your feet. “Donghyuck?” He questioned, “You mean Haechan, right? Lee?” You nodded, rolling your eyes slightly. “His real name is Donghyuck.” You scolded yourself for giving him any sass, poor guy probably just wanted to talk to someone. Though, you thought, there were plenty more interesting people inside the house where the heat was on rather than outside in the biting weather.

“...Yeah...” Jaemin mused, his eyes narrowing, “I know. I’ve known him since we were eleven.” This surprised you, and you whipped your head around to him. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I still remember going over to his house once and going into his backyard and there were a bunch of flower crowns everywhere. Not gonna lie, we poked fun at him for it -- ‘we’ being me, Jeno and Renjun -- it was light-hearted, though. But, turns out they were made by some ‘freak that lived next door that sneaked into the yeard.’ He quoted with his fingers, not paying any mind to the look that crossed your features.

Freak? Did he think you were a freak?

“How long have you known him?” He broke you out of your racing thoughts. “Oh, um, since we were eight. I’m his, uh, neighbor.” A startled wince appeared on his face as he muttered out an ‘oh’ and scratched his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine, I’m sure he was just playing.” Another round of silence and you were sure that the cinnamon-haired boy was going to leave, but he stayed. He was warm, probably from being inside, and it radiated off him onto you. It was nice, having someone sit next to you, for once. You supposed Na Jaemin wasn’t too annoying.

“So, how do you know Haechan? Like did you date or...?” His shoulders bumped into yours playfully and you avoided eye contact, hoping he didn’t see your blush from his prying. “No, we never dated, I’m his...” You stopped.

“I’m his...” you trailed off again, not really knowing what to call it. But, recalling his words from earlier, a giddy grin lifted the corners of your lips upwards. “Best friend. I’m his best friend.” Jaemin rose a brow and laughed, “It’s the first time I’ve ever heard about you...?”

“Y/n.” You gave him a tight smile, not knowing what else to say.

“Y/n.” He repeated, smiling. “That’s a beautiful name.” A hand came down to pat your arm, and it felt strangely comforting. “Thanks,” you glanced at him one last time, “Jaemin.” A breathtaking smile erupted from you saying his name, and it made you a little happier, too.

The atmosphere was idyllic, unusually so, because you honestly thought that you’d be spending most of the night alone. Looking at Jaemin, he was more of a cool boy, opposite of Donghyuck. Jaemin was like the night, in a sense. Cool, mysterious, yet open like the black sky. There was nothing to be afraid of with him. He wasn’t quite as smooth as honey and he wasn’t quite as enrapturing as the love of your life. But, he was warm in a way Donghyuck wasn’t.

But before your mind could wander more, a familiar silhouette of Donghyuck was cast onto the green backyard. It belonged to the drunken boy who stood in the doorway, a suave smile on his lips. Jaemin hesitated before ruffling the hair on your head and whispering, “Be careful.” in your ear before getting up to leave, grabbing Haechan’s shoulder and sharing a look with him briefly before heading inside. One last pitiful look and he was gone.

“What was that about?” You asked, leaning back on your arms to gaze at the glowing boy standing above you. He looked down at you and smiled. “Nothing, just reminding me to do something...or not to do something, I guess.”

“Let me guess, you’re not going to listen to him?” The boy’s expected nod made you laugh and shake your head, “You know me so well.”

“I know I do. I had to deal with you for eight years.”

“You deal with me? Isn’t it the other way around?” You were about to quip back when you remembered what Jaemin had said earlier about Donghyuck calling you a freak, and your voice died in your throat. Carelessly, he sat next to you, one beautiful hand threading through his hair. Donghyuck wasn’t looking at you, instead, he seemed to be glancing at his watch and swirling the smelly drink around in his cup. You could tell because you heard the sloshing.

“Anyway,” you cleared your throat, “why did you want me to bring my camera?” The boy’s eyes lit up and he smiled that heart smile of his that created daylight even in the middle of the darkest of nights.

“I realized that we didn’t have any pictures together, and I kind of wanted to take some.” You scoffed, he was never one for sentimentality. “Uh-huh, that’s totally the reason why.”

“Fine, you got me,” He giggled, “Mom wants to make a scrapbook for your mom’s birthday coming up. She thought it’d only make sense to have both of us in it, but I had no pictures to give her when she asked for them, so.” He shrugged, “I’m killing one bird with one stone.”

“That’s not how the saying goes, Hyuck.”

“I know, I’m not dumb.”

“Whatever, let’s just take the pictures so I can take us both back home.” This elicited a whine from Haechan and he plopped his head on your shoulder, making you go stiff. “I don’t wanna go yet~!” It was probably just you feeling guilty, or maybe it was his breath on your neck, but you agreed to take him home later. You could stay outside.

“Let’s take the pictures now! I’m keeping people waiting inside.”

“O-Okay.” You stuttered out, scooting closer to him. You still stopped a few inches apart from him and angled your polaroid to snatch a picture, but the boy chuckled and encircled his arm around your waist. He moved closer and placed his other hand on your face to squish your cheeks together, making a silly fish face. “Let’s make them cute for our moms.”

He posed you three other times, one with his legs over your lap and your laughter showing through the overexposed pictures, one with you both stroking your chins in 1940s detective style, and one where you two were playfully staring into each other’s eyes, in a staring contest. After that last one, you shyly told Hyuck that you couldn’t take any more because you didn’t want to waste your film, but really it was because you weren’t sure how much more your heart could take with all his golden goodness.

“Yeah, yeah -- one more.” He pouted, “Please?” You sighed and nodded slowly, secretly loving the way he giggled and clung to your loose arm like an excited kid.

“Okay, pose me, pose-master.” You dropped your arm to your sides, waiting for him to work his magic. He nodded and took your camera. “Hey -- ”

“Oh, hush, I’m taking the picture this time.” You glanced nervously at his carefree hand holding the polaroid but nodded again. “Okay, please don’t drop it.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “Of course, your highness.” A giggle escaped your mouth and you motioned for him to continue, but he simply moved even closer to you than before. Your heart rate was through the roof but you remained still and let him do his thing; but, after all the shuffling, he made no move to move you, instead, he put his face right in front of yours.

Wide-eyed, your eyes shot down to his lips before stuttering out, “W-What’re you doing?”

He put his finger against your mouth, effectively shushing you as you weren’t used to his warm honey skin touching yours. “This picture isn’t for mom. It’s for us.” You could practically feel his whisper on your lips. His slender fingers brushed back a piece of your hair, slowly tucking it behind your red ears. “Wow, your ears are so red,” he whispered, letting his palm completely cup your face.

Before you could ask what he was doing, his lips pushed onto yours. His metal rings burned your hot skin as they slid past your face and he cradled your neck, pushing your lips deeper into his. It was feverish. Deliciously so.

Words couldn’t describe your feelings. It felt like a dream -- a dream you’ve had since you were eight. His honey-sweet lips on yours, stealing your first kiss. One hand moving from your neck to resting beside your leg as he leans in to caress you with his kiss. His warm breath fanning against your lips, you breathing in his scent that wafted off his clothes in the cold moonlit night. It was beautiful. It was saccharine. It was like candy.

It was addicting.

Then the camera flashed. And you awoke out of your dreamlike state as he parted from you, not noticing as you trailed after him, wiping your mouth as a thin string of spit connected you both. He didn’t look at you as it came out of the camera, he simply gently shook the picture and stared as it developed, sucking on his bottom lip in impatience. Once it did, you managed to catch a look; and it was ethereal. The light captured your red ears and softly interlocked lips, and Donghyuck’s collarbones, somehow, caught the camera light. His cheeks were red, and so were his ears, but they were so faint you’d have to squint.

“Donghyuck --” You started, eyes shimmering as you turned towards him, about to ask him about the sweet kiss. There was a pool of hope growing in your stomach, bubbling like boiling sugar -- but it all drained as you saw his expression. Indifference. He looked at you like he always did, and his red flush was gone, the only evidence of your doings left on his lips as they swelled. The magical atmosphere seemed to diminish in thin air, and suddenly the cold was very apparent again. The wind picked up.

“It looks too blurry...but it’ll do.” With that, he half-shrugged and pocketed the picture, ignoring your shocked eyes as a corner of the picture began to dog-ear from being nonchalantly shoved into his jeans.

“I’m going to get some more vodka, I’m not drunk enough.” And he got up and left, just like that. No explanation. Nothing. But you didn’t need his words to understand that he didn’t mean the kiss like you wanted him to mean it. You just didn’t know what he meant by it.

Not knowing his exact reason was what acted as bait, your heart was getting tugged by his hook. You were still ensnared by this glowing boy.

Even with the tears welling in your eyes and your heart pounding painfully against your ribcage, you still smiled. It was a painful smile, but it was a smile.

Donghyuck had kissed you. You. That had to mean something, hadn’t it? You pocketed that shred of hope, holding it close to your heart as tears fell from your eyes. They were happy tears. They had to be. The love of your life had just kissed you, no one else. You.

Your tears seemed to shimmer in the patio light: they were a golden color as they rolled down your face and off your chin. They fell into a grass blade beneath you and caused a blade of yellowing grass to droop.

You thought it was beautiful.

He gave the picture back to you the following Monday, ignoring your questioning state and simply stating that ‘He didn’t need it anymore’. You were about to ask him what he meant by that but his friend, Jaemin you remembered, grumpily waved him over from across the hall. You were too overjoyed by having the picture in your grasp to remind yourself to ask again. You two never did talk about that kiss, though, or about the pitiful gaze Jaemin gave you as Haechan walked towards him.

///

Donghyuck was not the type to ‘like’ anyone.

It wasn’t that he thought he was too cool to do so, it wasn’t that he thought there was no one good enough for him, it wasn’t even that he was afraid of the love of his life falling for someone else. That’s not what he was afraid of.

He was afraid of the sunspots, the imperfections of himself. He was afraid of being open about his insecurities. He was afraid of someone not seeing him for who he was, but at the same time, all he wanted people to see was his perfection. People thought he was good-looking anyway, why let that all be ruined by his emotional trauma?

So when he turned eighteen and he started to look at your long lashes casting shadows on your face, and those luscious lips glistening from your tongue in a whole new light, he was scared. He didn’t like you, no, no, no. Surely not. You were just getting pretty, that was all. Your eyes were just getting bigger, that’s why it was so easy for him to get lost in them. Your body temperature must’ve been getting higher, that’s why the casual brush of your skin against his was burning him. You were just...changing. So was he, that was all. Man, was he going through puberty late, or what? All these unfamiliar emotions annoyed him. They made his nostrils flare; because for once, he wasn’t in control of his own emotions.

Not that it mattered too much, anyway. He wasn’t in love with you -- that was for sure. Love was much too strong of a word. He couldn’t -- not with all the things he’s done to you in the past, at least.

(That’s what he told himself.)

///

When you were eighteen, around Christmas time, Donghyuck asked you to spend the night at his house for the first time. Yeah, you’ve been to his house before, but you’ve never stayed the night. He’s probably seen your room more times than you’ve seen his parents, both of them, combined. But now that you were half a year away from graduation, you weren’t as focused on having fun. Surprising yourself, you’d called a raincheck on the past three flower crown sessions.

And even more surprising, he turned up to your doorstep on Friday at eight at night asking you to stay the night at his house, a red glow to his face. Without thinking, you nodded and quickly grabbed your things before leaving your mom a note and rushing out your door to his house.

“Why’re you inviting me over, anyway? I’ve known you for ten years and you’ve never asked me to do this.” You were closing the door to his house behind you, making sure it didn’t slam shut. “Oh, please,” he threw his hat on a coat hanger, “I’ve seen your place plenty of times.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never spent the night at yours. This is like a level up in friendship.”

He sneered, “Never say that again. God.” You rolled your eyes, muttering a playful ‘whatever’ as you bumped his shoulder walking past him into the kitchen. He faced the marble counters in an attempt to hide his smile, but you could see the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

He dug through the cabinets, grabbing out ingredients to make pancakes -- or at least, that’s what it looked like -- and you were left to trail your eyes over his broad shoulders. His smooth skin disappeared underneath his graphic t-shirt that lifted up to reveal the pastier skin of his hip whenever he reached up. This boy had you entranced, and you loved it.

He hummed a tune that was barely audible over the clamor of the metal pots and pans he took out, but your keen ear could tell his voice was just as beautiful as it was as an awkward middle school choir boy, probably even better.

The silence was broken by him clearing his throat, “Neither of my parents will be home for the weekend. And...I felt alone so...” he shrugged, “I wanted someone over. And, you’re the closest, so...”

You could tell his face was red without even looking at him. You bit your lip, hiding your smile. You moved from his island to right behind him, peering over his shoulder. Summoning all the courage in your nervous body, you rested your chin on his shoulder by standing on your tippy-toes.

Donghyuck stopped, his shoulder stiffening as he looked down at you with wide doe-like eyes.

It was his turn to admire you. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, you were the most beautiful you’ve ever been. With your dimples and rosy cheeks, crescent eyes -- all of it. You were cute, he couldn’t lie. And he couldn’t lie about his shock and loneliness from not seeing you for three weeks. Normally it was you sending him longing looks in the hallway, but this time around it was him watching your joyous figure hop around in festive spirit.

The one thing he noticed most of all, was the fact that you were on the balls of your feet to reach his shoulder. He beamed at you, shaking his head playfully before ducking down to, ‘be at your inferior level’. You laughed, shoving him away from you. His melodious laugh rang out, making your mind spin. Even his laugh was priceless.

The hours passed by as you both ate your chocolate pancakes and watched countless movies from your childhood. Donghyuck was never particularly touchy with you, but this time his arm fell into place behind your neck and his legs were pressed against yours. You could feel his warmth through his black fuzzy sweats. If he couldn’t see your red ears, you’d be shocked.

“Can we go to bed now? I’m tired of watching these lame chick-flicks.” The yawning boy complained, stretching out his limbs and pushing the coffee table with his feet in the process. “Oh, please, you act like you didn’t cry for the whole movie.” You retorted, flicking him on the forehead before getting up yourself, reaching your arms to the popcorn ceilings, stretching.

Donghyuck watched your pajama shirt ride up your sides, your smooth skin breaching his sight. The boy couldn’t help but rub the shell of his ear in embarrassment: since when did he get so flustered over a little piece of skin? He’s kissed you before for god’s sake.

He’s kissed you. The kiss that he thought about over and over again these past few months, even though it’s been two whole years since the kiss. For some reason, he’d dream of your shimmering eyes and moist lips. He smiled to himself when he could tell that you didn’t drink any alcohol that night; you didn’t taste like rum. Donghyuck was sure he did, though.

As you turned off the TV and took the popcorn bowl to the kitchen, he pondered about what had changed about you to elicit such a shift in his own heart. Was it because you were no longer awkward around him? Was it because your eyes focused on your work, even when he sat next to you? Was it because you no longer looked at him like he was the most important thing in your life? Or, Donghyuck shuddered at the thought, maybe I like her now. That was a thought he scrapped immediately. There was nothing special about you. You may have been in love with him, but it was not the other way around.

“Hyuck, what’re you waiting for? Let’s go to your room. Oh, and can you help me set up the air mattress?” You bounded up his carpeted stairs as you called out, knocking him out of his trance. “Oh, wait!” He yelled, switching off the lights in the living room quickly before copying your earlier actions. At the top of the stairs, you were rummaging through his linen closet, muttering about the dust. “Y/n, I said wait.” “Why? I want to get it set up now so I don’t have to do it when I’m tired.”

“Because we’re going to sleep together? Like I did when I slept over at your house?” The blood in your body must’ve all simultaneously stopped flowing because your fingers went cold and you became rigid. “W-What? Donghyuck, we’re not eight anymore. We’re eighteen.” But the aforementioned boy didn’t pay attention to your words as he plopped onto his bed, mocking you. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m eighteen seconds from forcing you to sleep on the ground if you don’t climb in here right now.” His sass covered up his pounding heart.

One glance at his side profile, and you were convinced. You slid into the blanket that was he cuddled in, wincing every time your skin brushed his. He had to have noticed your awkwardness.

But, if he did, he didn’t say anything. It was quiet. His room was dimly lit and the moon danced outside the window as the cicadas hummed their enchanting tunes. It was official, you noticed, Donghyuck was out of his prime time. It was no longer a golden honey paste painted across the skies, but instead a cool dark-toned black and blue painting, splotches of white catching your attention. Despite the change of environment, you had never felt more tranquil than laying next to the love of your life.

Donghyuck was freaking out. He hoped you couldn’t hear the songs his heart was singing. He hated it. He hated this feeling. He didn’t want to feel this way for you. He didn’t want to love you. Love meant vulnerability. It meant communication and working things out when they got hard. It meant being honest with your flaws.

After a few more minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, you reached behind you and turned off your light, ready to sleep. But at that moment, Donghyuck opened his mouth. Internally, he cursed himself. Was it the haze of sleepiness the moon cast over him that caused his heart to feel so pliable? He’d think about it later because right now he was finally letting go. Finally being himself.

“You know, I hate the moon?” The piece of information was familiar to you, so you nodded, hoping he could tell through his closed eyes. All of a sudden. he looked up, his eyes staring straight at yours like gorgeous ebony daggers. How ironic that he hated night, when his eyes looked like all the stars were twinkling within them. “Do you know why I hate it?” You kept silent, the look in your eyes urging him on.

He turned back onto his back, staring up at his empty ceiling. He loathes this vulnerable and open feeling. Why was he talking to you right now? Why were you scooting closer and placing your head on his chest? Why was he allowing it? Why does he like it? “The moon is really barren. It’s just a gray surface littered with scars. Looking at it, I feel sick. The moon is... it’s vulnerable. If an asteroid crashes on the moon, it leaves a scar on the surface forever. It can never be healed or erased, even with time. But,” You heard him swallow, “The sun isn’t like that. The sun,” He sounded in awe, his indifferent and even disgusted voice he had when talking about the moon dissipating into wonder. “is strong. Nothing can hurt the sun. It commands attention and even mocks you as it does so because you can’t stare directly at it. You can’t get to close without getting hurt. It’s protecting itself.” His eyes were glimmering, and you couldn’t help but listen and stare.

“If an asteroid hit the sun; it wouldn't make a dent. The sun would just swallow it -- unbothered. Plus, the sun is so beautiful. It’s a marble of strength with reds, yellows, and oranges dancing only for the sun. The explosions put on little shows for the sun’s eyes only.” He stops talking for a minute, seemingly collecting his thoughts.

“The sun is like honey. It captures you; it captivates you. Once it has you in its grasp, you can never leave. It’s,” A smile broke out onto his face, one you had never seen before in all your years of knowing the boy. “enchanting. I want to be just like the sun.”

You didn’t say anything after that, because he dozed off. Little breaths left his mouth, and you laid there, thinking. If there was any Lee Donghyuck that you were in love with, it was the perfect golden sun version he described. Not the gloomy barren one who barely gave you glanced in the hallways in school.

Maybe the sun was better than the moon. The moon has so many imperfections; the sun is perfect. It’s warm and inviting. Donghyuck is just like the sun. He’s perfect.

He’s perfect. Was all you thought as you drifted off into dreamland yourself, satisfied with your conclusion that there was no imperfection on Donghyuck’s existence. You wouldn’t accept otherwise. It didn’t make sense otherwise.

(Could you not see his sunspots, Y/n? Because you’re about to.)

///

DOnghyuck had stopped talking to you the second you stepped out of the doorway to his house. That morning had been sweet, he told you good morning in a quiet voice and made you pancakes with cinnamon in them, he knew they were your favorite.

Your heart had pounded the whole weekend, anticipating Monday. Would he walk with you to school? Maybe even wait for you after school? Would he finally introduce you to his friend group? You didn’t know, but your smile was etched onto your face like plaster. Saturday was canceled, though, because he had to pick his parents up from the airport, but that was okay. You’d get to see him Monday.

And when the morning came, he wasn’t home. Apparently, he left early for the club, his mom had told you. You nodded and frowned at her words, turning on your heels and walking to school with a slightly downtrodden face. You still have the afternoon! Don’t worry! The angel in the back of your head assured you, replacing that frown with a toothy grin before you entered your classroom doors.

Yet, here was the end of the day, and here you were at your locker, taking books out to bring home with you, sighing. You hadn’t seen him at all. Maybe he was just slipping your slight, but a scary feeling in your stomach rose. Was he avoiding you?

“Hey, Y/n.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you turned around, “Jaemin, you scared me.” A chuckle left the boy's lips, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just wanted to say hi.” You closed your locker, turning your body to fully face him. “Sure you did; nice to see you again, Jaemin. Is there something you need?”

The pretty boy’s brows furrowed, “Ah, yes, actually. Um, did you say something to Haechan recently? He’s been acting weird all day.”

“He’s here today! I didn’t see him at all! Is he okay? The last time I saw him was Saturday morning when I left his house.” Jaemin’s face looked shocked, “I stayed over for a sleepover, nothing else.” You laughed, shaking your head at the boy. “O-Oh, I knew that.” He tried.

“I just thought you said something to him because he’s had a dazed look in his eyes all day. His responses in the group chat are really dry, too.” You pursed your lips, “He doesn’t text me, so I don’t know what you’re talking about. He was fine when I left Saturday morning.”

“Alright then. Anyway, I was wondering if--”

“Hey, Y/n. Jaemin?” The voice that melted your heart for ten years appeared beside you, scaring the daylights out of Jaemin, who clutched his heart before sighing out loud. “Dude, you could’ve said something.”

“I did, though?” Donghyuck smirked, one hand gripping the straps of his backpack before looking at you.

“Y/n.”

“Hyuck.” You both spoke at the same time, Haechan’s eyes glimmered, and he ushered you to speak first, something he’d never done before. “Donghyuck,” your eyes traced his subtle features, landing back at his eyes. “What you said on Friday...you’re like the sun, you really are. Honey-like skin and all. You’re perfect, Donghyuck. ”

Donghyuck swore that his blood stopped flowing in his body. He felt his smile fall and his facial muscles tense, his fingers tightened around his bag before he scoffed, blinking a few times to make sure he was processing your words properly. You thought he was perfect? Did you not even listen to him on Friday?

One look back at your shining eyes, he knew the answer. You didn’t. Of fucking course, you didn’t. How could he ever expect you to understand him when all you’ve proven is that you’re blindly and stupidly in love with him? How could you understand him when he never let down his walls for you? Hell, even when he did, you never understood.

“You're pathetic.” The unfamiliarly venomous words leave his mouth before he can think them over in his head. You blink back in shock, confused. Hurt. “Excuse me? W-What?”

“I said -- you’re pathetic. You must be a fucking mole rat to be that blind. You don’t know shit about me.” His insults kept spilling out of his mouth, both you and Jaemin sitting there shocked. When he was finally done, you were still standing there, in front of your locker, processing his hurtful words.

What the hell? You were mad. Scratch that, you were livid. You had been by his side for so long, yet he had the nerve to call you pathetic? But you were so confused too because he had spilled his guts to you on Friday. He had called you his best friend, he had made flower crowns with you for almost every Saturday for the past decade. He had kissed you. He had fucking kissed you.

Your state of mind was still frozen, but you managed a few words to get out while you dwelled on his hatred. Your gaze was still trained on the ground, unfocused and blurry. “Why did you kiss me, Donghyuck?” Donghyuck thought your voice sounded strangely calm, but one look at your face and he knew what was going on in your head was anything but.

Glazed-over wet eyes, a tense jaw, red cheeks (from embarrassment and hurt, he guessed), erratic breathing, nervously fingering the straps on your bag. You weren’t calm. Were you hurt? Shocked? Pensive, rethinking every moment you’ve ever known him? Donghyuck didn’t know what effect his words had on you this time. Part of him wanted to break out into a blinding smile and tell you he was joking, and then go back to never talking to you again. Cancel the Saturdays. Move out of the house. Move to another country. Another continent. Pretend like he never knew you. His words hurt you, yes, he knew that much, but your words dug into his heart like the daggers dragging on a stone wall, forever etching a scar.

Why did Donghyuck kiss you? The answer was simple in your mind -- he had been drunk that day. He had been drinking vodka, anyway, he had reeked of illegal drinking. But drunk actions were truthful thoughts, you believed. So you held onto that frayed string of hope, clutching on for dear life, praying -- that he liked you like you loved him.

Why did Donghyuck kiss you? The answer was complicated in his mind -- he had never loved you before. Hell, he had never loved anyone before. He just wanted to kiss you to win a bet and, like the stupid highschool boy he was, he did just that. Stole your first kiss. At some point after that, probably when you stopped spending as much time with him, he realized that you had left a mark on his heart. He hated it; he hated the thought of liking you. But absence had made his heart grow fonder. A year and a half after the kiss, he was ‘in like’ with you, maybe even in love. He spilled his guts to you that Friday night, hoping you’d get him. Hoping you’d nurse his wounds, his scars of insecurity. Hoping that you’d accept him, moon and all. He held onto that frayed string of hope, clutching on for dear life, praying - that you’d get him like he hoped you did.

But alas, even after a decade of golden Saturdays spent together, you didn’t get him like he had hoped. And he didn’t like you the way you loved him. Then again, he never really let you in to meet the real him. But you never really knocked on the door to his heart either.

He didn’t know how to respond. But one look at the stance Jaemin was taking -- crossing his arms with raised brows behind you, your own tears pooling at your waterline -- he decided.

He decided anger. “God, I don’t know! Can you stop asking me such dumb questions? I was just curious Y/n! God, fuck! I don’t know!” Donghyuck ruffled his hair, irritated.

“Haechan,” Jamin’s nostrils flared, breath hot with hatred, “you know. You know, Haechan.” Your eyes darted over to Jaemin, dazed, then back to Donghyuck, weary. “Fine!” He exasperated, “there was a bet that I couldn’t kiss a random girl at the party. No one knew that I knew you, so I asked you to come with. I was drunk, okay. I- I wasn’t thinking straight.” The truth scraped his tongue on the way out; he felt guilty, taking your first kiss, taking a picture for proof, and then acting like nothing ever happened. He was sure he had broken your heart then. But he didn’t care at that time.

“Some random girl? You--” You paused, a painful and breathy laugh leaving your mouth, “You’ve never thought of me as anything more than a freak, have you Donghyuck? I was your embarrassment, wasn’t I? I was your dirty little secret you used for your fucking insecurities, wasn’t I?” The words attacked Donghyuck, and he hated it. He hated them because they were true.

“You’re overreacting! It was just a kiss!” He yelled, trying to defend what was left of his shriveling dignity. The devil on his shoulder urged him on -- that you really were overreacting. That you should’ve never fallen in love with him in the first place; that it was all your fault for not understanding him.

“It wasn’t just a kiss Donghyuck! I’ve loved you for years! Can’t you tell?” Salty tears dripped down your face, leaving cold tracks of water in their wake. The boy in front of you clenched his fists. “Actually, don’t answer that. You knew. You just used me. You always kept just enough hope to keep me going. Just enough. Well, Haechan. Fuck you, hope you’ve got what you’ve wanted.” The name his other friends called him felt weird coming from you, and he visibly winced at the way you spat out a distant name. There was a swell of pride deep in your soul, that he was getting a taste of his own medicine.

“YOU CAN’T JUST BLAME ME! You never tried to understand me either! I was just a perfect boy with no flaws to you! Do you know how that feels?” No, you didn’t. He was right in that sense. You had never really noticed his flaws, he was a blurred photo to you. He was beautifully perfect in the still moment, but in real life, he was just like any other person. You had to admit, your obsession with his love had blinded you. And that wasn’t fair to him.

But neither was leading you on for years.

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU LEAD SOMEONE ON FOR A DECADE!” Silence fell over you two, Jaemin shifting in discomfort behind you. You’d forgotten he was there.

“I--” He started to yell, stopping. “But I liked you too.” He thought to himself, digging his nails in his palm to stop the words. “I don’t get you.” Calmly, he fixed his bag on his shoulder, turning to leave. His feet kept going. One. Two. One. Two. Walk straight ahead, don’t look back.

He heard you scoff behind him, “Likewise, you bastard.”

The sun, look at it. Be like the sun, consume what hurts you, and move on. Donghyuck gulped, your words exploding against his heart like sun flares blazing against the surface of the star. Tears finally fell on his honey face. Donghyuck was sweaty, hot, and emotional. He felt sticky, he felt disgusting. He just wanted to get home and take a shower, wash off the memories of the decade he had known you. Watch them whirl around the drain, never to be seen again. He wanted to forget ever knowing you.

///

Months had passed, the school year ended, giving way to summer. Graduation went smoother than expected. You walked the stage with confidence, you personalized cap and gown making people marvel. There was a moon on your hat, and on your heart. You had always preferred the moon to the sun, anyway.

Saturdays took a while to get used to. It was lonely for a while. That was, until Jaemin had invited you to hang out. You had thought about declining, but in a moment of disregard for your moping self, you had accepted. You asked if he was still friends with Haechan, and he smiled.

“Yeah, it’s a little tense though. But it’ll make you happy to know that he’s changing for the better.” It did make you happy. Bitterly so, though, because it took breaking your heart for a decade to teach him a lesson.

Then, later, you declined Jaemin’s date. He was bouncing his knee, timidly asking to take you out, and not as friends. You bit your lip, apologizing, you weren’t ready. He understood. He walked you home, and you gave him a smile in return.

///

Walking into your room, you sighed. You had spent little time in your room since your fight with Haechan, everything reminded you of him in here. Most of your time spent was in the living room, lounging on the couch, working on college applications at the dining table.

You glanced at the boxes in the corner of your room, they were begging you to hurry and pack up your things for college next week. You decided to listen to them and not procrastinate, picking a box up and opening your drawers, folding clothes neatly in the small space.

Daylight was shifting into a golden spray, your room turning hues of orange and yellow. Suddenly, the barrenness of your room became apparent. The clutter was less now, and few things caught your eye.

One of the things was the glass-framed milkweed flower crown hanging across from your bed. You sighed, it slipped your mind that milkweed was poisonous.

Your heart squeezed as you stood on your bed to take it down, holding it in your hands for a few seconds, admiring how the plant was still clinging onto green when it hadn’t touched water in years. Softly, you threw the flower on your bed. Taping up the last of the boxes you were taking with you, you picked up one last small box.

///

“Tell me if you need anything, sweetie!” Your mom called out, she had always been jolly. Donghyuck loved your family. He loved how blissfully unaware they were of your and his relationship, or friendship, if you could call it that anymore. Donghyuck felt strange standing in your empty room. Apparently, you had left that morning for college, wanting to drive on your own. Your parents were going to meet you up there with the rest of your stuff.

Donghyuck had visited your house under the disguise that he had left something in your room that he was wanting to take to college with him. There wasn’t, he just wanted to see your room (and possibly, you) one last time before he left. Disappointment had flushed through him when he was told you were gone already, but there was also relief. What would he have said to you, anyway? Sorry? That was like putting a bandaid on a gaping wound.

It felt like it was missing something. He took notice of the missing frame that used to hang above your bed. He huffed, not focusing on the pinch his heart was experiencing. His gaze landed on a brown box that sat on your sheet-less bed. Curiosity got the best of him, and he made his way towards the middle of the room. His hand hesitated before taking the lid off the box.

Donghyuck saw the hoodie he gave you that one day when you were eleven when you started to cry about him asking you to go home early because his friends were coming over. He had given you the hoodie to stop your loud ugly sobbing, and to keep the other boy’s attention from seeing the evidence of you and him making flower crowns.

Donghyuck saw the polaroid of you and him kissing during on that cold night that one day when you were sixteen. He could make out the smile behind the kiss and his red ears that blended into the monochromatic red and orange splotches, though it could've been easily mistaken for a drunken hue.

Donghyuck saw the glass frame with the flower crown he gave you that one day ten years ago. His heart tightened before bursting with emotions he didn’t know he had. Regret. Sorrow. Desperation.

Finally, his gaze landed on an orange sticky note stuck to the very bottom of the box with messy words scribbled onto it that read, ‘golden hour doesn’t last forever.’ His tears fell onto the glass frame, the wetness slowly slipping off the edge of the clear crystal like honey and onto the dusty and scuffed wooden floors.

’Why am I crying?’ He thought. He fiddled with the glass frame one last time before rushing out the memory-filled house. Dashing back into his own abode, he ignored the corner of his yard that stared back at him like a bitter ex-lover. It was overgrown now, having not been touched for months. Green vines growing onto the white table you two used to sit at, the milkweeds prospering in the dingy corner that was always a few degrees cooler than the rest of the grassy yard.

Oh Donghyuck, it’s because you loved her.

///

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