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shelbeetaylor · 4 months ago

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Chapter Fourteen | One Dagger, Two Endings

-> story masterpost

-> previous chapter

Waking was once again a blessing for Cassandra. All she could see that night was the same dream repeating itself over and over as her body was under the influence of Galen’s sleeping draught. That horrid invention kept her trapped in that nightmare, and she would be grateful for the day it would stop. For now, however, she was haunted by the images flashing in her mind as she prepared for the ceremony at midday.

Cassandra found herself staring absentmindedly out one of her windows, her gaze falling upon the palace courtyard below. It was flooded with people– knights in armor, locals making their delivery rounds, and workers carrying baskets upon baskets of pink flowers. She had nearly forgotten amidst the chaos… the welcoming feast for Evie was to happen that night.

As she watched the workers move about all the decorations, Cassandra wondered if the feast was even going to happen. Of course, it would… if all went well. If it didn’t, well, everyone in the courtyard would have worked towards nothing. The castle would revert to being devoid of color, as had become its constant state in the recent weeks. In fact, there were only two ways that Cassandra's awful nightmares would end. The first would be after Theo and them successfully thwarted the assassins’ plans, and the entire situation would be avoided. The second… Unfortunately, the second would end with a knife in her mother’s heart.

“Good morning, my lady,” Gena greeted as she entered, pulling Cassandra out of her thoughts. “I trust you slept well?”

“Yes,” Cassandra replied, still staring out of the window. “Unfortunately, I did.”

Gena made a face at the princess as she began making the bed. “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s good that Galen is fixing your sleeping schedule. You were making yourself sick.”

“Genevieve, you will never know what it is like to have my nightmares,” Cassandra said gravely, turning away from the window and towards the maid. “If you did, you would not so quickly side with Galen and his horrid inventions.”

The maid came to almost a full stop, silence plaguing her lips for a moment. “Are they really that horrible?”

Cassandra gave the floor a small smile. “I have seen things no one ever should, and most times I am utterly helpless to stop them.”

“This time will be different,” the maid said. “It has to be.”

“Perhaps it’s not. Perhaps the reign of my mother is truly destined to end today.” Cassandra then looked at Gena with a sick, twisted half-grin. “Perhaps I am to be queen today.”

Gena seemed a bit frightened, yet she stood firm. “I believe in us. I think we can do it.” Cassandra nodded quietly in response, and Gena finished making the bed. “Do you have a black dress in mind for today, or shall I rummage through them myself?”

Cassandra's lips parted at the thought. “Actually, I believe a new color is in order.”

Evie sat at the table in silence as Teddy finished dressing behind his changing screen. She just listened to the rustling coming from behind the screen, tracing the designs in the piece of wood with her fingers.

“Have you had any fighting experience?” Teddy asked.

“No.”

Teddy popped his head around the screen. “None? Ever?”

Evie shook her head.

“Have you ever confronted assassins before?”

“Nope.”

Teddy stepped fully out from the screen and grabbed his scabbard belt to wrap around his waist. “H… have you ever sabotaged a plan… or anything of the like?”

“Not at all.”

Teddy sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I can’t–” Another sigh. “I’m not giving you a weapon if you’ve no fighting experience.”

“I’d rather not have one anyways,” Evie shrugged.

“You know this is dangerous, yes?”

Evie raised her eyebrows. “I figured that out on my own. And besides, you don’t need a weapon to help.”

“It’s quite nice when you do, though.”

“I am perfectly fine doing what I can without a weapon, even if it does end up being just moral support.”

Teddy sheathed his sword and began pocketing a couple extra weapons, like several daggers hidden in several different places. “What are you even doing here anyways?”

“If I’m being honest, I thought this was going to be like my books,” she replied. “A thrilling adventure to tell tales of. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a part of me that’s excited to be included, but it’s different now. There’s stakes– real ones– and I can’t lose anymore family.”

Teddy opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but he was interrupted by his chamber door opening. Gena popped around the door, dressed in a new outfit Evie had never seen before. It seemed more battle appropriate, what with the pants and the vest. She even had a scabbard belt, though Evie assumed she was borrowing Cassie’s.

“Civarn and I are ready when you are,” she announced.

Teddy nodded and said, “We’ll meet you in the council room in a few moments.”

Gena bowed her head quickly and retreated behind the door. Evie looked back to the knight, who was doing a quick sweep of his weapons before getting ready to set off. When Teddy was satisfied with the results, he leaned down to Evie's level.

“Are you ready?”

Evie nodded in response.

“Don’t worry,” Teddy told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be losing any more family today.”

Evie gave a small smile, then joined Teddy in standing and waltzed towards the door. Just as she crossed the threshold, however, she felt a force push her to the side. She stumbled for a moment, but quickly recovered and looked to see what the cause was. Awkwardly standing over her was a boy who looked like he was attempting to catch her. Her eyes met his, fire and hazel swirling in his irises, and he backed away after realizing she was okay.

“My apologies!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his spiky cinnamon brown hair. “Won’t happen again!”

Evie was so close to saying something, but the boy ran off before she could get a word in.

The knock on Cassandra's door echoed through her chambers. Gena had left not too long ago, dressed in her usual battle attire and carrying Cassandra's sword, so no one was there to answer. Cassandra simply kept adjusting her waves in the mirror and called, “Enter!”

Cassandra continued fidgeting with her hair and moved onto picking out jewelry for the ceremony, but she realized halfway through putting in her necklace that it was still silent. She had heard the door open, a couple footsteps, and the door close, but nothing else. Cassandra turned towards the door to find Enoch Starvale standing awkwardly, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Cassandra looked him up and down quickly

“What the fuck do you want?” The question came out as more of a statement.

Enoch quietly gulped, yet kept up his usual charismatic poker face reasonably well, “I was assigned to be your personal guard for the ceremony.”

Cassandra gave a slow nod as her lips pursed. “How convenient.”

The knight continued playing with his charade, this time the strength of it renewed. “Extremely convenient, indeed. I get to spend the whole day alongside a beautiful woman, protecting her.”

“I don’t need you padding after me like a lost puppy dog,” she replied, returning to her vanity. The remark was too sharp, too hostile to be their usual playful banter.

Enoch carried on, though. He smiled his ridiculous little smile and kept going. “I know. The great Cassandra, never needing a man to make sure she’s okay–”

“I am FINE!” Cassandra snapped, her shouting echoing through the empty room and the bracelet she accidentally threw clattering against the stone floor. “Why does everyone think I’m NOT?”

Enoch’s countenance fell immediately. The silence began to ring, only broken by Cassandra's breathing. Her teeth clenched in rage, she was prepared to show him a horrifying stare of death, but instead her jaw went slack and dropped at the sight of his brandy eyes and the melancholy in them.

Her mouth struggled to form words, and she looked away from him. “I…I apologize. That was out of line.”

“Cass–” Enoch immediately backtracked– “My lady…” Cassandra held out a hand to stop him from advancing, and he obeyed. “You don’t have to keep this up. You can be vulnerable. I’m your friend, just let me be there for you–”

“And what?” Cassandra smiled an awful smile, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m supposed to cry on your shoulder while you stroke my hair, then you give me a kiss after I’ve shown you how broken I really am? Is that what you want?” Enoch’s heart breaking in front of Cassandra wasn’t about to stop the words spilling out of her mouth. “I’m just supposed to show you every part of me so you can get the girl? Is that it? Well, it won’t happen. It’s not going to happen.”

Cassandra regained control of her face, setting it into the stare she intended for him earlier. The knight could only stutter incoherently.

“Leave me, and I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave,” she ordered.

He obeyed, bowing quickly before practically running out the door. Once it shut firmly behind him, Cassandra collapsed onto the vanity bench, her breathing a bit labored. Something rolled down her cheek, and in the mirror she saw a tear escape her eye. She wiped it away immediately, making sure there wasn’t another to follow it, and resumed her final preparations for the ceremony.

Evie and Teddy were the last to arrive in the council room. It was strange to see such a usually busy place completely empty. There wasn’t even a guard in sight. Perfect for them, however. It was nice and secluded and quiet. Fantastic for conspiring, or so Evie had been led to believe by her books.

“The ceremony should be starting soon,”Gena declared.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Teddy asked. He received nods and verbal responses from everyone. “Great, let’s get into position. Civarn?”

Teddy’s manservant nodded and gave his luck to Gena and Terran before leading Teddy and Evie into the hallways. Teddy had warned her on the way to the council room that she needed to be silent the entire time during this mission. She intended on following all of his orders. This plan was not going to fail because of her, so she didn’t speak a word as they traveled through the maze of hallways. There was only the quiet sounds of Teddy and Civarn’s chainmail rustling and the muffled footsteps of the trio to keep her mind busy.

By the time her sense of direction was completely lost, Civarn slowed to a stop and whispered, “Just up ahead is the staircase that leads to the balcony.” He pointed to the adjacent hallway. “That hall is a straight shot to the main staircase, should you need us in an emergency.”

Teddy clapped him on the back and in the same hushed voice said, “Look at that. Not completely useless after all.”

Civarn gave his master a little smile and replied, “I’ll see you in a little while.”

“See you then.”

The walk to the great hall was a silent one, but Cassandra just focused on the clicking of her heels rather than the lack of conversation. Enoch hid his feelings well, keeping a solemn, straight face and his eyes focused on the path ahead. She did the same, except hers manifested in one of her usual terrifying stares that warded off interaction with other people. Cassandra was so focused on appearing unbothered that she didn’t prepare for what would happen when they turned the corner.

Waiting outside the doors to the great hall was Cassandra's mother, looking a tad irritated. Cassandra sighed through her nose before continuing on to meet her mother. She kept listening to her heels against the stone floor until she saw her mother’s eyes widen a bit.

“Hello, mothe–”

“What,” her mother seethed, “are you wearing.”

Cassandra couldn’t help but look down at her dress. She was suddenly aware of every part of the white fabric touching her body. Even the gold detailing began to feel like needles piercing her skin. Cassandra pursed her lips as her dress began to suffocate her.

“Would you rather I have come in trousers?”

“I would rather you follow our traditions and remain in mourning.”

“Well, I’m not mourning anymore,” Cassandra replied.

Her mother opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the Valoran king. “My apologies for taking so long Ginevra.”

Her mother’s face shifted in a split second from horrifyingly angry to completely calm. “No worries, Guillame.”

The king nodded, then turned to Cassandra. “You look wonderful today, princess.”

Cassandra smiled a half-genuine smile– the other half was taking pride in the fact that Guillame’s comment made her mother’s eye twitch slightly– and replied, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Shall we begin?” her mother asked rather quickly. She didn’t bother waiting for an answer from either of them as she nodded to the guards. The muffled sound of horns came from behind the grand doors, and Cassandra felt the knight’s arm reluctantly loop through hers before the door swung open.

Time seemed to slow down as Cassandra caught a glimpse inside the hall. Like a sea parted in a far off legend, the council and local nobles stood awaiting the arrival of the princess and the rulers. Familiar faces stood, staring at her and Enoch with dispassionate expressions. Cassandra struggled to level her breath as she saw rays of sunlight falling onto the floor, displaying the patterns of the window panes on the wood floor. Before the knight and the princess was what felt like the longest walk of her life which led up to the fated podium where the Nevernian-Valoran Treaty lay.

As per the traditions of having an escort, Enoch was the one who initiated the walk. Cassandra followed his lead, concentrating more on keeping her face serene and stoic. It was so quiet in that giant room it took years for the sound of her heels to echo back to her. With every step, Cassandra's throat closed up more and more, her dress growing tighter and tighter, and her legs growing shakier and shakier. She caught Enoch glancing over at her, and he lightly squeezed her arm. Maybe he sensed her feelings, or maybe she wasn’t hiding it well. By the time Cassandra and Enoch reached the podium, Cassandra was forcing herself not to throw up as her heartbeat rose to her throat.

They turned at the base of the podium and moved to the left. Not too far behind them was the queen and the king. The crowd of people bowed their heads to the two rulers who gracefully floated across the floor. Cassandra took in a deep, audible breath watching her mother, and she felt another light pressure on her arm. Cassandra didn’t acknowledge the knight a second time, instead glancing up to the balcony at the back of the room. There was no ominous black mass, nor a mysterious figure looming over the crowd. It was empty.

Cassandra's mother and King Guillame stopped before the podium and turned to face the crowd of people. The queen began addressing the crowd, “We welcome you all to this momentous occasion. It is truly an honor to share this day with those we trust. As most of you are well aware, the plans for my daughter and King Guillame’s son to marry were shattered by the untimely death of Prince Henri.” Cassandra clenched her jaw a bit. “While we mourn his death and keep his memory in our hearts, we have faith that this treaty will honor the merge we wished to forge with our heirs’ union.”

Gena tried to quiet her breathing as much as possible. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her head she thought her eardrums would burst soon. What Cassandra had said that morning unsettled her, but she was not about to let that interfere with the mission.

Terran was next to her in this hiding spot of theirs. Unlike Civarn, the physician’s apprentice wore his usual shirt, scarf, and jacket rather than any sort of battle attire. Granted, he was being trained to heal rather than to fight, but after all the adventures they’d been on even Gena had acquired some pieces more fit for defending the kingdom than her normal dresses. He was barely even armed, just carrying a small dagger. She’d barely seen him wield the thing in all her years of knowing him. Again, she could attribute it to his studying to be a physician, but still… She just wasn’t quite sure how much help he’d be in a fight. Gena would much rather be the backup. Gods above, she wished Cassandra could’ve fought with them.

Terran was unnaturally silent. It shouldn’t have been right, but being undetectable was a certain skill of his. Gena tried copying everything he did in hopes that she could even semi-emulate his hiding abilities. She was not about to be spotted and end up the reason the plan failed.

Two sets of footsteps echoed down the barren hall.

Gena and Terran glanced at each other, and that was all the communication they needed. Both of them shifted ever so slightly so the incomers were within view. Gena initially made eye contact with Civarn, who hid across the hall for a more hidden escape. They held stares for a few seconds longer as the footsteps grew nearer. Gena's breath hitched, and two figures passed by and blocked her view of Civarn. They moved and looked like shadowy ghosts in the night, sans the audible footsteps– though their canter sounded almost exactly like the guards’.

Gena felt two taps on her arm, and she turned to see Terran still following the movements of the figures. That must’ve been his sign to warn Civarn. Gena popped her head back around to find Civarn wasn’t there. She let out a quiet exhale and returned to her hiding spot, hoping that Civarn would get there in time to warn Theo.

Evie heard the faintest footsteps a split second before Civarn appeared.

“They’re here,” he said, barely getting the words out before Teddy turned to the stairs and unsheathed his sword.

Cassandra's mother had been droning on about the little specific details in the treaty. Each territory change. Each law amendment. Each promise. It was getting exhausting to listen to, but it seemed that she was the only one struggling to focus.

“...and finally, the Forest of Raya shall be given over completely to Valoran,” the queen declared.

A small applause came from the crowd, and Cassandra feigned her best smile and clap. She could feel Enoch’s eyes glance her over at the lack of sound from her hands. She didn’t have the energy to muster up a wordless answer. She just wanted this to be over with.

King Guillame stepped forward as the short applause began dying down. He cleared his throat and began to announce, “There is one final, vital part of the treaty. One that with the signing of this document shall permanently bond the kingdoms of Nevernia and Valoran forever.”

It took so much energy to prevent each of her muscles from twisting her face into one of confusion. This was a bit grand for some territory and law agreements, wasn’t it?

“With my kingdom out of heirs and no way to produce more, Queen Ginevra and I decided it best to honor the union that never was. As of now, Crown Princess Cassandra Ravenwell of Nevernia is hereby the sole heir to the Valoran throne and Nevernia shall acquire all Valoran land upon my passing.”

Cassandra's jaw dropped. A thunderous applause echoed in the great hall. Her body went numb. The court was full of smiles. She was to inherit two kingdoms. She never wanted to throw up more in her life than she did in that moment.

Enoch gently put a hand on her shoulder to bring her back to reality. He must’ve seen her face, and him reading her face meant that the entire court could see her thoughts. Cassandra forced herself to take a breath, and steadied her features. She had to retain some semblance of dignity.

Gods, the rest of them better take care of the assassins.

Evie chased Teddy up the small, dark staircase, Civarn following closely behind. Teddy moved so fast in his heavy chainmail, faster than Evie thought possible, but she did her best to keep up with him, skipping as many steps as she could without tripping herself. When the staircase suddenly got bright again, Teddy ducked out of sight above her, and immediately the sound of clanging echoed down the staircase. Evie sprinted as fast as she could up the last few sets of stairs.

When the wall opened up to a bright light, Evie squinted for a moment, the view of Teddy blocking low and high strikes from a black-clothed figure coming into focus as her eyes adjusted to the light. The figure– one of the assassins, it must’ve been– struck again in the middle, but Teddy held his blow for a moment with his sword before pushing back against the man.

Below the fight was the entire Nevernian court, unaware of the battle going on above them as they proceeded with the treaty signing. Even Cassie was focused solely on the speeches being given by Auntie Ginny and the King of Valoran, her face full of confusion and a hint of something else that Evie couldn’t quite figure out.

The male assassin feigned a high attack, instead opting for a strike at the torso– but Teddy was not fooled. He easily blocked the assassin's swing, holding him there in an attempt to off-balance him the way he tried with Cassie a couple days ago. The assassin, however, pushed off Teddy before he had the chance to attempt any unbalancing tricks and began delivering blow after blow for Teddy to block.

Teddy attempted to strike back, lunging forward aggressively, but it was easily sidestepped and parried by the assassin. Teddy’s sword slid so far his crossguard almost collided with the assassin’s blade, and he began to fall into the assassin. The man shoved Teddy off with his bare hands, throwing the knight into the wall before ordering the other figure behind him in another language.

Evie didn’t even realize there was someone else on the balcony, she was so focused on staying out of the way of Teddy and the man. Civarn nor her had the chance to help out as the balcony was too small to sneak past the battle without being impaled.

Teddy blocked a low strike, then dealt a succession of his own– low, high, high, low– as fast as he could.

Evie watched the other figure raise her arm, a blade glinting in her hand.

Teddy shouted as he pushed the man backwards again, letting out a resounding, “No!”

Cassandra heard Theo’s shout echo across the great hall from the balcony. Everyone stopped and looked to the source– even her mother paused in the middle of her sentence to figure out what was going on.

On the balcony there were just shadows, figures backlit by another massive window of the great hall. Three figures were up there– no misshapen blob of darkness to be found. One shadow must’ve been Theo because two of them were fighting while the other–

The final shadow raised an arm, a sparkle shining in the sunlight.

It was happening.

It all was coming true.

The dagger soared through the air, spinning gracefully as a leaf would on an autumn day or a petal in the midst of spring.

Cassandra outstretched her arm, shrieking just as Theo did moments ago, not really knowing if her reaching would have an effect on the flying weapon.

Cassandra's chest and arm grew warm with energy for a split second.

The dagger continued on, striking the floor and skittering across the wooden boards as it missed its mark. Her mother’s eyes widen at the sight, King Guillame and several knights and guards drawing their swords in preparation to fend off another attempt on the queen’s life.

Then there was a loud cracking echoing around the hall. Cassandra's gaze shifted slowly from the still dagger on the floor to the window before her. Splintering cracks spread quickly throughout the great window, the glass’s reflection on the floor distorting on the floor as the damage infected the whole window.

And the glass masterpiece shattered, caving inwards with a horrible screech.

-> next chapter

2 notes · View notes

ltadoriyuujl · 1 month ago

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you already know the drill annotation time baby!

Did you stop guarding Katsuki because you’re the spy Enji thinks or because not even the red wing captain could follow you undetected?

this is so funny WHO does that lunatic think we're spying for? the kingdom whose prince has spent like a quarter of his life in Takoba? nothing in that head but air and anger

All week, you growl through the effort of fastening garters to a stocking. Another. All week he has followed you and all week you kept his attention off your prince. If Bakugou had just stayed away, if he’d just hated you properly. You lean back to inspect neatly laced boots– Alderan dancing knots– boots so delicate they couldn’t be made for actual dancing. What will he wear tonight? You force a hand through wild braids.

give it up for girls with weird ass attachment styles they make the world go round

A prized hunting dog. You will be beautiful for one night and you can no longer avoid your job; assassins love to hide at parties.

god there are few things i love more than a good dog metaphor. don't mind the blood on my teeth its not mine but its there for you. many such cases

Prince Natsuo doesn’t have the energy to be surprised by you. He is not fazed by your drawn weapon and doesn’t flinch in the dark, but he remembers your name, “Captain Y/n?”

extremely nonchalant for someone who almost caught a blade between the eyes natsuo you will always be famous

Your Alderan senses are dulling in this kingdom. Your ghost never sounded so nervous.

I’m sorry, Bakugou’s heartbroken voice parrots. Don’t cry. He pleads with his hands on your cheeks. You can’t change what you’ve done. Bakugou Katsuki can haunt you til death, but you don’t get to hide from him.

this story's ghost/wraith motif may be secondary to the ocean theme and the hot vs. cold Aldera/Takoba dichotomy but it is no less dear to me

You smooth your hands up your hips and rest both palms at your waist where Bakugou held you, bleeding, poisoned, his forehead slipping off your shoulders with sweat and the lurches of the horse. A ten minute ride from the edge of the forest to the city gates, it was only the sky watching such desperation.

such an intimate moment and they were still in the enemies phase. bkg and eyes really did write the textbook on hate that loves you and love that drives you to the pits of despair

You would have attended and served quietly, you would have dreamed of home if the flame in that last pretty candle wasn’t flickering in a clear and lonely shade of blue.

you cannot imagine the speed with which my heart dropped to my stomach. chills.

Your prince will fight to the death, you cannot let him. Your prince will die for his friends, you can’t bear to lose a single one. Send me instead, you beg. Me, wait for me.

i really dont even need to say anything its right there man

“Highness!” You shout into the blue before realizing the silence of the ballroom doesn’t come from death. One thousand pearls startle immediately at the beast and her raised sword. Gowns of lace, suits of glass, feathers, freckles, masks and tiny shoes, bells, fans, crystal flutes of pink champagne, and not a single person speaking over a hush. Two hundred eyes watch the Alderan dog prepare to fire again into a party.

No one speaks. There is no laughter, there is a single violin playing from a fifteen piece band– did you scare the trumpets too?– weeping a waltz for the dancers who crane away from their partners to watch what you might do.

this is such uniquely freaky imagery i can't describe it. like me and eyes were on the same page the whole time what kind of party makes zero noise. we have GOT to get out of this kingdom man

The prince of Aldera climbs trees in the summer to reach the best apples. He likes to bathe at night. He is slightly shorter than his mother in her favorite boots and it bothers him, but never enough to say anything. His fingertips sparked when he kissed you.

MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN

“Won’t,” he rumbles, “won’t let you look crazy alone.” Prince Bakugou Katsuki steadies his palm just behind your waist and draws you onto the dancefloor, hand in hand. He is more than beautiful. Polished boots, white suit and golden embroidery– each button in his vest is flanked by a small Alderan sun. Dragons prowl along the hem. His red cape you thought lost, rocks you with homesick.

MY MAN PT 2 he's just so gorgeous it makes me ill

You, his war criminal.

They also invented matching each other's freak.

“The candles are blue at the queen’s request,” he rumbles, sacrificing posture to watch you properly, to correct you. “That must…I, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have let them.”

crazy place. intolerable place. rei my darling i love you dearly but my god.

“Mind your ears, dragonne.”

with every new epithet and moniker he adds one diamond to the wedding ring. the royal coffers are almost empty Aldera is going to go into a recession

Kirishima towers over your prince and barks with laughter trying to get the man to spin under his arm.

I know this is bkg's story i know i knowww but the soft spot i have for kirishima can't be ignored he is so big and so full of love and one day im going to marry him

Peruro is a game and so when Sero Hanta and his cheeks tattooed with lipstick kisses, plucks you from your partner, Mina can hardly complain.

i imagined a cartoon style lip stick mark right in the middle of his forehead and i laughed for like 5 minutes

“Red suits you, dragonne!” Bakugou roars and you land square in his arms to the coo of a shepherd's pipe. You blink and his, him, he– he stares.

mhm mhm he's planning wedding colors

“Y/n, ’m sorry.” You fight yourself not to fight the closeness. It’s rotten work. Your gown matches his suit perfectly and pressed together you spin in the chaos and climax of a beautiful song.

its right there pt 2

A tall man shifts between rushing servants on the catwalks.

heart in my stomach pt 2

The impact of the spear shattered a chunk of floor beside your prince’s heart where it landed. Missed, you grin feebly. He’s okay. He is perfect and wide-eyed and beautiful, and the blade of your cherrywood halberd shines with blood from its home through your chest.

GROUP SUICIDE IN 20 MINUTES

head in hands pomme...pomme you've done it again...once this series is done im petitioning for it to be put in the library of congress

𝟏𝟕 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"He does not grab you by the collar or threaten you with his teeth and when you grasp his hand to steady yourself from an awkward step, he is the boy who makes magic for you in the dark."

slight cw panic sequence. (I) reader agonizes after yesterday's kiss and of course the ball is today. blue mages haunt you, red wing captains stalk you, the wrong prince finds your hiding place (II) bkg will not let you embarrass yourself alone. ballgowns, blue fire, champagne, pearls, a song from home, relief and peruro. dance my love, or die. 7.7k

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Captain Hawks has one job and you’ve made it so much more difficult than necessary. He’s had one job for fifteen years. Red feathers brick out southern wind from the hiding place he’s made above your window and he glares through gusts and goggles to watch you finally return to Prince Touya’s room. You crumple in a pile at the foot of the bed when the door clicks closed. You’re rotting. Sulking. The Alderan dragon everyone’s so worried about, you who his king assigned him to watch– you, the girl with wet eyes and hair full of hay.

You kissed your prince last night. He knows the feeling.

Hawks takes a sip of coffee and grips the barrel of his mug to keep ocean wind from throwing it off the roof. The king is right to worry about you. You have spent one week wandering palace grounds, greenhouses, pantries, walkways and stables and never once guarding your prince. Weird bird, are you the chicken or the egg? Did you stop guarding Katsuki because you’re the spy Enji thinks or because not even the red wing captain could follow you undetected? Because you know better than to keep close to your charge when something is stalking? Hawks winces in a particularly strong breeze. It’s the latter.

Two eyes burn suddenly from your gloom to the parapet fifty meters outside your window where the captain spills his coffee in a rush to stay out of sight. What he wouldn’t give to be warming a bed back in town but instead Hawks rolls his eyes, flat on his wings behind a gable wall. You rise and jerk your curtains closed, glare like black fire.

Princess Fuyumi runs clear through a ten foot portrait propped up in the hallway to be dusted. She’s cold, she’s sick of sending maids to find you and the ball is today. Master Aizawa is securing perimeters somewhere too far away to be helpful, Uraraka’s finalizing guest lists, and Bakugou is getting stitches because he’s good for nothing else. The princess shakes paint flecks from her hair. She rips canvas from her belt and throws the standing frame to the ground.

Kirishima has never dressed for a ball like this before because parties in Aldera usually require armor. What do you do at a Ball if not wrestle? Do Takobans dance Peruro? Sero and Kaminari assure him he doesn’t look silly in white. Todoroki sits outside beside the sea. Deku holds his hand tight to keep him from jumping in.

In the king’s rear guard, Shinsou nurses a broken finger. Enji derives gross entertainment from screaming at soldiers all dressed in blue and it smells like the king came home for this party. The queen cannot be found. Few people think to look for you. No one minds blue fire.

An already tedious afternoon dissolved when a boy crossed your path on turret stairs, your hiding place from prying eyes. You didn’t have the heart to bark when he stumbled through Excuse mes and My Ladys. The quiet wasn’t helping. You could trust Bakugou with his champion for a day but your prince’s hands still danced on your skin the longer you let thoughts linger.

The little footman continued, melting, as you raised your head from between your knees. He carried a box under his arm and waited for your permission to move in the tight stairwell, “From Princess Fuyumi.”

Inside the box under the arm of the boy on the spire stairs was a dress.

You spent last night between pickle barrels in the distillery and hid in the morning where you knew your prince wouldn’t think to find you, curled in the deepest sconce of the north wing watching staff fly past. Today is the ball. It’s why the princess ordered you a dress and it’s why you’re pulling gold lace through your fingers by candlelight. Aizawa’s training pit echos pretty like the sea when it’s empty and the uniform room has a mirror. It’s a dark little annex off the main ring without those Takoban windows Captain Hawks loves so much.

Soldiers can fight armed or barefisted, fire cannons and crossbows, deliver first aid, hunt, guard, salute. You would be the head of your kingdom’s army and so you must know one thousand more important things, like how to string a corset and when to use forks in a line on pretty tables. Silk the color of blood gathers all the heat of your chest and keeps it close. Does the heir of Aldera waltz Takoban? You take the buttons at the ends of your sleeves in your teeth to fasten them closed. What will he look like in their blue costumes dancing with their pretty ladies? Can you remember how to count rhythm in threes? Can you even look at him?

More important than a soldier, court mages, even more important than a champion, you are trained as Head of Royal Guards. You are poison tester, navigator, weaponmaster and seaman, you judge the safety of the room by the shoes of its hosts and you wear fine clothes at fine parties to accompany your masters like a trophy. A prized hunting dog. You will be beautiful for one night and you can no longer avoid your job; assassins love to hide at parties.

“Steady,” you whisper to the gods.

It’s been a few years but you know how to wear these clothes and you know how best to move, and you wince when the sheath of a dagger chills the skin under your ribcage where it hides. You sparkle unsettlingly in the gown and grunt through the effort of untucking stubborn skirts from hilts and scabbards. Wielding a candle to examine yourself more closely in the mirror, you judge the shapes impractical clothes make when they’re meant to fit only you. Pleats of red fall over themselves from your waist to your ankles and in your reflection a bit of fire stirs, because in a cold kingdom this gift was made of love.

You are blood red tonight from neck to heel. Gold tassels align themselves like military badges across your shoulders and the sleeves of the gown bleed to lace at your wrist where two green buttons wink. You can’t help staring. Jeanist’s dragontooth gleams on your breast.

This is an overstuffed week. Hedonistic, anxious like a blood clot heart attack. You are stalked, you are tested and attacked, you’ve pretended not to feel, you did half your best, you snacked instead of training and sat in pleasant company you love, why wouldn’t a ball punctuate this disaster? Something about preparing for war in the dark makes this bearable. Something about fastening a knife to your thigh keeps you from thinking about Bakugou Katsuki and the formalities waiting for you upstairs. Someone is watching you.

A man clears his throat outside the doorway, careful not to stand where you might see him but you are too focused to be caught by surprise. “What do you want?”

“Apologies, Captain.”

At that, air falls loose from your nostrils. Your lips don’t dare part to make a sound. Your self-important posture doesn’t have time to settle before red pleats freeze and the candle cracks like a knuckle in your palm because the horror of this hadn’t occurred to you. That voice will never leave.

“Y/n?” the flame mage murmurs again.

Why would Aldera want you back? Playing princess instead of posting sentinel. Knowing you’re spied upon and letting Bakugou find you, day after day, letting him help you house spiders, letting him spar, letting him smile, letting him sit beside you– you knew what was watching you– something worse than flying captains. It’s why this horrible place remains horrible and the cold like frost can never be shaken off the back of your neck. It’s why the queen hides in stables and why your blood runs black in the instant you understand yourself through your reflection.

Your two shoulders fly through the doorway first so that when the blue mage attacks your legs will be spared enough to carry you upstairs. You can outrun him, you can outrun anyone. You should have paid more attention to ball preparations this month instead of languishing in your prince’s backwards attention. You should have killed yourself to kill him before his body hit the water. Why wouldn’t an assassin slip through the cracks of your distraction? And why wouldn’t it be him? Unkillable.

The candles inside the changing room are doused and shattered so that you are the only possible flammable thing in this dusty arena and you pull the knife from your hip as you soar over the threshold.

It would have flown hard when you released it– might have even killed a ghost– if you hadn’t seized up as the figure came into view. White hair, tall with sunken eyes, only slightly shorter than his father. You right yourself to land on your new dancing boots, and their heels wail two lines through the sand at the edge of the arena.

Prince Natsuo doesn’t have the energy to be surprised by you. He is not fazed by your drawn weapon and doesn’t flinch in the dark, but he remembers your name, “Captain Y/n?”

Like a cat your eyes go wide and your knife clatters to the floor. Half-fresh braids fall over your shoulders in a deep and rigid bow. Your fists bunch the soft material at your hips and you consider dropping to your knees in the silence and dust of the sparring pit so far away from any party he should be attending. Your heart beats to a new fear, “Highness,” you stammer to the ground, “I–”

“Do you dance, Captain?”

You do, and you quirk an eyebrow at the floor. It’s becoming increasingly clear, for how threatening this country is, that its eldest princess actually took all the reason at birth. Swallowed it from the room with her first cry and left kings and countrymen to stumble on their words, for even when you are not threatening him at knifepoint there’s a dread just behind the prince’s every word. Your Alderan senses are dulling in this kingdom. Your ghost never sounded so nervous. “I’m sorry, sir,” you lift only your head from the stiff bow, “I don’t understand.”

Prince Natsuo’s suit is blue trimmed silver. He is white trousers and shining bells, military honors, rope tassels, broad like his father, beautiful like his mother and dressed like a blue glass bottle. He’s never spoken to you and seems to have trouble even looking at you now, like a rabbit the dog runs past in a hunt.

You soften, “May I escort you to the party, sir? You’ve made a wrong turn,” rising fully as the prince gathers his thoughts and keeps well away from you– no. Less away from you and more just to himself. Like pouring a cup just full enough to tease the tension at the rim, Prince Natsuo is bursting with nothing to say.

All week you hid from spies and all week Alderans made it their job to find you, to be near you. Today you hide from just one man and suddenly every person in the cold kingdom knows exactly where you are. Winged captains weather the winds to watch you and squire boys can retrieve you from tall towers. Maids predict which hidden paths you’ll take from the kitchens to ask if you’ll need a bath– intercepting you without issue or sweat. Are you that predictable? Unsubtle? Obvious and lacking, or does horrible Takoba deserve a little more credit? Her skittish prince can track you down to the darkest corner of his castle like it's only natural to hide from festivities instead of attending them.

“Please excuse my being started.”

“It’s your job,” he musters just as you scoop up your blade and tip it back into its sheath amongst skirt folds. “Thank you– for your job.” He’s fidgeting, not murderous, and his voice no longer sounds like a monster. The prince scratches gently at a bauble on his chest as you peer through the dark, “I’m sorry.”

“Your Royal Highness, it would be my pleasure to escort you upstairs.” You square yourself to the blue bottle prince, “Humble Y/n, apprentice to the Captain of Her Alderan Majesty’s Royal Guard. My apologies. You had to come all this way just for a proper introduction.” And extend your hand to him, a polite smile on your lips. To death then. You’ve survived worse than a party.

Natsuo does not take your hand. He pops something off of his chest, drops the something in your hand and straightens his suit jacket, content with or oblivious to the fact that his sister inherited all his good social reason. You eye him first and then study the metal on your palm that glints in dim moonlight– candlelight– and tense as the room’s circle of sconces suddenly blink to life one by one.

Of the fifty candles in the training room ring, the first five from the entrance miraculously catch bright warm fire. Six, then the seventh, one by one around the edge of the room. Natsuo rushes to pat out your panic, “Magic candles.”

“Magic candles,” you repeat, which makes much more sense than a drowned magician. You exist at the edge of complete catastrophe, always prepared to fight that man who was too bored to kill you, but magic candles make sense. When have you ever seen a servant in this cold place spend their time lighting candles?

“And a medal,” Natsuo continues. You follow his line of sight to the object in your hand. It’s silver. It fits right in the cleft of your palm. The inscription around the edge is in a language you don’t know but what is clearly the moon sits in the center. A comet streaks across it and together they make the emblem of the House of Todoroki. “The medal of honor.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s yours.”

“It certainly is not,” you say, the air sort of floating from you instead of being pushed out by your voice. Eleven, twelve candles, a quarter of the room is lit. The badge warms in your fingers but you no longer look at it and extend your hand back to the prince in a gown that already makes you too ridiculous to breathe. He shakes his head and you push your open palm a little farther like a plea.

“I’ve seen you. I heard about…my father’s arrival in your training exercise and I, I didn’t, I don’t think my sister’s champions would have been fast enough to stop him if you hadn’t. You kept my mother from the mad magician and I doubt anyone has thanked you and I, I just– my father wouldn’t allow honors on your gown and mine is more than I deserve.” He straightens his jacket again and continues to struggle with eye contact. Twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty-seven candles come alive in the cold arena and the ring of light reaches the pair of you at the far end. “It’s much less than you’re owed.”

Prince Natsuo bows to you deeply and turns so quickly that arena-sand clouds his feet. He does not accept your escort and he doesn’t turn around. He only strides across the room, thirty-three candles, and out the dark but open doors. It’s easy to imagine him judging his own performance just where you can’t see him; he exudes the nervous energy of someone who cringes when they turn your back to you. You’re smiling before you realize. Fourty.

It’s slightly warmer than you’ve felt all month, in clinging red skirts and candlelight. Aldera is always bustling so Takoba is loney in comparison, but maybe there is comfort where you have never looked before. Comfort in red gowns. Comfort in sweaters beside the sea, comfort in silver soldiers and a training room where you are not their commander. That thought is a shock and you clutch the comet in your hand at the edge of the room. Forty-five.

Aizawa’s training pit warms by candlelight under its glass ceiling. Oppressively tall and so much like drowning, the stars blink down at you from their thrones like dappled moonlight on waves. You fasten the comet pin to your bodice with eyes tilted to the sky. Your first night here the sky was the only one who knew you. You smooth your hands up your hips and rest both palms at your waist where Bakugou held you, bleeding, poisoned, his forehead slipping off your shoulders with sweat and the lurches of the horse. A ten minute ride from the edge of the forest to the city gates, it was only the sky watching such desperation. There was comfort in that, under the threat of death. Comfort in your loss of rank here, in anonymity.

Rescued from a crowd, rescued from punishment, rescued from the sea, from cliffs, from sickness, from solitude. Saved by magic, saved by strength, by yourself and by your prince, over and over again in this wet kingdom.

There is comfort in teaching strangers to fear you and you blink through the memory of your cherrywood halberd soaring through a dinner party. The loss of its weight at your back makes you ache and your ears start to itch as the rest of the night replays itself. Forty-seven. Bakugou pressed close between your legs at the lip of a table. His thumbs smoothing your cheeks over like parchment and his cheeks flashing red at a realization– at everything you now realize he was trying to say, to show you. You’re grateful for the privacy of the stars again so that no one can ask why you smile in an empty room.

Forty-eight. Dying for a person is so much worse than dying for a cause. You thought it might be the end when the blue flammed mage forced his hand around your mouth or when a garden screamed in ashes under his boot. When he– he took you by the shoulder and branded the shape of his palm to your flesh, when your arm was relieved of its socket– everything, all of it came so much easier than the moment your prince stepped forward to face him. Easier than Bakugou collapsing in a burning clearing, easier than counting the decline of his heartbeat through the clothes on your back, easier, so much easier than retching up seawater together on the sand.

Prince Bakugou is agonizing. Forty-nine, he’s upstairs, gilded, waiting for you.

You shake your head like unnecessary thoughts might come loose with the movement. For one night your worry can be in not staring after your charge– not tasting his lips when you wet yours at the edge of the party– and not in hallucinations of murderous mages. A comet and a dragontooth remind you of the weight of a heart. The last candle around the glowing arena beats to life beside the first and it is time for a ball.

You would have smoothed your skirts over the daggers hidden among them. You would have checked your hair again in the mirror and tested the fit of your boots with a few secret skips. You’d have imagined the warmth of Bakugou’s hands and his magic, to ease the ache of watching pretty blue ladies waiting to dance with the barbarous and beautiful prince. You would have attended and served quietly, you would have dreamed of home if the flame in that last pretty candle wasn’t flickering in a clear and lonely shade of blue.

Fifty.

“Find cover!” you hiss at the squire who collapses to the floor rather than get knocked down the stairs in your charge, “Douse the rugs!”

You call over your shoulder and hurdle the staircase railing rather than waste time sprinting to the bottom. If all of your training boiled down to a single skill, if there was only one chance, one thing you could be trusted to do in the blink of an eye it was arming yourself.

A shortsword shines in your fist as you sprint, its wall hooks worse for your wear after being ripped from the armory on your warpath. The scabbard is fastened sloppily to your left hip. Cruel images of half-scorched bodies, croaking victims that need both your hands to carry them to safety, your prince– they necessitate the holster which whips your thigh as you tear through a quiet castle. Quiet, so quiet, too quiet for a ball, idiot, you should have known. Every single light in the castle blinks to life in the very last lilacs of sunset, and every single one of them quivers with blue fire.

Seed-sized wall carvings flow through their forms, animated by your speed. Stone does not creak when you step over it, hardly any servants linger in empty hallways and the thought that one squire boy will be the firefighting force for the whole castle is horror compounded by horror. “Captain Hawks!” You bellow with the last bit of air between strides.

He’s watching you, he didn’t abandon his assignment for a party. You burst from servants’ paths onto the exact blue rugs you knew the stairs would lead to; your Alderan senses might be dulling but this castle is no longer a maze. Takoban cluelessness can take over all it wants. All it needs to do is get you to the ballroom in this stupid fucking dress. One by one, sconces yawn in innocent blues and burn so hot and so quickly that wax weeps to the floor.

A window in the line takes your pommel to its pane as you retch the sword’s hilt through the glass and shout, “Hawks!” louder, between flying shards, into the night, “Fire!”

Candles instead of your dress, a candle instead of your flesh. He could be anywhere, nearby, outside, straddling corpses, you don’t know the rules his magic follows and every step you take without bursting into flames is a second you can’t waste. Your prince will fight to the death, you cannot let him. Your prince will die for his friends, you can’t bear to lose a single one. Send me instead, you beg. Me, wait for me.

You soar down two flights of twisted stairs and lurch at a tight corner before colliding with a laundryman and his blue candlestick. “Run,” you seeth without stopping, vaulting over both the man and portrait strewn across the floor beside him, ripped at the center and trailing flecks of paint. The last turn is towards the right leg of the grand staircase, entryway and ballroom dead in your sights. Red wings don’t appear and so you hook your hips, and your gown with it, over the lip of the banister.

Hardly a breath escapes the closed ballroom doors. Why are there always too few guards here? What ball makes no noise? What kind of monster could kill a room of people without making a sound? There are clicks, you panic as the banister ends and dismount the slide into a sprint. There is the bone chilling image of the blue mage clicking over corpses with the heels of his tall black boots– the body of your prince lying charred and bloodless before he could even let loose a spark.

Your dancing boots make the loudest sound in the entire palace as you run your legs harder, to carry you farther, until finally your hands are flat on the ballroom doors and your biceps scream under orders. The elven silver budges only slightly. There should be footmen outside to let guests in and the anxiety of their absence gives you an unnatural strength, enough to force one gilded door open a crack and slip into the destruction with your weapon raised.

Find him, find him, find Bakugou first, soft sunny hair and pomegranate eyes, the boy who barks laughter, he who wields the magic of old gods, your heart, find your prince, get him home.

Silver foot bolts shriek over marble as you force your way inside. You are a cacophony always. You are blood splattered across the edge of the dancefloor when you burst into the party.

Balls in Aldera breathe life to the city. Any comfort you felt for Takoba dies with your entrance. Waiters roll between guests with trays of cake and wine, and the winter floral decorations must have cost a fortune for petals to be sewed and draped and weeping from the walls because this certainly was meant to be a ball. Your fingers ache for the weight of your halberd for the first time since you lost it in the sea.

There is no mage when your heckles fall. No mage when your shoulders droop and your sword with it, not when you search the ballroom for your Alderan sun, not a single shock of white hair taunting from the windows. Every candle in every abra, every chandelier, sconce, cup, spike, or lamp, is a melancholy flickering blue above the sea of silent guests.

Your weapon falls slack. You exhale as the swordpoint chips the floor.

The queen sits on her throne beyond leagues of distracted dancers and servers and bards, with her hands folded and her husband beside her tense, hunched, and licked by fire where you startled him out of his seat. The great ballroom window blinks with its audience of stars. Just outside and over the cliffs, the maws of the sea applaud.

You jolt, as do the guests closest to you, at the sound of metal crush but it is only Uraraka in her uniform, catching the tray of a server who panicked at the sight of you. Shinsou’s hair isn’t hard to pick out from his post beside a waitstaff door and he thins his lips instead of speaking. No one speaks. There is no laughter, there is a single violin playing from a fifteen piece band– did you scare the trumpets too?– weeping a waltz for the dancers who crane away from their partners to watch what you might do. Their every gown is white, blue, green– silver like sea foam. Their hair obeys them and folds into smooth shapes at the tops of their heads so that their noble throats can be struck sick by the air of a room above the sea. You are the only foul red thing here.

The flame of worry collapses in your chest along with your heart. Quietly, blue fire watches back without laying a finger on anyone.

Oh.

“Y/n?”

There you are.

The ring of dancers at the center of the room curl around in their timid waltz, revealing new faces from the back of the crowd. Kirishima in a fit white suit, too focused on not crushing his Takoban partner to even realize you’ve arrived and then Mina, full of worry with her hands in Fuyumi’s and both perfectly placed in the seaside painting with their layered dresses of white. She makes to break away from the current, to rescue you, but her prince beats her to it.

He is cloaked in red. An abandoned partner jingles angrily as he drifts through the tides and calling your name is the easiest thing in the world, “Y/n.” He glows. You have hidden from this all day, and tonight his war cape arcs sanguine circles around him.

The Sun approaches, he glides to you like picking up a stray is part of this dance. He takes up your swordhand in his, weapon clattering to the polished floor and with a magic-heavy hand at your waist the scabbard belt falls away. Hair pushed straight back and two red earrings dangling, Bakugou rolls his eyes, “It’s a dogshit party,” and a few pieces of hair fall over a stitched gash on his cheek, “but I doubt a swordfight will fix it.”

You don’t understand and you don’t try to speak through volley after volley of embarrassment.

“Highness,” he steps to a rhythm in fours, heel toe, toe, toe heel forward into the fold of your dress to guide you back into the stream of dancers. “I didn’t– I–” Your feet barely make the proper shapes to keep up for your Alderan heart is a grease fire not a hearth. Bakugou holds his head high to the side with the posture of a king. His pupils occupy their lowest corners so he never need take his eyes off of you.

You, his war criminal.

“Sir,” you manage and wince when you dare a peek past his shoulders towards onlookers.

He is embers, “I have a surprise.” He does not grab you by the collar or threaten you with his teeth and when you grasp his hand to steady yourself from an awkward step, he is the boy who makes magic for you in the dark. Bakugou Katsuki’s ears are scarlet even as he stares ahead, sweat pearls between your fingers and he sweeps you close, albeit awfully tight, through the steps of a Takoban dance. His face catches light from the candles above and the shadow of his pale lashes sweeps over both cheeks.

A corded thigh slips between yours and back again to the tune of one sad string. The rhythm doubles for four steps and calms again. You could dance the continent around for all the etiquette training you’ve endured but something about the lack of ghosts here, something about your heart beating out of time with the song, about red eyes and a clenched jaw, the hand fingering notches on the small of your back like it might a cello– you are suddenly on the catwalks again with your lips smiling into his, you are holding back tears, you are clicking teeth and stumbled steps and hands cupping cheeks, and your heart bleeds all over the dancefloor. Your voice cracks, “I’m so sorry,” and it is the loudest thing in the room.

“The candles are blue at the queen’s request,” he rumbles, sacrificing posture to watch you properly, to correct you. “That must…I, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have let them.” Bakugou raises his right shoulder in invitation for your hand to rest there but your fingers lift from his arm as he turns you both, and settle on that small new wound at his cheek. You breathe deeply as your chests slot together, no fight in sight. Your relief almost comes in tears.

Party guests do not stop staring, especially now that the foreign royal has spirited his beast to the dancefloor. At a distance, familiar faces train gazes your way. Little doctor Shuzenji and Aizawa beside her nursing a pink champagne flute, both ribboned in their bests. Uraraka offers you a tight lip at the edge of the dancefloor. Fuyumi boxsteps in line nearby, the lonely violin picks up pace, hand in hand with her youngest brother and attempts to lean in to whisper to you before Bakugou cages them both out with his shoulders.

He clears his throat, “Captain,” the second-loudest thing in the room, “will you dance with me?”

It’s not your best, admittedly, but the thought your four-step is poor enough your partner needs to clarify does lighten the mood, and you nod. Half your focus is sacrificed to keeping calm in such a full room and the other half is completely at his mercy.

“Peruro?” Bakugou raises those flaxen eyebrows, his lips led by yours. The dance peruro. Destructive and certain to give the Takoban King an aneurysm. Something like comfort slips in. Your eyes widen suddenly and your prince with you. What does he see? you wonder. You nod again.

The waltz will reach its climax soon and Bakugou leads you through a perfect Takoban rhythm until the second he dips forward to whisper, through your hair and over the silence of this cursed party, “Mind your ears, dragonne.”

You shudder immediately at the name, hand in hand, chest to his. Something in your perfect center bursts in white flame and you throw your eyes down to your skirts.

“Dance!” Bakugou’s voice cracks like a whip of thunder above the soggy party and he lifts his chin over your head. The vibration of every syllable rumbles from his ribs to yours and his growl is smoke on water, “or die.”

The next second a horn howls one crescendoed note and every hair not squeezed into your silk dress, prickles. You jerk your gaze back up to Bakugou, unsure what expression you might be making, “How?”

But your prince is still grinning wide so you must be too. “Bribed em,” he leans close and as one confused violin trails off, another trumpet joins the fray. Dancers look around distractedly and onlookers whisper, louder, slightly louder, to be heard over the addition of percussion to the building swell of tuning instruments. A pair of cymbals crash like earthquake, a waitress topples over.

Shinsou shakes his head in the corner of the room and rubs his face, fondly entertained. The king is out of his seat again. Suddenly a fifteen piece band is making the sound of home. The band vibrates under an arc of camellias and the small woman seated at the front pulls a flute from her suit jacket. The herding call of her shepherd’s pipe gathers the cacophony and just as quickly as the group disrupted the peace, they hush behind seventeen beautiful whispers of the pipe, clear and bright as stars. It is the quiet start of Mitsuki’s favorite drinking song. Fear of crowds melts from you like bedtime stories.

faire of the fields

the girl who plays for me

dance and i will watch you

dance and i will join,

you who

teaches beasts to love

send us all to war

She draws the final note long and low, violins become fiddles, trumpets repeat the tune, a drummer growls, two pipes build, and the flute cheers back atop a flirty melody of three before the brilliant song erupts. Bakugou clasps your hand tight and throws you from his grip so that you might twirl and glow under his arm but the rules of peruro dictate a little more focus than that.

The closest dancers to you shriek when Mina barrels through them and pulls you out of his hold. She squeals with two gloved hands on your waist, “Miss firelight!” Her dress envelopes yours and the spinning doesn’t stop until you’ve tripped a man at the edge of the dancefloor and very nearly toppled over yourselves.

Over the curve of her shoulder you snort, shocked by your own glee, as Takobans try to adjust their waltz to the Alderan rhythm and inevitably four-step themselves into a fervor. Kirishima towers over your prince and barks with laughter trying to get the man to spin under his arm. Shinsou is no longer brooding at his post. He is hand in hand with Kanminari, flecked all over with petitfour cream, who has led him into the fray.

“Lady Mina!” you bellow and take up her hand in yours. You fasten your waists together and both of you fly into the tide. When was the last time you put the blue mage’s voice away? How long has it been since you last danced Peruro? Singing while stepping, laughing, diving for bystanders and squealing when drunk guests toppled over themselves to be the one to lift you into the air. You steal your partners in peruro, and fight to keep them. It keeps the room from feeling small, from crushing you. When you are thrown whoever catches you gets the next dance and the songs never end.

Euphoria threatens to spill over the fire Katsuki started in your heart. Flame mages are far from your mind under blue candlelight.

The queen does not move, but she might be smiling. Fuyumi yelps when her champion scoops her up from behind and places her on her shoulder. Even the youngest Todoroki and his freckled champion tut about together to the rhythm. You hope no one tries to steal the blue prince; he might not survive it; and make eye contact with Natsuo while you completely butcher Mina’s three step dips. He stands at the base of his parents’ thrones, unmoving, but pink with excitement.

Takobans, even servants, lingering at the edge of the crowd cannot outswim the rip current. They belong to a quietly stubborn nation who will attempt their delicate hop skips even to the bleat of an Alderan horn. Only cowards leave a dancefloor and it is the first respectable tradition you’ve seen here.

In a flash of red across the room, your prince takes up two stiff women in each arm and you almost spit in laughter as they go purple under the instruction of the barbarian prince. The polished floor vibrates. It’s too loud to think, a mix of happiness and screams of indignation as pretty lords and ladies are pulled into the fray by those countrymen only slightly drunker than they.

Peruro is a game and so when Sero Hanta and his cheeks tattooed with lipstick kisses, plucks you from your partner, Mina can hardly complain. The flutist roars her approval and her fiddlers breathe life into the happy song behind her. Trumpets pluck, bleat, and howl complex harmonies that prove you’re Alderan from the sheer intoxication of the sound.

Sero’s long arms wrap behind you and you’re off your feet before you can speak. “Return of the Red Captain!” His grip on your sides is more ticklish than hell and you giggle and squirm as you fall into a dip. His palms hit something hard, the dagger concealed in your gown, “Are you armed?” He chuckles and tugs you up and close, back to chest.

“Me? Never.” You peek over your shoulder, both laughing, and he peels you from him so tight you spin away three times fully and far enough away from him that Kirishima poaches you without difficulty.

His Alderan fire rolls off the warm parts of him in waves of pine smoke and happiness. How many yards of fabric it must have taken for Takoba to stitch his suit– the cost– you can’t imagine. He hoists you onto his shoulder before you can think a moment longer.

Your red pleats swell in the air and settle with your hips on his broad shoulder. The hidden sheath under your bodice taps his ear. “Are you armed?!” He hollers and spins once to make you squeal and grip tight to his hair. Princess Fuyumi covers her mouth to hide laughter and you beam at each other from your shoulder seats, over the sea of Takoban heads. The champion shrugs you into his arms and back onto your feet. The new heels of your dancing boots click like bells every step you take.

Eijirou is a wonderful dancer, and difficult to burgle. He throws his hands above his head and the pair of you clap, kick one leg out and turn, eyes always locked and teeth shining. With your next kick, your hip checks a short man attempting to dance Takoban and knocks him into another pair. Eijirou’s next clap, behind his back, startles a woman so badly she covers her ears and the whole room reeks of home. Drown in it Takoba, dance or die.

Your friends are safe. There’s nothing to fear from shitty parties and you spare a thought for the servants you must have traumatized on your rampage down here. Wers and mers, the window you broke– Kirishima’s hands are at your waist because you are distracted, you are searching, and before you can brace yourself he has thrown you clear into the air.

No matter how much you hate it here, the ballroom is beautiful and Natsuo might be a wonderful king. His decorations shine in the queen’s candlelight. Early winter flowers are strung by the thousands to garnish balustrades and window frames, they erupt from iridescent vases and hang in an arch over the howling band. Bundles of pearls dot every corner and swallow the moonlight. Silver shells and whistles, inlaid cuffs, white wigs, Takoba is most beautiful by moonlight. There’s no sun here. Did you ever think you’d hate him? That you’d miss him? Where is he? Your prince likes plums best because they’re sour and he blows on dandelions when no one’s watching and he works construction with his men when the city needs repair and he hates how dry paper feels on his fingers. The daggers at your hip cool in your descent.

“Red suits you, dragonne!” Bakugou roars and you land square in his arms to the coo of a shepherd's pipe. You blink and his, him, he– he stares. He is terrible at piano and walks with his head down after rain to keep from stepping on worms. He mends his own clothes because his father taught him how to sew. “You,” he attempts to speak, “Captain, you,” but the high of the dance dissolves from him even as the music swells because you stare and bring your fingers to the wound on his cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe. He does not find his words in the space between your faces. Your prince goes pink. Enough of the room is dancing now that you need to read lips to truly hear anything but he understands your every thought without effort as he lets you down. There’s a hand on your back to keep you close. I’m afraid. It hurts to be so close to you. He presses his forehead to yours.

The prince rolls figure-eights against your forehead with his own. Two much less focused dancers jostle your duet and Bakugou sweeps a foot forward to trip the leader before lifting you over the pile of men and returning to the dance. You glow red in his arms above him, halo of the moon.

A tall man shifts between rushing servants on the catwalks. Your prince beams below you, king of the sun. It's a pretty party. It is perfectly loud. A polearm is readied on a scarred arm in the dark and no one minds blue fire.

The flutist picks up speed, spurred on by the tambourine, and each note from each instrument cuts itself off to make time for the next. Every place you touch one another aches. If it would just stay like this forever, dancing, knowing without speaking, you could kill any enemy. The sky would learn to kneel, if only you could keep the adoration of winespilt eyes.

A series of gasps, a yelp, and Kirishima’s sweet laughter punctuate the thought. Bakugou was meant to wear fine clothes like these. Sparks like fairy lights twinkle where sweat beads on his jaw and you would have given nine lives to kiss him one more time. He will be a good king too. There is a scream.

Your hand on his shoulder bunches the fabric of his cape, and you lurch forward to lock your other hand around his back. Your foot is dead behind his before he can blink and with a surge of momentum from the dance, the last swell of fiddle, a prayer for old gods, luck from the sea and something like love, you knock the prince over your shoulder and onto the ground into the thickest thrall of dancers.

He laughs the whole way down and holds you where he can to keep from knocking your heads together. The sound is molten gold. You would sin to hear it always.

He is still laughing, howling, bursting with joy when he hits the ground and you with him in your perfect dance peruro. He doesn’t notice the whine of dropped instruments or revulsion of the crowd because he cannot look away from you. On his back, on the floor, beneath you, Prince Bakugou lifts his arm to cup your face and freezes in the new and sudden silence.

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tagged angels ! @ltadoriyuujl / @cherripunch26 / @chandiewashere / @sakurarr1122 / @ihavefixations-and-onehiccup / @juni-does-art / @romiinlove / @todorokiskitten / @zukowantshishonourback / @phoenix-draws77 / @starryparkrr / @misscaller06 / @420mitskilover / @kalulakunundrum / @the-omnipotent-phlowr / @butterscotch-ripple-icecream / @cutiepatoodie / @catsoupki / @acid-rain27 / @sky-angel101 / @flyhighinthesky

#annotations #another pomme banger

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memoryreign · 6 months ago

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👑 One Piece AU 👑

Name: Toothiana; Tooth or Ana for short. Aliases: Tends to refer to herself as the Guardian of Memories. Race: Human Age: Hundreds of years (visually in 20s) Height: 4'6" Occupation: Wandering archaeologist and collector. Devil Fruit: Tori Tori no Mi: Model Kinnari (Mythical Zoan) Status: Wanted

Can hear the Voice of All Things.

Often accompanied by hummingbirds that she speaks to.

Gets a little too excited about finding bones...

Devil Fruit grants her biological immortality and the ability to heal wounds via touch.

Human form: Brown hair with multi-coloured strands, often decorated with feathers. Pink eyes. Often wearing golden jewellery and bags to carry artifacts and her writings within. Usually carries twin swords.

Kinnari form(s): Most often uses hybrid form, covered wrists to ankles in small iridescent contour feathers, with feathers sprouting from her hair. Hummingbird-esque wings. Around her wrists and ankles there seem to be golden lines that appear to look like golden bracelets and anklets, as well as gold feathers on either side of her head for earrings. She also has long, drapery feathers that start at her waist line and end at her knees, giving the appearance of a skirt or dress. Her more beastly form sees her legs change to those of a sharp taloned bird, and increases her strength as well as her height.

Toothiana was born a very long time ago, on a jungled island in the New World. She was born to a woman named Rashmi - a beautiful and fierce warrior - and a man named Haroom - a slave who turned on his master. She was raised on the outskirts of a village at the edge of the jungle, and lived a simple and happy life - until she turned twelve and consumed a Devil Fruit that she had found, causing her to sprout wings and bodily feathers.

Initially, Toothiana was joyous. She made friends with the birds and the wind, and flew up to the trees to pick the ripest mangoes, starfruit, and papayas for the other children of the village. While the children delighted in Toothiana's new ability, the adults of the village were shocked and frightened by this now half-bird girl. Some thought she was an evil spirit that must be killed, while others saw ways to use her - as either a freak to be caged and paraded about, or to force her to fly to the palace of the island's royalty and steal their jewels.

Haroom and Rashmi knew that to keep their daughter safe, they would have to escape. So they packed their things and departed deep into the jungle. The children of the village, who loved Toothiana as a friend and a sisterly figure, begged their parents to leave her alone. But they were driven mad, blinded with fear and greed. Many people attempted to capture her, but none were successful.

One day however, a mysterious hunter commanded that the girl's parents be kidnapped - and killed if she did not show. Rashmi and Haroom had told their daughter never to come after them if they were in danger, but the girl had spared no time in rushing to her parents' rescue. Battle broke out, and though she was able to reach them, she lacked the strength to lift them over the angry mob. Rashmi took out a stringed pouch and handed it to her daughter, saying that its contents would comfort and guide her, before commanding her to go. Toothiana flew away with a terrible scream - half-human and half-bird - up to the highest treetop in the land and sat there to grieve.

For a full day she sat in the tree in a phase of disbelief and sadness. However, then she remembered the pouch Rashmi had given her. Opening it, she found a shimmering ruby box. Within the box were trinkets from her childhood, along with a note from her parents - guiding her to hold them tightly whenever she felt lost, for they would help her to remember better days, and to remember that which she needs.

Toothiana stayed in the jungle - but she hated her wings, these powers she possessed. If it weren't for them, her parents would still be alive. She even refused to enter her winged form for the longest time. The creatures of the jungle did their best to comfort her, bringing her the freshest of food and making her beds as soft as possible. But Toothiana became more and more convinced that she belonged nowhere. Not with the animals of the jungle, and certainly not with the humans of the village. She was all alone.

Years passed, but Toothiana never felt or saw herself aging. The children of the village were growing up, but she retained the same appearance she had in her twenties - a side effect of this mythical zoan fruit, she would later come to understand. Following her parents' guidance, she would hold onto those childhood trinkets whenever she felt sad, focus on them intently - and in so doing over many years, she came to understand that her parents had seen something in her that she had missed.

Speaking to the animals may be a power granted to her by the Devil Fruit, or, perhaps, something greater. The Voice of All Things. She could hear it. Not only animals words, but their thoughts - the messages in their hearts. And not only animals - but objects too. Even bones. She could speak to them, hear their messages, the memories they held. This power was a gift, something she could use to bring comfort to others, to understand the world as nobody else could and discover lost history. However, the adults of the village did not see it this way. They branded her a liar, a deceiver, some kind of witch. A trap was laid for her, and she fell for it - right into a seastone cage set for her by the mysterious hunter from all those years ago.

Toothiana was taken to a representative of the World Government, where her secret was revealed. Naturally, those who ran the world would not allow one who could unearth their misdeeds to live. Toothiana could only demand to know why the mysterious hunter was so set on seeing her punished, but the revelation that he was her father's former master - seeking revenge for being dethroned - and that he had indeed killed her parents was almost too much to bear.

Before either representative or hunter could end her life, she raised the ruby box to her heart and held it tight. She pictured happier days with her parents, she pictured them sacrificing themselves for her... and no attack ever came. The animals of the jungle, large and small, had come to her defence. They broke her free of the cage, and all at once her fury for the hunter began to swell inside her. She unlocked a new form - one more beastly, with the legs and talons of a bird - and lifted the man up by his throat. She could have killed him - but the trinkets within the box began to speak to her, offered her the memories of her parents once more. She let him go - allowing the jungle to decide his fate.

Such events took place many years ago, and Toothiana has since learned to accept her Devil Fruit powers. Over the years, she has healed - and reclaimed her kind and compassionate nature. She has mainly lived in solitude, though has travelled across the world many times in human form in search of lost artifacts and history waiting to be uncovered. She guards the memories these items share with her closely, that she might one day be able to share what she had learned with the world. The government has never stopped searching for her, and neither have money-hungry hunters - but she has thus far been able to elude permanent capture. In recent years, she has begun to reach out to people again - with lifetimes of loneliness making her yearn for the companionship she once held with her family and friends in the village. Whether or not this will eventually lead to her downfall is yet to be seen...

#the history got... VERY long so if anyone reads it all i appreciate you sdfghk #but i needed to put my girl into my main fandom too....#— verse. ( one piece )

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evelzzzk · 2 years ago

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Dragons eat Seahorses series: Battlefield between the sheets - Female OC Velaryon Reader x Aemond Targaryen x Daemon Targaryen Threesome! (Chapter 1)

WARNINGS (!): Pure, heavy smut, 18+ NSFW, slight mentions of violence and killing. Read on your own caution.

ENGLISH IS MY 2ND LANGUAGE.

Word count: approx 6,8-6,9k.

Here are some tracks you can listen to while reading: this one and this one.

SUMMARY: You were the youngest daughter of Rhaenys Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon, lady Elaena Velaryon, except that you had dark hair after your grandmother Jocelyn Baratheon (in the book Rhaenys had her mother’s hair). You were known for being a fearless warrior with fierce temper and unbroken soul, both inherited from your mother, The Queen Who Never Was. Carantes, the dragoness, was your constant companion, small folk nicknamed her „Beauty of the Skies” or „The Killing Beauty” because of her stunning dark blue coloring with slight violet and pink scales and frightening ability for killing despite the young age of the beast. To your satisfaction she also started slowly outgrowing Vhagar, the largest known dragon in the world and her mother. You had accompanied your father for the numerous battles in the Stepstones resulting in severe, if not mortal injury of your gatter. Despite of your deepest want to stay with him in the High Water to make sure he will recover, your mother has summoned you to fly with her to King’s Landing, alongside with your nieces, Baela and Rhaena, to secure the case of inheritance of Driftmark. It also meant the possible marrying your betrothed, Prince Aemond „One Eye” Targaryen. You were promised to one another since you were just kids to strengthen the bound and alliance between your families, much to disapproval of your mother and contentment of father. Aemond was always very much fond of you and you didn’t remain indifferent, your teenage friendship had even grown to something called calf love. But you both have grown distant once since you left King’s Landing at the instigation of Rhaenys, wanting you to stay close to her, far away from courtly intrigues. Now you were back and Aemond have bursted off with reinforced love for you and an endless admiration of how beautiful woman you have grown into and courageous fighter almost as skilled in sword as he is. But he wasn’t the only one to surrender to your charms. The second suitor was... The Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen. And much to your surprise, his current wife, Princess Rhaenyra didn’t mind her husband’s flirtations with you, on the contrary she was quite jealous she wasn’t the one to devour delicious curves of your body. One night you’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone and take two dragons for a „ride” of your life, testing uncertain waters of desire both of Aemond and Daemon. Knowing the level of possessiveness of your husband-to-be and unimaginable stubbornness of the latter you were slightly afraid and excited at the same time. But you were also perfectly aware of your flair combined with intellect, all you had to do was to lure both princes and make them obey to every little piece of your infamous plan.

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The wind was howling ominously behind windows of your chamber while you were sitting beside small table, drinking your favourite sweet, red wine from Dorne and playing with small candle flame with your fingertips. The silk, navy material of your sleeveless dress was hugging your statuesque figure nicely, the deep cut cleavage was revealing alluring curves of your breasts slightly. Silver, fabulously expensive and detailed pads adornished each of your shoulders with dragon head of your beloved Carantes underhung on them. The space between your waist and hips was wrapped with thick silver chains, interspersed with small octagonal sapphires, entirety reminded of lower part of your breastplate. Your mother always banter you about how all of your gowns and dresses always have to be somehow similar to some of your armor sets. Now your eyes were set to one of your newest and most favorite of them, hanged on a stand in the most lighted place of the room like it was some kind of sacred relics. Of course it was all covered in silver with a huge incarnation of Carantes on its plastron, inlayed with some kind of dark blue metal. It was a gift from your father, he had ordered it to be made specially for you by one of the best craftsman in Penthos, a token of gratitude for sacrifices you had made during your recent battles at Stepstones. You remained still in a huge velvety-red armchair, slowly emptying second goblet of wine, your thoughts wandered around your plan you were about to bring to life in maybe less than one hour… Hope of getting more barked out thanks to the precious liquor in your glass was somehow consoling. All of the sudden, you heard some noise coming from behind the door, sounds of heated conversation was coming up to your ears. You were perfectly aware of who might disturb your sworn shield, ser Ryon Westerling, son of ser Harrold, at this time of the night.

- It’s alright ser Ryon, let Prince Aemond come inside. I’m expecting him – you said loudly with reassuring tone – Oh and ser Ryon... You may leave, you deserve some break from your service, have some wine in the kitchens. And worry not, I still remember how to use my sword even if I’m wearing a gown at the moment – you added purposely, you certainly didn’t want ser Ryon to hear all the obscenities that were about to emerge from your chambers and you definitely didn’t want your mother to find out about them. Doors were finally opened and you caught a glimpse of your knight nodding with a „Thank you, My Lady” and making his way down the corridor. Within a moment your sight was occupied with a tall, portly figure belonging to no one else than Aemond himself. You internally licked your lips as you gazed down his muscular yet slender posture, now wrapped tightly in his usual leather outfit. Gods be damned, he really grew out handsomely - his silky, long, silver hair, sharp jawline chiseled by gods, masculine nose, lips always curved in slight smirk with light dimples at each side. And of course the scar revealed from under his eyepatch, only adding to his overall charm. His only eye, dark blue as the sapphire he puts in the remaining eyehole (as you heard from some stories) was now totally focused on you and scanning you upside down like you were some prey and he was a hunter desperate to get you before anyone does. Poor wretch didn’t know that tonight roles will reverse and he’s going to be the one to be hunted and begging for your mercy.

- Prince Aemond – you stood off from your armchair with a kittenish smile, nodding your head and bending down knees with a supreme grace. He walked towards you, never leaving his eyes from you, his footsteps reminded of a wild cat and an attentive huntsman at the same time. When he was one stride away, he softly took your hand into his calloused palms from many years of sword training and put a dim kiss on the top of yours.

- No need for such formalities, Elaena – he said with a pretty obviousness in his voice, his lips curved in an enchanting smile when he finally let your hand down. You felt as your cheeks flushed at the sound of Aemond’s purring voice. Indeed, there was nothing left in him from the boy you have once known when you were just a child, not visually at least.

- Would you like some wine? – you asked politely, reaching out for the wine decanter, now full of liquor, as you made sure to refill it before he stepped in, you didn’t want him to discover of how much of alcohol you already had yourself. He stopped you, taking the bottle carefully from you and filling two glasses all the way to the brim. He handed you one, unable to not to touch your hand even in the slightest.

- A lady shouldn’t pour wine herself, it’s not appropriate – you simply nodded at his gentleman-like words. If you only knew how many goblets I have filled myself before you came in… , you thought with amusement, feeling those two emptied earlier glasses running now through your veins.

- So you brought me here because you wanted to discuss our wedding in the nearest future? And this really couldn’t wait until the day comes up? – Prince asked with suspicion, his smirk gave an impression that he has already read you and your true intentions through. You gulped the large sip of wine you took loudly, the last you thing you wanted was him to discover your carefully arranged plan, so you tried now your best to not screw things up.

- I thought that the evening aura and a fine wine might help us to relax and speak our thoughts more openly – you managed to reply quickly, not giving him a chance to doubt your words.

- Openly? Hmm… And as I assume this dress is also supposed to help us feel more… openly? – he emphasized on the last word as his suggestive gaze wandered down from your neckline to boldly exposed skin between your breasts, now covered with goosebumps.

- I wanted to dress something more… cavalier. All those built-up dresses I have to wear around official occasions are so rigid. It’s nice to feel your skin breathe freely from time to time, you know.

- Ah yes… And you decided to wear something like that just when I was about to appear in your chambers? Oh my sweet Dragoness… - he was now so close to you that you have felt his warm breath on your neck as his lips were close now to your ear – You know that I could easily possess you even if you were in nothing but a potato sack, don’t you? – his whisper sent shivers all the way down your spine, his hands gripped your exposed arms and slid down to your hands, leaving nothing but burning traces. Aemond kissed your earlobe as he let down your hands returning to his earlier position as if nothing had just happened, drinking now his wine and leaving you speechless. You did everything in your power to gain back composure, you were half a goddamn Targaryen and Velaryon, a dragon rider, a true daughter of your mother and this little innuendo will not throw you out of balance.

- You wanted to talk about our betrothal… talk then – he continued drinking wine while leaning against the table, his eyes lingered on you like honey.

You swiftly adjusted your dress and cleared your throat before you spoke.

- As you know, my father is in a serious condition and he was always favorable of our future marriage, unlike my mother. If she could she would’ve abduct me and sold me off to some mighty lord, only to avoid my connection with you – you started with annoyance in your voice. Aemond merely huffed at your words.

- Yes, The Queen Who Never Was always was proud and a bit adamant – you saw vivid irritation on his marble-like face – My father, The King of Seven goddamn kingdoms has blessed our union long time ago and he haven’t changed his mind since then. Rhaeneys will have to obey her King’s will and her favorite cousin after all.

- And what if our Fathers will pass away? What then? – you asked, aware thoroughly of the state in which King was.

- Corlys will not die, not just yet, he’s the Sea Snake, strong and pertinacious. But you are right about my Father, he will definitely pass away, it’s only matter of short time, unfortunately - Prince spoke last words quietly with visible pain in his voice. You tenderly stroked his arm trying to cheer him up a little, and his strong, yet slim hand grabbed your cheek, his thumb smoothed your delicate skin.

- And what if my Lord Father also dies? – you added silently, almost inaudible. You prayed every day and every night to not let that happen, you loved your Father boundlessly, after all it was him who trained you in sword since you were just his little girl, it was him who encouraged you to discover and conquer the world on your dragon. And at last, it was him to trust you enough to take part in the battles alongside with him and even letting you lead some of assaults.

Aemond’s hand forced you to look him in the eye, as deep blue ocean, as the sea you have sailed through so many times.

- Elaena… I will burn all the kingdoms to the ground with Vhagar if this what will I have to take to marry you, you hear me? – he said with fire in his only eye. He meant it, he didn’t lie. He was definitely that kind of man who won’t stop at nothing to gain whatever he desires, even if it meant burning the whole world for his beloved ones – Besides, what better option your mother has than to marry her only daughter, her only child left alive to a Targaryen Prince? – he added with soothing smile, never leaving your gaze. Deep down inside, you knew he was right. You leaned your head on his broad shoulder as he held you close to his firm chest and both of you remained silent for a significant moment, simply enjoying presence of each other.

- Gods, after all those years… I was afraid I lost you when you left King’s Landing last time… And all of sudden you came back, daring to look so astonishingly beautiful, surrounded by all those stories of your valiant deeds… Issa perzys ziry-zaldrīzes (My fiery Dragoness) – his whispered words coated your ears like a warm blanket. You ‘tssked’ hearing your pet nickname in High Valyrian.

- How am I supposed to resist you, issa jaesa (my goddess)?

- Nohow. Tepagon aōla naejot nyke (Give yourself to me) – your voice whispered just an inch from his lips and you knew full well that he won’t be able to control himself any longer.

Aemond crushed his lips to yours in a harsh at first kiss, which seconds later burned with blazing passion. Your tongues were battling over a dominance to one another, whilst he started to slowly push you towards the bed. You didn’t remonstrate, as you were feverishly giving back all of his hungry kisses. His hands ran all over your entire back, waist, hips, trying desperately to memorize all of your curves, the soft mold of your body, its delicacy and fragility. He gripped strongly your rear, lifting you upwards, causing a soft moan escaping your lips, your legs automatically wrapped around his narrow waist, his lips leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

Out of nowhere, doors to your chamber opened with an audible crash to adjacent walls. A shocked gasp left your mouth, you knew who caused this interruption and certainly it wasn’t ser Ryon. Aemond was expressly raging at anyone, whoever it was, to dare disrupt his ministrations with you but yet he didn’t let you out of his arms.

- Now, now… I was afraid that you would’ve start without me - it was none other than The Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen, who was now standing tall in front of you both, smiling pertly.

- What is he doing here? – the younger Prince asked harshly, his fingers hammered in your butt even more, causing you to groan, his obstinate stare was now focused entirely on his opponent.

- My dear Nephew, Elaena has invited me to give you both some kind of a… hmm… demonstration – his Uncle was clearly trying not to burst off with laughter, knowing that he has outsmarted his own nephew, seducing his future bride behind his back.

Aemond let you down to the ground with a slight punch, concentrating now fully on you, his eyes were now similar to Vhagar’s, when she was about to perform her favorite command, Dracarys.

- You… invited… HIM? – he drawled out every single word through his clasped teeth.

It was now or never kind of moment and you realized that one wrong word from you might end with renouncement your engagement with Aemond. As much as you didn’t want that to happen you also despairingly craved these two men, these two out of this world men to coax your numerous orgasms during this very night.

- Aemond… I… I… wanted this night to be your engagement gift for me… - you started, weighing each word carefully.

- No, you can’t be serious… You wanted me to share you in bedchambers with him, my own damned Uncle as my betrothal gift to you? Is this some kind of sick joke? Have you completely lost your mind? – he held you tightly by your arms, his eyes were wondering now whether you have seriously lost your head.

- Oh, she didn’t tell you, did she? – you heard Daemon’s mocking laugh behind your back.

- Tell me exactly what? – anger in Aemond’s voice spread out through the entire room.

- Oh, my dear boy… My dear, sweet and blind nephew. You have truly lost your eye, since you could not put two and two together that I have been bewitching your honeyed future wife behind your back for the whole time since she has stepped her foot in King’s Landing again. It was her idea, to get us three under the sheets, you know. And I must say, that’s a very generous offer which I will not fail to accept – at this moment you fought the urge of slapping Daemon’s face so hard.

- Go away, dear Uncle, before I’ll cut that blasphemous mouth of yours with my sword. I’m sure you have a wife to please and children to be taken care of – the voice of younger Prince was surprisingly calm, but as cold as only a winter morning could be.

- I’m not going anywhere, “One Eye”. Only Elaena can dismiss me if she pleases so, but I believe we will have so much fun with or without you, so you can leave us now in peace.

- Which of my previous words you haven’t understand, Rogue Morron? – in a split second Aemond drew his valyrian steel sword, sharp blade dangerously approached exposed neck of the older man who completely ignored the threat, only laughed.

You knew you must act fast if you wanted to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed. You’ve reached out to the hem of your gown and pulled out a dagger, also made of valyrian steel, attached earlier to your suspender. You took Aemond by surprise and pulled his head back, causing him to hiss, a cold steel of inlaid dagger layed now motionless against his throat.

- Gods, you are truly daughter of your mother, hiding blades and weapons behind your clothing like a real assassin – Rogue Prince was now in awe of your doings.

- Shut up or I will throw smaller one from behind my back into your artery – you hissed with impatience. Both of men were now silent as the grave, only Aemond trying in vain to escape from your tight grip.

- Put your sword down, Aemond, or I swear the Gods I will cut through your throat before you will be able to say a single word – you tugged his hair harder in order to enforce him to surrender. Another broken hiss left his mouth, but he didn’t let the sword’s handle.

- You dare to threat me? You are a mad woman, this much I know, but you wouldn’t do it – he managed to gasp, your grasp was slowly taking his breath away.

- Oh believe me, I would. Unlike you, I have fought battles, I have killed people, in considerable numbers and trust me, there is nothing more satisfying than to watch life fleeing from the eyes of another human – your voice balanced on a thin border between pure madness and mockery. You heard another gasp, this time it was fearful. But still, his sword remained in an unmoved position.

- Oh, for fuck’s sake – you snarled and with a simple dance movement you turned yourself around so now you faced Aemond but your hand haven’t released his hair which resulted in him turning his neck backwards painfully. You took advantage of his moment of inattention and kicked sword out of his hand so it landed on the floor with a clang of heavy steel. Finally, you let go of him and young Prince instantly took a deep, greedy breath, his hand massaged his luckily uncut neck.

- Have you both finished your sandbox fight? – Daemon seemed to grew weary of your power showcase, his theatrical yawn confirmed it.

- I hope you liked this little show, Daemon, because I’m about to pleasure myself with this dagger’s handle if you will keep refusing me fulfilling my deepest fantasy including the two of you – you replied with weariness, growing slowly tired of this game. You poured yourself another goblet and gulped it down within the blink of an eye. You took a peek at two men, now they were staring at you with gaping mouths.

You took off the clasps of your silver shoulder pads, causing your dress to fall down to the floor, revealing everything what could be revealed. You stood completely naked in front of their taken-aback faces, they were looking as if a thunderbolt shot them out of the blue. As if nothing had happened, you strolled towards your bed, deigning them with the perfect curve of your ass. You laid down on your back and leaned on your forearms, observing their helplessness in the face of your charms.

- So how ill it be? My dagger or… - you threw it closely over their heads and it broke into the wall with a jingle – … or your dragons? – your gaze stopped at growing now bulges in their trousers. You couldn’t wait until they fill you entirely in an unison. The very thought had made you feel getting more and more wet between your folds and you involuntarily licked your lips with want.

You couldn’t say which one of them undressed faster – Aemond or Daemon. But neither of them have took off their predatory gaze upon you while doing it. Once they were bare naked you admired their figures carved in marble, like some of those statues you have seen several times in Sept. Daemon was slightly more massive due to his age, but for that Aemond was rather taller. Your eyes rested on both of their manhoods and you must have admit that nature didn’t stint them at all. Either of men gradually approached you in a somewhat majestic, primary manner, Aemond stopped in between your half-spreaded legs, his strong forearms grabbed you by knees, pulling you to himself closer. Meanwhile Daemon landed on the side of the bed near you, you could feel his alternately tensing muscles.

Younger man caught your chin, forcing to look upon now his sinister mask of a tamer.

- Listen now, little dove. I will eat the hell out of that dripping cunt of yours until you will be nothing but a mewling mess, begging me to stop – his voice was overflowing with pure craving, he licked his lips ravenously – Meanwhile he can try to keep you in place, lo ziry kostagon (if he can) – Aemond pointed his head to Daemon who huffed in a disapproval.

Before either of you managed to protest, Aemond’s head lurked between your heated thighs and took a first swig of your soaked folds, a protracted moan of yours filled his ears, it was like a sweet melody he wanted to listen in forever.

- Gods, you are so, so drenched for me… - he highlighted the last word, making biting remarks about the older man – And your taste is… purely angelic – young Prince wasted no time and he returned to eating you like a famished man he was at the moment, extorting more and more of your sugar-sweet moans, each of them getting louder and louder. For a brief moment you were pondering about who has teached him to pleasure a woman in such way, you thought that probably his older brother, Aegon, took him one day to the Silk Street to give him a proper education. Whoever it was, it didn’t really matter right now, you were just grateful, because he had to be a very teachable student, devouring you like if you were some kind of an appetizer.

Daemon grasped your neck between his long, slender fingers, choking you lightly, crashing his lips to yours in a greedy kiss, silencing your lustful screams. He tasted of a smoky rum with some metallic aftertaste. His other hand landed on your perfectly round-shaped breast, stimulating your perked nipple in a frantic way. He didn’t allow himself to overlook your other bosom, caressing it with the same intensity. You sighed with contentment through your kiss, which was getting sloppier and sloppier. Aemond leaned out from behind your flushed bottom cheeks, seeing his Uncle gaining control over your body and your reactions. He wasn't going to let it happen, not on his fucking watch.

He decided to push one of his digits through your shaky internal walls, slowly, to watch you come undone beneath him, with this insolent smirk of his. Your reaction lived up to his expectations, you bit Daemon’s lip almost to blood, before pushing him aside on the bed.

- Kessa, issa sȳz hāedar, naejot qilōni ao sytilībagon (Yes, my obedient girl, remember to who you belong to) – his voice purred lowly as he fucked you now not with one but with two fingers, clearly wanting to warm you up before he enters you with something else. His tongue tortured your already overstimulated clit, pushing you bit by bit into your first climax. You were as far back on the border, your mind was getting blurry due to the pleasure spilling all over your body. You desperately wanted to distract yourself from coming, but Aemond’s fingers imposed a killing pace, and his wet tongue never leaving your sensitive bundle of nerves. You persisted to reaching your orgasm before any of them buries their cocks down to the hilt inside you. You grabbed already rock-hard Daemon’s member and started moving your hand up and down his shaft, much to a approval mixed with astonishment of the Rogue Prince. Feeling of getting more wet at the very sight of his impressive manhood, now totally on your mercy, washed over you like a flood. But you were naïve to think Aemond wouldn't notice that. He suddenly stopped moving his fingers and pushed his hand outside of you, causing you to groan regretfully. His eyes were now sharp as two small daggers pushed into your face with vengeance. Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen already felt humiliated by letting you even touch other man, not to mention fucking him. The possessiveness of this man knew no boundaries, at least not when it comes to his beloved woman. Increasing moans coming up from Daemon’s lips only added fuel to the flames in which your fiancé was covered now with.

Young and infuriated Prince pushed wildly his rival off down to the floor, jumping on the bed by himself, yanking you on the top him, so now you were straddling his hips. He jerked your head heavily to his and hissed in your face.

- If you think I am going to let this get away with you then you are terribly wrong, issa ziry-zaldrīzes – the sick determination in his voice ensured that he meant it, he really did.

Before a single sigh could escape your agape lips, he slammed his tremendous cock inside your wet core, drawing a shameless scream out of the two of you. His hands hanged on tightly on your hips, dictating commanding pace, not giving you any chance to accommodate to his length. You started dutifully rocking your hips against his pelvis, you leaned your hands on his hard-breathing torso to gain a bit of balance. He teared you apart inside, you were besotted with zest combined with pain, but that kind of pain that you would happily give yourself into. He watched you with fierce satisfaction in his eyes, observing your full breasts bouncing with every slight movement, your waist and hips swinging in a harmonic rhytm, feeling of your tight, warm walls clutching around him was something that he has craved for so many years. And now at last his craving has been fulfilled.

- Ah, you have no smallest idea for how long I have been waiting for this… How many days and nights I have dreamed of this moment, when I will be finally be able to slip into your delicious cunt, to fuck you blind, to mark you and claim you endlessly as mine. Issa dāria (My queen) – his words only made you tighten more around his cock, now pounding into you mercilessly. You wasn’t sure of much longer you will be to hold your composure before your first climax sweep you off completely. And now you desired, oh, how much you desired to come on your dragon lover.

Suddenly you felt a pair of unfamiliar hands on your bust, Daemon’s hands squeezed your bosoms vigorously, his huskily warm breath wrapped around your neck made your skin goose bumps.

- Kipagon zirȳla, sepār raqagon ao kipagon aōha zaldrīzes, azantys (Ride him, just like you ride your dragon, warrior) – his High Valyrian was magnificent, his smooth voice only adding piquancy. Daemon traced the delicate skin on your clavicle with gentle kisses, leaving barely visible markings with his teeth.

Aemond groaned with resentment at this sight, pulling you to himself once more, unleashing from his Uncle embrace. The tender flesh of your breasts has collided with his sculpturesque thorax once more, his hand grabbed the back of your head, his swollen lips claimed yours in a an insatiable kiss, literally eating out your soul while deepening it.

- You… are… MINE – he gasped in between another hungry kisses.

- Aōhon syt infyrar (I am yours for eternity) – you replied as you tasted yourself on his tongue, it was such a sweet and intoxicating flavor, something musky as well as salty came to your mind.

Meanwhile Daemon watched your perfectly protruding butt towards him in an awe, with Aemond’s cock buried deep down inside your hole. It made him feel rudimentary need to feel you inside, to fill up with his masculinity, with his seed, to break you in every possible way.

- Daemon, what the hell…?! – you yelled as you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

- Easy, byka mēre (little one). Relax and this won’t hurt, at least this much – he added with a visitant chuckle. After a moment your condemned cry filled entire chamber as he entered you, slowly at first, but all the way down to his navel. This was decisively too much to bare for you, you had a feeling that your womb is going to crack within next seconds. Out of the momentum you sticked your nails in Aemond’s chest, scraping his skin, leaving almost bloody scratches afterwards. One-eyed Prince growled in a displeasure, but he saw tears coming down your cheeks, your clasped lips, the overall visible pain overlayed over your facial features. His Uncle picked up the goodly pace, not intending to stop, not even for a moment. Aemond was not going to let his love suffer, not in this bed, and certainly not because of his damned uncle.

- You’re… hurting her…! – his roar came upon your ears with redoubled strength as he violently grabbed you from bed, securely holding your bottom, his member never leaving your insides. You clang to him like a newborn infant, your legs squeezed his narrow waist. He gently stroked your long, dark hair, as he heard your quiet sobbing coming from your mouth nestled in the crook of his neck.

- Shh, rūs (darling). I’m here, it’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid – his soothing voice was like a balm to your unsteady heart.

He settled himself with you in a big, red, velvety armchair, the very same one where you have started this whole evening. You mounted him, feeling his large, throbbing cock still inside you.

- Ride me, issa dāria (my queen). Take your pleasure, you deserve it. He won’t grant it, he doesn’t belong to you. He will only hurt you by chasing after his own sick satisfaction – he pointed out his head at Daemon, sending him an audacious smile. Then he took your hips with powerful hands and started rocking you against his venter. You caught the rhytm, trying to find out the best position for his cock to hit that sweet spot inside you. Your movements became more hectic as well as your breathy moanings, you tilted your head back, losing yourself to the incoming pleasure.

- Look at me, little dove. I want you to look at me, when you’re gonna cum for me, all over my cock – Aemond grabbed you by your chin, forcing you to look him straight in the eye, this goddamn deep-blue, mesmerizing eye. This only intensified your delight, his hands were still clenched around your waist, his hips began meeting your motions, fucking you breathless. His cock found that fragile point inside you and began to smash it, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your lips were open, your throat started to dry up because of your constant screams. But Aemond took it as a invitation as he pushed his two long fingers inside your mouth. You licked them obediently, as if they were the best snack you've ever eaten. He smiled with satisfaction and took them out with a loud, wet pop from your lips, licked them by himself afterwards.

- Good girl, such a good, little dove – he purred with contentment and started to poke you down on his dick with doubled strength, causing your desperate cry. You felt that you’re going to come at any moment, your walls began to tremble around his manhood, your limbs were going numb.

- Yes, yes, come all over me, issa ziry-zaldrīzes (my Dragoness). Come for your Prince – his words were like an enchantment and you were ready to surrender to it. Only seconds separated you from your own paradise, your mind was wholly focused on getting to its gates. The Young Prince was also very close to his climax, you could tell by how he was growing inside your walls, you could literally feel every pulsating vein on his member. His moans were getting more and more hoarse, his eyes were hazy, looking at you languid. You would give everything to feel his warm seed filling your womb.

A strong jerk of your shoulders broke you out of your dream, as you were verbally pulled down to the ground like you were some potato sack. The originator of this violence was none other than Daemon, you tried to free yourself by all means but you have been a fool to think you could overpower such man like Daemon, even if he was naked at the moment.

- You thought I would let you reach your pleasure without my participation? Not a chance, issa jorrāelagon (my dear). Now it’s time for you to experience being satisfied by a man worthy of you – he said insulting his own nephew, who was now boiling with spite for his uncle yet still he didn’t change his position in the armchair.

Daemon has put you gently on the bed, positioning himself between your legs.

- You can make him watch me giving you deserved pleasure or you can try to put down his misery. Choose – he said suggestively pointing out his head to Aemond. Before a single word slipped out of your mouth The Rogue Prince thrusted in you like a warrior sticking his spear deep inside you. You tilted your head back on the bed’s edge, so you saw now Aemon upside down, watching you like a hurt child, from whom the toy was taken from. You wanted to feel him somehow, to give him pleasure which was taken from him brutally, to soothe his wounded pride by watching his beloved Dragoness being ridden by someone else.

You waved your finger at him, wanting to get him closer. Reluctantly at first, he slowly approached the bed, his member was still stiff as the pike. Your hands caught his loins, bringing him closer, so now his cock was jiggling above your face. Daemon inexorably increased the pace, nearly tearing apart your bowels, whether you liked that or not, obscene moans were dripping from your mouth like some chant, to Aemond’s despair.

You grabbed Aemond’s throbbing cock and started moving your hand frantically, driving him into pure madness. You grabbed his length closer to your swollen, wet lips – he looked at you questioningly, you nodded slightly and he pushed him deep down your throat, almost gagging you at first. He stopped for a moment seeing flowing tears in your eyes, but you gave a sign with your hand for him to continue. So he started fucking your mouth, initially without any rush and you licked curve of his manhood with pure love.

Now the two dragons had their filthy way you – Daemon was charging at your begging for climax pussy while Aemond was chasing after his own release in your mouth. You felt like a whore, but a luxurious one, as you tried to comfort your sense of shame in thoughts. You saw droplets of sweat running down strained Daemon’s chest, his short platinum blonde hair was a miserable mess right now. He bent over you, his teeth slandered the sensitive flesh of your breast and nipples, extorting another volley of your delicious groans. You looked upward at Aemond. His eyes were now closed in pure bliss, his torso was moving along with his rapid breath. His hand grabbed your head, shoving your lips further down his jittery cock, another was gently caressing your hair, you even heard his silent praises directed at you.

The hopeless need of reaching an orgasm was washing over you like a turbulent wave constantly. You slowly felt your walls clutching around Daemon’s member, his raging reaction, as his digits were now sticking sorely into your tender thighs, his movements were getting more and more chaotic. You could tell that he’s not going to last any longer, his eyes were wandering all over your spasming, feverish body, like he was trying to devour it with his internal flame. Aemond was near his end too, his hips were bucking into your mouth madly, causing your tears flowing down your cheeks, the taste of his pre-cum was getting more perceptible on your tongue. The only sounds audible in your chamber were salacious clapping coming from your went cunt being ravaged by Daemon’s cock and your muffled moans by Aemond’s one.

The climax of the three of you was approaching inexorably. Mixed howling of both men were now synchronized as some mating song of the wolves hidden deep in the forest. Your palms were glued now tightly to Daemon’s shoulders as he lay his face on the crook of your neck, giving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could.

- I won't last much longer, issa jorrāelagon (my love). Come, now, come all over my cock. I command you, drain that delicious cunt of yours, give me everything that you got – his raspy voice ordered you as if he was on the battlefield again. He didn't have to tell you twice, his words seized your will thoroughly, your cunt began to clutch on his pulsing cock, as a surge of your orgasm has swept you off completely. Your whole body was trembling, your toes and fingers went numb, your mind was bemused as if you had inhaled some kind of opium. You fell limp onto the bed and seconds later Daemon reached his peak with a spectacular groan, but he managed to pull of his member, so he spilled all his warm seed all over your womb and belly. He collapsed without any strength next to you and breathed heavily, absorbed by pure happiness.

Aemond was bewildered by the sight of the two of you, and after few, firm thrust he spilled his liquids into your waiting, salacious mouth, some of the seed was dripping down your chin and neck. He moaned once more, exquisitely, making your spent cunt clutch once more and he slid down motionless to the ground. You swallowed everything he gave you without any hesitation and licked your lips willingly.

For quite a while all of you were lying, felled out of strength, the only audible sound was your hard breathing. After some time you gathered yourself and managed somehow to stand up on your wobbly feet, Aemond grabbed your arms to secure you and helped you walk to your dressing table, where towels and a bowl of water were waiting. The Prince took cloth and he helped you clean up and later did the same with himself. After you finished he took you into his arms and carried to the bed, where Daemon was already sleeping on his stomach, hugging tightly one of his pillows. Aemond placed you down carefully on silk bedding and kissed your forehead softly.

- I think he passed out too early – you giggled as you heard Daemon’s quiet snoring.

- And you were hoping for a second round? Gods be damned you evil woman, you would’ve finish off a dragon, no wonder he collapsed. I'm drained of my strength too – Young Prince wasn’t lying, tiredness was visibly painted all over his fine-looking face. You laughed at his words and he popped into the bed after you, moving you towards older man, Daemon must have felt your touch, because he hugged to your side immediately.

- Sleep, you little rascal. You've already messed up enough today – he gave you last peck in the lips and he pulled you close to his chest. A little smile enlightened your face as you gladly lied down your head, listening to steady beating of his heart. He held you firmly with his strong arm as you were slowly sailing away to the land of dreams.

*****

Something woke you up from sleep in the early morning, you lifted your head lightly, with your still drowsy eyes. It was still dark outside although a glow of light began to spread from the east. You looked to the side, hoping to see The Rogue Dragon, but to your surprise he was gone. You moved uneasily, waking up Aemond, a dissatisfied mumble left his mouth.

- Why are you not sleeping, love? It’s still pretty early… - he muttered under his breath.

- Daemon is gone – you stated with disappointment and a bit of… sadness (?).

- Ah yes… You thought I would’ve let him stay and make him an honor of waking up next to you? No way, my little dove, he already got a lot more than he asked for – he replied with a slight dander in his voice.

- But…

- No buts, issa ziry-zaldrīzes (my Dragoness). You've already done enough to make me thirsty for revenge. You shall be punished, lavishly. I will never let him or any other man touch you, ever again. You better remember that because I don't like repeating myself. Sleep, for now. You need a solid rest after tonight’s vagaries. And for many night that are yet to come, with me, solely – he spoke with a voice that can bear no protest. He grabbed you closely to him so now he was facing your back and hugged his face to your nape. After a moment you heard his steady breath, he fell asleep again. You cuddled more to his warm body and tried to doze off once more. The thought of punishment that he was preparing for you was kept your head busy. But whatever he was plotting, you were ready for it, whether it will be enjoyable or not.

And... that would be it, for now! Thanks for reading guys! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed myself while writing it. There is a possible continuation in plans, fully dependent on your reaction so I hope you're gonna say Hi warmly to this one. :) Let me know your thoughts in comments, any feedback would be much appreciated!

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samstree · 3 years ago

Text

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #getting together #requited love #kissing #hand holding #winter at kaer morhen #soft jaskier #geralt of rivia blushes

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the-primordials · 2 years ago

Text

ROMANCES【Love OR Despair?】

• Name: Arum

Gender: Male

Age: 9.4 Million

Pronouns: he/him

Species: God

Title:

(King of the Gods)

Divine Form:

Arum's true form resembles a dragon. Body length sitting at 136 meters and a wingspan of 342 meters. When in hybrid form he wields a dragon golden sword. (Hybrid form above, humanoid dragon.)

Physical Appearance:

Height (194 cm), more on the muscular bulky body build side, a rose beige skin tone, dirty golden blonde hair, chin length; messy hair. Emerald green eyes that shine with a sense of seriousness and vibrance.

Personality:

Prideful, Benevolent, Charming, Spontaneous,Stubborn.

Relationship: Great Nephew

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Arum, King of the Gods, and God of Matter (Atoms), War and Compassion. He was the first god to be born and the first to create one of the new mortal races. He is the son of Zotikos Ruler of the Titans & Lavada Queen of the Pure (Souls). Arum is a god that is loved and revered throughout Eden. He has been known to be a fair and a just god. Arum has loved and been loved, but every time he would break off his relationships, always feeling something... or someone was missing from his life, someone to complete him. As such many have tried to fill that missing piece in his heart, but none have succeeded, yet. So will you be the void that fills that space? Or will you only break a longing heart?

• Name: Samuel Ulrich Van Doren Elsenburg

Gender: Male

Age: 23

Pronouns: he/him

Species: Human + ¼ Incubus

Talent: Aristocrat, Sorcerer, Strategist

Title:

(The 2nd Prince) (Cursed) (Son of The Witch) (He Who Rules Fire) (The Hidden Underdog)

Physical Appearance:

Height (183 cm), athletic body build, fair pale skin tone, obsidian hair, mid waist straight length hair. Crimson eyes, that hide a hidden pain.

Personality:

Caring, Extrovert, Super Cautious, Clingy, Brave. (Cold & Distant)

Relationship: none

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Samuel Van Doren Elsenburg, the second heir to the throne of Ager Somnia, Kingdom of Dreams. Samuel was born at a young age with Leukocytosis as such he was very sickly growing up. Many considered he was cursed by the gods for having succubus blood flowing through his veins like his mother. And due to this the king turned his back on him and his mother as years went by. Till one day his mother made a deal with a Devil (Soul Seeker, Argus He Who Whispers). After she gave her life so her son could live, Samuel from then on promised himself that he'd take revenge on those who wronged him and his mother, and one day revive her. Since then Samuel distanced himself from others. He became cold and scary to all who came near him. He shut his heart off to all, even those who tried to show any form of kindness. But that is only how everyone perceived him, while his younger sister was one of the few who knows his true nature. So will you open the doors to a lonely heart, that is need of healing? Or will lead this young man to the spiralling stairs of doom and destruction?

• Name: Cliodhna

Gender: Female

Age: 689

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Succubus (Demon)

Talent: Enchantress, Illusionist, Dark Mage

Title:

(The Temptress of Man) (That B*tch) (Man Slayer) (Blight on Reality) (Heartbroken Child) (Cursed) (Witch Of The Northern Tundra)

Demon Form:

Unknown.

Physical Appearance:

Height (166 cm), bottom hourglass body build, pale skin tone, dark velvet hair, long wavy straight hair. Bright intoxicating pink eyes.

Personality:

Flirtatious, Vengeful, Caring, Courageous, Realistic.

Relationship: none

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Cliodhna, The Temptress of Man and daughter of the Demon King. Cliodhna, was born between a forbidden love, she was a child that was never ment to be born. But in the end her mother kept her. But she also kept her secret from the rest of the Demon races, for her very existence would start wars of unheard carnage. And carnage they did start, one day Cliodhna's existence became known to the Demon race and once the humans found out about an Heir to the Demon throne, a war broke out between the two races. A war that lasted for a 100 years, a war were Cliodhna earned the title "The Temptress of Man". But ever since the gods intervened to stop that war centuries ago. Cliodhna since then became nothing more than a fairytale in history. Until one fateful day were she fell in love with a human noble. Their love was a different kind of forbidden love, but she did not care. And from this union a daughter was born that would one day make a sacrifice so great it would save the life of another. And so as the years went by and she wept for the man she loved, who died at the hands of his own people for his treacherous deed. And ever since then she has continued to torment and bring fear to the people who stole her love and daughter from her. So will you be the cement that seals the cracks in the heart that lays shattered before you? Or will revel in the pain of another, and destroy all hope she has left?

• Name: April Collins

Gender: Female

Age: 26

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Human

Talent: Historian, Detective

Title:

(Archaeologist) (Bookworm) (Someone Famous) (Lone-Wolf) (Curiosity's Biggest Fan)

Physical Appearance:

Height (173 cm), fit slightly average body build, light pale skin tone, dark brown hair, chin length curly hair. Bright deep brown eyes.

Personality:

Curious, Intuitive, Brave, Impulsive, Idealistic

Relationship: none

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

April Collins, is the daughter to the famous Professor Collins an Archaeologist who was the first to find remnants of the first humans made by Eligos. A civilization that was so advanced that it still puts people in awe of their abilities. As such it was something that many wished to learn and discover more about. Including April who follows in her father's footsteps and became a renowned Archaeologist as well throughout her younger years. She became so obsessed with everything to do with the Ancient Ones she was able to find their very first city. She has since been known by many for her hard working attitude and smart brain. That she has gained a lot of her own fame that it no longer was over shadowed by her father's. But in doing so she also attracted the bad kind of attention that comes with fame. As such she was one day kidnapped from her hotel, while on her way back to her home town. She was then coerced into finding a certain tomb, for a certain secret cult. And at first she did not want help... until she learnt of what this "Tomb" may hold within it. So will you be another great trophy for the Professor? Or will you make her see you in a different light?

• Name: Ravyn

Gender: Female

Age: 27.2 Billion

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Primordial

Title:

(Darkness Primordial)

Primordial Form:

She stands at 1.2km in height and wields a spear resembling the Spear of Longinus.

Physical Appearance:

Length (279 cm), slim hourglass body build, warm almond skin, dark royal purple scales, Amethyst hair with bit of vibrant pink, waist length slightly wavy hair. Tired soul piercing silver/purple eyes with black sclera. [Lamia looking in appearance.]

Personality:

Impatient, Stoic, Sarcastic, Selfish, Manipulative.

Relationship: Sister in law

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Ravyn, Primordial of Darkness, Mother of the Danmed, Ruler of the Darkness, Goddess of Fear, & The Bringer of Chaos. Ravyn was the 6th Primordial to come into existence, just barely before her twin Astera. Ravyn is the twin sister to Astera 'The Primordial of Light' and sister to 'The Primordial of Space' Christos. She was known to be the quiet one of the Primordials, she mostly kept to herself, but was always in everyone else's business. She loved to cause trouble as long as it brought her entertainment, and either pain or some sort of suffering to others. But when it came to 'The Primordial of the Void' she would simply follow you while hiding in her shadows. And that was because what other's didn't know was that.... The moment she came into existence and set her eyes upon you 'The Primordial of the Void', she knew you were her soulmate a being she was willing to serve, worship... even love till the end of existence. But the day her brother tricked and sealed you away... She went to war with her brother and sister. Only to always lose. As such as the eons went by she bided her time and set in motion a plan to unseal, her lover. So will you The Empty Void accept a one sided love, or is it? Or perhaps you will use the feelings of someone so close to your arch-nemesis, to your advantage?

• Name: Invar

Gender: Male

Age: 35 Billion

Pronouns: he/him

Species: Primordial

Title:

(Time Primordial)

Primordial Form:

(Think of a mummy Pharaoh.) He stands at about 60 meters in height, and wears a golden gauntlet on his right hand and wields a Khopesh in his left.

Physical Appearance:

Height (188 cm), toned lean body build, fair skin tone, waist length wavy white hair. Strong kind curious filled crimson eyes.

Personality:

Intellectual, Friendly, Carefree, Open-minded, Wise.

Relationship: Friend?

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Invar, Primordial of Time, God of Time and Infinity, Father of Time, Sage of Time, He Who Sees All & Knows All. Invar was the 2nd Primordial to come into existence and the second one too be born from necessity like you. The moment upon his existence it felt as if the hands of existence itself had began to move and come together forming a puzzle, which would later be known as reality. Invar was the first conscious being to exist besides you. And as such, as the eons went by, The Primordial of the Void and Time became close friends, that stood through thick and thin. When your siblings came into existence he was always there to help you when needed. Until... the day of your banishment. He who could see all that is to come. Didn't even warn his closest friend of their impending doom. Since that day Invar, mostly closed himself off from the rest. He was either in his Clock Tower or travelling to other universes timelines. When the new races came into existence he invented a new system alongside the God King. It was the status bar that would go on to revolutionize Eden forever. And as we came closer to the day of your awakening he was the first to reach out to you. So will mend old wounds of betrayal? Or will you stab him in the back the same he did you?

• Name: Ren Hashimoto

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (516)

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Human (Otherworlder)

Talent: Hero, Sage, Archmagus, God Slayer, Goddess •○□¤•◆°.:

Title:

(Summoned Hero) (Outsider) (Otherworlder) (Goddess)

Divine Form:

Unknown.

Physical Appearance:

Height (171 cm), athletic skinny body build, light pale skin tone, black hair with dyed purple, shoulder length straight hair with slightly curled ends. Light brown eyes, that seem to be lost and very lackluster.

Personality:

Depressed, Cautious, Resentful, Curious, Insecure.

Relationship: none

Marital Status: Single

Romanceable: Female MC's only.

Mini-Sum:

Ren Hashimoto, a once very ordinary 15 year old Japanese girl of Earth. Till it changed all one day when her and four of her other friends were swept up in a summoning circle, and brought to Eden. Upon their arrival she and her friends was greeted by The New Gods of Eden who offered her and her friends safe passage back to Earth and many rewards. If! She and her friends killed the Evil God Of Oblivion & Corruption for them. Since she needed to get back to her world as soon as possible she had no choice but to accept the offer. After one year of gruelling and rigorous training and many battles. Ren and her friends were able to slay The Evil One. But just as hope came knocking and she was to return home to her world and loved ones... She was hit with a infinite amount of Despair. Upon the Evil One's dying breath he transferred all of his remaining powers to the hero. Making Ren a Goddess, and in doing so binding her to this universe's reality. Both a miserable curse and a blessing. And due to this she pleaded with the Gods the old and the new to take away her divinity away. But none could help. So she went to The Ancients the oldest and most powerful of the gods... The Primordials. But when she asked the Ruler of the Primordials to remove her divinity, he refused and laughed at her plight. Since then she has been wandering the lands of Eden in search of the only glimmer of hope she has left. The one known as The First, The FORGOTTEN ONE.... THE ETERNAL ONE. So when you meet this Goddess of the winds will you answer her plight? Or will ignore and blow out her last glimmering hope?

#The Primordials #INFO #ROMANCES #choicescript #CHARACTERS

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Text

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

------------------------

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though.

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?”

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?”

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

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lovehotelreservation · 3 years ago

Text

Fantasy

Summary: It has been the greatest honor to be selected as the official cosplayer at your favorite gacha game’s fan festival event.

But what pleasure could compare to having your fellow cosplay colleagues have their way with you? [Cosplayer AU]

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Makoto/F!Reader/Sousuke/Natsuya

THE LEVELS OF ON BRAND™ THIS ONE-SHOT IS I S2G

I’VE BEEN SITTING ON THIS PIECE FOR A WHILE NOW AND NOW I OFFER IT TO U ALL

ANYWAY MAKE US FREE NA SPLASH-- ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

-----------------

Another year meant another summer of pinning your hair beneath a blonde bob wig and twirling around in a pink dress that required countless hours to recreate.

But it was because of your efforts of investing your all into faithfully bringing to life the character design of Djeeta that the organizers of Granblue Fantasy Festival reached out to have you as the official cosplayer to work the event. Appearing on mainstage to enthrall awaiting fans, assisting with the presentation of prizes during the various games planned for the attending seiyuu, walking the floor to pose for pictures by enthusiastic players--you were honored by this opportunity, one that you looked forward to year after year with each invitation.

The trek across Japan to attend GBF Fes during its tour also meant reunions with the other official cosplayers, some of whom you have bonded and befriended even beyond the event itself.

Such was the case with the three who portrayed Lobelia, Aglovale and Belial: Natsuya Kirishima, Makoto Tachibana, and Sousuke Yamazaki.

Besides being profound cosplayers who found their claim to fame from their GBF cosplays, the trio were known to even sound practically identical to their respective characters.

Though spirited and ever eager, Natsuya certainly wasn’t a shameless guro-addict like the twisted Lobelia. By contrast, Makoto was far too much of a big precious teddy bear to be arrogant like the regal Aglovale. Last of all, the aloof Sousuke only shared the common trait of being tall, dark, and handsome with the lasciviously depraved Belial.

It was always a wonderful time with the three, from your reunions just days before the event, spending the weekend indulging in your favorite mobile game, to hanging out for carefree fun before the eventual but dreaded goodbye.

But by Makoto’s suggestion for you all to hit up the newly opened Super Nintendo World after the Osaka run of GBF Fes, you expected for your parting to end on a higher note this time around at least.

Especially since, upon the conclusion of the second day of GBF Fes, it was Natsuya insisting you all hop into a taxi and celebrate with dinner at a karaoke joint along Dotonbori’s canal upon the return to your hotel located by the massive INTEX Osaka convention center space.

However, what you didn’t expect was for the evening to go about as it did.

Hues of soft pink, blue, and purple mood lighting that contrasted the sharp gleams within hazy irises of red, green, and teal.

Moody synths of 80s city pop accompanying lyrics yearning love and desire were muffled to your ears, the breathy huffs of sweet whines and low groans a much more distinct sound.

A blushing heat coursed through the entirety of your body, stoked even further by lips chilled by ice cold beer kissing your skin.

The hotly murmured question of “Say Captain, which one of us do you like most?” from Natsuya had yet to receive a verbal answer, of which you conveyed through a different, more physical kind of reciprocation to all three.

You had inklings of how this weekend was going to turn out, but surely not like this.

While setting out for Osaka, you ran into Natsuya while settling in for your bullet train ride from Tokyo. It was a delight to already see his handsome grin once again, making you all the more excited to reunite with the others. As it had been a long morning, you found yourself dozing off while you both caught up with one another. With your mind drifted to a weekend of cosplay fun and amusement park thrills, you weren’t aware that he snapped a photo of him beaming at his phone camera with a peace sign while proudly displaying your head resting on his shoulder during the train ride over, texting the picture over to Makoto and Sousuke.

A frazzled kaomoji from Makoto while Sousuke left the response on read.

Then, during the afternoon for the first day of GBF Fes, you had some issues with zipping up the back of your idol Djeeta cosplay. Thankfully, Makoto was in the next stall over in the private dressing room for official cosplayers and was prompt to help you out once he finished buttoning up his coat for Aglovale’s House of Wales attire.

You were about to head out to the mainstage when you heard Makoto’s flustered squawk of your name upon his realization that your skirt was lifted after having gotten bunched up somehow while you were trying to fix your zipper on your own. Given that time demanded your immediate presence to the stage, you weren’t as alarmed by the sudden presence of Natsuya and Sousuke upon their return from making their rounds through the main event floor in their cosplays.

But they were rather taken by the sight of your skirt’s hem being hastily tugged by Makoto’s fingers.

Though, you could see why things came to a head earlier today when you--now in Djeeta’s iconic skyfarer dress--and Sousuke joined each other on stage. As “Parade’s Lust” blared from the speakers, the audience watched as he knocked away your sword before embracing you from behind, his grinning lips planting onto your cheek while his large hands caressed your waist.

”Oi, oi, when did you have the time to practice that?!” Natsuya jeered with a raised brow and a smirk as the two of you made your way backstage.

Makoto was rendered too speechless to say anything.

Sousuke, whose hand still held yours from when he helped you step down from the main stage, merely shrugged with nonchalance, of which was betrayed by the hint of a smug grin sliding onto his lips. “We just did what felt natural.”

And surely, while the effects of liquor of the sweetest and hardest varieties were well underway, this moment shared with these three--unexpected as it was--felt seamless in its transition from a night of merriment to an evening of withheld desire spilling forth.

As clothes were either tugged away just enough for a bit of freedom or exposure, or discarded entirely, you found yourself at the center of Natsuya’s, Makoto’s, and Sousuke’s affections, easily caught beneath the loom of their towering physiques

Natsuya was no sadist compared to his cosplay counterpart, but he didn’t refrain from affectionately nipping at your neck while enjoying the cute yelps you let out whenever his hand freely spanked your ass. He was no brute, but when he had his fingers tightly weaved in your hair, he didn’t hold back from fucking your mouth, all while he slurred out praises of how much of a good girl you were.

While he came from a humble upbringing back in the sleepy town of Iwatobi, Makoto made you feel like royalty while he happily knelt before where you sat as his tongue lapped against your core, dragging along your folds and twirling around your clit. When he had you sit on his lap--a proper throne for you, as he gasped desperately upon his dick entering you fully--, he cradled and massaged your breasts from behind as he had you ride him

And while every messy kiss shared with Sousuke felt like love--which it did, inebriation and all--, the way he spoke to and handled you was absolute and utter filth. His big and muscular arms hooked beneath your thighs, keeping them raised up while his hands stayed clasped behind your head, the sight of his thick cock ramming up into your ass to be seen fully by Makoto and Natsuya.

“Is this what you enjoy? Having other guys watch you get fucked in the ass like the cockslut that you are?” Sousuke grunted huskily, a harsh flush of red spread across his cheeks.

You squealed your desire for more as he continued to not relent in the slightest with the vicious rate he was thrusting into you.

Sousuke eyed Natsuya and Makoto, the look in his eyes as urgent as it was arrogant. “Captain’s needy.”

”Then leave it to me to satisfy Captain’s le désir,” Natsuya hummed proudly with a pound at his chest as he approached, eager to stuff your sopping core with his cock.

”Ahh that won’t do at all,” Makoto tsked with a sweet smile, ready to soothe your whines by giving you a mouthful of his dick.

You couldn’t have imagined that a night straight out of your fantasies would come to light as it did.

But as this game had come to show you, luck had a hell of a way of revealing itself to you.

#makoto tachibana x reader #sousuke yamazaki x reader #natsuya kirishima x reader #makoto tachibana #yamazaki sousuke #natsuya kirishima #Free!#free! iwatobi swim club #free! dive to the future #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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one-piece-aus · 3 years ago

Text

Nicotine

X Drake x Reader | 100 Music Milestone Event

X Drake + Pop + ❤ + Love Confession | Requested By: @animegirlfromvietnam

Warning: Profanity and mention of drinking

Disclaimer: I have never written for Drake before nor have I seen him enough in One Piece to fully understand his character so I do apologize if he is OOC

Not too long after X Drake had entered the New World, he realized that he was going to need an alliance with another pirate crew if he was going to take down the Yonkos. The first ones that came to his mind were the other crews from the worst generation but then scratched that off because they most likely weren't trustworthy. Though, almost as if fate would have it, his came across yours.

Your crew members were waving a white flag on deck to show they didn't want to crossfire. However, you were still pirates, often coming up with trickery to attack enemies, so Drake commanded his men to ready the cannons just in case. The two ships sailed next to each other but kept a safe distance. You emerged from the lower deck and called over to the other side.

"Hey, do you boys happen to have any blood bags for type F?" You asked, from your tone it sounded as if you were struggling to keep your composer. "We're willing to trade if you want but I need the blood bag now."

Fortunately, Drake had those in stock so he ordered one of his men to collect them. They crossed over to your pirate ship and you led them to your med-bay where your navigator laid on the medical bed. You let the doctor get to work before leaving the room with the other captain.

"Thank you for your help, now what would like in return?" You inquired turning to face Drake with a grateful smile. "No price is too small, as long as it's not the lives of my nakama."

"I wish to form an alliance with you," he stated, thinking he could trust you for the time being. Though, he knew it'd only be temporary since he was still a marine and would eventually have to turn you in.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting that," you muttered under your breath. "You must be one of the rookies entering the New World. I'm [L/n] [Y/n], captain of Smoke Pirates."

"X Drake."

The alliance was formed, with your help, Drake has managed to take out most of the territories the Yonkos owned. It was fine, but it required the two of you to have meetings to discuss plans. In beginning, Drake hadn't been too affected by it, he just felt reluctant to since in his eyes you were still a pirate. As time passed, something changed and he actually wasn't bothered by them but rather became hastier to get to your meetings. He never noticed, and even if his crew asked him, he wouldn't know why. Then an incident happened.

"Are you sure it's wise for us to be the ones scouting out the area?" Drake questioned, sneaking not too far behind you as the two of you made your way down the back alleys.

"It's better us than our crew," you replied in a whisper, peaking your head around the corner. Seeing it was clear, you step out and made your way down the new path.

"You're a reckless captain," Drake muttered following your lead.

"No, I'm a captain that values her crew and tries not to have their lives in danger all the time," you corrected, looking back and sending him a glare.

Drake stared at you with a blank expression, letting out a hum. The tip of a sword catches his eye and quickly he pulls you into the nearest alleyway, which had been narrow so you were squished together but he hadn't noticed yet. Waiting for the pirates to walk by, Drake only turned his attention to you when they were gone saw the situation the two of you were in.

His hands were on your waist from he when had pulled you out of sight, your hands against his chest, and noses weren't far from touching each other. A blush burst onto Drake's cheeks, colouring them cherry blossom pink. Removing his hands, Drake tried to turn his head away to put some distance between your faces but with how narrow the alley was, there was no way to do that without your faces brushing each other, and the back of his head was already pressed up against the wall.

"Uh... sorry..." Drake apologized for getting you in this situation.

"It's- it's okay, I- I'll jus-" You backed up but hit against the wall behind you, startling you and causing you to misplace your footing. You slipped, falling down making Drake fall too. Something warm pressed against your lips, registering what was going, you realized Drake fell on top of you and your lips met with the other. It was embarrassing but you didn't wish for the kiss to end, though you didn't have much say when he pulled away to get off you.

"Sorry, about that."

"No- I should be the one to apologize..." You say sitting up, rubbing the back of your neck. "Though, I kinda didn't mind it..."

It went downhill from there for Drake. He saw you differently, he found himself staring at you for long periods of time. You made him feel something, every time you came near him butterflies would fly around in his stomach. Oh, and the little things you said that make his heart skip a beat.

"I promise I can get us out of here." You look at him with a closed-eye smile.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

Drake stayed awake late at night, staring at his ceilings as he tried to remind himself he was a marine. Scolding himself that he shouldn't be falling for a pirate but the image of you and the kiss you shared appears in his mind and he finds himself wishing to feel your breath again.

Burn my lungs and curse my eyes.

He was beginning to attack other marines in order to protect you. A few times he received calls from Sword, asking what he was doing. He lied but deep down he knew...

I lost control and I don't want it back

It's not as if he wanted to, but everything else began to become a blur when you were around. He didn't know why, surely this wasn't something normal, right?

I'm going numb, I've been hijacked

When you weren't in his presence, he tried cleaning his mind. He needed to return back to his senses but everything just grew grey without you.

It's a fucking drag~

Drake tried to find where it all went wrong, when did you start consuming his mind. It didn't take long to figure out it was from the incident in the alleys.

I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you~

One simple interaction caused him to fall for a pirate. Drake was ashamed of himself.

So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do~

The thought of ending your alliance did cross his mind, however, whenever he went to confront you he couldn't himself to do it. The way you greet him with your smile, your casual and pleasant presence you had made him remain allied with you.

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

Yeah~

No, he needed to leave before this proceeded any further than it already has. Even if killed him to do so.

It's better to burn than to fade away

If he couldn't say it straight to your face, he'll write the message so there'd be no difficulties. Drake was doing this for the good of the marines.

It's better to leave than to be replaced

He didn't get a chance to finish it before you entered his captain quarters to invite him and his crew to the celebration you were having that evening, and he couldn't find it in himself to say no.

I'm losing to you, baby, I'm no match

Just like that, you had him under your spell once more. All his plans of leaving were erased in his mind as the crew made their way over to the party.

I'm going numb, I've been hijacked

In a brief moment, he was standing in front of you and the two of you were sharing drinks. With each swing, the problem swayed further and further into the back of his mind.

It's a fucking drag~

Aroused by the booze, you cut him off guard by planting your lips on his. He sensed the flavour of smoke and the alcohol the two of you had been drinking.

I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you~

"I've been wanting to do that for a while now," you admitted after you pull away.

So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do~

In that moment, Drake's eyes cleared as if he came back to his senses and he shook his head. Turning away from you, he escaped from the festivities and went somewhere quiet to try to round up his thoughts. However, you followed him, wanting to know if something was wrong.

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

"Drake, I'm sorry." You tried to apologize. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just..."

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

"I'm calling off the alliance," Drake declared facing away.

Yeah~

"Wha-" You go to argue but he drew his sword and pointed it to your neck.

Just one more hit and then we're through

"It wasn't suppose to be this way but I've fallen for you," Drake confessed, distress in his voice. "But you can't be with me."

'Cause you could never love me back

"That's why I'm calling off the alliance," Drake told you, lowering his sword and looking to the side unable to make eye contact with you.

Cut every tie I have to you

"I don't understand..." you voice your confusion and come closer to him.

'Cause your love's a fucking drag~

"I love you, and if you return the feeling..." You cup his face in your hands, bringing his eyes to look into yours.

But I need it so bad

"Then shouldn't that make our alliance stronger?" You asked tilting your head in question.

Your love's a fucking drag~

Drake shook his head, trying to keep himself from staring into your eyes. He knew it'd be over if he faced you.

But I need it so bad

"Drake, please." Your voice was gentle. "We've been through so much, think of our crews. Think of us."

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

"I can't- we can't keep this alliance going," Drake told you beginning to become frustrated since you pushing him and it already pained him enough that he was trying to pull himself away. "We can't be together."

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

"Why? We're pirates, it shouldn't matter if we can or not," you argued.

Yeah~

"That's the thing, I'm not a pirate." Drake looked you in the eye, a stoic expression displaying on his face. "I'm a marine."

Imma be honest, I don't know how the heck I came up with any of this, I think this come out due to the many nights I stayed up writing this.

I hope you enjoyed regardless and thank you for your follow

#x drake #x drake x reader #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x drake #requested #milestone event

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Monochrome

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader/Female OC | Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff | NC-17 | Soulmate AU, Childhood-Friends-Become-Lovers AU

CHAPTER 1 OF 2. Part 2, titled Spectra, can be read here.

Summary: Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

It was the color of amaranth red, Donghyuck remembers now, though he was still too young back then to know the name. It was the color of amaranth red that painted her cheeks and the tip of her nose as they were kissed by the morning breeze. It was the color of amaranth red that tinted her shoes, her knitted sweater dress, the two ribbons she wore on her hair. And it was the color of amaranth red that burst onto his cheeks, as his eyes widened in both glee, curiosity, and sheer excitement. He was four years old and she was five, but the way she spoke so courteously as she introduced herself upon their first meeting was something little Donghyuck could only imagine doing.

But it didn’t matter, Donghyuck was too distracted anyway. If he was older maybe he would’ve been left dumbfounded at the sight of her breathtaking smile, or the perfect curves of her lips, or the vibrant eyes she had hidden behind her symmetrical bangs. But he was merely a four-year-old, so he was more distracted with a jar full of chocolate cookies she carried in her arms.

“We’re the family that’s just moved in next door.” The older lady, who looked like the exact doppelgänger of the little girl, mentioned with a polite smile and a formal bow. “I hope we can become friends.”

Donghyuck’s mother cheered and took her hand in a friendly handshake before she beckoned the little girl to come closer. “Oh my, look at how adorable you are! You’re about the same age as my son. I hope you two can get along.”

Donghyuck, who had been hiding behind his mother’s legs, took a step forward. He was only interested in the jar full of cookies that she carried in her arms, licking his lips once as his eyes bore into it. But when the little girl offered the jar, grinning widely from ear-to-ear, and chirped, “Brought you some cookies! I helped my mother with these so I bet they’ll taste great!”, Donghyuck decided that he liked her more.

It was the color of azure, the crayon she held between her fingers back then, as she tried to imitate the look of his clothes on a stick figure. She was quite a painter, four-year-old Donghyuck thought, because there was no way for him to know how to draw mountains and the sun lurking behind them with that little head of his.

“Okay, so this is you,” she told him, smiling to herself as she finished perfecting her sketches of him. “And this is me. And this is our pet dog, Jelly Bean.”

“But we don’t have a dog.”

“We can have one in the future.”

“We can?”

“Of course. When we grow up, we can have whatever we want.”

Donghyuck believed her. He believed everything she said because she believed everything he said, even about the monsters living under his bed that his parents completely ignored. During their sleepovers, which occurred nearly three times a week in his room, she would always stand by as a guard, saying, “I’ll keep watch. If it appears, I will destroy it with my sword. Nothing can hurt you when I’m around.” And he would feel content, knowing she was there to protect him, even when in the end she fell asleep way before he did with her toy sword hanging loosely around her fingers.

Donghyuck would sleep next to her, curling up like a baby that he was, seeking her warmth. Their little feet would dangle out of his teepee tent and he would breathe in the scent of his grapefruit shampoo from her hair. And secretly, under his breath, as he tangled his pinky finger around hers, Donghyuck would say, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Why do you always draw the sun?” Donghyuck questioned one day with his round, chocolate brown eyes scanning the giant yellow circle that she drew repeatedly with her crayon.

“Because I love the sun,” she answered, searching for another yellow crayon so she could paint it even more. “It’s bright and it’s warm, and I can play outside when it’s out. Don’t you feel happier when it’s sunny outside?”

Donghyuck thought about it, he really did with the very little experience that he had. “Probably. I can play soccer when it’s sunny.”

“See? The sun is amazing. Nothing can beat the sun. Do you know that the sun is the biggest star in our solar system?”

If he was smarter, he would've told her that of course, it's the biggest star, you idiot, it's the only star in our solar system. But little Donghyuck, who could barely remember what came after the letter S, innocently asked, “What’s a solar system?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I forgot that you’re only four.”

“Hey, you’re only five!”

“But I know what a solar system is and you don’t.”

Donghyuck pouted. If only he was older, perhaps he could reciprocate with a better argument. But then again, she was quite smart—the smartest girl he had ever met. Well, in his whole four years of living anyway.

“You’re kinda like the sun, actually,” she suggested, gathering his attention back to her. “You have a bright smile and whenever you smile, you make me want to smile too. You’re like the sun because you always make me happy. Oh!” She suddenly jabbed one finger into the air, making him jump on his little feet. “I know! You should be called Haechan, as in Full Sun! And I’ll be calling you Haechannie because we’re friends.”

And Donghyuck smiled the way he always smiled, which made her point a finger to his face, shouting, “Yes, that’s it! That’s the smile! That’s my Haechannie!” And he liked the sound of it. He liked the way she called him Haechannie but not as much as he liked being called hers.

Because he’s always been hers, from the beginning of time till the end. It’s always been her who owns his heart, who paints a spectrum of colors to his monochromatic life, and who breaks his soul to pieces and tones everything down into black and white.

It’s always been her. No one else owns him but her.

***

It was apple green, the color of the duster his mother was wearing when she had her eyes glued to the TV screen, watching another episode of her most awaited romance series. It was way past their bedtime so Donghyuck performed his best ninja skill which was tiptoeing his way out of his room with his bunny socks enveloping his feet and his deer plush toy accompanying him in his arms.

He was five and she was six, but she had learned how to forgive when he could barely remember to send an apology after making a mistake.

“You stay here and be on guard, okay, Haechannie?” She whispered before she tiptoed her way to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the hallway.

He grabbed the sleeve of her rosy pink pajamas. “But what if my mom finds out?”

“She won’t find out. She’s busy watching TV.”

“What if she walks into the kitchen?”

“Then that’s the time you should give me a signal, Haechannieeeee. Will you ever listen to me?”

“I don’t wanna stay alone. Mom can be scary sometimes.”

“Ugh, fine, take my hand. We’ll get in together. You can help me hold my chair when I reach up to steal those cookies.”

“Can we just go back to bed? I don’t need any cookies.”

“No, no. When you have nightmares, you have to eat cookies.”

“But will you still sleep beside me?”

A delicate hand ruffled his raven hair until it got all tousled and adorable. “Of course, Haechannie.”

The moonlight did not shine as bright as the girl’s cherished smile. But it was okay, he thought, she could replace the moon with her lips. She could replenish the stars with her eyes. They did not sparkle nearly as beautiful as they were anyway.

On their way back to their room, Donghyuck heard two sentences being exchanged by the lovers inside the screen so he stopped and listened, carving every word into his memories. When he arrived back in his room, he ran toward her, circled his short little arms around her waist, and muttered the exact same words.

“There’s no life without you, Noona.”

And she didn’t question him anything, wasn’t surprised of him, wasn’t disgusted with it. She simply smiled back, turning around to embrace him properly, and whispered.

“There’s no life without you too, Haechannie.”

***

It was the color of cherry blossom pink, the petals of flowers that flown into his room, coming from the window that he just slid open. He stood up on his little wooden chair, waving his hands back and forth like a drowning man desperate for attention, as he shouted, “Noona! Wake up! They’re blooming!”

He was six and she was seven, but she had memorized how to count one to ten in three different languages when he could barely count all the planets in the solar system.

When she opened her window, her eyes were all squinted trying their best to adjust themselves to the brightness of the sun—or Donghyuck’s smile, considering it shone just as bright. “I’m still sleepy!”

“But you promised we’d go for a walk!”

“Ugh, fine! I’ll meet you outside my house in an hour. Don’t forget to wear your jacket, Haechannie, because I’m not lending mine again!”

He nodded, smiling all the way. But by an hour later, he had forgotten yet again to carry his coat with him because he was too busy remembering the look on her face whenever she called his name, and too excited to have her hold his hands during their little trip outside.

And it was fine, really, because she already brought two jackets with her, knowing him like the back of her hand.

***

It was the color of crimson, the droplets of blood that stained his shirt. He could barely breathe through his broken nose, and the pain stung so much that his eyes began to water. But knowing that she was there, sitting beside him on the side of the pavements with worried eyes observing his expression, he had no other choice but to rub his tears away before she could catch the sight of them falling to his cheeks.

He was twelve and she was thirteen, but she already had her own preferences of clothing, knowing exactly what kind of dress could accentuate her beauty, while he, on the other hand, was still pretty much wearing the exact same type of clothes like what his mother bought him two years ago.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes examined his face as she dabbed an ice-cold napkin to his bruised jaw. Donghyuck swatted her hand away, stealing the piece of cloth from her fingers so he could do it himself.

“I’m fine. I’m not a baby,” he muttered and he knew how harsh the tone he was using but he did not apologize for it. She most likely had forgiven him anyway.

“What happened exactly?” She was still tentatively reaching out to him, tidying the tousled strands of his brown hair. “Why did you get into a fight?”

“Who said I was in a fight?” He was. He absolutely was. It was against a boy with the stupidest haircut he’d ever seen on a male, in his classroom after he caught him stealing her sketchbook. Donghyuck saw him raking his pen back and forth on her drawings, grinning mischievously to himself as he did it. He didn’t stop to ask for an explanation. The second he saw her beautiful drawings get tainted by something that wasn’t made from her hands, he began to launch his fist, directly to the boy’s poor face. Donghyuck had always been more temperamental, so he fought more with his rage than his strength, which usually ended up with him getting a fair share of beating as well.

“Here.” He handed her sketchbook back and saw her widening her eyes in surprise. “That’s right, stupid. You forgot your stupid book. I was on my way back to the class to get it when I tripped down the stairs.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I even took this out of my bag.” She blinked, checking her book and stopping after she flipped a few pages. Donghyuck froze on his seat. He’d already predicted that she would find out sooner or later that one of her pages—the one that was ruined by that asshole—was missing; he just hoped she wouldn’t notice right away. But maybe she also noticed the anxious look on his face when she went through the pages, which was why she decided to close the book, and do nothing but smile that stupidly blazing smile of hers.

“What?” He asked, already feeling quite flustered even when she hadn’t said anything yet.

“I’m just happy,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for, uhh, for getting this back for me.”

And he looked up to the sky, not caring if the sunlight was burning every inch of his skin and blinding his eyes, as long as she didn’t notice the rosy blush that painted his cheeks.

***

It was the color of lemon meringue, the chunk of tart that Donghyuck shoved into his mouth. They were celebrating his fourteenth birthday and he had a bunch of friends coming over. And yet, there he was sitting on the bench in his backyard, next to a girl dressed adorably in a yellow lace party dress, who was scowling at him.

“What?” Donghyuck muttered, yet plopping another big chunk of the tart. “Why do you look like you want to murder me? Is it that time of the month already?”

“No, jackass.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s my tart.”

“Sure, but,” he pierced the cake with his fork, taking another piece into his mouth with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “It’s my birthday cake.”

She sighed—a habit that she did a lot whenever she was with him. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be opening the presents right now? I think your friends are looking for you.”

“Nah, I’d rather talk to you.” He shrugged, pushing the empty plate back now to its owner. “Besides, you look like you’re seconds away from crying. I figured I can be a jerk to you another day and play the role of your prince charming for the rest of the evening.”

“You literally just ate every bit of my tart.”

“You’re welcome.” He sent her a flying kiss and a wink.

They both leaned backward, resting their spines against the bench, staring blankly at the cloudy sky with their fingers lying idly just a few inches from each other.

“Have you heard about that thing with our soulmates?” Donghyuck suddenly asked, his tongue still tracing every little bit of the sugary taste left inside his mouth. “About how we’ll begin to constantly dream about them after we turn eighteen, even if we’ve never met them before.”

“I thought that was just a rumor?”

“I thought so too, but then my parents told me that the exact same thing happened to them.”

“They met each other in their dreams?”

“No, it’s like—” Donghyuck scratched the back of his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s like your dreams are a mixture of your soulmate’s past and present memories. My mother said that she lived through his memories every night, until one day she met my father by coincidence during the day, and then she saw herself in the dream the following night. That was when she realized that he was her soulmate.”

“This is giving me headaches, but I kinda get the idea.”

“So whose memories do you think you’re going to see in your dream?” Donghyuck wiggled his eyebrows. “Mine?”

She snorted. “You wish your soulmate was me.”

“Actually, I do,” he stated, making her froze for a split second before she looked at him in bewilderment. “No, wait, don’t get me wrong,” he immediately corrected, raising a hand in the air. “It’s not like I’m into you or anything, ‘cause that’s, like, so gross since we’re basically like siblings by now, but if it really is true—this soulmate thingy—I wouldn’t mind if it turns out to be you because we get along really well, don’t we? Being soulmates doesn’t necessarily mean we have to marry each other—eww, God, no—” He made a show about it, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “It’s more like saying we’re connected. Know each other’s mind—like, we understand each other, you know what I mean? Don’t you feel that way about me?”

She thought about it, and with every second passing by, Donghyuck became more aware of how embarrassing his lines sounded in his ears. “You know what? Forget it. It’s dumb. I don’t know why I said—”

“Well, I guess, if you put it in a non-romantic way, then yeah, sure.” She smiled, a bit awkward and shy but sincere like always. “We can be soulmates. But I will only marry you if we’re the only two people left in the world. And even then, I would still think about it.”

He rolled his eyes but inwardly thanking her for not making this even more awkward than it already was. “Right, but for our friendship’s sake, let’s never talk about this again.”

“Agreed.”

They stood by in silence, hearing a bunch of children laughing in the background as they danced to the blaring music. “So on that note,” he said again, slicing through the awkward tension. “What are you so upset about today?”

She huffed, playing with her fingers. “I don’t know, I feel like everybody’s looking at me weird. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this dress—I know it’s too much—everyone is wearing shirts and jeans and I’m here looking like—”

“—a pretty girl,” he finished, staring nonchalantly at the clouds as he said it. “I don’t know what these guys think, but you’re prettier than any girl in the room today. You’re prettier than me, even, and that’s saying something.”

She bit her lower lip, holding back a laugh. “You just turned fourteen today and suddenly you’re old enough to flirt.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

He looked to his side, a lopsided smile on his face. “Feel better now?”

“A little.”

“Good. Now go fetch me another plate of that thing I just ate ‘cause I’m still hungry.”

***

It was the color of ruby, the lipstick she wore on her lips for the very first time, which made Donghyuck knit his eyebrows together, both in confusion and bewilderment.

He was fifteen and she was sixteen, but she already read a bunch of novels about first kisses and sappy love stories when he barely even owned a novel.

“Are you wearing make-up?” he uttered with a frown, scrunching his nose. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, his black Michael Jackson shirt falling a bit loose around his shoulders with the bottom edge of his light-blue jeans folded.

“Yes, and before you judge me for it,” she began, but Donghyuck was already sticking his tongue out at her, making the most disgusted look on his face. “You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“You look like a clown, honestly.”

“Well, this clown is going on a date.” She looked proud, which made him furrow his eyebrows even deeper. “And if she’s lucky, she’s going to get her first kiss by the end of the evening, while you, on the other hand, are just going to sit there in your room watching The Kissing Booth for God knows how many times and pretend like you’re handsome enough to date the female protagonist.”

“I am handsome enough to date the female protagonist. Handsome enough to date the male protagonist even.”

“Yeah, in your dreams. You’re just a virgin with a stupid bowl cut in reality.”

“Whatever. You still look like a clown.”

“Whatever. Now turn around, I need to change my clothes.”

“To your clown costume?”

“Turn around!”

Donghyuck had little options in his hand, when she brought her high heels in the air, ready to hurl them to his face, so he exhaled loudly in annoyance and lied down on her bed, turning his body around so he was facing the wall.

“Who’s this idiot you’re going with?” He eventually asked, because the rustling sounds of her clothes hitting the floor were getting too distracting.

“Na Jaemin. You know, that extremely cute boy from P.E Class.”

He knew who exactly Jaemin was. Heard his name being spoken several times as he walked down his school’s corridor. Girls were obsessed with him, and they would scream as if the world was ending whenever he played a game on the basketball court. They might be thinking why is someone as perfect as Jaemin interested in someone like her? And he hated the fact that he was thinking the same thing, just the other way around.

Why is someone as perfect as her interested in someone like him?

But on the outside, he toned it down to a simple grimace. “What the hell is a Na Jaemin?”

She threw her heel at him, hitting his spine and making him groan. “Hey, that hurts, you bi—” But his words died on his tongue when he saw her standing in front of her mirror in nothing but her matching underwear, with her dress threatening to fall from her arms.

“Hey!” She shrieked, squatting down to the floor and trying her best to gather as much clothing to her body to stop herself from being so exposed to his eyes. “I didn’t say you could turn around!”

And Donghyuck would’ve played it cool, he really would have, if he wasn’t too aware of the heat rising to his cheeks. “I, uhh—” He turned around again, clearing his throat. “Well, it’s your fault for throwing your shoe at me! I turned around in reflex.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying! From now on, you wait outside!”

“Fine!” He scrambled to his feet, making sure that he didn’t spare any glance at her—no matter how badly he wanted to—as he made his way out. “You have small boobs anyway.”

She screamed his name in both shame and anger but he was walking out with a cheeky grin on his face. He waited outside her room with his hands buried deep in the pocket of his jeans, yawning as he pressed the back of his head against the wall. A moment later, she opened the door with her face down, trying to tuck her bra strap under the collar of her dress. When he called her name, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Damn it, Haechannie, I thought you’ve left!”

“I wanted to see your clown costume.”

“Why you little—” But this time, it was her turn to be lost at words because Donghyuck was staring at her in the way he never stared at her before. His eyes were gleaming as they took in her features—her lace cocktail dress that matched the color of her lipstick, her red ankle strap heels, her natural make-up that gave prominence to her eyes, and the way all of her clothing just fell perfect on her skin, embracing her every curve.

“W-what is it?” She asked, carding her fingers nervously through her hair—her soft, beautiful hair that always made him a little bit weak whenever she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. “Do I look weird?”

He forced himself to close his gaping mouth and act nonchalant again. After nine years of training, he was beginning to master his act. “Well,” Donghyuck said, shrugging, “It’s not exactly like the clown costume I remembered it to be, but it’s okay, I guess. So now tell me where is this Halloween party you’re attending because I’m going too.”

“I can no longer tell whether you’re joking or not, honestly.” She waved him off, tightening the straps of her heels. “Look, it’s my first date with a really cute boy who I really like. Can’t you at least wish me luck?”

Donghyuck didn’t answer right away. His heart was still conflicted about the whole thing and his head was still swirling over the thoughts of how pretty she looked. “I can’t believe you’re blowing me off for something as lame as Na Jaemin.”

“Someone as lame as—wait, he’s not lame!”

“But does he know you the way I do, though? Like, does he know how loud your snores are? I know that, and I accept that.”

“Haechannie, we literally spend every weekend together for the last nine years. I’m just taking one night off.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still blowing me off.”

“Look, if it wasn’t a date, I would’ve asked you to come but since this is a date,” she stopped to smile, tapping her fingers against his cheek, “You be a good boy and wait for me at home, okay?”

As she walked out of her house, with him trailing behind her with heavy steps, Donghyuck said, “I hope his breath smells like shit when you kiss him later tonight!”

She laughed it off, raising her middle finger playfully at him, probably thinking he was upset because they didn’t spend the weekend together when he was entirely livid about something else.

He wasn’t sure how he felt towards her, but he was pretty certain that he didn’t like the fact she went out with some boy who probably wasn’t aware of her full name—or the way she would bite on her bottom lip from being too deep in concentration whenever she sketched something down, or the way she would puff out her cheeks in the most adorable way when she got teased too much. That fucking Na Jaemin wouldn’t understand her the way Donghyuck did.

So for the first time in his life, Donghyuck prayed something bad happened that night so her date would get canceled and she’d come running back into his arms, snuggling close with a popcorn bowl on their laps as they watched the same movie for the hundredth time.

Unfortunately for him, his prayer was not answered.

***

It was sapphire blue, the color of his hoodie was when he swung by to her house again, casually letting himself inside without even greeting her parents because he did it so many times within a day. It started to feel more like his house compared to hers.

“Oh,” she sneered, a smile appearing on her face. “You again.”

“What’s with the under-appreciating tone?” He clicked his tongue. “Most girls would actually scream in joy when I graced them with my presence.”

“Scream in horror, more likely.”

He ignored her banter, taking a seat on her bed again. She was lying down on her duvet, stomach pressed against the fabric with a fashion magazine under her fingers. “So,” he began, casually laying his head down on the dip of her spine, staring at the ceiling and secretly loving the feeling of knowing directly every time she took and released her breath. “Did he smell like shit when you kissed him?”

She flipped through a page. “As a matter of fact, we haven’t kissed. But that’s none of your business anyway.”

Donghyuck couldn’t help a smile creeping up his face. It was his luck that she didn’t notice. “Oh, but it is my business,” he said, trying not to sound as gleeful as he felt inside. “I really want to know whether he smells like shit or a dog's piss so I can make fun of him every time I see you.”

“Well, from the close proximity I had with him during our conversations inside the cinema, he smelled deliciously wonderful.”

“Deliciously? So he smelled like tacos?”

“Smelled way better than you, at least.”

“You’ve never kissed me so you wouldn’t know.”

“I already can tell without having to kiss you, asshole. You reek from a hundred feet away.”

“But just to be sure, wanna make-out with me for a while? I won’t bite.” Then he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“AUNTIEEEEEEE, SHE’S SAYING THE F WORD!”

“SHUT UP!”

***

It was Navajo white, the color of her knitted scarf was, as it hanged loosely around her neck, matching the color of her duffle coat.

“Oh,” Donghyuck flatly said as he opened the door to his room, answering her persistent knocks. “You again.”

“Haechannie.” The way she said his name sounded like she was desperate for help, and that made his heart flutter a little bit at the thought of being needed. But the words that followed soon after, crushed every bit of his happiness within an instant. “Jaemin asked me to be his girlfriend.”

He could feel how tightly his fingers were sinking into his palms but he tried to keep his voice steady. “And you’re confused because you just found out he’s a girl?”

“What should I do?” She whined, completely ignoring his sarcastic reaction. She seemed anxious, jumping a little on her feet every now and then, which was so adorable for his eyes to take but whenever he remembered the reason why she was acting that cute, he could feel his jaws tightening again.

“Do whatever you want, it’s not my business,” he muttered, walking back to his room but leaving the door open for her to follow.

“I like him, Haechannie,” she continued, and with every word that came from her mouth, a javelin seemed to strike him even harder in the chest. “I really do, but am I ready to have a relationship? Like what do I do? I know I joke a lot about having my first kiss but now that we’re about to become official, and knowing that he’s most likely going to kiss me soon, I get so nervous.”

Donghyuck didn’t say a word. He had nothing nice to say, so he kept himself in silence.

“W-what would you do if you were me?” She sputtered. “I mean, if a girl you like asked you to be her boyfriend?”

Donghyuck had his hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie, so she wouldn’t be able to tell when his fingers curled into balls of fists. He had the back of his hips pressed against his desk, locating his eyes on his shoes instead of hers. “This girl I like is actually talking about being someone else’s girlfriend,” he professed, “So I’m not sure I can give you proper advice.”

“Stop messing with me, Haechannie, I’m seriously begging for your help here.”

It was goddamn annoying, he thought, how she could be so dense when it came to things like this. Well, to be fair, he did have his fair share of flirting with her from time to time whether he meant his words or not, and knowing how playful he was, it’s a given that she grew to become accustomed to his teasing personality. It was nearly impossible for him to be taken seriously nowadays.

“Why are you even asking me?” He spat out, now looking at her eyes—almost glowering. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I don’t know, I really need someone to talk to, I guess.” She played with her hair, biting her lower lip worriedly. “And you’re my best friend so I naturally just come to you. You always seem to have the answers to everything.”

There was a pang in his heart when she singlehandedly decided on their relationship status and he knew he shouldn’t have asked for something more but with more days passing by where it was only the two of them walking side-by-side under the first snow, or calling each other’s names the first thing in the morning through their windows, Donghyuck couldn’t help but to hope for something more.

“Well, like I said,” he repeated, voice sounding low and foreign even to his own ears. “Do whatever you want. As long as it makes you happy.”

She took a proper look at his face. “Are you angry or something?”

“No.”

“What, like, did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“I said nothing’s wrong!” His voice thundered through the thick tension that was hanging between them and he felt his own heart shaking in pain from the tone he just made. They stared at each other’s eyes in what felt like hours before Donghyuck finally covered it with a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just really tired right now. Didn’t catch any sleep last night from playing too many games.”

It took a good few seconds for her to regain back her composure. “Well, I don’t want to bother you then.” She didn’t sound angry, but she did sound hurt. Donghyuck was still in the middle of sorting out his feelings when she walked out of his room, saying, “I’m sorry for pestering you like this. Goodbye, Haechannie.”

He had never hated someone as much as he hated himself then.

It took him five hours for his mind to finally make up the decision to go into her house and apologize in person, but only a second for him to immediately do it once he’d made up his mind. He ran down the stairs so fast, he almost fell face-first on the carpeted floor. When he stood in front of her house, desperately pushing back air into his lungs, the door was locked and no one came to answer no matter how many times he rang the doorbell.

Muttering a train of expletives under his breath, he turned to his iPhone and found the first number in his emergency contacts. He was about to press dial when suddenly her name popped out on his screen, asking him to answer her call.

“Noona?” Donghyuck called, breathing in relief. “Hey, I was about to call you. I wanted to apologi—”

“Haechannie.” She sounded so happy, almost to the point of shedding tears. “Haechannie, he just kissed me.”

Donghyuck’s lips were parted in shock, his throat felt like burning, even though puffs of air still tumbled down from his mouth. His heart almost stopped beating entirely.

“What do I do, Haechannie, I’m so happy,” she said, laughing between tears. “I’m actually crying right now. I’m so lame, I know, but—God, I can’t believe I got kissed by my crush—no, wait, my boyfriend—oh God, it’s still embarrassing to say that but—”

As if turning deaf, her voice in his ears was reduced into a silent murmur before vanishing entirely. The loud beating of his heart soon replaced it as it pumped more anger and jealousy through his veins but Donghyuck wasn’t going to repeat his previous mistake. He wasn’t going to let his emotions take control again.

“Well,” he breathed out, unfamiliar with the sound of his own voice. “I’m happy for you then.”

“You are? Oh, thank God, because I thought you’d whine about me for not spending time with you anymore.”

“Do you really think that lousy of me?”

“I’m kidding, Haechannie. I love you. You know that, right?”

And it hurt, the way she said it, because it meant nothing more than a platonic love and he wanted it to mean more. Perhaps he had been waiting for those three words to mean more for the last nine years of his life.

“Of course,” he simply said, hoping she wouldn’t hear the crack in his voice. “There’s no life without you, Noona.”

It took her a while to respond, and he was worried whether the cold tone in his voice stood too vividly again, but she laughed before he could think too much.

“It’s been a while since we said that. Of course, yes, there’s no life without you, Haechannie.” She giggled again, “It’s kind of embarrassing to say that when we’re already this old. Maybe we should start looking for another catchphrase. I don’t want Jaemin to catch me saying that to you either—”

“No, don’t—” Since when did speaking to her become this hard? “It’s something that we’ve been doing since we were kids. I’m not gonna change our tradition just because of one asshole that you happen to like.”

A silence, then a chuckle. “Seems like you’re back to your old self again. I was beginning to worry. All right then, let’s keep it that way. I’ll just have to be more careful.” He could tell that she was smiling all the way when she said her sentences.

“When will you be back?” I miss you. “I want to see you.” I want to hold you. “We haven’t really talked these days.”

“Oh, umm…” She sounded so apologetically soft, so quiet, so out of his reach. “Jaemin actually just asked me to go somewhere with him, but I’ll be back soon. Is there something you need?”

He curled his fingers. “Nothing important. It can wait.”

“Great. Oh, Jaemin just called, I gotta—”

“Stop saying his name.”

When a small gasp came from the other line, Donghyuck raised his head, startled by his action. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, his stomach doing somersaults. “It’s just—” He couldn’t think of anything fast enough. “You’re right. I’m sorry for taking your time.”

“Oh, no, it’s…” A pause, which struck like a hurricane. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Sure.” But he didn’t hold her on her promise, because she now belonged to someone else.

He just had to get used to being alone.

***

It was the color of eerie black, the denim jacket that he wore above his white shirt as he prepared himself for his date. Donghyuck had cut his hair short, ran his fingers through his bangs so they no longer covered his eyes, and sprayed the new bergamot perfume he bought around his neck.

He didn’t notice it at first, but he had become more popular in school for the past few months, after being a vocalist in a band and performing during the school festival. Girls were approaching him, asking from what class he was, wanting to know whether he wanted to hang out with them from time to time and it felt weird, although he had been quite popular back then too, it was more because he was the funny kid—not the hot kid in school.

So eventually he started going on dates, and every time he managed to spend a day with a girl, he’d come home to brag about it to his neighbor, wanting to evoke a reaction but what came out of her was only a small chuckle and a shake of her head, “What are you talking about? You’re just a boy. You know nothing about girls, let alone going on a date with one.” And he would drop the topic, fuming for the rest of the day.

“There.” He straightened his jacket, gazing at his reflection in the standing mirror. “New day, new beginning, Hyuck. You can do this.”

You can forget her and move on.

So he checked on his phone, noticing a new chat just popped up under the name of the stranger he had been seeing for two weeks, and felt his heart beating as steady as usual. Everything felt the same. Even after he’d kissed her for the first time, intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked from one cafe to another, or hearing her laugh over his words even when he didn’t try to be funny—everything felt the same. So… plain. Unexciting. And after two weeks had passed by, meeting this stranger—the girl with the auburn colored hair, crooked teeth, and waist thinner than most—began to feel like a chore.

No, you said you’d do this. You said you’d move on from her.

“Ah, Haechannie!” The way his childhood friend immediately smiled upon his presence, waving a hand back and forth as if they were long lost companions instead of neighbors, almost made him stop in his tracks. “You’re going somewhere? You look so nice!”

His resolution faltered as simple as that. Only by the sound of her voice calling his name, only by her contagious grin creeping to his face, only by simple praise that made his stomach flip most delightfully.

“What do you mean, I look nice? I always look nice.” Donghyuck was proud of himself to be able to conceal his feelings most of the time, and not actually acting like a blushing seventeen-year-old boy with the hugest crush on his childhood friend that he was.

She took her time analyzing him and for the first time in his life, he began to fidget on his feet, swallowing his breath.

“Stop staring at me, you’re making me feel weird.”

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re this big,” she said, her eyes sparkling in amazement. “Like, I know we’re neighbors but we’ve been busy dealing with our own things these days so I haven’t really taken a closer look at you but man, look how much you’ve grown. You’re way taller than me now.”

“Yeah, if you weren’t too busy playing tonsil hockey with that fucking Na Jaemin all the time, you would’ve noticed.”

“Indeed.” She looked amused, even proud somehow. “But I got to make-out and stuff. What have you done so far, cherry boy?”

He clenched his jaw, jealousy coursing through his veins. He tried to shove the picture of Jaemin running his hands all over her body—her perfect body—to the back of his head and he thought he did a remarkable job at it. But when he smiled, his eyes didn’t follow through.

“None of your business,” he simply said, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and walked away. “I’m going on a date. See you later.”

“You’re going on a date?!” She shrieked, eyes wide. “With who?”

“A pretty girl.”

She took a hold of his hand, stopping him from walking further. “Is this the girl you’ve been seeing for the last two weeks?”

He didn’t realize she kept count. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Nothing, I was just…” She awkwardly shrugged, her fingers hanging loosely around his arm. “Just curious, that’s all. So, like… Do you like her? What’s her name?”

It was almost possessive the way she asked the questions which on one hand, made him feel happy, hoping that she was jealous about it, but on the other hand, also pissed the hell out of him because if she was indeed jealous—if she ever felt the same way as him, even if only slightly—why did she go to Jaemin’s arms instead of his?

“Her name,” he glanced at her with lifeless eyes, “is Miss None-of-Your-Fucking-Business.”

Her smiled dropped instantly. “What is your problem? I just wanted to know—”

He knew he had the worst temper and patience in the world when it came to her, and he was not always like that before. Ever since the feelings he harbored for her grew bigger and bigger with each day passing by no matter how hard he tried to make himself fall in love with somebody else, he grew even more anxious, even less patient, and he hated the way he’d become.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Want to know what?” He asked, now facing her, circling his long fingers around her wrist and raising it in the air. “What do you want to know, exactly? It’s not just her name, is it? You want to know the things I do with her too? Want to know how I feel for her?”

Her eyes began to shake, frantically trying to understand him. “What—why are you so upset?”

“I’m not, I—” He sighed with a groan coming from the back of his throat, letting her go before he massaged his temple. I’m just so stressed out knowing how clueless you are of both your own feelings and mine. “Look, I gotta go. I’m running late.”

When he walked away, taking just about three steps ahead, she shouted. “Haechannie!”

He turned his head around, just enough to see her smiling softly at him. “This weekend,” she said, “Spend time with me this weekend. Please.”

“Noona, I—”

“I miss you.”

Just like that, she had him wrapped around her fingers again. It’s not fair. You’re not fair. You can’t keep doing this to me. But he smiled back, his gaze growing gentle, almost longing. “Then I’ll see you this weekend.”

He was in a fight he knew he’d lose every time.

***

It was coral pink, the color of the girl’s lip cream but he felt it pressed against his lips before he could see it properly. He felt his collar being tugged as his body was pushed further into her room, hasty hands pushing the jacket off his shoulders.

“You smell so good,” she said, giggling as she brought his bottom lip between her teeth. “And you look so fucking hot in this outfit.” Donghyuck hit the back of his knees against her bed and tumbled down onto her sheets, with his self-proclaimed girlfriend following shortly after.

“Wait—” he said, his eyebrows joining together in the middle from feeling both confused and uncomfortable. “What about your parents—”

“They’re not home,” she said in a rush, climbing onto his lap. “And I want you.” She tangled her lean fingers around his locks, pulling his head back to expose more of his neck. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, Hyuck,” she gasped, her mouth latching on his skin, tasting his bergamot perfume with her tongue. “And we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

A little more than two weeks had passed since they first went on a date, and he really thought he could like her but whenever he closed his eyes during the kiss, his mind would start acting on its own, morphing her face to someone more familiar. Someone who could pull on his heartstrings and play with them only by the sight of her smile.

It felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. But he said he’d move on, he promised himself he would, and this was one of the ways to do it.

“You seem distracted,” she moaned softly against his ear, pressing her hips against him. “Am I boring you?”

He didn’t say a word and instead forced himself to kiss her better. He held her by the nape, angling her head to the side, and she sighed against his mouth, hooking her fingers around his silver necklace to pull him even closer.

Donghyuck was lost deep in his thoughts, and his heart just wasn’t there, but he didn’t push her away. She spread her legs and tangled them around his waist, pressing herself down until she could feel the zipper of his jeans grazing against her underwear. Donghyuck hissed under his breath, not agreeing with how his body reacted on its own and she grinned against his lips, guiding the hands he reactively laid around her waist to move further down her body.

“Touch me here,” she begged, taking his right hand and slipped it under her shirt, pushing her breast against his palm. Donghyuck let out a heavy breath as he let her tongue slipped past his lips and he closed his eyes again because that was the only way that this could all feel right to him.

Noona…

But no matter how good her touches felt on his skin, guilt was the only sensation he could feel in his heart. The more they kissed, the more he realized that she was not her, and she could never be her. He couldn’t smell the scent of strawberries from her hair. He couldn’t hear the cute giggle she made when his jokes got to her head. And no matter how they seemed physically similar—the look of her hair, the shape of her eyes, the way she dressed—he still couldn’t lie to himself and pretend she was her.

“Wait—” He pushed her gently off his lap by landing both hands on her shoulders. “Let’s stop.”

“Why?” She was upset, he could tell. “What is it?”

You’re not her. “I feel like we’re going too fast.” I don’t want you, I want her. “And what if your parents come home?” I feel sick. I need to get out of here. I need to see her.

“They won’t be home until midnight, I promise.” She had her fingers curled around his nape again. “Please, Hyuck, don’t you want me?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer, swallowing his protest with her lips, tasting more of his mouth with her tongue. “Mmph—no—wait!” he pushed her away again, firmer this time to the point she almost toppled over. “Look, I’m not in the mood, okay?” His tone was getting harsher, which only led her to feel even more agitated.

“Why the fuck are you even here then?” She spat out, throwing her hands in the air.

Donghyuck shoved her away none too gently this time, stepping down from her bed. “I don’t fucking know,” he growled under his breath, putting his denim jacket back on. “I’m leaving.”

“What are you, gay?!” She was screaming as he stormed off, slamming her bedroom door on his way out.

***

It was the color of sunset that illuminated her face, as she sat on her porch with her knees pressed together to her chest and her spine glued to the wall. Her eyes were blank, almost lifeless as she stared into space, her previous conversation with her beloved childhood friend replaying non-stop in her head.

Does he really like her? Why didn’t he tell me anything about this? How far have they gone? Has he kissed her yet?

The heat was spreading to her cheeks at the thought of Donghyuck leaning in close, his eyes going half-lidded before he closed them entirely, his lips—his beautiful, plump lips—slightly parted in anticipation before he—

She buried her hands in her palms. What is wrong with you?! He’s practically your brother!

It wasn’t like she never thought about him as something more. She just never allowed herself to think about him that way. What they had was special—Donghyuck was special. He was her only true friend, the family that always stood by her side even when her parents didn’t. The one who noticed the simplest things about her without having to be told—like handing her a brand new sketchbook whenever she was about to run out of pages, or the way he would always take a day off school whenever she was sick in bed so he could accompany her the whole day, watching re-runs of her favorite show while munching red velvet cakes the way he knew she liked.

He was the one who could see behind her lies and excuses, and the only one who would come over to her side at any hour just to fulfill her dumb requests—even though he whined the whole time. And she knew she was special to him in some ways as well, because she was the only one who he allowed to see him cry while watching Titanic which to this day, still brought a smile to her face whenever the thought came up.

It was getting pretty distracting when puberty hit him like a truck somewhere in his first year of high school. His shoulders got broader, his jawlines became more prominent, his voice got a tad deeper, and he was getting taller and taller that she had to tilt her head upward to see his face properly during conversations. He was packing more muscles too, from all the soccer activities he did after school, turning his complexion from slightly pale into the perfect color of a sun-kissed tan. While she, on the other hand, only had two pimples appearing on her cheeks and her chest growing slightly bigger.

She adored him. To her, his existence had become such an integral part of her life that whenever she didn’t see him for a day, she would sit on her porch, counting the minutes until he walked past her house, calling her, “Noona,” with that cheeky smile on his face before he told her about his day.

That was before she dated Jaemin, though. Because after that, he became quite distant. It felt weird and slightly out of character for him to give her the cold shoulder whenever she mentioned his name, but she thought perhaps it was just a boy thing. The whole conversation about her drooling over her boyfriend was probably too boring for his ears, and Donghyuck was always straightforward with the things he wasn’t fond of so she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Maybe he just wanted to give her the time she needed, so she could spend her days with her boyfriend—like what she was supposed to do—but she couldn’t help it that whenever Jaemin called her noona because he was also a year younger than her, the thought of Donghyuck’s teasing eyes and lopsided smiles crossed her mind.

And then the thought of him, holding another girl on his bed, his lips brushing against hers—

Ah, she mentally groaned, attempting to massage her scalp but ended up yanking on the roots of her hair. Lee Donghyuck, what am I supposed to do with these thoughts of you?

“You look like you’re going insane, honestly.”

She’d recognize that voice in a heartbeat even if she had her eyes closed and when she saw him slouching over her fence with a teasing smile painted on his lips, she nearly crumbled to the ground.

“Were you waiting for me, Noona?” He questioned with his eyebrow raised in a teasing manner, causing her to blush even harder.

“Of course not, idiot, why would I?” And the sound of his small chuckle warmed her heart. “You’re coming back pretty early. I thought you were going to spend the night with her.”

“Yeah?” He dragged open the fence, walking closer to her spot. “You were thinking about me spending a night at her place? Doing what, exactly?”

“Shut up.” She threw her sandal at him which he easily dodged before he took a seat beside her. “Did something happen on your date?”

“We had sex.”

She wasn’t sure whether it was because of the way he just casually said the words as if he was talking about the weather, or simply because he said those words at all, but she found herself frozen to her toes, her heart dropping into a bottomless pit, her chest suffocating.

“O-oh…” She gulped, bringing her eyes down to her fingers. “That’s great… I guess.”

“It was great,” he said, leaning back to press his spine against the wall as well. “But her parents came home soon after so I had to bail.”

He was still talking but she could no longer hear him, as if he was drowning in the background, his voice turning into whispers.

There was a feeling she couldn’t understand that kept appearing in her chest, sending fire to her fingertips. It felt like he was crushing her heart little by little with every word he said, choking her until she couldn’t breathe. She never felt like this before. Was it sadness that she felt—knowing that her little Haechannie was not her little Haechannie anymore? Or was it loneliness, knowing that he had someone else in his life—someone who could feel his touches, and made him feel theirs, in the way she could never do?

“Noona.”

She blinked herself awake. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“I was just…” She desperately sought an answer. “I’m sleepy.”

It was a terrible lie and he could tell, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered her his shoulder. “Come here, then.” And she obliged, lying her cold cheek against his warmth and for the first time in her life, she began to be more conscious of everything.

Of his intoxicating scent. Of his slow breathing. Of his velvety voice sounding dangerously close to her ear.

Of his presence, entirely.

“So,” he pressed the side of his head against hers, voice turning gentle and quiet. “You’re not playing tonsil hockey with your stupid boyfriend today?”

“He had something to do, like a group project or something. And it’s fine, I needed some time alone to sort out my—” feelings. “—thoughts anyway.”

Donghyuck snorted. “Thoughts? Like, plural? You with that one brain cell of yours?”

She poked him on the side of his abs, forcing him to laugh in the way he usually did in the past. “All jokes aside though, Noona.” He sighed, staring at the way their hands were lying side by side on the wooden parquet. If only he could just move slightly… “Are you happy with him?” was the question he asked, but he actually wanted to hear the answer to Are you happier with him compared to when you’re with me?

“I think I am,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her words which ironically sparks pain to his every nerve. “I mean, it’s my first time being in a relationship so I barely know anything at this point, but… He does make me feel something in a way that no one has ever made me feel before.”

“What, like, horny?”

“That too, but—” She huffed. “I don’t know, like, he makes me feel wanted. Desired. He makes me feel pretty and I feel like I’m more confident now as a person, knowing that there’s someone out there who wants me that way, you know?”

Donghyuck stared into space, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “But does he need you, though?” Does he need you like I do?

“Is there a difference?”

“Well, wanting you would be like he wants to hold hands with you, kiss you, touch you, be intimate with you or something but you can be replaceable as soon as he’s satisfied with you and starts wanting someone else.”

“I don’t think Jaemin is the kind of person who thinks like that.”

I don’t fucking care about Jaemin. “Yeah, I hope not. I don’t ever want you to have your heart broken.”

There was a silence that hung around them, and it started to make him feel flustered at his own words so he immediately added, “By anyone else but me. The only one who can mess with your head and your stupid heart is me. That’s like the reason for my existence—to make sure your life is a living hell.”

She smiled, taking his hand in hers, and squeezed him softly. “Yeah. You’ve always been my little devil after all.”

The word ‘my’ had a nice ring to his ears, enveloping his heart in a warming sensation, and Donghyuck blushed again, for an entirely different reason but as long as she didn’t notice, he would be fine.

***

It was ash grey, the color of his sweater that she borrowed to be worn as her sleeping attire during their sleepover at his house. It felt strange for two young adults in their primal stage of life to be sharing a room, but Donghyuck was more than pleased to offer her his bed while he slept on the floor, and his parents also didn’t mind, as long as they kept their bedroom door open.

“Final chance to back down, Noona, because I’m not stopping once we go all the way,” Donghyuck warned, suggestively raising his eyebrow, making her gulp nervously.

“I-I’m ready,” she said, nodding her head shakily a few times.

“You sure.”

“Just do it.”

“Well then, here we go.”

And as he clicked play, the movie started. It felt like it had been years since the last time they watched a movie together, sitting side by side on a carpeted floor, with a popcorn bowl on her lap, and a MacBook on his. They shared earphones, forcing them to sit as close as possible to avoid having them slipped out of their ears. Horror movies were her weakness so he always insisted to watch one of them to torture her—and also to see her cute reactions but Donghyuck scratched that off his mind—and somehow, she always ended up agreeing to it.

Donghyuck could watch every jumpscare in the movie without batting an eyelash, but his heart jumped every time whenever she clung on to him, her arms wrapping tightly against his, her head sinking at the crook of his neck, her frantic breath fanning his skin.

“What are you so scared about?” He asked, thanking God that he didn’t stutter. “It’s just a ghost of his dead girlfriend, haunting him for vengeance while singing a creepy tune as she does it.”

“Literally everything you just said!” She sobbed, her fingers clutching tightly to the fabric of his shirt, her fingernails nearly scratching his skin.

Donghyuck knew he was blushing and he hated it, and if she kept doing that, who knew what he’d become. “Let’s just stop then.”

“But you want to see this movie, don’t you—AAAH!”

His ears began to ring. “Not with you screaming like this!”

“It’s okay, I can handle this.” She puffed out her chest, taking a deep breath. “But can I hold your hand, just in case?”

It was his turn to take a deep breath. “Sure.”

It was scary, Donghyuck thought, how his mind could pay no attention whatsoever to what was showing on the screen, and instead focusing every nerve in his body on the sight of her fingers resting on top of his, squeezing them tightly whenever she was scared out of her mind.

There was a knot in his stomach, making him feel lightheaded and he tried to push the thought of lifting her fingertips to his lips and kiss them until she could think about nothing but him away from his mind.

By the end of the movie, he knew nothing about the storyline but she was bawling her eyes out. “I can’t believe I’m crying over a ghost’s background story, this is so stupid,” she said, sobbing fervently until her entire shoulders began to shake.

Donghyuck lifted one knee to his chest, laying his arms on top of it before he rested his cheek on them, He gazed at her with a pair of longing eyes, gleaming in adoration. “You’re so cute,” he sighed in a breathy voice.

Still rubbing the tears out of her eyes, she asked, “What?”

“The way you get so worked up over stupid things like this is just—cute. You’re so cute.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop saying those kinds of things to me. You already have a girlfriend. It’s not right to do this to her, even if you’re just joking around.”

Maybe it was because she seemed a bit hurt, her voice sounding strained and plaintive, or maybe it was just her line entirely but whatever it was, it made his skin crawl and he could no longer control what came out of his mouth.

“What if I didn’t have a girlfriend then?” He questioned, eyes deadly serious. “What if I wasn’t just flirting with you? What would you do if I told you I meant everything I said, every praise, every feeling I had for you?”

Her hands froze mid-air as she tried to wipe the rest of her tears away from her eyes. “What are you—”

“What would you do if I told you I loved you?” He leaned closer, brushing his fingertips against her tear-stained cheek. “Would you believe me if I say I’ve been in love with you ever since I met you?”

Silence struck like a hurricane, and there was a storm swirling in her chest. “I…” Her throats felt dry. “I, uhh…”

She looked so conflicted that it began to hurt him even when she didn’t intend to, because Donghyuck wanted her to immediately say, “I would’ve said the same thing,” straight to his face without having to trip on her words. Without her voice sounding so brittle. Without her face looking like she was about to break someone’s heart.

So he simply got up to his feet, forcing a train of laughter to erupt from his mouth. “I’m just messing with you, idiot. Stop looking at me like you got your panties in a twist, I was just kidding.”

And he expected her to be angry. Angry enough that she would shout while throwing things at his face, but instead, she broke down in tears again but smiling so widely in relief.

“I’m so glad,” she said, nearly choking on her tears. “I’m so glad you were just joking.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the pain that fleeted on his eyes, so he turned around, sinking his nails deep into his palm so he could focus on that pain instead of the one in his heart before he gathered his quilt with both arms. “Let’s just go to bed, it’s late.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor again?”

“What do you think?”

“But…” She nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s, umm, I don’t mind if we sleep together—I mean, on the bed, like, side-by-side, not—” She caught herself, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s big enough for both of us anyway, and also…” She grew quiet, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m still so scared right now so if you could just, you know, sleep right next to me, that would calm me down a lot, I think…”

Donghyuck had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, glaring at his ceiling, asking his Lord, why must you test me like this?

“You do know that your boyfriend would kill me if he knows I’m doing this with you, right?”

She winced, smiling sheepishly. “Can’t you just keep it a secret?”

He sighed, making sure that he had the expression that said I’m-so-done-with-all-your-bratty-requests when deep down inside, he was shaking in both excitement and fear of not being able to hold himself back.

“I’m a man too, you know,” Donghyuck grumbled, slipping himself underneath the comforter. He didn’t take off his shirt this time, unlike the other nights when he slept alone. “I could attack you in your sleep.”

“Isn’t that the very reason why we’re keeping the door open?” She giggled, though the tremble from her previous breakdown was still there. “This is actually rather exciting. It’s been years since we slept side-by-side like this. It reminds me of our good old days.”

“Yeah?” He jeered. “Remember what else we do in our good old days? We take baths together.”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Donghyuck slept on his side, facing the other side of the wall while she laid on the bed with her spine pressed against the sheets and her eyes glued to his ceilings. Though she was the one who said those words, it took her forever to fall asleep. “Haechannie?”

“What?”

“You’re still awake?”

“No, this is his voicemail speaking.”

“If you’re too tired to talk, could you sing me a song or something? It’s too quiet and I can’t help remembering that creepy tune she sang every time she showed up.”

“My God, what are you, a kid?”

“You forced me to watch that, so take responsibility for it!”

“Ugh, fine,” he groaned, turning to his back with his eyes locked on his ceilings and then started to hum. She listened to it wholeheartedly, a smile popping up on her face but it didn’t stay long before she realized something.

“Are you singing the theme to Mario Bros?”

“If you even begin to complain, I’m going to kick you off the bed.”

“Right, okay, continue then.”

She listened again, prepared for the same tune, but he changed it at the last second. “I can’t believe you changed it to Spongebob’s now.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, just go to sleep!”

“Okay, geez!” Her smile became permanent on her face. “You just said the F word. Mommy’s gonna be pissed at you tomorrow.”

It ended up with them throwing playful punches and kicks under the duvet and Donghyuck laughed a lot, missing and loving every second of it because this was how they used to be—playing around like kids, messing with each other’s hair and faces. At one point, he began to hover over her, trapping her body between his arms, his knee placed on the small space between her thighs. The pendant of his silver necklace was grazing along her collar bone, making her shiver slightly from the cold.

She was sweating, her bangs sticking to her temple, and she was as breathless as he was, panting for air. It felt like time began to slow for Donghyuck the second his eyes were locked on hers, his surroundings vanishing into a blur. He was so close, too close, that he could feel her breath on his lips, could almost taste the scent of her shampoo on his tongue, and if he could just lean in…

The sound of his name tumbling down her lips in a soft, almost inaudible manner was what stopped him from pressing his lips against hers, and he was thankful because otherwise, he could’ve done it, and then everything would be ruined.

He couldn’t afford that to happen.

“Your breath stinks,” he said instead and pecked her quickly on her forehead. He immediately scrambled to his other side of the bed, shouting, “Go to sleep, you idiot,” as he gave his best effort to pretend he was sleeping.

You were so close, Donghyuck thought, you almost ruined everything. Pull yourself together.

And if I can’t have her, just let me have this moment for the rest of my life.

***

It was the color of ivory, her trench coat was as she wrapped it harshly around her body, all the while fuming in anger. Her phone was buzzing non-stop, alerting her to the new messages that arrived almost at the same time and she knew exactly who they were from.

I still can’t believe you’re choosing him over me to celebrate your birthday. - Haechannie, 09.10

We do this every year, Noona, we PROMISED to always celebrate our birthdays together. - Haechannie, 09.10

And now that you have Na fucking Jaemin giving you sloppy blowjobs as your birthday gift, you suddenly just forget about me?! How fucking ridiculous is that?! - Haechannie, 09.11

Does he even know it’s your birthday today? Did he congratulate you on it like I did? Showing up at your door at midnight, carrying the world’s most gigantic alpaca doll in my arms when it was fucking freezing outside?! Because I sure as hell didn’t see his stupid donkey face! - Haechannie, 09.12

Also, not trying to be an ass about this, but do you even know how hard it is to find a one-meter tall Alpaca doll?! Why can’t you just like teddy bears like everyone else for fuck’s sake. - Haechannie, 09.13

“Oh my God,” she groaned loudly to the air, almost stomping her feet in fury as she texted back, “I’m not ditching you, you selfish idiot! I’ll be back before dinner and then we can spend the rest of the day together so for once in your life, stop sounding like a fucking asshole!” She paused, thinking more words to add before she jabbed her thumbs to her phone screen again. “Also, I didn’t ask you to get me anything so you can take that stupid ugly doll back if you’re going to be a bitch about it because I don’t need it!”

And she pressed send. But before she could catch her breath, another response came by.

Great. Do me a favor, will ya? Don’t show up at dinner. I’m not your fucking backup plan. - Haechannie, 09.15

She was so close to smashing her phone against the wall, but the text coming from her boyfriend, telling her that he was waiting for her downstairs, made her heaved the heaviest sigh she’d ever made, shoved her phone into her purse, and stepped down the stairs with angry clicks of her heels.

The entire birthday date was a disaster for her because Jaemin was discussing something important but she couldn’t decipher a word he said. The look on Donghyuck’s face when she said she had promised Jaemin she’d go on a date with him on her birthday—how shocked and disappointed he was, not to mention furious—was the only thing that she could focus on. She kept replaying it over and over again in her head, until Jaemin took her hand and called, “Noona? Did you hear what I just said?”

And she was so terribly upset that she began to lose control of her mouth. “Don’t call me that. I have someone back home who calls me that a lot and it’s getting annoying.”

“O…kay,” Jaemin awkwardly said, pulling his hand away from hers. “I was just trying to be respectful.”

She threw her head back, sighing loudly in exasperation. “You’re right, sorry. I didn’t mean to take this out on you.” She took a deep breath, waited until she calmed down a little bit before she continued again. “I just had this fight with someone and it keeps bugging me.”

“Let me guess. Is it Lee Donghyuck again?”

She raised her head in surprise, looking at him. “What do you mean again?”

“He’s all you’ve been thinking about, for as long as I remember.”

��Yeah, because he’s like a little brother to me who annoys the hell out of me.” She rubbed her temple, feeling her energy drained. “Well, he’s not actually my brother, but he acts like one—he gets on my nerves, teases me a lot, calls me stupid all the time—”

“Why do I get the feeling that he’s more than just a little brother to you?”

She frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not listening to me—”

“Look, you know what?” Jaemin ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best to end this.”

“What?” She nearly dislocated her jaw. “What are you even saying—are you breaking up with me?”

“Well, you’re going to graduate soon and you told me once that you’d probably leave town for college, and with all this Donghyuck thing going on…” Jaemin sighed. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

***

It was the color of dark grey, the heavy clouds that hovered above the earth with thunders flashing between them. She stood in front of Donghyuck’s door, fingertips shivering slightly from the cold as she rang his doorbell. The boy came to answer shortly after, his usual gaze quickly turning into a menacing glare at the sight of her. He was about to rave over their previous fight when he noticed how she was all drenched from the rain with tears streaming down her face. She glanced up at him, murmuring his name between sobs, and Donghyuck hastily gathered her in his arms, not caring one bit how the rain seeped almost instantly to the grey Nirvana shirt he was wearing.

“Are you okay?” He attentively asked, cupping her cheek with his lean fingers. He lifted her face, examining every detail of her features, making sure she wasn’t hurt in the slightest. “Did something happen?” His voice suddenly turned gravelly. “Did he do this to you?”

She sniffled, burying her face in his chest. “Jaemin broke up with me.”

“On your fucking birthday?!”

She nodded.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Donghyuck said, almost growling as he embraced her tighter. “I’m gonna keep you company today and make sure you’re okay first, and then I’m going to kill him.”

There was no need for apologies to be exchanged, because Donghyuck already had his arms around her, drying her hair with a towel and lending her his sweater that he knew she loved. His parents weren’t home at the time, so they sat on the kitchen counters, legs dangling a few inches above the porcelain floor with a cup of hot coffee in their hands.

“This is the worst birthday in the history of mankind,” she said, slurping her coffee. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well, there was actually this girl who got murdered on her birthday—”

“Just humor me, will you?” He chuckled and patted her hair. “But to be fair, I don’t think he’s aware it’s my birthday today. He hasn’t said anything, didn’t give me anything. I also never told him, and he…Well, he never asked.”

“And yet, you still went out with him.” He sighed, now tucking a loose strand of her hair to the back of her ear. “I know you’re an idiot, but I didn’t think you were this much of an idiot.”

She grew smaller. “Please be mean to me another day. I’m currently wounded.”

“Right, okay, come here.” He cradled her in his arms, placing his chin on top of her head. “You smell like a wet dog, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She was about to lean more to his touch when his phone began to ring.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” She questioned when he did nothing about it and when he kept quiet, she broke apart from his embrace, jumped down, and grabbed his phone from the table.

“Unknown number,” she mumbled when his ringtone stopped playing. “Wait, there’s a text.”

“Don’t read it.”

“It said aren’t you coming over.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Is this your girlfriend?”

He yawned. “A different one.”

“What, that fast? Were you supposed to meet her? Oh my God, I’m so sorry for taking your time, why aren’t you—”

“Rather than saying that,” he took a sip of his coffee, “We should begin our revenge plan on that stupid ex of yours. I mean, I could just straight-up punch him in the face, but you already know his weakness. It’s time to strike, baby.”

She blinked, her puffy eyes soon began to gleam mischievously. “I’ve already planned it all out. Do you wanna hear it in alphabetical order?”

***

It was the color of burgundy, the quilt that covered her body when she suddenly woke up from her dream with a jolt, surprising the man who slept on the floor next to the foot of her bed.

“What happened?” Donghyuck asked, rubbing his eyes away from sleep. “Nightmare?”

Her eyes were wide when she looked back at him, gulping hard before she said, “I just had the dream.”

“What dream?”

“The dream, Hyuck.”

“Wet dream? I thought that was only for boys—”

“No, you’re not listening to me. The dream.” She threw her blanket away, scrambling back to her feet, and kneeled in front of him, taking his hand in hers. “I just met my soulmate.”

Donghyuck almost shuddered. “What?”

“It’s true, Haechannie, it wasn’t just a rumor,” she said, looking at her trembling fingers. “They said the dreams would start sometime after we turned eighteen and I saw it. I saw him. And it felt so weird. It wasn’t like a dream, it was—” Realization befell her eyes. “A memory. You were right, it was a memory—his memory.”

“Okay, wait a sec.” He held up a finger in the air. “What exactly did you see? And talk like a normal person this time.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, deep in her thoughts. “So, you know how when you’re dreaming, you can’t tell if it’s a dream? Like you’re suddenly somewhere, doing something that you can’t remember the beginning of it but it felt normal so you kept doing that, until suddenly you wake up and you start noticing how weird it really was.” Donghyuck nodded, albeit still a little unsure. “Well, this isn’t anything like that. You’re completely aware that it’s a dream—at least, I was. I remember telling myself it was a dream but now I realized it was a memory.”

“My God, you’re taking too long,” he complained. “What exactly did you see? For fuck’s sake, just tell me!”

“I was in a classroom at some school that I’ve never seen before and there was this guy who looked just about my age, sitting on the last row—just right by the window. He had the softest hair, a pair of big, beautiful doe eyes, cute thin lips, broad shoulders—”

“Hold up.” He grimaced. “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“One of these days, Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep, I swear to God, I will.”

“Right, apparently not then. Please, continue.”

She took another two seconds to throw ice daggers at him with her eyes before she finally started again. “He was scribbling something down on his book. And I tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t hear me. I could hear him, though, and everything else that was going on in the classroom. I could hear him hum a song before he nodded his head, looking like he just figured something out, and then he was writing things down again. I tried to reach out to him, but I couldn’t physically touch him too. I was just a bystander that saw everything—like watching a movie or something.”

“A completely boring movie, if you ask me.”

She rolled her eyes, completely ignoring him. “Then, when I blinked my eyes, I was standing somewhere else. There was this lake, so beautiful, surrounded by mountains—like the entire scenery of it was just breathtaking, and I don’t think that’s in our country so he might have traveled somewhere overseas.”

He snorted. “Sounds like an annoying rich kid.”

“Can you just—” She sighed, calming herself down. “So, I saw him there with a camera in his hands and a guitar case strapped to his back. He was taking some shots of the landscape and, uhh,” she shyly chuckled, “I know it’s too fast for me to say this, but his face when he’s concentrating—“

“Constipating?”

“Concentrating,” she corrected and Donghyuck sent her a kissy face. “The face he made when he was concentrating was so cute.”

“Ugh, enough with the lame commentary.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Why are you so sure he’s your soulmate? Sounds like just another weird-ass dream to me.”

“I can’t really explain it, but…” Her eyes turned soft, cheeks going a bit rosy. “It feels like I just found something that I didn’t know I lost—something important, something that was a part of me, even. And it just makes me feel whole, you know? It’s weird saying this when I don’t even know his name but… That’s just how I feel. Everything just clicked.”

“Huh…” Donghyuck’s tongue was protruding against the inside of his mouth as he tried to process his thoughts. It suddenly felt like his heart was being cut into several pieces, the moment his reality sank in. He didn’t realize it was that serious. Or at least, he didn’t want it to be that serious.

She squeezed his hand. “You understand how I feel, don’t you, Haechannie?”

He sent her a timid smile before he pulled her body into him, pressing his chest against hers, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah,” he muttered softly, his lips grazing the fabric of her sweater. “I get it.” And she giggled, embracing him tighter, thinking that maybe he was just as happy as her.

She didn’t notice the way his fingers slowly curled against the back of her sweater. She didn’t notice how he deliberately pressed his lips against her clothed shoulder as he spoke so he could hide the shivers in his voice. And she didn’t notice how his eyes were shaking in the fear of losing her, how he could barely bear the pain in his chest, how his mind almost made him vomit the words he’d been dreading.

It’s okay. She hasn’t met him yet. Maybe it’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.

God, please don’t let it mean anything.

***

It was a shade of purple, the color she used to paint a lavender in her sketchbook before she drew the rest of the landscape. But before she could finish painting the next thing, she sighed dreamily into the air, closing her drawing book with both hands.

“He’s in a band,” she said as they laid side-by-side on the grass, enjoying the warm sunlight on their faces and the scent of the pine trees in the garden near their homes. “Was. Or still is, I’m not sure.”

And she laughed, she always did whenever she talked about him and although the sound of it used to warm his heart, it made him struggle even more with jealousy. So he just hummed, scrolling down his Instagram feeds to distract him.

Three months had passed by ever since she had that dream, and Donghyuck was conflicted between wanting to know more or hearing none of it for the rest of his life. She had the dream every single night, reliving every single one of her soulmate’s memory—both past and present—every time she closed her eyes, and to him, she seemed more alive when she was about to go to bed, rather than after she woke up.

“I heard him sing once during his band practice when his vocalist had a sore throat. He sounded great but like, a bit hesitant, you know? Like he’s not confident with his voice.” She turned around to her stomach, staring at him with excitement in her eyes and a speck of scarlet painting her cheeks. “Well, he doesn’t sound anything like you, but I still think he’s great.”

“Good to know,” he coldly replied. She seemed to take notice of that.

“I’m sorry, Haechannie,” she said, “I must have bored you to death with all this soulmate talk.”

“Yeah, well, he’s your soulmate, not mine, so I couldn’t care any less.” He could’ve been nicer about it, but then again that wouldn’t be him.

“Well, guess what?” She landed half of her body on his stomach, knocking some of his breath with her weight but he just threw a glare in response and not pushing her away. “Somebody is having his eighteenth birthday in a month. So then, we’ll have your soulmate to talk about too.”

“Yaaay,” he weakly cheered, face flat and ignorant.

She pouted. “Why aren’t you excited about this? You’re gonna be dreaming about your soulmate! I’m excited to know who’s that lucky girl going to be.”

His chest felt heavy and it had nothing to do with the girl on top of him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I hope she’s nice and pretty,” she said, smiling genuinely at him. “Because only the most perfect girl in this entire universe can deserve my Haechannie.”

But he didn’t want a perfect girl. He just wanted her, so why was it so impossible to ask?

“Wish I could wish the same for you,” he said, placing his phone on his chest and leaned back on his elbows so he could focus his gaze on hers.

“What do you mean?”

And he switched their positions, rolling their bodies on the grass until she had her spine pressed against the ground with him hovering above her. “H-Haechannie?”

She looked so perfect like this—trapped between his arms, her doe eyes widening in surprise, taking in his sight, her lips parted making a soft gasp of his name.

Ah, I want to make her mine. Why can’t she be mine?

He leaned down, the tip of his nose almost brushing against hers. And if he could just forget everything—their friendship, her future life with her soulmate—for a few seconds and allow himself to be selfish, he would close the gap, meeting her lips with his, bask himself in her warmth, and he would let her moan against his mouth, would caress her cheeks with his fingertips, and would just wish the time to stop so they could repeat that for eternity.

But this reality of his was not that.

This reality of his felt more like a nightmare—one that he could never wake up from.

So in this reality, he brought his lips dangerously close to her ear, and whispered, “I hope your soulmate picks his nose and eats his booger whenever you’re not looking because only then he’d be perfect for you.”

And before she could kick his abs in response, he already scrambled back to his feet, running away as if his life depended on it.

***

It was the color of cerulean blue, the scarf that Donghyuck wore around his neck because he was a bit sensitive to cold even when spring was about to come to an end.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Donghyuck said, adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Anywhere. Just you and me.”

“What, now?” She frowned, looking at the clock on her bedroom wall. It was two hours before midnight—before he turned eighteen. “But it’s late—”

“I don’t care—”

“And it’s freezing outside—”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He was already tugging on her hand, pulling her up to her feet. He wrapped his scarf around her neck and placed his beanie on her head. “I don’t have my gloves but I’ll hold your hand all the way, so no more excuses and let’s go.”

Because it might be his last chance to spend his time with nothing but her presence filling his thoughts. He dreaded the possibility of having that dream sometime after the clock struck twelve. He didn’t want his heart to be taken by someone else—let alone, a stranger. And he knew he wouldn’t dream about her because she had found her soulmate and he was not him.

And if it was true—if having that dream changed his entire perspective where he could only love that one girl for the rest of his life then…

Just let me have this moment with her, where I can still love her with all my heart, even if she doesn’t love me the same way.

“Where are we going?” She demanded as they broke past the front door as quietly as they could since her parents were sleeping in their room.

“I don’t know—I don’t care—I just—” He breathed into the night air, puffs of warm breath painting the space between them. “Anywhere is fine. I just want to be with you.”

He saw her cheeks turning scarlet but he didn’t hope for too much. It was probably just the cold playing tricks on him.

“Okay, well then,” She tightened her duffle coat around her body. “Lead the way.”

He smiled, feeling blessed for having her putting so much faith in him, even after all this time.

There weren’t many places open at that hour, and it was fine because they already felt content just from walking side-by-side under the cherry blossoms that had withered all of their flowers. The way she held his hand reminded him of their younger days, both gentle and somewhat protective—like a sister to a younger brother and it made him feel both joy and sadness because he wanted to intertwine their fingers together as lovers, embrace each other under the dim glow of the streetlight, and connect their lips together while whispering loving words between chaste kisses.

“Haechannie,” she said, snapping him out of his reverie as she stopped them both in their tracks. “Happy birthday.”

Donghyuck blinked, not realizing how two hours just passed in an instant. “I’m as old as you, already?” He sneered. “I feel so gross.”

But she didn’t laugh the way he thought she would. Instead, she was looking at him with a glint of loneliness in her eyes which made him wonder why. “I bought you something.” She rummaged her coat’s pocket before she showed a little black box the size of her palm with a red bow wrapped around it.

Donghyuck faked a gasp. “No way, you’re proposing to me? But honey, I’m already carrying your child!”

She stomped her feet on his. “Shut up and just be serious for a sec, will ya?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He chuckled but he could hear how nervous he actually was from the little crack in his voice. He took the little present with a shy, slightly awkward smile. “Can I open it now?”

“Sure, as long as you don’t mock me for it.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her before he opened the box to find a silver oval locket necklace displayed inside it. He glanced at her. “Don’t tell me you have a picture of us taking our bath together as babies in it.”

“Interesting, but no. I did have something written on it, though.”

“Okay, but if you wrote something stupid, I will—” He froze, hands stopping mid-air after he opened the locket and read the words engraved on the silver plate.

To my first love, Lee Donghyuck.

“Okay, before you say anything,” she cut him off, fidgeting a little on her feet. “Let me explain about it first. I don’t want to come out as weird or anything because after this, we’re both going to find our soulmates and go our separate ways so let me assure you that I’m not saying I love you that way, but—”

He pulled her into his chest, wrapping both of his arms around her shoulders, his lips pressing against her hair.

“Haechannie—”

“Shut up,” he said, closing his eyes as he calmed his racing heart. “Just shut up and let me have this moment.”

She wasn’t sure whether he got her previous message but she no longer cared, because at the end of the day, he was her first love in every way—as a family, a brother, a friend, and even a lover once, though she never allowed herself to think about him like that. So she tangled her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, and closed her eyes for as long as he would let her.

Donghyuck wanted this moment to last forever but he knew time was running out even if he tried to stand still. It would be over the second he had that dream and fell in love with someone else. It would end the day she’d meet her soulmate, treating his existence merely as a bystander in her love story.

But for now… Just for now…

“I love you,” Donghyuck whispered so softly against her hair, almost inaudible by the sound of the wind passing through their ears. “I love you, Noona. So much that it hurts.”

She chuckled, embracing him tighter. “I love you too, Haechannie.”

Then why does this feel like a goodbye?

He pulled back, pressing his temple against hers. “There’s no life without you,” he said, a shy smile forming on his lips.

She cupped his cheek, rubbing comforting circles on his skin. “There’s no life without you, Haechannie.”

***

“So, umm, thanks for today,” Donghyuck said, as he walked her back to her house, rubbing his nape awkwardly as he said it. “And thanks for the gift. I’ll treasure it.”

“You better.” She playfully punched his arm. “It was pretty expensive, just so you know.”

“More expensive than a one-meter tall made-by-order alpaca doll I bought you?”

“Sorry, I’ll take that back.” She winced, and Donghyuck chuckled a little bit under his breath, patting her head and letting his fingers linger a little longer than usual on the soft strands of her hair.

“Well…” He retracted his hand, placing them in his coat’s pocket. “Good night.”

“See you tomorrow.” And she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek at the same time he was about to do the same and their lips grazed each other, soft lips meeting softer ones in the faintest of touch but carved something deep both in their bodies and minds.

They both took a step back at the same time, startled. He was busy looking anywhere but her face, and she concealed her lips with her fingers, bringing her head down to hide her eyes underneath her bangs.

There was a silence that made his skin crawl. “S-sorry, I was—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” she immediately said, forcing a smile before she hastily turned on her heels, her shaky fingers searching for her doorknob. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Donghyuck still had trouble breathing. “Y-yeah, sure.”

She timidly smiled again before she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Now that they were both out of each other’s sight, Donghyuck inaudibly cursed into the air, running a hand through his hair, feeling his heart ramming against his ribcages while she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and pressed her spine against the back of her front door.

The thought of their brief, accidental kiss was the only thing that painted their minds even behind their closed eyelids as they laid on their beds, hoping for exhaustion to take over their bodies. Once it did, they both fall into a soundless sleep where she began to think about another pair of lips but it wasn’t the case for Donghyuck.

Because, as he fell into his first soulmate dream, he was facing the same person—the girl who owned his heart, whose lips were just as soft as he’d imagined them to be.

Noona, he spoke inside the dream, staring at the sight of her, why am I dreaming about you?

***

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