#i love u so much sol wtf
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sol. Sol. SOL. WHAT THE FUCK! HOW DARE YOU DROP THE MOST WONDERFUL THOUGHTFUL AMAZING FEEDBACK I HAVE EVER RECEIVED ON ME???? DID I CRY WHILE READING ALL OF THIS????? YES. YES I DID.........
new...favorite work from me ever? that is the hugest honor â these are very real tears rn,,,,,,, ashlee try not to cry while reading feedback challenge: FAILED
i love me some sentimental paragraphs! i too am a very emotional person (inwardly, but i digress), so i think i was digging really hard into my own experiences for this one;; i write, i paint, i dance â and i've had (and am currently going through,,) long periods of doubt and insecurity and hating absolutely everything i do so yeah! đ i might have cried while writing some of those bc that shit Hurted, but i think writing this also healed me in a way too,, like. it was cathartic to be able to explore these things that internally fester inside of me without the external judgement of others...idk i'm rambling now. moving on!
STOP the way i almost cut down the opening scene bc i thought it was Too Much,,,i'm truly glad i didn't in the end. she needed to be set up that way. you needed to feel how useless and beaten down she felt if this story was going to have any payoff LMAO;;;;;; she has A Lot of issues (and to think i was going to give her mommy issues too,, yikes.) but it makes her human and i love her for them
turning the mundane into something interesting to read about is so fucking hard, but to know that my silly flowery language lends well to this story is vvv comforting to hear bc i was afraid it would've taken away from it....i know now that it doesn't because this story needed tons of emotion to work, but damn do i feel like mc admitting this omfg â mc is just an extension of me atp sigh...the heavy feeling was what i was going for so hooray!!! mission accomplished đ
her impulse to leave was something i had written completely differently and then realized it sucked SHKDJH repetition saves the day ! her mind is genuinely a whirlwind in this scene, like a tornado idk đđ "let go, enjoy life" is her anchor as she finally finds a potential solution to her current problem, it holds her together as she makes this decision that could make or break her. ik spending that much money would have me in my grave....did you like the opening scene?? i couldn't tell /j
i tried to make day one kind of light after all that heavy internal shit i just dumped on you LMAO,, like even i needed some reprieve. i'm happy that you enjoyed her friendship with chaewon and sakura! i don't think this fic would've been complete if she existed in an isolated bubble with no friends and then yeonjun just comes along,, the social growth was just as important as her growth in career and love to me, branching out and making new friends was something i think she needed desperately
...i got secondhand embarrassment during that part i'm ngl;;; but yeonjun's power!!! the first sign that he might help relight her spark!!!!! it's too early for her to even recognize that, but We can..bro is just too beautiful
(yes fuck anish kapoor!!! happy to find another hater !!!!!!!)
i think a lot of my world-building came from the fact that she's finally out of nyc and can breathe and, like you said, take a step back and just observe...without having a goal to create in mind. she's just There if that makes sense? just watching and taking in and experiencing rather than searching for once,, so mf grateful that you enjoyed it RAHHHH i'm so :(((( rn
PACING! IS! MY! ENEMY!!!!!! having to ensure that they got close but not too quickly was so hard bc internally i was like JUST KISS ALREADY!!!! but i knew that wouldn't be realistic </3 space was a huge indicator in the progression of their relationship, from awkwardly getting coffee to finally holding hands on a rock in a national park...yeah. Yeah. that's my shit right there. but even when they're close there's that uncertainty like you said because in the end, they're still kind of strangers, aren't they? there's no obligation for him to stay once this trip ends, and she already has this fear of abandonment, so her internal conflict doesn't end until he finds her at the station. that's what really solidifies their connection.....are we about to kiss right now? i think we are
yeonjun is such a positive force in mc's view about her own art, and i think him knowing how it feels really helps mc realize that she won't always be like this, that even seemingly perfect people like him experience very human things like this too, and that it's okay. it's okay to have these periods in your life
YES!! having that big epiphany on day one only for it to fade again is so frustrating for mc. him scolding her needed to happen; she was getting tooooo hateful of her own stuff and he knew if he let her keep doing that, she'd dig herself deeper into the hole that she's fallen into,, not everything you create needs to be a masterpiece, it's amazing and unique in its own way and that's beautiful yk? to hatefully pick it apart to the bone is not conducive to the creative process at all
when i tell you i cried while writing that part because it hit me so fucking hard...don't mind me, just me writing the words i need to hear <///3
(idek how that icarus metaphor came from me bc like. i barely remember writing it LMAO i was possessed i think)
food!! yes!!! ik how much Real Yeonjun⢠loves food so i couldn't resist...sharing food is amazing and it reminds me of my mom and her cooking. food brings people together and ties communities of people to each other and i just think it's amazing how deeply ingrained sharing food is in the human experience. like you said, it's a way to show people what you love and that they're special and important to you bc look! i want to share this part of me with you!!!
yeonjun is whipped and we love him LMFAO
the drunk incident is another turning point for them ^^ it eliminates that awkward amount of space between them that marks them as complete strangers to each other,,, i am giggling and kicking my feet rn bc that domino effect is something i used to make sure each scene kind of connected to each other?? smooching u rn, thank u for noticing even the most subtle of changes <3333
BOOOO ttn!beomgyu!!! mc handled it terribly, but how else could she have? he fucked her up so badly that seeing him again is like reliving those emotions all over again..was kind of in my villain era for that scene ngl,,,,,,hurting both of them at the same time sucked and i wanted to slam my head into a wall bc of it bc i NEEDED THEM TO KISS!!!! but beomgyu ruins that ugh!!!!! he is terrible in this fic but his appearance was so needed for mc and yeonjun's development
she needed to be candid with yeonjun when showing her art to him if she wanted him to understand. he needed to hear these things and understand her insecurities. she definitely made that one painting about fate after beomgyu left, so for him to find it and ask about it hurt but was necessary to break down that wall in her heart that was keeping her feelings for him locked away...the convo about fate Hurt me bro. like i had to take a break from writing for a couple hours. i didn't know how the "daniel" part would be taken, but it made me cry a little so i left it in!! (ugh. i hate love you too)
the smut was light and soft so don't feel bad!!! there wasn't much to it LOL i just wanted to do something cute n soft and lovely because they just adore each other soso much u feel me??? yeonjun just wants to make her feel wanted and beautiful </////////3
HJDSHAK the ending made me sob actually. tears were on the keyboard when i wrote those final paragraphs. just. their connection is so beautiful and something i wish i could have UGH, the end truly solidified that yeonjun is helping her past that mental block HEHEHE i'm glad it came across that way to you too :')))
THANK YOU that is genuinely the biggest compliment to me. if u compliment my music taste i am legally obligated to kiss you actually. this story was truly a labor of love and i can't believe i went through the five stages of grief in a week while writing this...i learned a lot about myself and i'm so fucking grateful that you enjoyed it so much, i'm still crying btw.....
i would honestly ask you more about what you're thinking but i think that would be cruel and unusual punishment after the absolute essay that you produced for me to feast my eyes upon,, words cannot convey how lovely you are and how much i love you and your writing. thank YOU for such beautiful feedback because it truly made my day my month and my entire fucking year <3 again, i love you and i am so grateful that i joined this hellsite and became your mootie RAHH ok i'm shutting up now. just. THANK YOU <33333
ticket to nowhere (but your heart) (m) â cyj
pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader
genre: strangers to lovers au, photographer!yeonjun, artist!reader, fluff, angst, smŐ˝t
wc: 22.3k
synopsis: twelve days. twelve days is all you have on this godforsaken train to find the spark that will save your dying art career â but you never thought that you would find it in the enigmatic stranger that you canât seem to stop running into.
warnings: mdni!! ageless + blank blogs dni!!!, mc is bad with feelings, is alluded to have anxiety, and is written as shorter than jjun (i'm sorry to my taller friends, i love you) + the same age as him (24), this takes place in various places across the u.s. (sorry in advance), mentions of food + alcohol, vvvvv brief depiction of potential self-injury when describing a painting, beomgyu + le sserafim's sakura, chaewon, and yunjin (called jennifer here just bc i felt like it) are featured, dom!jjun, sub!mc, soft sex, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), light begging, multiple orgasms, protected sex (hooray!), missionary, praise
note: part of @majestyjun's yeonjun bday event!! REPOSTED bc tumblr decided to not let this show up in the tags (edit: it's now showing up!!) </3 also my longest fic to date, so that's something
*:シplaylistシ:*
(cross-posted to ao3 here!)
masterlist
everything in your life is bland. gray.
the food that you eat, the people that you become acquainted with, the skyscrapers above you that grasp for the sky and fail to reach it â they have all become so monotone and somber and utterly lifeless. something within you gnaws at itself, aching with pain â though the sharpness of the feeling has been blunted by the passing of time â because you used to adore the city that you call home. you used to find unrivaled beauty in the skyscrapers that spread across manhattan, in the lush green parks scattered amongst the urban landscape that would turn warm and golden as summer metamorphosed into autumn, in the people that would walk by you with their unapologetic, unique fashion and confidence. the very things you used to love have dulled in hue, washes of the vibrancy you once appreciated and took significant inspiration from.Â
throughout your apartment lay half-baked paintings and charcoal drawings and pieces with odd compositions from that one month where you went through a mixed media phase, staring at you with their paint-streaked eyes, mocking you. finish us, their fragmentary faces scream. they beg for you to provide them with souls, to be their maker, their creator â but not quite their god. you are not pretentious enough to go that far, to paint yourself as that self-important, that narcissistic. you are far from a god. if you were, you would be in a larger apartment, a penthouse worth millions of dollars in soho or maybe the upper east side. if you were a god, you would purchase the finest art supplies in the world, have your pieces be displayed in major galleries to be auctioned off for hundreds of thousands â no, millions of dollars by pretentious art collectors to be hung up in their gaudy mansions, their own slices of heaven. however, in reality, you fall exceptionally short of a higher being; in truth, you are a rather simple woman who had transplanted herself from her suffocating hometown to brooklyn as soon as you completed your undergraduate degree. a tiny little apartment in brooklyn, new york city, new york â an adumbration of purgatory, floating somewhere between heaven and hell. trapped, trapped, trapped. nowhere to go.Â
sitting on your bed, the balls of your feet pressed against the cool wooden floor, you ponder if these thoughts, this density of emotions burrowing into your stomach, are a symptom of burnout. maybe even artistâs block, though in the past youâve often remarked that the concept doesnât exist. you had never experienced it, so in your sorely narrow-minded view, it simply couldnât be possible, and other artists were simply blaming their laziness on this elusive concept. what a fool you were for ever thinking that. shame hangs like a heavy weight within your chest; who are you to criticize the experiences of other artists when you know how difficult a creativeâs life can be? how could you be so insolent?Â
a raging hypocrite, really, is what you think you must be. a blank, blurry stare scans over your space, the coolness of the floor spreading up into your toes. an easel in the corner, near one of the small windows that allows for a view of mostly red brick, a sliver of blue-brown water where the hudson and east rivers meet, and a few lower manhattan skyscrapers that tower high in the air across the watery expanse. itâs not that far from your bed, which sits on the wall opposite below a second window, the slightest bit larger than the other one. most of your apartment is taken up by supplies rather than actual decor, a jar of paintbrushes on your small, round dining table in the corner near your kitchen instead of a vase of flowers, works-in-progress on the walls rather than posters, pictures.Â
you live and breathe art, and your entire apartment reflects that, but the oxygen is getting thinner and thinner.
even then, youâre not quite sure how long you have felt this way â itâs not as if you woke up one day and noticed the change. it wasnât sudden like a car accident, slamming into you one second and leaving you to cope with the aftermath the next. quite the opposite, really, more akin to the tide slowly coming to shore, washing over more of your body with each incoming wave. soothing, flowing along with each ebb and flow, pulling you further and further away from the beach until you have nowhere else to go but down.Â
weak fingers dig into the white comforter below you, curling into the fabric with a surging desperation â for what, you are unsure. comfort? someone to hold you? you havenât felt the embrace of another, the warm sensation of lips pressed against your own, in an embarrassingly long time. the dating world had slipped from your hands long ago, shattering on the floor like a snow globe, your wants and hopes and desires to love and be loved soaking your lacerated feet and stinging as it enters your wounds. your mind trails to beomgyu, a fellow artist who you had met when you could afford a private studio in a warehouse one burrow over. he was fun, a sappy romantic, and he made you laugh to no end â but he ruined you. he moved across the country without warning and youâd never heard from him again, leaving you heartbroken and with questions youâd never get answers to. you wonder how heâs doing now, if san francisco is treating him well. his number is still in your phone. you should delete it. you need to delete it. you need to make dinner. you need to finish that commission. you need to do a lot of things.
you need to get out of here.Â
fuck, you do. the desperation surging within your veins takes the new form of a beast, clawing its way up your throat. you need to leave the city and experience new places and see new things andâ
finally, you wrench yourself off of your bed after hours of sitting there. snatching your laptop from the floor, you search. you search and search and search for something that will get you out of this city, albeit temporarily. several different trips to italy â too expensive, and too far away from here. an airbnb in florida â youâve never been a fan of humidity, and you donât think only seeing one city will be enough to sate you. come on, come on, there has to be something.Â
and then you find it: twelve days on a train, across the country. stops in chicago, denver, san francisco, seattle, and even a national park for half a day before looping back through chicago and back to new york. this soundsâŚperfect. your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the price as you scroll down. for you, itâs expensive, so fucking expensive, butâŚ
âyou need to let go and enjoy life for once,â one of your friends told you at a party a few months ago, when you were experiencing a less incapacitating version of the burnout you currently face, when you had thought it was a mere blip in your unending motivation. of course, you hadnât listened to jennifer and her sound (and moscato-induced) advice, opting to throw yourself further into your art and ultimately fail at creating anything worthwhile. you regret it now, because you feel stuck. terribly, utterly stuck â but this is your chance to change that.Â
you need this; you can make the sacrifice to your already thinning bank account, you think. let go, enjoy life. let go, enjoy life â you repeat those four words over and over again as you type in your card information, as you click the button to book the trip, as you read over the confirmation email that outlines the steps you need to take before you leave. let go, enjoy life, and you will. you will, and you will relight that dimming, nearly extinguished fire within you while youâre at it. youâll make damn sure of it.Â
day one.Â
your heart is pounding. the rapid ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump roars in your ears like thunder as people upon people walk past, shoving against both of your shoulders as you stand in front of a board full of green and yellow and red. the sounds of voices and rolling luggage echo across the high, transparent ceilings of the station which allow for a view of the sky above. early mornings and you do not agree with each other, and today is no exception; poorly-veiled dark circles sit beneath your eyes, illuminated by the soft, warm light streaming in from above. looking down at your phone and back up at the screen again, you find that your train is thankfully on time, the bright green letters helping loosen the tightness gathered in your shoulders as you roll them back once, twice. your teeth skirt your bottom lip while you nod to yourself, then scan the spacious building for the escalator that will take you down to the correct platform.Â
you hate that youâre nervous. the feeling twists your stomach into knots and flushes your face, cheeks hot as you stand there and wait out the remaining minutes before you can board. it doesnât even make sense â you should be happy to get out of town, to go places youâve never been to before, but all you can focus on is the unease creeping up your throat and blooming sour on your tongue. perhaps this is actually excitement that you are feeling. maybe youâre reading it all wrong â jennifer was more than ecstatic when you told her of your impromptu trip, saying âthis is what you need! this might be your breakthrough!âÂ
ever since you met the her, she was always a degree more optimistic than you. looking on the bright side of things, no matter what dire circumstances lay splayed out across the dealerâs table. whatâs stopping you from being the same way? several things, but at the same time, jennifer is right: you need this. your hands jitter with an odd combination of excitement and fear â maybe itâs simply the thought of solo travel that is so intimidating. yeah, it has to be. it will pass soon enough â hopefully. you roughly shove your set of headphones onto your head, slipping them over your ears. music will have to do for now, if only to prevent thoughts from racing through your head.Â
once you board, you learn that your quarters areâŚsmall, though that was expected. it reminds you of your studio apartment, almost; cramped, but lacking the scattered paint tubes and canvases and miscellaneous mediums that you have not laid a single finger upon in months now. the small, travel-size tubes of paint sitting in your backpack weigh your shoulders down, begging to be taken out and spread across the small, flat canvases that are tucked snugly beside them. you muffle their pleas by turning up the music streaming through your headphones. closing the door behind you, you softly hum to the current song in your ears, shoving your suitcase in the corner of the room before.Â
once the attendant checks your ticket, you decide to take a nap â who cares if itâs early? you barely got enough sleep last night in the first place, too nervous to allow your eyes to shut. collapsing onto your bed, you pull the curtains next to it shut and allow yourself to drift off into a quiet, dreamless sleep.
*:シ
you awake around noon with a growling stomach. with a sigh, you rub your tired eyes and sit up, smoothing out your rumpled shirt. with a quick look on your camera to make sure none of your mascara has transferred below your eyes, you make your way to the dining car thatâs not too far from your own.
itâs nice, quaint; simply decorated like the rest, with large, square windows divided by thin pieces of wood lining each side. smaller tables line the wall to your right, two seats at each, while larger, four-person tables sit to your left. you opt for a two-seater towards the middle, tunnel vision blocking out the rest of the people present. you stare out at the greenery that blurs outside the window, listening to the low rumble of the train, mindlessly thumbing the laminated menu laying on the table. while you wait for the waitress to get to your table, a light, feminine voice knocks you from your own little world.
âexcuse me?â the voice asks. you flinch in response, blinking hard as you look to your left and find two women sitting at the four-seater next to you. theyâre both pretty, brown-eyed with full lips curved into twin smiles. they donât look like sisters, though â more so friends.Â
âyes?â you politely say, wondering what they could want with you. the shorter-haired oneâs smile grows wider once you speak. she has a rounder face than the other girl, her black bangs ending above her eyes that are currently crinkled at the corners.Â
âare you waiting for anyone?â the other girl asks, the one with a long wolfcut and wide, hypnotizing eyes. definitely not sisters, you think, they look nothing alike.Â
shaking your head, you softly murmur, âiâm not.â
âwould you like to join us, then?â the wide-eyed one asks, a hopeful glint shining in her eyes.Â
âi...i wouldnât want to intrude,â you reply. your mouth curls into something apologetic, as if youâre the one burdening them despite them being the ones to ask you. this interaction feels weird, awkward, and a very large part of you wishes you could melt through the floor and disappear forever.Â
âyou wouldnât!â straight black bob chimes in, hands clasped together on top of the table as she leans towards you. cheery, excitable. âwe wouldnât mind at all, really.â
you nod with a tiny, somewhat nervous grin as you take the seat closest to you, right next to wide-eyed wolfcut. you offer them your name, unsure what else to give them. your age? your profession? your deep-seated trauma? okay, definitely not that last one.Â
âitâs nice to meet you,â straight black bob says, while the other chimes in with a soft hum of affirmation. âiâm chaewon.â
âand iâm sakura,â wolfcut adds with a dip of her chin.
hands placed snugly in your lap, you pick at your thumb nail. your back is stiff in the chair, and you hope they wonât notice. âitâs nice to meet you guys too. are you traveling together?âÂ
both of them giggle, glancing at each other for a moment before swiveling their eyes back to you. for a moment, youâre confused. why was that so funny? they look to be decent friends, at least from your limited interactions with them thus far.
âwe actually just met a few minutes ago,â wolfcut â no, sakura claims. oh, so theyâre not friends, then. âwe ran into each otherâ like, quite literally ran into each other.â
âit wasâŚkinda bad,â chaewon laughs before she takes a sip of water. âmy ass is still sore.â
you huff a laugh at that, all air and no sound, and the conversation continues with a light-hearted air to it. as the minutes tick by, you learn that chaewon is a graduate student taking a gap semester, while sakura owns her own makeup line, a small business that is beginning to pick up speed thanks to social media. one lives in brooklynâ
âno way,â you gasp at chaewon. âwhere at?âÂ
sakura, meanwhile, resides in upper manhattan. even more information about them bombards your brain as all of you begin to eat, but you doubt youâll remember most of it by tomorrow, even later today â itâs alright, though. the three of you have exchanged numbers (to create a group chat) and have basically promised to be travel buddies for the coming days. your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, grateful to find kind, welcoming people on this train â youâd think that jennifer would like them. the way they interact with each other is somewhat reminiscent of your and jenniferâs friendship. friendsâŚyeah, you can see the three of you becoming good friends.Â
âcan we see some of your art?â chaewon asks, bob shifting like a wave around her head as she shakes it. oh, yeah. you had briefly mentioned your profession, though shame barred you from sharing your reasons that led you to this train in the first place.Â
you cringe. âoh, wellââ
âiâm sure itâs great!â she continues. âcâmon, pleaseee?â
with sparkling doe eyes and hands clasped tightly together, itâs difficult to say no â and you donât, shaking your head a little as you pull up your instagram account. while youâre proud of the pieces youâve posted on there, they arenât your most emotional. those ones are saved in your camera roll, and that is where they will stay, only for your eyes (and a very few select others) to see. they coo and aw as they swipe through, your phone placed on the table between them. heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to pick at the remnants of your lunch sitting on your plate. deep down, their kind comments cause an unusual sense of guilt to invade your heart. why couldnât you produce shit like that now? what the hell is wrong with you?
with a polite smile, you thank them and move to excuse yourself before your pathetic sense of self-pity can consume you. they seem a bit surprised by your abrupt exit, but they also take it in stride, offering to text you later for dinner. slipping from your seat, you send them a wave before setting off towards the door from which you initially came.Â
*:シ
you donât know what spurred you to make a stop at your room and snatch your sketchbook from your backpack before heading to the observation car, but after a whole lot of sitting and not one speck of sketching, you kind of, sort of have started to hate yourself for that decision.Â
the open page in your lap is abysmally blank. no marks, no little trees or lush fields or flowers or anything that you see speeding by outside the window. your pencil has been poised against the page for the longest time, dark gray dots scattered across the page where you would press the point of the pencil to start making a mark and subsequently give up. another hour with no progress ticks by, but you still canât make it move. move, why wonât your hand just move?Â
flipping it shut, you lean back in your seat with a deep sigh. you canât force these things, you know that much, but that wonât stop you from trying â and failing â to produce something. youâd rather not dwell on that for too long, though. those thoughts are what got you here in the first place. instead, you allow your tense muscles to relax, your eyes to lose focus and blur, blobs of green and blue passing by your vision. soft murmurs from other passengers meld together into a wall of droning noise, soft and soothing.Â
that is, until the sound of someone settling into a seat a couple away from your own pops your little bubble like a sharp, pointed pin pressing into the skin of a balloon. blinking your vision back into focus, you take a quick glance to your right andâ
holy shit, heâs beautiful. a sloping nose and pink, plush lips, you wouldnât be surprised if he was a model of some sort with a face like that. his dark, slightly outgrown hair frames his side profile perfectly, sweeping back towards the back of his head where it begins to curl down the back of his neck. thereâs this sort of dreamy, ethereal quality to his looks, like the universe took itâs sweet time creating him, lovingly placed tiny little stars in his sable, fox-like eyes and kissed his skin with the sunâs gentle rays, a light pink dusted across his cheeks â or, at least, the one cheek that you can see. bulky headphones sit snugly over his ears as he simply watches the landscapes pass by, one long leg crossed over the other. before you register the movement of your hands, your sketchbook is flipped back open to that very same blank page youâd given up on mere moments ago, fingers gripping your pencil once more. fluid like water is how your hand moves across the page, capturing the unique shape of his eyes, his soft yet defined jawline, the slope of his neckâŚ
for the first time in months, you lose yourself in your work, yet you donât even register this small breakthrough. peeking back up at the beautiful stranger every once in a while, you slowly carve out his likeness on the page in front of you, begin to add his surroundings and even a background, shading with light, circular strokes as you go, building up the deposit of graphite where it is needed most, defining the shape of his pouty lips and the strong cupidâs bow that connects his top lip to his nose, mapping out the flow and shape of locks of hair with dark, daring strokes, graphite pressing hard into the page. you even add some flyways for good measure. in your frenzied bout of drawing, you have hunched over in your chair, an old habit that is rearing its ugly head now that you donât have a standing easel to work with. straightening your aching spine, you sit back and observe your sketch, wondering if you have missed any defining detailsâ
and when you move to look up and take in his features again, he is staring right back at you.Â
oh.
oh, fuck.Â
frozen in your seat, you canât tear your gaze away from his own, a hint of concern swirling in his irises. his eyebrows raise, eyes slightly wide as he tilts his head. the corners of his pretty lips raise, parting as if about to speak â and he does.
âare you okay?â
his deep voice snaps you out of your stupor, flinching before you quickly flip your notebook shut and sent him a tight smile paired with a nod, eyes darting around to look everywhere but him. your heart just might leap out of your chest at this rate, tear open your sternum and collide with the floor. you almost wish it would.Â
heâs frowning now, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. âuh, are you sureââ
without another glance at him, you stand, clutch your notebook and pencil tight enough that it presses marks into your skin, and book it straight out of there with swift and featherlight steps. you donât look back, far too embarrassed to even consider it, not stopping until you reach your room. the door is slammed shut behind you, but the nerves-induced ache in your chest wonât fade. pressing the cool backs of your hands against your fiery cheeks, you resist the urge to slap yourself. what the fuck is wrong with you? you shouldâve just answered him and apologized for staring. he probably thinks youâre some creep now, with your weird little notebook and lack of verbal response â and the way you left. god, if a hole opened up and swallowed you whole, that wouldnât be the worst thing in the world.
âyou are so fucking embarrassing,â you hiss, venemous words aimed straight at yourself, your head buried in your hands as you curl up on the bed. day one, day fucking one, and youâve already made a fool of yourself in front of someone.
maybe you should stay in here for the rest of your trip.
day two.
â...why is it so big?â
chaewon is referring to cloud gate â or, rather, what is more populalry known as the bean â a terribly ugly, silver, oversized, bean-shaped art installation that sits in chicagoâs millennium park. an art installation that you, quite frankly, despise mostly due to the artist behind the work. given that anish kapoor is an elitist prick who has shit on the art world with his wealth and hates when people call his piece the bean, you take great, overwhelming satisfaction in calling it that.Â
her question â paired with her furrowed eyebrows â causes you and sakura to snicker to yourselves. youâre grateful that they texted you this morning, had forced you out of your room because you actually were going to go through with your staying-in-your-room-forever plan (for today, at least). this park is your first stop of many, but you really want to get this part over with so that you donât have to see this gargantuan, chrome bean ever again. despite its ugliness, you can admit that the slightly warped, mirrored reflection of the city that it provides is kind of interesting to look at, and it makes for some cool pictures.Â
(still, fuck anish kapoor. you refuse to give that man any credit.)
you end up taking a photo of you flipping it off from afar, sending it to jennifer with a smirk before helping the other two girls with some of their own photos. here, thereâs no pressure to create, only to enjoy and experience what surrounds you, no matter how tourist-y it may be.Â
sakura slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer to her, arm extended out to take a selfie. your hand raises in a peace sign at the camera, smile bright and wide like the sun above. thereâs not an inkling of worry in your expression â until you see him.Â
the guy from yesterday, standing maybe ten feet away. he dons an unbuttoned striped shirt layered over a tank top which is tucked into baggy, dark wash jeans. a thin, black belt wraps around his waist, a small camera hanging from his neck, and his hair looks as perfect as yesterday, shiny and smooth under the unobstructed sunlight. thankfully, he hasnât noticed you, but that doesnât stop your smile from fading, your heart from hammering within your chest as your brain cruelly replays the events of yesterday afternoon in slow motion. you canât face him right now. what if he comes up to you? what if confronts you for your odd behavior in front of this crowd? these are worst case scenarios, sure, but they are potential outcomes nonetheless. as he begins to turn in your direction, you whip around, slipping from under sakuraâs arm as you face the two girls.Â
âyou guys ready to go?â you ask, masking your worry with a tight grin. donât ask why, donât ask why, please donât ask why.
âyeah, sure,â chaewon nods. âi think iâve had enough of the bean.â
âsame,â sakura laughs.
âwe could grab lunch, then go to the aquarium and planetarium?â you suggest, one foot beginning to tap against the concrete as you look back and forth between them. are there eyes burning into the back of your head right now? you canât tell, but the prickling on the back of your neck is not a promising sign. they look at each other, then back to you â a phenomenon that has rapidly become a habit for them â and agree. surging forward, your hands loop around their wrists closest to you, and begin to speed walk away. far away.
âuh, girl? this is the wrong way, weâre going deeper into the park,â sakura notes, heels digging into the concrete to slow you down. sheâs right, you know sheâs right, but youâre not particularly keen on turning around.Â
with a sheepish grin, you say, âmaybe we could take a walk through the park first?â
as if on cue, chaewonâs stomach emits an audible growl.Â
ânevermind, then.â
turning around, you find the stranger facing your way, and for some reason, heâs already looking at you. his eyebrows raise in recognition the moment you make eye contact, and all of a sudden, you wish that you could shrivel up and die. despite this, you rip your gaze from his and push forward, turning to speak to sakura so that you arenât forced to glance in his direction. mission: avoid the stranger who now haunts your life â success!
goodbye, the bean and the guy who you embarrassed yourself in front of. hello, chicago-style pizza.Â
*:シ
youâre tired.
youâre tired and slightly more broke and your legs and feet ache to hell after the copious amount of walking youâve done, but your day still isnât over. no, despite the setting sun and rising moon, you still have one more activity on your itinerary â clubbing, by request of your newfound friends, though even they claim that they donât often partake in the activity. similar to them, youâre more inclined to small get-togethers with wine, food from that thai place down the street from your apartment, and a good movie, but hey, this trip is all about experiencing new things. hell, maybe youâll even enjoy it, who knows? at least, youâre going to try to, but the pain radiating in the soles of your feet and calves has worsened due to your high heels. the dress wrapped around your body is tight and flattering in all the right places, yet the hem rides up every few minutes as you walk.Â
âthe pessimism isnât cute. quit it,â you hear jenniferâs voice echo inside your head, yet another phrase sheâs uttered to you in the past. fine â on the bright side, you havenât seen that good-looking stranger since the park. bam, positivity, go you.
sakuraâs arm loops around yours as you reach the club that you collectively decided on earlier. her excited squeals at the prospect of alcohol (or, rather, more alcohol, since she pregramed a bit prior to leaving the station) and dancing are enough to bring on a weak headache that spreads across your temples. ibuprofen. you desperately need ibuprofen, but vodka will do just fine too â itâs the first thing you order at the bar, a straight shot with no chaser because at this point, you donât care. let go, enjoy life, you internalize as you toss the sharp liquor down your throat, fatigue melting away as the alcohol enters your veins.Â
cheers, jennifer. you still need to text her back.
one more downed shot later, and chaewon is dragging you to the dance floor. the bass pounds in your ears and vibrates the floor as the three of you sway to the upbeat songs. droplets of sweat begin to bead along your hairline, bodies packed so close together that itâs virtually impossible not to be jostled by a stray elbow or shoulder as you dance. if you were completely sober, it would be uncomfortable, but your hazy senses allow for you to overlook the sardine can that is called a club. itâs easy to lose yourself in the warm, heady air, in the way your hips bump between chaewonâs and sakuraâs. inhibitions melt away â youâre free; no expectations weighing you down, nowhere to be, no one to be. only music, flashing lights, and the new, fruity drink in your hand, courtesy of sakura.Â
âgonna take a breather!â you yell into chaewonâs ear, the alcohol finally catching up to you. she nods, yells words you canât make out into sakuraâs ear, and both of them begin to follow you out of the crowd. you sip at your drink as you push your way through, ducking under swinging arms and avoiding splashing drinks. the crowd thins as you grow closer to the edge of the dance floor until only scattered groups of friends remain.
âyou didnât have to come with me, yâknow,â you say as soon as you reach a slightly quieter part of the club, taking a seat in an empty booth. âi can handle myself.â
âitâs better to stick together. less dangerous,â sakura refutes. some of the glitter that sat above her eyes had drafted down to her cheeks, glinting as a beam of bright light travels over the lower half of her face. âyou never know what could happen in a club.â
chewing at the neon pink straw in your drink, you nod, âthatâs true.âÂ
as chaewon and sakura fall into conversation, their words not quite reaching your ears, you silently scan the club. the darkness is cut by wild lasers and spotlights that whirl around and catch on the faces of countless strangers, their pearly, grinning teeth glinting and disappearing back into obscurity in a flash. you nibble at your straw, vision hazy around the edges and an airy sensation in your limbs, as if you could float up to the ceiling. you up at the multicolored lights, flashes of red and green and blue bombarding your vision, then back down towards the crowd.
and yet again, you find him in your sights.Â
suddenly, your vision has a crystal clear clarity to it. button-down shirt wide open to reveal his toned torso, he smoothly moves to the beat with an intoxicated smirk painted on his lips, a small glass of amber liquor in his left hand. dark, outgrown hair, plush lips, those dark, dreamy eyes â thatâs him. shit, thatâs definitely him.Â
âyouâve gotta be fucking kidding me,â you murmur, head collapsing into your arms on top of the cool wooden table. sakura jumps in her seat next to you, before scrambling to place a hand on your shoulder.
âare you okay?â she squeals near your ear, tacking on a worried call of your name when you donât respond right away. honestly? youâre kind of not okay. youâre tired of encountering him at every turn and being reminded of your humiliating escape from him yesterday. youâre tired of him spotting you and sending you odd looks as if youâre the oddest person heâs ever crossed paths with. youâre tired, youâre tired, youâre just so tired.Â
you decided to go on this trip to get away from the mundanity of your day-to-day routine, to get over your spell of artistâs block and see new things, but maybe you bit off more than you can chew if you were going to allow one random person to ruin that goal for you. a random stranger shouldnât have this much power over you.Â
raising your head, you send them a half-hearted nod. âiâm fine. sorry.â
chaewon frowns, âare you about to throw up? âcause you look like you are.â
âyou look like youâve just seen a ghost,â sakura chimes in.
sighing, you shake your head. âi thinkâ i think i need to use the bathroom.â
as you move to get up, they do as well â though you decide not to protest this time. thereâs no point, really. your legs wobble a bit as you walk, face dropping once you notice that he is near the menâs restroom now, waiting outside right across from where you aim to go. head down, you scurry past him, ignoring how his eyes widen and his knuckles pale as he grips his drink tighter. chaewon and sakura are hot on your heels as you slip into the quiet bathroom. with the music from outside now muffled, you realize your ears are ringing. reaching a sink, you turn on the faucet and splash some water onto your face. hunched over the sink, your fingers grip the edge of the counter. deep breaths, now. deep breaths. this is likely the quickest you have ever sobered up, and the sensation is rendering you dizzy.
behind you, your friends exchange concerned looks through the mirror. sakura jumps into action first, coming up behind you and placing her hands onto your shoulders. with a gentle squeeze, she murmurs, âletâs get you back to the station.â
day three.
today, the observation car is devoid of life â and so is your body after yesterday. can you overdose by taking too much ibuprofen? youâre pretty sure that you can.Â
last night is but a blur in your memory with few spots of clarity, but you do vividly remember panicking in the dimly lit bathroom as the girls fretted over whether you were going to vomit all over the floor or not. you hadnât slept much once you returned to your room after exchanging drunken hugs with your friends, ensuring them that you were, indeed, not going to throw up. after a few hours of restless sleep, youâd completely given up proper rest â you have never slept all that well with alcohol in your system, so youâre not sure why you thought this time would be any different.Â
you take a seat far away from the one you took last time. clad in your pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt, youâre grateful that no one else is here to see you at your worst: slightly hungover with dark circles the size of dinner plates. your legs fold up onto the chair so that your knees sit near your chest, your arms looping around your shins, fingers laced together. a deep sigh. a long blink. though the rest of the sky remains an inky black, the horizon morphs into a deep purple, the color of eggplant, almost. perhaps a smidge lighter.Â
a door opens, its hinges faintly squeaking, before subsequently clicking shut. figuring it must be someone older, you do not bother with checking who entered; most people your age arenât up this early, especially not willingly. instead, you keep your eyes trained on the ever-changing sky, chin resting upon your knees.
footsteps near you, and you assume that they will pass, but then they donât. rather, they stand right in front of you.
âmay i sit here?â
you have heard this voice before, just two days ago. unsurprisingly, he stands a mere few feet away, clad in a black tank top and gray sweatpants, a long finger pointed towards a seat. similar to you, small dark circles sit beneath his eyes, but he somehow makes them work. once you nod, one corner of his lips twitches upward before he sits down, a singular seat separating your bodies. his gaze burns the side of your face; your arms wrap around your legs tighter, your unwavering stare pointed out the window. silence envelopes the train car, tense and suffocating. your lungs tighten, prickly thorns sprouting within the thin membranes. your bottom lip may begin to bleed if you keep chewing at it so carelessly.
he breaks it first, shatters it like glass colliding with the floor, with five words:
âiâm really hungover right now.â
your brows furrow. why is he trying to strike up a conversation with you? why do you want to answer him?Â
he continues before you can formulate a response, âi saw you at that club last night â you looked a little sick. are you okay?â
âpeachy,â you curtly mumble, lips pursing. of course he remembers you; you did pass by him, after all, basically sprinted into the bathroom with the grace of a bull in a china shop. he hasnât mentioned the park, but you know damn well he remembers that too.
you can sense the frown from his tone, confusion lacing the edges like delicate lace. his question is careful, slowly intonated as if heâs scared of pissing you off. âuh, did i do something wrong?â
you shake your head, not a single glance spared in his direction thus far. he hasnât. your attitude is a direct result of your own actions, your own rampant anxieties. a pang of guilt punches you in the gut â he does not deserve your bitchiness when he, quite frankly, has done nothing but exist in relative proximity to you.Â
âyou havenât,â you reply, voice meek. your eyes trace over the short fibers of the plain carpet below your seat. âiâm justâ iâm sorry.â
the low rumble of the train fills the air again, no further words spoken between the two of you. thereâs no clear way to explain yourself further, but your apology is sincere; with a brief peek, you find him staring out the window.
âcan i ask why you keep running away whenever you see me?â the query lacks an accusatory edge. rather, curiosity and interest cushion his voice. maybeâŚmaybe he doesnât find you that strange, after all.
and finally, after two days of avoiding his gaze, you swivel your head to face him. you find a tilted head, a single humorous, raised eyebrow. despite yourself, you begin to smile. âhonestly?â
âiâd prefer honesty, yes,â he grins.
âiââ you hesitate for a moment, then continue, i was embarrassed.â a grimace paints your face, dragging your brows down and twisting your lips. âafter, yâknowâŚâ
ârunning away the first time?â he supplies.
your mouth flattens into a thin line, a hand moving up to scratch your cheek. âyeah, that.â
laughter reaches your ears, partially nasally. rolling your eyes, your mouth splits into a grin.Â
âi get it. i feel like i definitely startled you, so no hard feelings.â he pauses, starry eyes widening in what you believe is realization, âi never got your name.â
easily, you supply it, cheeks flushing with heat when he offhandedly comments that itâs pretty. if he notices your sudden flustered state, he doesnât comment on it, and despite the warmth now slithering down your neck, you feel yourself relax back into your seat, legs leaving their curled up position to cross at the ankle in front of you. then, he offers his own. yeonjun â at long last, you have put a name to his handsome face.Â
out of nowhere, he asks, âhave you had breakfast?âÂ
shaking your head, you gesture to your pajama bottoms. ânot yet, i was going to grab some after i changed.â
âi donât know, i think the plaid pants are pretty fashionable,â he chuckles. you join him. âcâmon, i saw an old guy wearing boxers and a shirt in there yesterday. iâm pretty sure itâll be fine.â
you giggle, âthatâs kinda gross, but alright. letâs go.â
peering out the window again, you find that the sun has just peeked above the horizon, a wash of orange fading into blue, melting together like watercolor. smiling to yourself, you stand and begin to follow yeonjun towards the dining car.
*:シ
you and yeonjun had gone your separate ways hours ago, but not without exchanging contact information. since then, he hasnât stopped texting you, his talent at keeping any conversation going shining in direct contrast to your, well, lack of said talent. however, you do find yourself replying to him with ease â he makes it so easy to do so, mostly due to the fairly unorthodox topics he likes to bring up. currently, youâre talking about the animals that scare you the most. why? because thatâs the nature of yeonjunâs conversation skills, you suppose.
another voice message pops up in your chat, about ten seconds long â one of his more obvious quirks. most of his messages are sent in this form, not that you mind. his voice is as pretty as the rest of him. heart-fluttering. okay, stop. you just met this guy.Â
(jennifer always does say that you fall too easily. maybe sheâs right.)
pressing play, his voice enters your left ear via your single earbud. âno because hear me out: dolphins have fooled you into thinking theyâre nice. manipulated you. they literally torture their preyâ and they use puffer fishes to get high! i canât make this shit up. my fear is justified, i swear.â
under your breath, you chuckle, an elbow leaned against the dining table. after a long nap, you had texted the girls to see if theyâd like to get dinner with you. of course, they said yes, but you decided to get here a bit early to grab an open table. the car is already packed as it is.
âwhatâre you laughing at?â unexpectedly, sakuraâs head appears over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of your phone. out of habit, you lock it, your reflections staring back at you through the black screen. as she sits next to you, chaewon, takes the seat across from you, elbows placed on the table and her hands supporting her chin. she sends you a knowing smile.
âis that your boyfriend?â she prods. the question causes your mouth to fall open for a moment before you snap it shut.Â
âno!â you exclaim. âitâs just a friend.â
âsounds like a boyfriend,â sakura surmises, exchanging a conspiratory nod with the other girl. you release a groan, hands shielding your fiery hot face before you drag them up over your hair.Â
âheâs not my boyfriend,â you shoot back. âwe just met today.â two days ago, actually. if you can count that.
their mouths open in tandem, shock coloring their features. is this a big deal, or something? you arenât even dating the guy.Â
âyou met a guy and didnât tell us?â sakura grasps your arm with both hands, shaking the limb with a strength that shouldnât be possible to come from her thin body. âyou shouldâve told us! we can be your wingwomen!â
âwingwomen?â you echo dumbly as you stare at her. wingwomen, as in, like, jennifer-style wingwomen? as in trying too hard to set you up with someone and ultimately embarrassing you in the end wingwomen? your love for jennifer knows no bounds, but sheâs ruined the term for you long ago with her terrible luck. a shudder runs down your spine, and you grin nervously. âi donât think thatâs necessary.â
âof course it is! iâve always wanted to do that for one of my friends, but theyâre all taken already,â chaewon pouts, irresistible puppy dog eyes appearing. âcâmon, please?
âi doubt heâd want to date me, though? weâve literally only talked once, so really, itâs okay.â
âonce is enough,â sakura declares, suddenly tilting her body closer to yours. âtell us, is he cute? whatâs his name?â
theyâre obviously not going to let this go, and you have no power to really stop them.Â
sighing, you officially give up, âyeonjun, and yes, i do.â unfortunately.Â
chaewon claps her hands together, an audible smack! echoing from her palms. her smile is blinding, a supernova of pearly white teeth and pink, upturned lips. âperfect! we can work with that.âÂ
âi already have an idea: ask him to hang out tomorrow,â sakura says, and you send her an incredulous look, glancing at chaewon for a moment to find that sheâs excitedly nodding along to the idea like an excitable puppy. her round eyes sure make her resemble one.
you shake your head. âi canât do that, itâs too forward.â
rolling her eyes, sakura tosses her hands up in the air. âtoo forward my ass! how do you expect to bag him?â
âi donât!â
chaewon chimes in, an open hand reaching towards you, âalright, give us your phone. weâll text him for you.â
âabsolutely not!â
ding!
itâs comical, how all three of you pivot your wide-eyed gazes to the phone clenched in your fingers. the flash of yeonjunâs name across the screen is enough to send your table into chaos.Â
âopen it!â
âwhat did he sayââ
âcalm down, oh my god!â you shriek, sending a apologetic look to the couple next to you when they look over. fingers fly over your keyboard until youâve reached his contact. words, this time, no voice message. butterflies burst into your chest.
yeonjun: do you have anything planned for tmrw?Â
after scanning over the message herself, sakura pokes at your shoulder. âtell him you donât.âÂ
with a deep, heavy sigh, you do as she says.
[6:37 p.m.]: not yet, why?
âthatâs too dry,â chaewon comments.
âshut up, iâm trying,â you hiss. it takes him a few minutes to respond, minutes in which you internally panic. was your text really too dry? in the meantime, you place your dinner order with a kind waiter that stops by, a hearty dish that you can drown your sorrows in the not-so-off chance that this goes terribly, terribly wrong. another ping sounds from your phoneâs speakers, and time stops once you read what he sent. clocks stop ticking, you stop breathing, everything around you freezes.
yeonjun: do you wanna grab coffee in the morning then? :)
sakura sends you a sharp look. âi doubt heâd want to date me â are you seeing this right now? or do you need me to spell it out for you? this is a date, babe.â
âitâs not,â you counter weakly. you only (officially) met him today, so, âitâs really not.â
day four.
contrary to what sakura claimed, this is very much not a date â but youâre happy about it.Â
he keeps a respectful distance between your bodies as you walk, you pay for your own coffee, and you pull your own chair out when you go to sit down. itâs simple, itâs friendly, itâs a bit awkward, but thereâs some things you have to sacrifice when making new friends. the croissant youâve decided on is on the drier side, a little too flaky. you nibble on it anyway in a poor attempt to ignore the silence that has fallen between you once again. this is why you try to meet people through other friends; at least in those situations, you have a buffer, someone who knows you and the other person well enough that they can find connections between you without having to dig. you hate digging â youâre the worst at it, hence the stifling quiet that permeates the air now.
the cafĂŠ is quaint, if a bit moody thanks to the lighting. outside the window, the denver street teems with people, and you decide to survey the passing strangers rather than look at the man sitting across from you. wisps of fluffy white clouds float high above, sometimes passing over the sun. you wish you had your supplies with you â this would make for a wonderful painting.Â
click!
turning your head, you find yeonjun holding a camera, the lens pointed atâŚyou? you hadnât noticed it prior, so you are unsure where he got it from. it looks like the same one he had at the park. a bashful smile appears as soon as he places it on the table. âsorry, the lighting was perfect. canât ever pass up a nice shot.â you study the camera for a moment, and he takes your lack of response as a sign to continue, âonce i edit it, i can definitely send you a copy. do you wanna see it?â
a photographer. yeonjun is a photographer. youâre not sure why itâs taken you this long to realize. maybe because youâve been avoiding him up until now? you think. shaking the thought away, you smile. âiâd love to see it.â
he presses a few buttons, a focused twist to his plush lips, before heâs sliding it over to your side of the table. heâs right: it was a nice shot, and while you donât often enjoy how you look in photographs, heâs found an angle that highlights your best features as you gaze outside, a slight part to your lips and your eyes wide open, shining. the sheer amount of contrast between the dark cafĂŠ and your warm-lit face scratches an itch in your brain. you can see it now â the golden pigment wetting your brush before being placed on the canvas, being blended into an umber, almost black, but not quite. a splash of umber here, a hint of red thereâŚ
âis this your job?â you decide to ask.Â
the sheepish expression returns in full force, but thereâs a hint of pride in his eyes. heâs proud of his work. âyeah. iâm not, like, famous or anything, but i enjoy it. my mom said that when i was a baby, they put a stethoscope, a gavel, a camera, a microphone, and a test tube in front of me, and i chose the camera, so it was basically meant to be,â he chuckles, but, realzing that youâre staring at him, he pauses for moment. crimson paints the tips of his ears; itâs a color that youâre pretty sure sits in your travel set. âsorry, was that too much?â
ânot at all,â you reply softly. âthatâs a lovely story, yeonjun.âÂ
âthanks.â shyly, he bites down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth before releasing it. a beat of quiet passes, then heâs asking, âhow about you? what do you do for work?â
for some reason, the question looms over your head like a storm cloud. itâs unavoidable and dark and heavy. a bitter taste fills your mouth, different from the aftertaste of your coffee, but you try not to let your sudden drop in mood show.Â
âiâm an artist, though i donât think many people would consider me one nowadays,â you snicker, but the self-deprecating edge to your words is not lost on yeonjun.Â
wrinkles form in the space between his brows. âwhat do you mean?âÂ
âiâŚâ you trail off. you should tell him. you should rip the bandaid off and quit avoiding facing it for what it is. âi havenât finished a piece in months. i feel stuck, almost? like nothing is resonating with me, if that makes sense. itâs the whole reason i went on this trip. itâs humiliating, not being able to draw a single thing without hating itâ sorry, thatâs definitely too much.âÂ
âno, no, youâre fine,â and heâs sincere in his reassurances. he doesnât look at you like youâre some sort of failure for how you feel. he doesnât spew out a hollow apology to absolve him of the weight youâve transferred to his shoulders, nor does he seem to mind that heâs helping you burden it. his hand reaches over the table, hesitant for a moment, before his fingers curl over yours, his warm skin against yours. you stare at his hand, but you donât move away from his touch, allowing him to give your hand a delicate squeeze. looking back up, you sit frozen under his gaze. it warms your insides, melts the icy shards solidifying in your lungs that make it hard to breathe. ânone of that makes you less of an artist. itâs something every artist goes through â hell, iâve gone through it, and itâs okay to feel that way. itâs real and it sucks to feel like you canât accomplish anything, but thereâs nothing wrong with it. eventually, it will pass on its own, but until then, itâs not a sin to lean on others for support.â
tears almost, almost prick your eyes. however, you push them down; thereâs no way youâre going to cry in public, in front of him. absolutely not. he squeezes your hand one more time, his thumb brushing over yours, before pulling away. âand if no one else will listen, i will.â
âthank you,â you croak out, blinking rapidly, taking a long sip of coffee in order to buy yourself a few precious seconds to cloak your emotions. a calm veil falls over your face soon enough, and while you hate to be the one to change the subject, you feel like you should. âdo you want to go on a walk? itâs too nice out to stay in here all day.â
he doesnât question the sudden change, humming in confirmation as he scoots his chair back. âit really is nice out. do you have any other plans?â
ânot really,â you say, pushing the door open. the warm breeze caresses your face. âiâm trying to be spontaneousââ
ây/n!â
sakura and chaewon appear to your left, each carrying a couple bags that look to be stuffed with clothes. you vaguely remember them mentioning going thrifting, but you didnât know that theyâd be in the same part of the city as you. chaewon comes in for a hug, whispering into your ear, âheâs cute.â
glancing up at yeonjun, sakura feigns ignorance, âwhoâs this?âÂ
thus, your friends meet the one man youâd rather keep them away from, if only to prevent their wingwomen shenanigans. you have zero clue what they have planned, but youâre sure none of it can be good.Â
âwe were just on our way to the botanical gardens,â chaewon sings. âif youâd like to join usss.â
wordlessly, you and yeonjun communicate, only raised eyebrows and tilted chins. somehow, you ujnderstand exactly what heâs trying to convey. do you want to? do you? i donât mind if you donât. alright, letâs do it.
when you do arrive at the gardens, yeonjunâs fingers find your wrist, holding you back for a moment. his free hand gestures to the camera hanging around his neck. âmind being my model for the day?â
you blink. you, his model? âoh, um. i think chae and kkura are a bit more qualifiedââ
âno way,â he laughs. âiâm the professional here, and i want you. no one else will do.â
i want you â god, those three, simple words send a visceral shiver down your spine. a want, a need, an overwhelming desire forâŚyouâre not even sure, but something all-consuming blooms behind your sternum like a moonflower in the night. with a coy dip of your head, you smile to yourself, allowing the feeling to surge through your veins, consume every fiber of your being.
âalright, mr. professional. lead the way.â
*:シ
itâs early in the evening when you return to the station in a giddy haze, arm looped around yeonjunâs. the photo session had been a success; by the end, you were drunk on the compliments he aimed your way, on the way he treated you like glass as he directed you into a specific pose, the fleeting sensation of his fingertips pressing into your skin burned into your memory.Â
closing the door to your room, your press your back into it, squeal into your palms like you did when you were sixteen and harboring a silly little crush. because thatâs all it right now, really: a foolish crush on a man that you probably wonât see again after this trip. you can fantasize all you want, but in the end, thatâs what it is. those invading negative thoughts get drowned out by the movie playing behind your eyelids â a replay of the day. you swear you can feel every touch of his skin against yours, every ray of sunshine that kissed your skin and gifted you its warmth. scurrying over to your bag, you locate your supplies.Â
and you begin to paint.Â
a flurry of lilacs, a blurry figure among them all, defined only by a flowing white button up and brown, wide leg trousers, black streaks of hair and nothing more. yellow daffodils and vibrant emerald sweetgrass take shape, a cerulean sky, fluffy clouds. itâs messy and you kind of hate it, but itâs something. something is on the canvas, itâs dynamic, it has character.
âokay,â you mumble, staring at the brushstrokes, going over them again and again. âokay.â
day five.
âcan i draw you?âÂ
a spur of the moment question, borne from the golden sunset gracing his cheeks, highlighting strands of his hair. the day has passed quietly today, mostly spent in your room sketching to your heartâs content. though mostly inconsequential doodles paired with terribly cheesy words of prose that even your most romantic friends would scrunch their noses at, these exercises in creating without a specific goal in mind seem to be helping. a part of that gray fog over your world has been wafted away by an invisible hand, and everything is a bit more vibrant, closer to its true hue; while nothing about your creations are particularly special or groundbreaking, going on this trip is now beginning to prove its worth.Â
yeonjunâs head tilts, and you shrug. âwhat? i need practice.â
âokay, as long as you promise to show me afterward,â he challenges, and you immediately shake your head.Â
âiâm only going to show it to you if it turns out well,â you decide. you think back to the painting sitting in your room, still a bit wet, the paint overworked to hell. that one is staying a secret. itâs not good enough to be known by anyone else â and certainly not by him.
âthen no deal.â when you give him a pleading look, he raises his hands. âi show you my pictures, you show me whatâs going on in that sketchbook, itâs only fair.â
âfine,â you hiss, fishing your sketchbook from your bag. âget comfortable, and donât even think about moving.â
âharsh.â
with a suppressed grin, you take in the planes of his face. heâs shifted to face you, intent eyes trained on you, which makes your job harder. gulping, you raise an arm, mapping out his proportions with a thumb. the process of pressing intentional marks into the page is a slow one, exacerbated by his unwavering stare. you have to look out at the mountains every once in a while to allow oxygen back into your lungs, and even then, the action proves difficult. graphite scratching paper is backed by the low murmur of other passengers in the observation car as you work, capturing the fading light that casts shadows across his face. however, your creative juices quickly run out, likely sapped by your painting escapade that extended far into the night. the shape of his eyes isnât quite right, and no matter how much you erase and try again, thereâs always a slight detail off about it. too narrow, too round, tooâ
the tip of the pencil snaps, the point rolling across the page and falling onto the floor. you curse under your breath.Â
âis it done?â yeonjun asks, leaning forward. his hands gently take your sketchbook from your lap before you can protest, and you watch as his expression shifts from neutral to slack-jawed.Â
âthatâsâŚyouâreâŚwow,â he starts, then never finishes. he still hasnât torn his wide eyes away from the page, flitting around as he drinks in every miniscule detail, while you pinpoint every single thing wrong with the drawing.
âitâs bad,â you deadpan. âgive it back, i need to fix it.â
he frowns. you seem to make him do that a lot. âthereâs nothing to fix.â
âthereâs everything to fix.â
âitâs literally a carbon copy of me,â he counters. âyouâre crazy.â
âsays the one who canât see the shape of his eyes right now. the lash line isnât straight enough at the top, the nose isnât quite right, the hair lacks form. itâs terrible.â
for the first time since you met him, yeonjun is annoyed. eyes narrowed and dark, he locks his gaze into yours, throws away the key. you canât move while he tosses the worn sketchbook back into your lap, a hand running through his hair, locks raising with his fingers and flopping back down into his face.
âi know what itâs like to be your own worst critic,â he says, voice soft like a lullaby, standing in direct contrast to his firm expression. âbut itâs one thing to be critical of your art, and another to resent it. youâre a wonderful artist, y/n. talented isnât enough to describe you, but negativity is going to get you nowhere. it holds you back.â
heâs right â you loathe that he is, and you more so hate how he sounds just like jennifer. your nails skirts the fraying edge of the leather cover in your laps, picking at it like you would with skin, peeling cracked flakes off to reveal soft underbelly of lighter-colored suede. wine red versus warm tan. you feel like youâre being admonished, a child whoâs misbehaved. you feel small, but at the same time, you need to hear it. youâve been coddled enough.Â
âi used to hate my stuff too, yâknow. never thought it was ever that special, but thatâs what made me underestimate myself. thatâs what made me settle for less, thatâs what made me lock my camera away in my closet for the longest time until i felt i was âreadyâ to use it â but who was i to say i was ready? how do you know when you are? honestly, you donât. you wonât ever know. all you can do is create and create and hope that you eventually make something that youâre proud of. until then, you keep trying, you figure out whatâs working, what isnât, and go from there. in the end, everything you create is a reflection of you, and thatâs the beautiful thing about art. it bares your soul, it strips you down to the rawest parts of yourself that you may despise right now â but itâs still you. and donât you think you deserve to give yourself some grace?â
his words strike a place deep within you, an ache beginning in the center of your chest and snaking out like the roots of a tree into your stomach and throat. you do deserve some grace, donât you? you donât spew venomous words towards your friends or strangers every day, yet you do it to yourself without a second thought. why? you bring yourself and your skills down any chance that you get. why? your art is merely an extension of yourself â is this how you forever want to feel whenever your drawing? whenever youâre sculpting a piece? no, not at all. your head raises.Â
âhave you ever thought about becoming a public speaker?â
he lets out an incredulous scoff, but thereâs still an inkling of teasing in his tone, âis that all you got from my mini speech? i thought it was amazing. life-changing, even.â
âno,â you deny with a tight-chested laugh. âbut thereâs not much more to add. youâve said it all for me.â
the passing mountains are purple now, the greenery a muted magenta. in this moment, you decide the yeonjun is an enigma; untouchable, unreachable â standing too close to his bright, technicolor world would burn your muted one to the ground. if you are icarus, then he is the sun sending you plummeting down into oblivion.
but you want to touch him, you want to burn.
you want to feel alive again.
âlet me draw you again,â and maybe it wonât be your best. maybe the slope of his chin will be crooked, maybe the intrinsic sparkle in his eyes wonât be quite right, but thereâs a conviction present in your tone that causes him to smile.
day six.
âare you really trying to have a dick measuring contest with the seals right now?â
san franciscoâs iconic pier 39 is abustle with tourists, but you and yeonjun are currently at the very back of the pier, where seals soak in the sun on little wooden docks constructed just for them. at the moment, yeonjun is trying to out-seal the seals with loud barks and hoots, mimicking their distinctive sounds. yeonjun is still making noises, people are starting to stare, and you are beginning to want to climb over the wooden fence and jump straight into the ocean.Â
âyeonjun, please stop,â you plead, hands gripping the sleeve of his t-shirt, yet he doesnât stop, honking back at the seals once they respond. you tug a bit harder. âcâmon, people are staring. the seals donât care how loud you are, youâre not proving anything.â
âiâm proving a lot of things right now, actually,â he quips before heâs going back to making noises that are unbecoming of a human being. this feels like a cruel form of exposure therapy.
you try pulling at his sleeve again. âcâmon, yeonjun.â and again. âyeonjun!â
âokay, okay, iâll stop,â he cackles, turning to face you. heâs close â too close to be considered platonic. his hands could come up and hold your waist right now, pull you closer into his chest. it causes you to take a step back, and itâs as if he can sense the heat radiating from your cheeks, leaning down towards you with a smirk. âyou embarrassed?â
âof course iâm embarrassed,â you hiss. âhow are you not?â
shaking his head, his grin grows impossibly wider. âif i buy you lunch, will you forgive me?âÂ
pretending to think, you look off to the side, then back to him. of course you will. âmaybe.â
âiâll take that as a yes,â he laughs as he falls into step next to you. the air is much cooler here than at your other stops, a gray blanket of fog rolling in on the horizon that cuts into the clear blue sky. he sends you a hopeful look as he asks, âyâfeeling clam chowder?â
with a tiny shrug, you confess that youâve never had it before. with a dramatic hand placed against his chest, he gasps, âyou live in the northeast, and youâve never tried it? that has to be some sort of crime.â
chowder hut is his restaurant of choice, a circular, well, hut that sits by its lonesome across from the infamous pier. itâs a place he used to go when he lived in san jose and took day trips here with his cousins, he claims. the restaurant holds a lot of fond memories for him, this whole city does. you wonder what those memories entail.
âi got you a small one in case you donât like it,â yeonjun says as soon as he returns with your food. a tray is placed in front of you: a round sourdough loaf carved into to create a bowl, filled with cream-colored, steaming-hot chowder thick with chunks of potatoes, pieces of bacon, and, of course, clams. digging a spoon in, you take your first bite â clean, briny, slightly sweet, bursting across your taste buds like tiny little firecrackers. your eyes widen at the taste, buzzing in delight against the spoon poised to your lips. he grins. âitâs good, right?âÂ
you hum in agreement, swallowing another spoonful. youâre crazy for never having tried this before. twenty-four years of living, and you had no idea what you were missing out on. youâve missed out on a long of things, it seems, but youâre beginning to catch up on them with the help of yeonjun â as well as sakura and chaewon, of course. you could never forget about them.
âyouâre forever going to be connected to clam chowder in my mind now, i hope you know that,â you say, tearing into the walls of the bread bowl. the remnants of the salty chowder have soaked into the bowl, mixing perfectly with the tanginess of the bread. yeah, you wouldnât forget this in a million years; itâs too delicious to forget.Â
âyou do that too?â he asks. you send him a questioning glance. âlike, connect people to food.â
âyeah, i guess i do,â you ponder. âmy mom reminds me of this one dish she always made me as a kid. my best friend reminds me of wine, since thatâs what we drank when we first met. itâs also her favorite. and now youâŚremind me of clam chowder.â
he chuckles, âgreat, iâll always be the clam chowder guy to you.â
you giggle back. âitâs not a bad title to hold. you could be, i donât know, the terrible clam chowder guy.â
âfair enough. iâll take it,â he declares before he shoves the last piece of his bread bowl into his mouth. his cheeks puff out, similar to a chipmunk, and you reisst the urge to chuckle at the image in your head. ânow that i think about it, i donât do it with just people â a lot of my fondest memories are connected to food, too. something human about it, yâknow? food is its own form of love. or, at least, i think it is.â
âno, i completely agree. thereâs something special about sharing food with others â itâs kinda intimate, i guess? especially if youâre cooking for someone, those are some of the most vivid memories for me.âÂ
nodding along with you, heâs leaning forward, elbows resting against the table. the corners of his lips quirk up. âyou get it. the intimacy of it, i mean. my mom has always said that food is the best way to a personâs heart â food brings people together. itâs amazing.â
âyeah,â you beam. âit really is.â
for a moment, conversation ceases, the two of you smiling at each other, leaning forward over the table. your mouth opens to speak, but a loud caw draws your attention away from his hypnotizing eyes. you watch a seagull swoop in to harass a man that sits two tables over, his glasses skewed on his face as he tries to keep the bird from stealing his food. arms wave everywhere while the seagull screeches at him, flapping its wings on top of the manâs head. after a brief second of shock, the sight has you nearly doubling over with laughter, unflattering shrieks sounding from your throat. it takes a minute for your giggles to subside. while you wipe a tear from your lash line, you look back at him â and freeze.
heâs staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, chin supported by his palm. his mouth curves into something serene and fond, hooded eyes scanning your face as you stare back. youâre no longer smiling, mouth parted as you wait for him to say something, anything. he doesnât, so you move to break the intense air brewing between you.
âisâŚis something wrong?â with a flinch, his eyes blink rapidly for a second, coming back into focus. he sits up straighter, leaning into the back of his chair.
âi justâ nevermind. sorry, spaced out there for a second,â his chin dips towards his chest before rising again, the tips of his ears flushing cherry. he looks nervous, almost. âum, if youâre up for it later, we could grab dinner at this korean restaurant i used to go to? it reminds me a lot of my parents. i think youâd like it.âÂ
while youâd rather ask where his head is at right now, what he was going to say before he stopped himself so abruptly, you say, âiâd love that.â
*:シ
he was right, you do like it.Â
the restaurant is cozy, a little hole-in-the-wall in the heart of the city where less tourists roam. the food is delicious, flavorful meats and fluffy rice and various veggie side dishes that you canât stop eating. as he snaps some photos of the place, he tells you the decor reminds him of restaurants in seoul, of the mom-and-pop shops heâd frequent there. that at some point or other, some of the owners would start recognizing him when he came in and gave him extra food free of charge.Â
âso you lived there for a while? in korea?â you ask as you watch him some meat for the two of you to share. the action is second nature to him, each piece staying on the grill for the same amount of time, flipped only once. you bring a piece to your mouth â itâs perfectly cooked.
âi was born there, in a town near seoul,â he says through a mouthful of rice. âmoved around a bit, but i lived in seoul for most of it âtil i was eighteen. then i moved to new york for college, but dropped out after two semesters to pursue photography. itâs been six years since i moved to the states.â
âyou said you lived in san jose for a while earlier.â you tilt your head at him. âwhen was that?â
âah,â he starts. âi studied abroad when i was in elementary school and stayed with some family thereâ do you want some more meat? i can order more.â
your meat supply has dwindled down to two pieces. thereâs still room in your stomach, so you nod. âsure.â
he calls over the sole server on shift, speaking to him rapidly in his native tongue. the server glances over at you for a brief second before focusing back on yeonjun. out of their entire conversation, you recognize one word: friend. itâs a term that jennifer taught you a while ago, one that has stuck with you because she now likes to jokingly call you that every now and then. an inside joke between the two of you.
when the server leaves, yeonjun is left a flustered mess. your eyebrows raise. âwhyâs your face so red? whatâd he say?â
ânothing! itâs just from the kimchi! itâs really spicy here,â he quickly claims before heâs gulping down half a glass of water. you, quite frankly, donât buy it for a second, but choose not to pry.Â
day seven.
of course, at least one thing has to go wrong on a trip like this. mechanical problems with the train has rendered everyone stuck in the golden city until tomorrow morning, at which another train will take over the rest of the trip. the station is across the bay, so amtrak has given every passenger a voucher to pay for a nightâs stay at various hotels across the city â customerâs choice, no less. to be safe, you choose the one closest to the bar chaewon and sakura want to check out tonight. once you told yeonjun where you decided to stay, he used his voucher there as well. he wants to stay near you, he says, to make it easy to find each other.
today, the girls join you and yeonjun at pier 39. they partake in bread bowls, they watch yeonjun embarrass himself at the seal docks, they send you knowing looks when he pays for your food. when yeonjun finds a street performer with a dance mat and wastes no time in starting a battle against the guy, they tell you that heâs trying to impress you.
âheâs not,â you whisper to them. âthatâs just how he is. i promise.â
night begins to fall, and they suggest going to a bar for dinner, more for the drinks and not the food. you accept, and in turn, so does yeonjun â though you immediately regret not thinking the decision through more. the bar is dangerous. not in an external hazard sense, but in more of a youâre scared of getting drunk and vomiting your blossoming feelings onto his shoes type of sense. you keep your drinking to a minimum, still on your first drink an hour in. next to you, however, yeonjun is starting to collapse in on himself, hunched over the counter of the bar as his third drink kicks in. a giggle bubbles up from your throat. you never pegged him to be a lightweight.Â
âletâs get you some water,â you gently suggest, a comforting hand on his shoulder. waving the bartender over, you ask for a glass, helping him sit up and take a sip. his chin falls onto your shoulder this time, eyes hazy as he looks up at you with a dopey smile.Â
âyouâre really pretty, did yâknow that?â he slurs, leaning further into you as an arm wraps around your waist. his barstool screeches across the floor, shifting closer to yours. you freeze as shock fills your veins, nerve endings beneath his touch on fire. he pokes your warm cheek. âs��pretty.â
you blink. hard. âyeonjun, youâre drunkââ
âno âm not. âm perfectlyâ âm perfectly fine,â the words stumble out of his pouty lips drenched in fatigue, his tone whiny and petulant, as he turns in his seat to wrap his other arm around your waist, forehead now sagging against your shoulder. your body stiffens up, tense muscles frozen in place as he continues his delirious ramblings.Â
âi need to go to the bathroom!â you all of sudden exclaim, attempting to pry his arms off of you. he only squeezes you tighter, whining how you canât leave here alone. you sigh, patting his hair, âyou could wait outside?â
he accepts the offer, but doesnât remove his arm from your waist as both of you stand. despite his almost six foot tall frame, you are forced to support him as he stumbles along towards the bathrooms and pray that you donât twist an ankle in the process. when you reach the womenâs bathroom, he still doesnât let go.Â
ânooo, donât leave meeee,â he whines, pulling you back into his chest while your hand grips the door handle. calling his name, you slip your hands beneath his and grab them to pull them off of you.
âiâll be right back, i promise,â you say once you situate him against the wall, his shoulder hunched and his head hanging down towards his chest. you give him a worrying pat before disappearing into the bathroom. in reality, you do not have to go. instead, you stand in front of the mirror, taking in your blown out eyes, feeling a scorching heat encase your face and spread down towards your chest. heâs drunk, you remind yourself. he doesnât know what heâs saying.Â
you wash your hands once. twice. three times, allowing the cool water to run over your heated skin. you splash some on the back of your neck. calm down. calm the fuck down.Â
you are, indeed, not able to calm the fuck down before a flurry of knocks reverbates against the door. yeonjunâs voice follows soon after, asking if he can come in, if youâre okay. âwhy have you been gone for so longggg? i miss you!â
âno! donât come in!â you yell, glad that all of the stalls are vacant. making your way back over to the exit, you wrench open the door and find him standing there, fist raised in the air as if he was going to knock again.Â
he blinks once. then, an impossibly wide grin splits his face. âyouâre back!â
stepping forward, you allow the door to swing shut behind you. arms wrap around you once again, but this time, you stumble backwards into the wall. when you look up, his face is just above yours.Â
oh.
oh, fuck.Â
this feels like a repeat of day one all over again, you trapped under his gaze, but this lacks the distance of that day. the unfamiliarity with each other. his hands havenât left your waist, fingers pressing into your flesh over your thin dress, while the wall presses into your back. you have nowhere to go, but maybe youâre more drunk than you initially thought, because his lips look very inviting right now. you watch his eyes trail down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. hid eyelids hood his dark, hazy pupils. the muscles in his neck contract, his adamâs apple bobbing as he leans closer, an electric attraction between your lips. you tilt your head, eye fluttering shut, moving closer, closerâŚ
ây/n! there you are!âÂ
yeonjun jumps away from you as chaewon rushes up to you. her hands find your shoulders as she cries, âkkura twisted her ankle really bad! can you help me?â
you turn your head towards yeonjun, then back to chaewon, whose wide, rounded eyes plead you to come with her. âokay,â you say softly. âletâs go.â
yeonjun follows close behind, and all you can think of is what would have happened if chaewon didnât show up. sakuraâs ankle ends up being fine, and getting her back to her hotel room isnât too difficult given the close proximity of the hotel.Â
*:シ
four days. four days you have known yeonjun, but it feels like itâs been years since you met each other. that fact strikes fear into your heart, remembering that the last time that this fast burn of feelings in your heart occurred, you ended up a brokenhearted mess for months. if yeonjun is the sun, his overwhelming heat melting you down into a puddle, then beomgyu was a black hole, all-consuming and ripping pieces of you away when he abruptly up and left. youâre unsure if you can go through that again, but at the same time, yeonjun doesnât give off the impression of a drifter who wouldnât tell you heâs leaving until after the fact. heâs a constant, a steady fortress. reliable, enduring.Â
âgood night,â yeonjun murmurs, both of you standing in front of your door.Â
âgood night,â you parrot back, rocking back on your heels, but you donât really want him to go. knowing that isnât realistic, you settle for opening your arms up towards him. for the first time, he hugs you good night, his lithe arms wrapping around your waist while he presses a drunken kiss into the crown of your head, and a feeling of being home washes over you.Â
day eight.
he sits closer to you now. no longer is there a gap that separates your bodies, a full chair between the two of you. now, he sits right next to you, thigh brushing against your own. his hand sometimes finds your knee, never too high on your leg, never uncomfortable. justâŚthere, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin. neither of you mention what transpired between you last night, his affectionate words, the mere centimeters that separated your lips before chaewon interrupted. nevertheless, an unspoken barrier between you has broken, its bricks torn down by the hands of intoxication â due to alcohol, but also because of each other.
the almost-kiss replays in your mind in a constant loop; the woody citrus of his cologne is still strong in your nose, the warmth radiating from his flushed cheeks a phantom against your skin. you want to talk about it. you want to rip open the memory like a pomegranate for the two of you to share, but you donât. you donât know what you would do if you ruinedâŚwhatever this is that you and him have going on. heâs become a sort of constant in your life that you donât think you can live without. you like him; you can admit it now. what you feel is not just a mere attraction anymore, an artistic appreciation for his unique features. he brings out a brighter part of you, a part that has been buried deep into your soul over the years, beneath layers of grime and dirt and negative experiences that you wonât let go of. the gray film over your eyes has been wiped clean by him, him and his beautiful heart he so easily bares to others. his heart that is so full of love â love for being alive, love for others â you wonder if any of that love could ever be for you one day.
he watches you sketch, you let him snap photos of you doing so. you share a small bag of chips, greasy fingers brushing against each other during those times in which you both reach in tandem. for hours, you sit together in a silence that is no longer awkward, but soft and tender. shoulder against shoulder, skin against skin. words arenât required, your actions speaking for themselves. you bask in it all.
day nine.
the space needle isnât that impressive.
youâre sure itâs a much better experience when youâre at the top, but yeonjun shares a fear of heights with you, so thereâs no way in hell either of you are going up there. instead, you stand beneath it, amongst an ever-moving sea of seattleites and tourists, and wait for chaewon and sakura to come back down from the tall building.Â
at the beginning of this trip, youâd allow for a few feet of space between your bodies, but slowly, itâs diminished to a scant few inches. you donât really register this gradual change, as natural as it was. every once in a while, his pinky brushes against yours. neither you nor yeonjun move to do anything about it, either by pulling away or linking them together â a state of limbo that is befitting for a pair of strangers falling for each other. to make the dive into the unknown or to stay on the surface where itâs safe, that is the question.
âhow much longer do you think theyâll be?â you ask, staring up at the pointed top of the tower. the sky is gray today, a bit chilly, but itâs an expected sight in washington during this time of year. âiâm getting hungry.â
yeonjun huffs a laugh, lightly elbowing your bicep. âmaybe we could grab something real quick. i saw this taco truck nearbyââ
ây/n? is that you?â
youâd recognize that deep timbre anywhere. the man that dropped your heart on the floor and vanished from the earth before he could watch the aftermath, the man that you never wished to see ever again.
turning around, you find beomgyu.
your phone slips from your hand, clattering against the concrete â but you canât bring yourself to check if the screen has shattered. instead, yeonjun grabs it for you, rising with it as he anxiously asks if youâre okay. you donât answer, too busy staring at the man now standing before you. heâs changed; his shorter hair has grown out past his ears, dyed a warm brown, though his black roots are apparent; soft pastel pullovers and light jeans have been swapped out for black slacks and a dark brown leather jacket, clothing choices more mature than when you last saw him. why is he here? you thought he lived in san francisco â you wouldâve been less shocked to run into him there, but in seattle?Â
âi moved here a few months ago.â shit, did you say that out loud? âi could ask you the same thing.â
âiâm on a trip,â you quickly answer, no further explanation leaving your mouth.Â
he nods nonchalantly. you think you see his eyes flit to yeonjun for a second. âcool, cool.âÂ
âyeah.â why wonât he walk away already? your feet are glued to the cement, jaw tense as you try not to cry. the memory of him texting you that he had left the city and things between you wonât work out come rushing back. why now? how can he show his face to you after all heâs done?
he nods again. âare you here for long?â
âjustâ just for today.â
âwell, iâd love to catch up with you before you leave. iâve missed you a lot. maybe we could grab dinner tonight?â his smile is soft, hopeful â manipulative, in a way.
âiâm actually pretty busy today,â you begin, but of course, you have no idea how to tell him no. âbut maybe if iâm free later.â
âgreat!â he exclaims, hands now in his trouser pockets. he looks over at yeonjun again, the upward curve of his lips flattening. âi need to get going, but iâll text you later. you still have my number, right?â
âi think so.â
âcool.â his smile grows excited. âsee you later, then.â beomgyu turns to walk away with a confidence in his strut that he didn't have when he lived in new york. when he was dating you. how shameless can he be? soon enough, he disappears into the crowd. blinking, you wonder if that really just happened, turning back toward yeonjun. his jaw is set, eyes still staring at the point where beomgyu vanished. the gray clouds feel suffocating now. the cool air constricts your lungs. you want the cement to open up and swallow you when his hardened eyes turn to you.
âwho was that?â yeonjun asks, tone casual, but thereâs aâŚjealous? edge to his question. youâre looking into things too much â thereâs no way heâs jealous right now.Â
â...my ex,â and it hurts you to admit it. his eyes darken, as he utters a soft âoh.â you sigh, âyeah.â
he wonât look at you anymore. why wonât he? you didnât do anything wrong. you had no control over beomgyu showing up. he purses his lips. âare you gonna meet up with him?â
your head shakes on its own, words escaping before you can think about them. âi donât know, yeonjun.âÂ
âokay.â biting his lip, he turns so that he faces the space needle again, stepping away from you. you feel like strangers again, an ocean of distance between you bodies. âyeah, okay.â
*:シ
you donât meet up with beomgyu.
meanwhile, yeonjun is nowhere to be found. after the beomgyu incident, the two of you waited in tense silence for your other friends to return. he then made up some lame excuse to leave, and didnât turn back when you called his name. you havenât seen him for the rest of the day, even when you return to the train. he wonât respond to your texts. eventually, you stop sending them; he obviously needs space for whatever reason, so you will give him it.Â
the terrible, painful thought of ruining everything you had with him sits in the forefront of your mind, taunting you. the girls try to distract you, showing you silly tiktoks and youtube videos and the like, but you simply offer them a half-hearted huff each time. once you explain what transpired while they were gone, however, their tune changes a bit.Â
ây/n, iâm going to be very honest, and i need you not to take it personally,â sakura replies. though your head lays on top of your folded arms, you signal that you are listening with a bob of your head. she continues, âyour response wasnât the best. it probably confused him, and now he doesnât know if youâre still hung up on this guy or not. if one of his exes came up to him while with you, and he told you he didnât know if he was going to meet up with them later or not, how would you feel?â
âshitty,â you mumble into your forearm.Â
âexactly. so give him space for now, and when he reaches out, explain and apologize. you owe him that much.â sakura sounds just like jennifer â theyâd definitely get along.Â
âi know. i will.â
the waiter comes around with water, and you order a strong cocktail to go along with your dinner.
day ten.
âhas he texted you back yet?â sakura asks for the thousandth time today.
when you shoot her a defeated glare, she gets her answer. no, of course he hasnât. he hasnât responded to you since he left. âyou said to give him space.â
âyeah, but i didnât know heâd fall off the face of the earth,â she shoots back. sighing, you tip your head back against the wall next to her bed. a lake passes outside, surrounded by tall grass and trees. small hills rise behind the blue expanse, but you donât feel the same urge to grab your sketchbook and translate the view onto the page anymore. itâs funny, how easily one person can affect your mood, turn everything upside down with the mere lack of his presence in your life.Â
âhe just needs time.â chaewon opens a can of soda with a pop! and takes a sip. âmaybe it affected him more than we realize.â
ââcause that makes me feel sooo much better.â sarcasm drips from your voice. âiâm such a fucking idiot.â
thereâs a half-day stop in glacier national park tomorrow. will you see him, or is he going to avoid you for the rest of this trip? will you ever see him again? the emotions that swirl within you are reminiscent of what how you felt before you met him. that grayness. that sinking sensation festering in your chest that claws itâs way down into your stomach and shreds it apart. you said that you wanted to burn, you wanted it to hurt, but this feels all too fast. too much.
sakura makes a noise in disagreement. âno, it shows that he cares about you. you just have to make sure you clear things up with him, and tell him that you likeââ
âif youâre going to tell me that i need to confess my feelings to him, i really donât think i can do that.â
âwhy?â chaewon prods. âwhatâs stopping you? he obviously likes you too.â
beomgyu. beomgyu is the fucking reason why. you canât bare your heart to someone again, lest you get hurt all over again. after all that has happened, if yeonjun doesnât reciprocate, it will confirm your worst fears â that you arenât built to receive love, no matter how hard you try to mold yourself into a person that is deserving. dread churns in your stomach, rises into your throat like bile, acidic and fervid, as thoughts of worst case scenarios where you pour your heart only to hear âsorry, i donât feel the same way.â you canât do it. you canât allow yourself to spiral again. however, you donât divulge your reasons for holding back, remaining silent as you trace the patterns on the ceiling.Â
after a deep, shuddering sigh, you give them a three word explanation: âi donât know.â
day eleven.
stepping off of the train into fresh air sharpens your dulled senses. the national park is beautiful, for lack of better words; thickets of trees spreading out in all directions as far as the see. the sun is rising over the mountains that stretch high above your head â youâre starting to enjoy this view more than the lifeless skyscrapers that await you back home. the train station looks more like a little lodge than an actual station, but you appreciate its quaint character. reddish-brown wood makes up the majority of the small-scale building. it looks like a place where people would spend the night in, with a warm, cozy fireplace in the wintertime, and wide open windows in the summer to allow the refreshing breeze to waft in.
meandering down the path behind the station into a field of tall grass littered with bunches of tiny, white flowers, you begin to reflect on everything that has happened on this trip. originally, you went on this stupid trip with the goal to find inspiration, and last night you had a very important realization: yeonjun is that something â you started drawing again because of him, you started looking on the bright side of things because of him, and most important of all, you fell for him. you didnât just fall for him in the way an artist falls for their muse, no. you fell for him as a person. getting to know him has been one of the best parts of your trip, but now all of that has gone down the drain because yeonjun hasnât responded to you in over twenty-four hours and you have not a clue what to do to try to make things right. if he doesnât wish to speak to you, then thatâs that. itâs over. whatever momentum this fleeting relationship had has been effectively pummeled into the dust that would blow away with even the gentlest of breezes.Â
you wish you could appreciate this view more. your paints sit in your backpack back in your room, out of sight so that you donât have to think about them, nor hear their pleas to be used. although you now know why you lack the drive to paint and draw and generally create once again, no clear-cut solution to your problem comes to mind. instead, you wander through the grass towards a large, squatty boulder, climb on top of it, and plop down. your knees curl up towards your chest while your arms wrap around them, fingers tracing random patterns against your shins. fatigue solidifies in your bones, but the tranquility of the early morning the quiet tucks a blanket of peace over your body, swaddling the edges around you, cocooning you in.
you sit there, taking in the sounds and sights of nature, for hours. the chirping of birds sings a melody over the whisper of trees in the breeze. a deer leaps across the open field, disappearing into the trees, her fawn following close behind. bighorn sheep graze in the distance, their circular horns reminding you of cornucopias.Â
the rustle of trees and grass obscure the sound of approaching footsteps from your ears. itâs not until yeonjun begins to climb onto the boulder that you notice him, and you hug your legs tighter to your body as he sits next to you but not too close. an invisible wall separates you. he does not look remotely near your direction, his focus far out in the trees. staring at him, you wonder what to say. iâm sorry? i have feelings for you?
âi never met up with him.â
he still doesnât spare you a glance. assuming he wants you to continue, you do. âi donât know why i said what i said, but it was shitty of me to put you in that position, and i wanted to say that iâm sorry. i was just shocked, i guess. to see him. he ruined my perception of a lot of things, jjun.â jjun. thatâs a new one. you are quite unsure where it came from, it slipped out before you could think. no matter, heâs looking at you now, and itâs your turn to look out towards the horizon. âtrust, commitment, loveâŚâ
his gaze burns into your temple. you take a deep breath, fingers clenching the fabric of your jeans. âtheyâve all been ruined for me. itâs hard for me to trust anyone after what he did. iâm terrified that the people i grow close to will wake up one day and leave me without a word. iâm scared that iâll never get the closure i deserve when they do. worst of all, iâve stopped believing that love is in the cards for me, like there has to be something wrong with me for him to have left me like thatââ
âdonât. donât you dare say that about yourself.â whipping your head around, you finally meet eyes for the first time in nearly two days. they aren't soft like they usually are when they look at you, but hardened, guarded. âthereâs nothing wrong with you. you have every right to be hurt, and heâs honestly a piece of shit for doing that to you, but itâs unfair to assume that everyone that comes after him will be just like him.â
âi know, and iâm sorry. i know youâre not like him.â he doesnât respond, and you begin to chew at the inside of your cheek. you watch an ant crawl its way across the rock beneath you. the small insect disappears over the edge.Â
silence. you begin to count the seconds. one, two, three, fourâ
âiâm sorry for not texting you back. i just needed time to think about things. a lot of things,â he starts. âi felt weird, for some reason. didnât know how to talk to you about it.â
you offer him a tight-lipped smile. âno, i understand. i forgive you.â
important words remain unspoken, but both of you refuse to address them. instead, his hand finds yours, he links your fingers with his, and both of you peacefully watch the sheep graze across the field.
day twelve.
not everything is fixed yet.Â
despite being on speaking terms again, strain pulls your relationship taut. the unspoken words from yesterday hang heavy in the air, but you canât bring yourself to give them a voice. you want to. your voice wonât work every time you try.
sitting next to yeonjun on his bed, you scroll through various forms of social media, bookmarking work that you find particularly interesting in between catching up on your friendsâ posts. jennifer has been thoroughly caught up on whatâs been going on after a long overdue apology for not responding to her texts. she understood, of course she did. sheâs known you long enough to know how you can shut down whenever youâre feeling overwhelmed.Â
âiâm proud of you for telling him. i know itâs hard for you to share, honey,â she cooed to you over the phone last night. âbut you need to tell him how you feel before itâs too late.â
you know that. you know damn well that once you get off this train, it may all fall apart, a budding romance distinguished by reality. thereâs no security, no safety net for you to fall into if you take the leap, and while he showed you an inkling of how he felt yesterday, whoâs to say heâll feel that way tomorrow? the next day? are you willing to tear your heart open for him to consume if thereâs still a chance of him throwing it away when all is said and done?Â
you donât know the answer to that question. honestly, you donât know the answer to a lot of those questions, stuck in this state of self-imposed purgatory. to rise or fall, what is the best choice? you donât fucking know.
âis that yours?â he asks from over your shoulder, at a ceramic piece in your feed made by one of jenniferâs acquaintances. his breath snakes warmly over the expanse of your neck due to his proximity, his head so close you could turn and just kiss himâÂ
stop it.Â
âoh, no. um.â you shift away from him slightly. distance. some distance feels more comfortable right now. âi donât sculpt. i just paint, and draw.â
he makes an ahhh of understanding, leaning back onto his palms, the mattress sinking down with his weight. heâs staring at you like he expects something from you. what shall you give him? when you donât say anything further, he does.Â
âcan i see some of yours, then?â itâs an innocent enough request. rather than simply press on your account, your fingers move on their own until you reach your gallery. why? are you really about to bare your soul to him? you guess so, because heâs gently taking your phone from your fingers after gaining quiet permission from you.Â
he asks you questions as he pulls up certain pieces. the thought process behind each one, what made you do this, place that color there, how you came up with the composition, what the meaning of it all is. you try your best to explain each one. sometimes, your choices were the product of spontaneity. you thought yellow would look nice at that spot, so you put some there. her nose is crooked because it gives the piece more character. the color of the drapes in the background are blue for no particular reason other than the fact that your reference photo had blue drapes. you continue in a cycle of question, answer, question, answer, and some of your answers are more emotional than others. you remember where you were, both physically and mentally, when making all of these. you remember the ones you made when you were having a bad day, the ones where you felt like you were on the top of the world.Â
then, he pulls up one that you wish he didnât. it was buried so deep into your gallery that you have no idea how he found it â your most dreaded hyperrealism piece: a woman lays on her back, hair fading into the foreboding, void-like background. her face is twisted up into an abject sadness, a deep-seated pain that even now, you have no idea how you captured so vividly. her veiny left hand is splayed next to her head, thin crimson threads tied to each finger so tight that she has begun to bleed. the strings fall limp beside her, severed from their counterparts that meander off of the canvas. more red threads loop their way around her neck, pulled taut as if to choke her â and to her throat, she holds a pair of sharp-pointed scissors, hand gripping the metal tight enough to pale her knuckles.Â
itâs dark. itâs terribly dark and you wish he never saw it. why did he have to see it? why did he have to choose that one? the world tilts on its axis as he stares down at the picture of your most soul-baring work, though you think it would be worse if he saw the actual painting in person.
âwhatâs the story behind this one?â he asks quietly. your lungs expel all air, and youâre left gaping for more. breathe, come on, you have to breathe. your inhale is shaky, shuddered. breathe. say something.
âthat oneâŚâ your voice trails off into something quiet. scared. âi made it when i was in a reallyâ really dark place mentally, um. i made it mostly becauseââ
heâs looking at you now, concern shining in his irises, but you push on.Â
âbecause i stopped believing in fate.â
while you could say more, you stop yourself there. you hate digging â digging into your deepest fears and emotions that you keep locked behind a wall so that you never have to feel them. a pandoraâs box sits in the center of your heart, wrapped with chains to keep them imprisoned. somehow, though, you think yeonjun knows what you really want to say: you meeting each other wasnât fate to you, but a gross series of coincidences, and when he asks if you think so, you simply nod.
âbut out of everyone on this train, i met you. i got to know you â shouldnât that mean something? canât that be considered fate?â he presses. something akin to desperation laces his words, an urgency youâve never heard from him.Â
it sure feels like fate, doesnât it? after all of those times that you ran into him, how he found you in the observation car when it was just you in there, how your feelings have unfolded like taking apart a paper crane in the short nine days you have known each other â it feels like it should be fate, you want to admit that all of it does seem like the universeâs divine intervention. maybe you running away was really just you trying to deny your fate to meet yeonjun while on this train. maybe him finding you was fate, an apology from whatever is above for what they put you through a year and a half ago.
âi thinkââ you hesitate. âi think so. itâs hard for it not to when i feel like iâve known you my entire life.â
and you sit there and heâs smiling at you like you just created the earth with your bare hands. chicago passes outside the window. the sun shines high in the sky over the high rises, glints across glass panes and into his room. all you have is one more day on this train, and most of it will be spent sleeping tonight. heâll wait for you tomorrow, right? would he wait for you forever?
âyou know, i tell most people that my name is daniel.â
tilting your head, you echo, âdaniel?âÂ
he hums as he scoots a bit closer, planting his feet on the floor next to yours and leaning forward. his knees support his elbows as he stares down at the floor. âitâs my english name. i used when i was in college, i use it for my work, but for some reason, when i met you, my actual name, my given name, came out instead. call me silly, but i think my heart knew youâd become someone special to me. i wanted you to use my actual name â the one my parents call me. the one my closest friends call me.â
âoh.â why does your chest feel so tight right now?Â
he sucks his lips behind his teeth for a moment. âyeah.â
sitting there, you wonder how you should respond to that. words expelled like an exhale of air, colliding with each other in front of your eyes, unable to be unscrambled by your mind. this time, itâs you who reaches over, closing the distance between you with a hand over his. his palm flips open to meet your own, your fingers linking together like matching puzzle pieces. you take a deep breath, and squeeze.Â
âthank you,â you whisper. thank you for being here. thank you for helping me find myself again.
day twelve (point five).Â
âiâm gonna miss you guys so much!âÂ
chaewon is basically on the verge of tears at this point, constantly blubbering how she is going to miss hanging out with you every day as she pulls you and sakura in for a hug over and over again. sakura laughs as she pulls away for the thousandth time this afternoon. âgirl, itâs gonna be okay. weâre gonna meet up for coffee soon, right?â
she looks towards you, and you give an enthusiastic nod. âright. iâll invite my friend too. she said sheâd love to meet you guys.âÂ
chaewonâs pout doesnât vanish, but she looks a little less emotional after all of your reassurances. blinking back the remnants of her tears, she nods with a watery âokay.â
you bring her in for one more hug while sakura asks, âhave you seen him yet?âÂ
âno, i havenât heard from him since last night.â your teeth worry your bottom lip, peeling a piece of raised skin off. the sensation stings.Â
her lips purse sympathetically, a hand being placed on your shoulder. âi doubt heâd leave without saying something to you, donât worry. he has to be around here somewhere.â
âyeah, youâre probably right.â as chaewon pulls away, you check your phone again. no texts or calls yet. doubt ricochets around in your brain, but you know yeonjun; he wouldnât do that to you.Â
âiâd love to wait with you, but my manufacturer is pissed i didnât call them back yesterday, so i should get going,â sakura admits with an apologetic smile. her fingers squeeze your shoulder one time before her arm drops back to her side.Â
âi should go too,â chaewon sadly adds, kicked puppy eyes in full effect. âmy cat is waiting for me. my friend said she was a little demon the whole time i was gone.â
âitâs okay,â you laugh, shooing them away jokingly. âyou guys can go. iâll be fine.âÂ
with a last group hug, they grab their suitcases and head towards the hallway that connects the train station to the subway lines. sakura twirls around, walking backwards as she calls, âkeep us updated! we need to know everything,â
âof course!â you yell back, grin widening. chaewon turns back too to wave, and you wave back. eventually, the crowd swallows them up, and you are left alone to wait. a few minutes pass, and you realize that this sea of people will likely make it impossible for either of you to find each other. his contact is pulled up on your phone, your thumb hovering the call button. you look around one more timeâ
and heâs standing right there, mere feet in front of you, in all of his glory, long hair still flopping into his face, eyes still dreamy and all-consuming. you stand there for a moment, simply staring at each other with stupid, goofy grins overtaking your faces. long legs carry him over to you, and before you know it, youâre wrapped up in his arms and pulled into his strong chest. you bury your head into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne.
âthank god,â he murmurs into the crown of your head. âi thought you might have left already.â
pulling back, you fix him with an incredulous stare. âwhat in the world made you think that? i was waiting for you.â
his ears tint an opaque red, the raised apples of his cheeks flushed a similar hue. heâs bewitching, and despite knowing that since the very first day â the day that you drew him for the first time â thereâs so much more to him than looks to you now. heâs beautiful in both body and soul, in heart and head. one hand removes itself from your middle to cup your jaw, steadying your gaze with yours. your heart pounds, knees weak like a newborn doeâs as he stares deep into your eyes. blinding are the emotions swirling in his dark irises, but it doesnât burn anymore. itâs more like the caress of the sun in the springtime, bright yet gentle in its own right.Â
âthis feels long overdue for me to say,â he begins, eyes closing as if to steel himself. when he opens them again, resolve has been added to the mix. âbut i have feelings for you. iâve never fallen for someone so quickly. iâve never met someone like you, and i justâ i knew, from the very day that i saw you, that weâd have something to do with each other. and then we kept running into each other, and i just thought wow, this has to beââ
âyeonjun,â you call, interrupting his ramblings. he pauses, eyes wide and anticipatory, as your hand moves up to cover his on your jaw. you canât help the tremble in your lips as you speak. âi feel the same way.â
his lips purse, hiding a smile, before he surges forward and embraces you for a second time. the pure, unadulterated joy that the action brings you is like nothing youâve ever felt before, and youâre almostâŚsad, when he pulls away.
âcan i take you out on a date?â
the question throws you off kilter, and you have to catch yourself before you fall face first into his chest. âlike, right now? with our suitcases and everything?â
âiâve done much worse,â he chuckles, ruffling his hair, only for the locks to fall back down into his eyes. âbut i meant later today, maybe? around six? i have to go take care of some things i neglected before i left.âÂ
âthat sounds wonderful,â you gush. despite your best efforts in keeping your excitement to a minimum, you bounce up onto your toes for second, heels sinking back onto the floor. you swear he mumbles a quiet âcuteâ under his breath before heâs slipping his hand into yours.
âperfect,â he beams, before he playfully continues. âshall we be off to the subway then, my lady?â
giggling, you fall into step next to him, your arm swinging with his between you. âwe shall.â
*:シ
heâs right on time to pick you up, dressed casually but not too casually. a cool beige, short-sleeved button-up is tucked into a pair of straight-legged black jeans that stop at his waist. the chunky converse on his feet cause him to be a bit taller than usual. evidently, he is distracted by his phone, head ducked down as he waits for you to show up.
âyeonjun!â you call out, causing his head to snap up. once he does, you find that heâs somewhat styled his hair back â most of it has been swooped back towards his ears. a few strands fall into his face, but his forehead is fully exposed, and he looksâŚamazing. sometimes, you wish you were a poet instead, because then youâd have the words describe what you were feeling, what you were seeing. his jaw drops at the sight of you, dolled up in a jean skirt and frilly tank top over a thin long sleeve, your makeup soft and flattering to your features.Â
âhi,â he breathes, and you repeat the greeting back to him. âyou lookâŚwow.â
âthanks,â you, biting your glossy lip. as his focus flits down to where your teeth dig into the soft flesh, you shyly smile, releasing it. a shock runs through you, new and carnal and it warms your stomach when he bites down on his own lip for a split second. âum, i know we didnât really talk about where we were going to go, but thereâs a thai place down the street from here, if you wanna go there? itâs my favorite.â
âof course,â he accepts, offering his arm to you. you loop your own through, standing close to him with your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow. âlead the way.â
now that neither of you feel the need to skirt around your feelings, silence no longer lingers between pauses in conversation â both of you are able to pick it back up with ease. you meant it when you said that you feel like youâve known him your whole life, and it reflects in the way you banter with him without worry or care. itâsâŚnice, freeing, not having to think too hard about what youâre about to say. natural. everything with him feels so natural.Â
when both of you are sated, in both terms of food and conversation, he offers to walk you back to your apartment. the sun is beginning to set, and the sky has faded into a wash of rosy pink. the hue reflects the giddy feeling churning in your chest, rendering you light-headed and dizzy and fuck you just want to kiss himâ
and he does. standing in front of your apartment building, he swoops down and captures your lips with his. slow, unhurried, his lips taste sweet like thai tea and are as soft as clouds. no one leads the other, no one moves to deepen the kiss. no, instead, you and yeonjun savor the taste of each other, the syrupy, vertiginous feeling of your first kiss together. when he pulls away, hips lips have a slightly swollen quality to them, though youâre sure own look the same. you donât want him to leave yet. you want more, you want something carnal and irrepressible that, by the heâs looking at you, he wants too. playing with the locks hair at the nape of his neck, you pant against his lips. âcome inside with me, please?â
soft eyes darken, and he takes your breath away once more with another kiss, hands squeezing your waist. once he separates your lips from his, he rests his forehead against yours. nerves flutter in your stomach. âokay.âÂ
you find it terribly difficult to keep your hands off of him as you unlock your door, as it shuts behind you. for a minute, you stand there, waiting for something, anything to happen â then heâs crowding you in against your door and his lips are on your again. although there remains an air of softness, urgency fills the gaps where your lips donât quite meet as they meld together, his tongue slipping into your mouth to curl with your own. your shoulder blades press into the cool wood of your door, the warmth of his body against your front a dizzying contrast to your scattered mind â but you want more. you want him.
when he slip a knee between your legs and knocks them apart, you let him. when he presses that knee into your core, encourages you to grind against it, you let him, you listen. whining into his mouth, you tug at his shirt, at his belt loops, his hair â anything you can get your hands on, youâre pulling at it, grinding down harder as his jeans rub your soaked panties against your aching pearl. a cry rips itself from your throat, mouth leaving as your head is thrown back against the door. ây-yeonjunââ
âpatience, love. iâm gonna make you feel good,â he mumbles as he ravages your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. his hands have snuck beneath your shirt and smooth over your stomach up to the cups of your bra, squeezing the flesh over the fabric. as you raise you arms, he helps you pull your top off, the article thrown onto the floor without ceremony or care. his hands loop behind your back, fiddling with your bra clasp. âcan i?â
âplease,â you keen, and he wastes no time in doing so, expert fingers sliding the straps down your arms until your bra, too, lays on the floor. lips find your right nipple, enveloping the pebbled flesh in a warmth wetness that causes your back to arch into him. one hand pulls you into him, while the other tweaks your other tit. his teeth graze it, and the stinging edge of painful pleasure causes you to shiver. he hums, vibrations causing you to moan his name louder, plead for him to do more. leaving your breast, his mouth kisses and laps at the skin of your stomach. down, down, down, until he drops to his knees in front of you, swiftly unzipping your skirt and pulling it off of you. lips find your thighs, biting down lightly, and you squeak, hand finding his hair and pulling. he looks up at your through his lashes, absolutely depraved and almost drooling for more. you gulp, legs almost giving out under you as you smooth your hand over his hair, pushing the strands that have fallen into his face back. âcan weâ can we move to the bed?â
immediately, he stands, pulling you behind him before heâs placing you onto the edge of your bed with great care. before he can fall to his knees again, you curl your shaking fingers into his shirt. âtake this off? i wanna see you.â
with a huff of a chuckle, he does as you ask, revealing a toned stomach, broad shoulders, muscled arms. your tongue darts across your lips as you drink him in, causing him to smirk. âlike what you see, pretty?â
ây-yes,â you stutter out, quiet and wanting and full of lecherous need. your thighs attempt to squeeze together in order to provide some relief to your pulsating core, but his legs stop them from fully closing. his fingers find your jaw, squeezing the flesh. your cheeks heat up.Â
âso fucking cute.â the praise sends a white hot streak through your stomach and into your center. your face is on absolute fire now, vision growing hazy around the edges as you watch him sink down between your thighs, your panties quickly discarded to reveal your center to his eyes. two fingers trace your folds before dipping beneath them to find your entrance. his eyes widen at what he finds, fingers coming back up coated in your wetness, glinting against his fingertips and knuckles in the light streaming in through your windows. âyouâre so wet, baby. this all for me? a little kissing got you this needy?â
âmhmâ oh,â you gasp when he brings the fingers to his mouth, sucking on them lewdly as he refuses to tear his gaze from yours. he moans at your taste, hot tongue swiping up the remnants that accidentally smeared onto the corner of his lips once he removes his fingers. his smirk returns, hands sliding under your ass to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, closer to his mouth. you sit up on your elbows to watch him kiss his way up your inner thigh, hands holding you open for him. thereâs nowhere for you to hide, as he traces your folds with his tongue, dipping into your entrance and swiping up to your clit. crying out, your fingers find his hair in an ironclad grip. he groans against your pearl, your hips bucking up into his face before his arms snake around each thigh and hold you still. he alternates between circling the bud with his tongue and sucking it between his plush lips, spit pooling at the corners of his mouth as he loses himself in your taste. meanwhile, youâre already so close to the edge, you can feel your walls begin to clench around nothing, your hips jumping up as far as he allows. as he dips down to your entrance, his nose bumps against your clit, but his tongue is back in no time to continue its assault on your poor little clit. âjjun, âm gonna, please, âm gonnaââ
âcum,â he mumbles against you. âcum fâme, pretty girl.â
with his permission, your head falls onto your sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your vision spots white. cries pour from your lips like honey for him to drink, but you never quite come down fully. rather, he keeps circling his tongue against your clit through your high, and as your orgasm subsides, another one already begins to build. tears prick your eyes as you plead, âjjun, no, canât, i canât, nononoâ i canât!â
âyes, you can,â he murmurs, removing his arm from your right thigh. his lips donât leave your clit as you feel two fingers slip into your soaked entrance, smoothly thrusting in and out and curling up into your upper wall until he finds that soft spot inside you that has your voice shattering into shards of moans and staccato wails. he groans against you as he feels your walls clench, the pace of his fingers unforgiving as he coaxes another mind-shattering orgasm from your body. your fingers flutter around his walls, watery hiccups torn from your throat. this time, he slows down, helps you ride out your high, before he removes his fingers, licking his lips of your essence as he does. climbing onto the bed, he hovers over you, taking in your spit-slick lips and tear-lined eyes. he wipes the tears away with gentle motions, cooing when you whine. he sits there until you come back to him, lucidity shining in your eyes as you blink them open. smiling, you pull him in for a languid kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before he pulls away.Â
when he caresses your cheek with his thumb, asking you if youâre okay, you lean into his touch, âmhm, want you to fuck me.â
âi can do that,â he laughs, causing you to reciprocate. standing, he slips his jeans and boxers down his thighs until heâs left in nothing, hardened cock veiny and flushed an angry red. you think itâs an average length, on the thicker side, the girth causing your mouth to water. as he runs his hands up your thighs, he asks, âdâyou have any condoms, love?â
while youâd rather him fuck you raw, you know itâs safer this way. you point towards your nightstand. âthere.â
as he fetches one, you scoot into the middle of the bed, watching him roll it on before he returns between your thigh, pumping his cock once, twice, lining it up with your entrance. his free hand grips your waist, watching as you move your hips to try to slide him into you. smirking, he presses his hips forward, cockhead dipping past your entrance. both of you moan at the sensation. slowly, he works his cock into you, little rolls of his hips until heâs seated fully within you, hips flush against your pelvis.Â
âmove,â you whine. âplease move.â and thatâs all it takes for him to swiftly pull out and slide back in again. as he thrusts into you again and again, his movements grow rougher, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot each time. moaning, you reach up towards him, forcing him to lean over you so you can kiss him again, swallowing each otherâs sounds. heâs just as loud as you, praises falling naturally between his breathy moans.Â
âfeel sâgood, baby. so fuckinâ tight and wet fâme. so unreal. dâyou feel good, too?â he coos against the shell of your ear, warm breath curling against your necks. your walls clench around him at his desperate sounds.
âs-so good, jjunie,â you hum, feeling your third high of the night approaching. the knot in your stomach grows tighter as his thrusts grow sloppy, chasing his high as much as you are. a thumb moves down to rub your sensitive clit, quick little circles against the bud until your limbs are locking up, quaking as you finally cum around him. a few seconds later, his high hits him as well, his hips quivering as he spills into the rubber with a loud groan.Â
slowly, he pulls out, ridding himself of the condom and soon returning to the bed to plop down next to you. arms pull you in close as you both pant and grin tiredly at each other, basking in the quiet that permeates the air, and he stares at you, dulcet eyes boring into yours.Â
âwhatâre you thinking about?â you decide to ask, poking the center his sweat-beaded forehead. taking a moment to respond, he pulls you even closer so that your noses almost touch.Â
âitâs justâ thereâs this concept in korean â inyeon,â the timbre of his voice raises slightly as he switches to his native tongue, and lowers again when he switches back to english. âthat, um, it meansâŚâ
his cheeks are growing the slightest bit pink, a shade that reflects the cotton candy clouds that float past your windows. squeezing his hand, you silently urge him to continue, soft gaze finding his own. a gentle kiss pressed to his cheek, his jaw, naked skin pressed against naked skin. together, whole, one.
he starts again, âthereâs no direct translation, but it basically is fate. strings of fate. i truly believe the universe has connected us in some way, whether it be through some invisible red string or another force. and i know, i know what you said about fate, but i canât stop thinking about how we found each other. thereâs something beautiful about starting off as strangers and getting here. i donât know, iâm just rambling at this point,â he chuckles, burying his nose into the pillow under his head. âiâve just never felt this way about someone before. iâm sorry.â
with a gentle hand, you cup the side of his face, forcing him to look back at you. âdonât be sorry, thatâs beautiful, and i thinkââ you sigh, blinking back tears that threaten to fall. âi think youâve changed my mind about fate. iâve also never felt this way about someone before. i feel like you know me on some level that no one else does. you just. you just get it, and iââÂ
you donât think this is quite love yet, but you believe what youâre feeling within your chest, tingling all over your body, is as close as youâve ever gotten to it. he smiles, whispers a small, soft, âi know,â and lips find lips once more. hands find hands, and you feel alive. you feel like everything that you see is now in vivid technicolor, no longer masked by a veil of gray.
and when you wake up tomorrow, you think that youâre going to start a new painting.
Š to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.
#tumblr hates me i think but it's ok you genuinely just made my entire life better with this#i love u so much sol wtf#sol â#moots!#đŞ â feedback#agust.nsfw
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I think I've only had the pleasure of one or two threads with you, which isn't a problem at all. what I WILL say, about that is in those few threads as well as any writing that comes across my dash I can always. feel. the emotions through my silly little phone screen. I'm so bad with my words I'm so very sorry but your talent is very admirable, I'm holding your hand I hope you start feeling better soon.
how do you feel about my writing/portrayal?
sol ! my son ! like you said, the first thing I ever think when it comes to knowing you is one of us sliding into the other's DMs after one of us had followed the other (my memory is shot lmaoooo. i have no idea who did what) and realizing we'd both been watching each other on the dash through other mutuals like what a cool blog.
you: why would captain hook interact with spiderman me: i can't follow a spiderman with freaking captain hook
jokes on us and i'm so glad we met and started talking. your ability to capture peter (and every muse you write)'s voice is something that forever blows me away. i can see what you write happening in my thread - the scene, the atmosphere, the emotion surrounding it - and i can hear his voice in my head. I absolute am one of your biggest fans, both writing wise and just as a person in general. I'm so thankful I know you. It's a tradition at this point to pop into your inbox with a message whenever I see you with a new blog haha.
#save tag ;#save ;#i can never remember any of my tags wtf#positivity //#webdget#i love u sol !! so much
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warriors asksâŚ! đ, đĽ, đ¤, âŻď¸
LOVE U DARLINGE MWAH
đ Fav comic page from any of the mangas and why
Literally this one from the skyclan/sol backstory one. Hes fucking meeping
đ˝: fav warriors related youtuber?
ALWAYS flightfootwarrior/crowrosive. He was such a huge influence for my art style wtf. BUT ALSO giingersnaps has such big brain for designs and animator projects
đ¤ Whats the biggest series plothole that bugs you?
Not so much plotholes but just like. The erins not proofreading their own shit. Loudbelly died somewhere in the first 2 books and yet hes mentioned again in the lake territories???? Girl he DIED YEARS AGO......... AND greystripe doing his little preamble when he retired saying hes so proud of his kids and cant believe his daughter is leader of riverclan...... THATS THE WRONG RIVERCLAN SHE CAT........ i would make an excellent editor please fucking hire me
âŻď¸ What dynamic between two cats has got you up at night pacing for hours? (Romantic, platonic, familial, etc)
I was thinking last week about how brindleface and tigerstar were nursery friends. They practically grew up as siblings. She ACTIVELY LOOKED UP TO HIM when they were apprentices/young warriors. And then he killed her to lure the dogs closer to thunderclans camp. I have a feeling tiger didn't care in the slightest but brindle. :(
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ha rin & seo jun as wellâŚ.
harin:
how i feel about this character
i love her. i honestly donât have much more to say than that sheâs just so likable and cool⌠ngl top 5 characters of all time for me she is so funny and real to be honest
all the people i ship romantically with this character
well seojun OBVIOUSLY LIKE who do u think i am. but sheâs a little gay. the idea of sujin or hyemin is funny but not serious
my non-romantic otp for this character
WELL. SUJIN. OF COURSE when they briefly had a friend breakup lemme tell you i was about to jump over the edge. genuinely nothing more upsetting than that and seojun got murdered
my unpopular opinion about this character
i donât even think people have opinions on blue birthday⌠but i do think sheâs well written! i saw people saying in reviews they thought the writing was bad so. i disagree
one thing i wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.
i wanted her to mess w seojun more soooo bad before they found out ab hyemin killing him (before the sign fell on him yk) it wouldâve been so funny cause he was so nervous about just holding hands. like harin shouldâve kissed his cheek i think. he wouldâve freaked out. seojun loserboy
seojun:
how i feel about this character
i love him⌠i admit i didnât get it at first mostly because they portrayed him as such a jerk in the first episode for no reason đ but second ep won me over to be honest i Love him. heâs perfect
all the people i ship romantically with this character
harin. he would kill himself (Ha. Ha.) before he ever likes anyone that isnât harin. i think
my non-romantic otp for this character
his friend group w harin, sujin, uiyeong, and eunsong theyâre so funny i love the scenes where they all hangout cause itâs also a really believable friend group. i feel like itâs kinda hard to do that, like in a lot of shows the friend group (which is secondary to the romance a lot) seems a bit stilted like in a love so beautiful (ik that kdrama is shit and not a good example BUT LIKE.) i was like this shit isnât reallll thatâs not a real friend group. heon isnât even a friend wtf⌠but no seojun fit in perfectly with the friend group, it didnât feel as if he was just harinâs crush the same way it felt like heon was just sol-iâs crush đđđ
my unpopular opinion about this character
well iâm not too sure if this is unpopular cause nobody really gaf about this show but heâs a good love interest and i think hongseok was good at acting his character too so 𼸠the show isnât Just good because it has yeri in it. i love her but seojun is really cool and also adds to the show
one thing i wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.
he comes out as a he/him butch lesbian
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Hi Sol <3 just wanted to say I hope you have a good break and take a lot of time for yourself! I also wanted to say that you were the very first fic i ever read on tumblr! I was looking for fics on google cause nothing was catching my eye and it linked me to camera shy! if it wasnât for you i wouldnât have met my amazing mutuals so thank you so so much đŠˇâ¨ I love you!!đŤśđ˝đŤśđ˝đŤśđ˝
HIIIII âšď¸âšď¸âšď¸ thank you sm omgâŚ. thatâs genuinely so insane to hear tbh, i canât imagine my fic is what got u to be on here wtf đđ iâm glad youâre here !!! you are so cute hehe, i love u too mwuah mwuah !! đŤśđŤśđŤś
#camera shy of all things ajdbwkdb#mustâve been quite the intense first impression.#rambles#koqabear asks
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i blanked out for a bit and just realized i havent said what i wanted to say to u abt guilty gear. lol. anyway, i actually (technically) have one consistent main in gg, who is baiken, but in strive i kinda have 2, which is baiken and bridget!! i play bridget bc she's a fun character to play, has a cute design, boppin theme and bc she's trans but mostly bc she's rlly fun! i remember just having such a blast playing her... i haven't played bridget in forever bc i like playing her strive ver more compared to her older version (she's rlly complex in the first game she was in orz)
ive been maining baiken ever since i started playing around, like, february 2021?? so she's pretty special to me! she's rlly pretty samurai lady that drinks (i have a lot of fighting game crushes LMAO) and also a rlly cool character that grows as the story goes on! (also super fun to play!)
i also play slayer and leo whitefang for a bit but it's been a bit since i played them so i think they dont count anymore lol oh and i casually play giovanna bc she's similar to this one character i play in another fighting game (also cause she looks like this one fighting game lady i have a cru)
i have this one color i rlly LOVE playing in guilty gear/arcsys games in general which i call arcsys/playstation blue! it's the one color where the characters are wearing blue and black but the blue is glowing! rlly love that color <3 i have huge debt to guilty gear bc it introduced me to d4dj thanks to their collab, and you can see how that went lol
thats all, hehe! i love talking abt fighting games bc i dont have much of a chance lol so im sosososo glad to have someone to talk to!! <3
(also fun fact abt baiken: she uses ore when speaking in japanese)
(also also this was meant to be sent to the replies of your post but there was so much i wanted to say, lol byee take my rant abt my fighting game mains)
OOOOOOO IVE SEEN BAIKEN ALSO BRIDGET AAAAAA sorry im biased i see trans character my eyes become hearts. all the characters sound really cool tbh. baiken using ore is cool as fuck wtf. good for her good for her
i also have minor crushes on all the guys. especially anji as you may know. im Simping with a capital S. he is so hot im so sorry im a simple man
I SAW THE COLOR YOU MENTIONED IN THE BETA TEST i was wondering what that was :0 i think theres also a pink version and a green version right? i think i saw those. for now im just sticking with the original colors bc thats what im used to but i wanna try the other colors too at some point :D
woah i did not know gg introduced you to d4dj ngl. i remember when the gg collab dropped i was like. oh okay another random collab idc abt LMAOOOOOO now im eating my own words. i do remember getting the sol badguy discs in d4dj tho lmao
and yw! tbfh the only fighting game ive consistently played is tekken (alisa main since i was 6 <3) so. im not the best person to actually discuss fighting games with LOL but as ive said, you are very much free to infodump whenever you want. i mean it. even if i dont get to play certain fighting games, at least i get to know some stuff about them. honestly even with tekken i. dont really pay attention to the lore HELP but thats normal for fighting game fans i think. also fighting game men are so Hot and Gender and oh my god muscles ... muscles
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I lost a fucking bet today! So now I have to post past conversations with my friends. Why? Because thatâs was Iâm supposed to do when and if I lost. So please donât mind this weird shit! Please and thank you!! :)
Literally A LegendÂ
I HATE HERCULES!
Literally Annabeth Chase
Me too, but low key Iâd admit that zero to hero is a bop
Me
So, true but man If you really think about it. He really is every other fucking guy :/
Literally A LegendÂ
I get why our Lila hates him but why do you hate him? Isnât he like the ideal type for Straight and ready to mingle people?
Me
First of all heâs an asshole in the real Greek myths. Second, heâs not my ideal type. DO YOU THINK I HAVE SUCH LOW STANDARDS IN MEN??!!!!
Lowkey A NerdÂ
No, cuz u right. He takes after his father in the HIGHEST degree. I have never loved how in PJO Alaska was off limits for the Gods. So glad Iâm on vacay!
Me
Yeah, you were a bitch and left us stranded. Which is betrayal!
Literally A LegendÂ
Castaways~
Literally Annabeth Chase
We are castaways~
Me
Ahoy There!
Literally A LegendÂ
Ahoy!
ââââââââââââââââ
Literally A LegendÂ
AHHHHHHHHHHH
FUCK THE WORLD I HOPE EVERyONE BURNS expect you mi sole. **** youâre a saint to this hell of a world.Â
Me
Thank you?Are you okay?
Literally A LegendÂ
Yep just having depression and some tiny very small suicidal thoughts but donât worry Iâm not actually going to hurt myself. Iâve been working on doing better habits than you knowâŚ
Lowkey a Nerd
Lol sucks to suck.Â
Literally A LegendÂ
Go suck and Choke on a D!ck then die.
Me
OKAY! Anyways whatâs up?
Biggest Gay Disaster WalkingÂ
Wtf did I just walk into?
Me
NOTHING!! Weâre moving on from the subject.
Literally Annabeth ChaseÂ
alright, *Gasp*
Literally A LegendÂ
Did you just text gasp?
Literally Annabeth Chase
yes, anyway think about this. A fucking book being much more effective as a weapon than a phoneâŚ
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
whay brought ths on?
Me
What* this*
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
FUCK OFF!
Me
 >:(
Literally Annabeth Chase
wtf is wrong with you!?
Literally A LegendÂ
Not cool, being rude to our sol like that.
Lowkey a NerdÂ
Like how dare you. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!
Me
Okay thatâs a bit dramatic. Anyways Lila what were you going to say?
Literally Annabeth Chase
Oh, right!
So, the funniest thing ever just happened!
I was told to âAct my Ageâ right?
Me
OkayÂ
Lowkey a NerdÂ
Cool thatâs like the 5th time
Me
shhh⌠Jason (Literally A Legend) doesnât need to know that.Â
Literally A LegendÂ
Wt o u mean it te 5h time??
Biggest Gay Disaster WalkingÂ
I cannot read that whatsoever. **** (My real Name was here) translate, you hang around him so much that you might be the only that knows what stupidity he says most of the time
Me
Thatâs kinda mean but okie! Translation - What do you mean it's the 5th time?? Anyways Lily continue on with what you were saying.
Literally Annabeth Chase
Kinda, forgot about what I was saying for a sec, lol.
So, an old Karen told me that and I told her âWhat the fuck is that, âAct my Age?â She said âDonât you care about acting like a grown young lady?â âWhat do I care how fucking old I am? Like the ocean is so old, Karen. But you still see it trying to drown your ass with vigor.âÂ
She just gasped and looked at me. âYouâll go to hell with that language, young lady. How could your parents let you become such a sinnerâÂ
Lowkey a NerdÂ
The fuck? She has to be one of those funky ass Christians who tell Carlos to go to Hell.
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
She sounds like them. So, probably.
Literally A Legend
So, what happens next?
Literally Annabeth Chase
I ended up telling that âmy parents left to get gas when I was 5, thatâs how Iâm like this maâam.â
Big Ass Giant
Wow
Literally A LegendÂ
Where tf did you come from?Â
Have you been lurking this own time, Vesper?
Big Ass Giant
Yup! :)
Me
Coolio! B)
ââââââââââââââââ
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
Go to hell Big Ass Giant
Big Ass Giant
But then Iâd be leaving you without anyone to keep you company. :(
Me
:O
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
STFU ****
ââââââââââââââââ
Context - A one of my friends was being a little shit.
Big Ass Giant
You know **** if you were an actual decent person then maybe people wouldnât want to avoid you or stop talking to you.
Me
You know, that if you keep running your mouth so much, youâd be the skinniest person here?
Literally A Legend
Damn, she got chu good
Biggest Gay Disaster WalkingÂ
And you guys say Iâm the meanest.
Me
It wasnât mean. It was a fact
Big Ass Giant
Betrayal! How could you have betrayed, me my dear starÂ
ââââââââââââââââ
Me
 Now that I think about it, Literally A Legend you could and do trip over your shadow a lot.
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
Wait, really?Â
You need to film it for me next time.
Literally A LegendÂ
Fuck off. Also my shadow is an extremely tricky big asshole. He likes it when I fall to his level
Lowkey a NerdÂ
How do you know itâs a he?
Literally Annabeth Chase
OmG! Donât start this shit again!
Literally A Legend
Holy Shit you right! My shadow might be Nonbinary!
Me
Now look at what you did⌠:/
ââââââââââââââââ
Me
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking, at least try and say something positive or happy today. It might help drown out the negativity!
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
Well, my dadâs dead! :D
Me
I know your dad was a huge Asshole but ykw from you Iâll take that answer. I mean itâs close enough! :)
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
:DÂ
YAY! Are you proud of me?Â
Me
 I mean itâs close enough! :)Â
So, yes I am.
Big Ass Giant
Iâm genuinely concerned with your sanity **** (talking about me). But good job Biggest Gay Disaster Walking, you made mother happy
Me
stfu, Iâm not your mother
Literally A Legend
Mama
Lowkey a NerdÂ
Mama
Literally Annabeth Chase
Mama
(They typed this at the same time btw)
Me
âŚNot one word Big Ass Giant
Big Ass Giant
\{. __ .|||
ââââââââââââââââ
Literally A Legend
Look at our lovely Sol, she's smiling! So, sheâs obviously perfectly fine
Biggest Gay Disaster Walking
Sheâs not smiling because sheâs fine. She is smiling because sheâs completely terrified of the trauma we faced.
Lowkey a NerdÂ
Thatâs pretty much the same thingâŚÂ
ââââââââââââââââ
See ya soon for a sneak peak on A Star Meets The Sky!
#idk what im doing#screaming#this is madness#i donât know what iâm doing to be honest#oh#Why I even friends with these people#I should have never made this bet!!#Regrets#Big Time RegretsâŚ
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happy birthday kay!! â¨â¤ď¸âđŠšđ¸ i hope you have the best day ever surrounded by all the love this world has to offer <33 you bring so much light and love and kindness here and i hope is not only reciprocated but doubled to you on your special day đ love u baby
omg sol this is so nice wtf đđđđ you're the best, love u bunches and bunches, you add so much to my experience here and i'm very grateful for you đŤśđđŤśđđŤśđŠˇ
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why rayllum is a MASTERPIECE part 3
*RUBS MY CLAWS TOGETHER* IT IS SEASON 3 TIME BITCHES AND H O L Y S H I T I LOVE THIS SEASON SO MUCH
i even rewatched it for this!
this time iâll try to have SOME order, and go by episode. this will however still include unintelligible screaming
1. DAMN THESE FUCKERS BE PINING MORE THAN A PINE TREE FOREST!
first off, affectionate eye rolling, nose boop, and head bonk is the best thing.
second, IF SOMEONE SAYS THAT DURING WHEN CALLUM WAS HELPING RAYLA PUT ON HIS SCARF AND THEY J STARED AT EACHOTHER FOR A BIT BEFORE RAYLA TURNED AWAY THAT HE WAS N O T LOST IN HER EYES? theyâre wrong. this is fact now.
third, their teamwork and decision making is excellent. they agree to try and sneak past sol regem, and when that fails try talking to him and then decide to simply trick his senses with the scarf. and instead of rayla shooting down callumâs âsmelltriloquismâ idea, she simply adds onto it! LOVE HEALTHY FRIENDSHIPS
âi think itâs good luck!â YES IT IS RAY THATâS UR BOYFRIENDS SCARF
also, here you go. youâre welcome.
2. STILL PINING. GOD DAMN.
first, CALLUM BEING SO EXCITED BY ALL THE MAGIC IN XADIA IS S O CUTE! MY SON. this might turn into an overrall review of s3. o well
second. FLUSTERED RAYLA AND FLUSTERED CALLUM. Y E S
third, THE ADORABURR FIELD! their smiles were so fond and soft and A. they make me cry of joy.Â
an overall look on it, i like how this episode really shows their feelings clearly. no âwill they wonât theyâ, at least for rayla. itâs clear she has feelings.
3. AH FUCK. ANGST.
first i love how when rayla mentions that sheâs excited and happy but also terrified, callum tries to comfort her. good boi. best boi.
second, elf callum. i love that scene so much even if the second-hand embarrassment kills me, and rayla is j like âwhy the fuck do i love you. im gonna kill him.â
third, DANCE! callum not being rude and saying her home is âmodestâ before rayla explains itâs an illusion, his BLUSH WHEN SHE HELPS HIM, and the softness in general. raylaâs excitement that sheâs home and talks abt that she can show callum where she went to school, the best moonberry surprise place, until...
fourth, AH FUCK. A N G S T T I M E. rayla being crest-fallen before callum says that it mustâve been a mistake, and she realizes that ethari would probably understand!
and then CONFIRMED GAYS. YES.
rayla realizing ethari ghosted her too and then callum GOING O F F. he angy and when rayla runs out callum IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWS (like in a later episode) and comforts her again.
when ethari comes down and breaks the spell and says to callum âtrees to meet you tooâ and raylaâs like âdonât encourage himâ
also callum trying to get on the shadowpaw and ethari being Concerned is AMAZING. concerned dad content
iâll talk more about ezran/ruthari/the dark magic trio in a later ted talk
4. H E R E W E G O
first, rayla clearly being sad and callum picking up on that quickly (he even seems to be almost falling on purpose, perhaps to make her smile?) and asking if sheâs ok before being shot down by rayla insisting she is fine. GOD DAMN. THAT HURTS.
second, their interaction with nyx is so amazing. rayla being protective of zym and callum being a DORK is awesome, but also their decision making.
after rayla reluctantly decides that they can go see how nyx could get them across the desert so quickly, they see the ambler and then their reasoning is amazing.
âwhat do you think?â
âthe dragon queen is dying.â and then i forget the rest of the exact quote but they give a subtle nod to eachother. they make their decisions TOGETHER. AS A TEAM. AND THATâS ON HEALTHY FRIENDSHIPS X2!
third, callum continuing to gently press for rayla to express her emotions. he doesnât pressure her, but seems to simply let her know that if she needs to talk (when she insists sheâs fine), he is there.Â
four, MORE FLUSTERED RAYLLUM. YES. TY NYX but also fuck u for taking zym but also ur hot- A N Y W A Y
five. OOOOOOH. MY FAVORITE SCENE.
raylaâs crying and callum tries to reassure her. nyx is plotting, while rayla runs away and callum follows. Y E S.
rayla talks about how thereâs nobody left that cares about her and she lost everything.. and then the SPEECH. i have this speech memorized iâve watched this scene so many times
"JUST SHUT UP, YOU'RE TALKING CRAZY. JUST, LISTEN TO ME. YOU'RE TOO GOOD TO FEEL THIS BAD ABOUT YOURSELF. I KNOW THAT, AND YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT. YOU HAVE TRUE COURAGE, AND A BIG HEART! I'VE SEEN YOU GET KNOCKED DOWN SO MANY TIMES AND EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. YOU GET UP AGAIN. THAT'S REAL STRENGTH. AND.. AND YOU'RE TEN TIMES FUNNIER THAN ANY HUMAN I KNOW! chuckle SEE? SEE YOU KNOW YOU'RE AMAZING. YOU'RE SMART AND FAST AND BEAUTIFUL. RAYLA YOU'RE THE MOST AMAZING PERSON I'VE EVER MET."
LOVE THEMMM
and then rayla kisses him and thatâs all that happened. callum was not a dumbass. right? RIGHT???
5. MY FAVORITE EPISODE!
first, rayla saving callum from the soulfang serpents and callum helping her get up is AMAZING, LOVE THAT.
second, callum tryna get a good position and rayla j saying to hold onto her and callum GETTING FLUSTERED. BOY IS PINING also he didnât have to hold her that close.
âI DONâT THINK OF HER THAT WAYâ âYOU AND I DONâT HAVE THAT YETâ LIAR.
three, THEM JUMPING OFF THE AMBLER AND. THAT WHOLE MOMENT? THE ROMANTIC TENSION IS KILLING ME
four. DAMN CALLUM RLLY DO BE HAVING HEART EYES @ RAYLA WHILE SHE KILLS LIKE 80 SOULFANGS HE IS PINING PART 2
five. THE SPEECH. THE SOFTNESS. THE KISSES. GOD DAMN. FAVORITE SCENE OUT OF THE ENTIRETY OF TDP. LOVE THEM.
also here you go again
what can i say except YOUâRE WELCOME
6. ANGST BUT ALSO FLUFF ALSO REUNION
once again wonât b talking abt ezran specifically but thereâs some passing mentions of him from now on
first, rayla and callum reaching the stone thunder and callum asking âis it... a statue?â and rayla sadly saying âno. itâs not a statueâ A. I CRI.
1.5 ayla and callum best dragon parents
iâll get to an actual analysis later
second, THIS MOMENT IS UNDERRATED EVEN THO ITâS ONE OF MY FAVS why has nobody mentioned the lil tender moment where ezran is by phoe-phoe and rayla puts her hand on callumâs shoulder AND CALLUM PUTS HIS HAND ON HERS. SO SWEET.
third, OK IâLL STOP MOST OF MY UNINTELLIGIBLE SHRIEKS AND ACTUALLY ANALYZE THIS.
callum is upset because of thunder and rayla sympathizes immediately. this is similar to how callum lets rayla let out her own emotions, and rayla is doing the same. he explains how he feels angry, upset, confused, sad, and rayla quickly empathizes. he keeps on venting, not knowing whether to feel regretful, or glad, and how heâs confused because thatâs saraiâs spear. he feels sorry that all this happened, but rayla reassures him that zym and ezran are going to break the cycle! thatâs hope! and then they hold hands and i screech
AND THATâS SO FUCKING HEALTHY AND I LOVE IT. THEY RLLY BREAK ALL BAD HET RELATIONSHIP STEREOTYPES (coughbutistillheadcanonthembothasbiandcallumistransilldieonthishillcough)
7. angst but not rayllum angst so its ok
first, they begin to go up the storm spire and i really love their banter. âand iâm guessing the dragon queen didnât make her den at a nice, halfway kinda place?â ânope. tiptop!â
cuties.
second, ASSDHFNF THE FACT THEY M O C K THE IDEA OF A FORBIDDEN RELATIONSHIP. THEYâRE IN LOVE AND THE WORLD CAN DEAL WITH IT. LOVE THAT FOR THEM
third, RAYLA CATCHING CALLUM. ITâS. NOT RLLY BIG I JUST LIKE IT AND THINK ITâS CUTE HOW EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS ALSO OUT OF BREATH SHE RAN UP TO CATCH HIM.Â
four, AHSDHGDHFG THEY DEADASS FORGOT EZRAN WAS THERE. more flustered rayllum i love that
8. FUCK ITâS RAYLLUM ANGST NOOOO
one, ibis is j a good boi. back to rayla and callum
two, rayla going in to see the dragon queen and when she runs out callum QUICKLY FOLLOWS to see if sheâs ok. asks her if sheâs ok, and she OPENS UP!! CHARACTER GROWTH BABY!!! and then they hold hands and i once again shriek
three, AH. HELLO ANGST.
before we go to the actual angst, can i say that THE LAUGH AFTER RAYLA SAIDÂ âSTORM SNEEZEâ IS SO CUTE. CALLUMS IN LOVE. MY SON.
oh no.
*bonks rayla on the head* nO SELF SACRIFICING!!
although their fight is super angsty and i hate it, it does provide some conflict and more plot because it gives callum a reason to want to find out the truth about raylaâs parents. and then he does! people argue that this fight was unnecessary or that callum was a jerk, but this was needed i think. he did let his worry become a bit of anger, and that was not a nice move, but he knows he fucked up and fixes it!
and then we get soft rayllum this is fine
9. AND YOU THOUGHT LAST EPISODE WAS BAD N O *CRYING*
thereâs not much rayllum featured in this ep, but the amount we do get is 80 PERCENT ANGST AND I WASNâT OK WITH IT
first, the fluff! callum trying to do the wing spell and rayla teasing âdid you pull a muscle in the middle of a jumping jack?â is so cute. i LOVE THEM. also they hold hands and i SH RIEK again.Â
also soren how dare you interrupt callum he was abt to confess
second, callum when heâs explaining the battle plan and his ZAP HAND. rayla is j watching him like âyep. that is my dork.â
and CALLUM SEEMS SO FOND WHEN JANAI CALLS RAYLA THE LAST DRAGONGUARD. PERHAPS I SOB
skipping forward in time a bit for the angst oh no
third, callum going up to the storm spire after ez encouraging him to go to rayla. love that soft brotherly relationship. and we think âoh, soft rayllum, right?â
NO. VIRENâS UP THERE.
fourth, THEY DIDNâT NEED ME TO BE ROLLING ON THE FLOOR WTF. the fact that raylaâs blade went right in front of callum and he looks up and sees zym in danger, viren is there, and RAYLA is there, p a n i k.
and then rayla jumps and the entire rayllum fandom SC REAMS after callumâs âno!â before she jumps and âno, no, no, RAYLA!â
fifth, CALLUM NO WHY ARE YOU JUMPING TOO- oh wait its ok he did the wings and im still crying fuck
THAT CONFESSION THO- i cri tears of joy now. theyâre in love
sixth, I J WANNA KNOW WHAT THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT BEFORE EZRAN SHOWED UP. like itâs clear that theyâre talking or something, but abt what is the question. also yes they hug and raylas fond
seventh, THEY HOLD HANDS!! soft bbs,,,
AAAND IM DONE! this is. quite long so if you read all of this i hope u have a good day and thnx for listening to me ramble with some coherent thoughts
#rayla#callum#rayllum#rambling#thanks for reading#ezran#tdp season three#tdp s3#soren#the dragon prince zym#tdp
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WTF DIDNT U JUST HIT 300 LIKE A MILLISECOND AGO. I LOVE U CARINA BBY. CONGRATSSS BOO!! cant wait for your next milestone like tomorrow LMAO. <33
SOL I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOURE ALWAYS SO SWEET IM GONNA CRY THANK YOUUUU BABY <33
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wtf i just realized english isn't your first language?? but you're so good at writing?? i was born in america so english is my first language (and korean my second, spanish my third but i'm still learning) AND THE LEVEL AT WHICH I SPEAK MY SECOND LANGUAGE IS NOWHERE NEAR YOURS
anyway.. here's my gift for you: suna x sol, ship name is ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ
- suna places kisses on your forehead or cheek at the most random times and then ignores you for a good ten minutes until you also start ignoring him petty đ
- slow dancing & playing with him in the rain >>> (where i live it's scorching hot and rain isn't coming, we're running out of water and it's all because of climate change but i hope that's not the case for you)
- he also teases you, as is his personality, and takes pictures of you when you're off guard
- yeah i know every headcannon of suna = my previous but it's still cute, he takes them mostly when your cheeks are stuffed with food (which osamu made)
- whenever someone tries to hit on you, suna glares bullets at them and wraps u protectively in his arms and they either.. 1. walk off, annoyed and thinking "who tf was that guy" 2. run away, scared out of their wits or 3. ignore him and keep flirting
- moving on
- you're so sweet and thoughtful and SUNA LOVES THAT i mean we all stan kind people so??
- you're like, literally made for each other
- atsumu keeps whining about how he doesn't have a girlfriend yet when suna's with you and osamu's with me haha
k so that's it mmmm i hope u liked it, i tried to make your day even though i'm not vv great at that LOL i hope you're safe and happy!! sending all the love ~~ đĽ´đĽ°
BAE U SPEAK KOREAN ND SPANISH? 2 cool 4 me babe. i went to an international school and i kinda watched a lot of western media growing up so hsjsh it would be bad if i couldn't write basic BS drabbles HAHA and honestly im kinda trash at my first languages lol
SUNA X SOLLIE I WILL CRY MY EYES OUT
- omg ure so right <//33 we would be so freaking petty.
- its raining all the time here bc tropics ⨠so i can live out this kissing in the rain fantasy HAHA, imagine his hair soaked, those eyes in the rain ugh
- ill bet he has a full album of pictures of myself that i h8 and am perpetually trying to delete LMAO
- omg "ignore him and keep flirting" bahhaha, would pay to see the look on the dummy's face but oof i can get behind a jealous suna
- sweet & thoughtful omg how did u know đđ
HSHSGDH đđ i will kith u rn ele >:( this is GREAT, i've SC it into my album and it will be there forever. ILYSM LIKE SO MUCH U DONT UNDERSTAND BABE <333
#my fav cutie: ele#đ sol gets mail ŕłââˇ#sol's favs Ë ŕźâĄ â・Ë#will be sneaking into ur inbox ltr đĽ´
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stop omg ur carrd is SO CUTE WTF .... i love it so much omg ur mind is so beautiful
SOL MADAM I AM IN LOVE WITH U THANK U SO MUCH đĽşđĽşđđđđđ + i just checked urs out and holyyyy crap itâs so ADORABLE !! đ¤§đ§Ą
#honestly i just love the way it looks :â] so cute & pretty ! ! đđ#i hope ur having a gr8 day angel đđ#and thank u so much again ur too sweet đĽşđĽşđĽşđĽş#dallamv#đ
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648-649: "Making a Sortie! The Legendary Hero Usoland!" and "The Fierce Battle Coming to the End! Lucy vs Chinjao!"
*looks into the camera like in The Office*
The fight between Luffy and Don Chinjao is finally over! I think after what happened, Luffy might have found a new friend. Law also made a stressful phone call to The Krusty Krab Sunny and ordered delivery of one ship to Green Bit.
Zoro and Franky have teamed up with Sol at Resistance HQ in Flower Field, and if Usopp keeps perpetuating his fantastic bullshit, the entire Strawhat crew will be elevated to God status in the Tontatta tribe.
Slightly worried about Law and the Strawhats stuck on Sunny but Iâm seventy percent certain they will pull through and wonât be captured by any Donquixote family affiliates. (The thirty percent left over remains a huge, nagging doubt.)
Luffyâs Tough Love Fight Therapy
The Colosseum showdown between Luffy and Don Chinjao picked up at the start of episode 649.
The action was fast and furious. Luffy pulled out all his quick moves: jet pistol, jet gatling, jet stamp gatling. All defended against by Chinjao. The crowd went wild. It was one of the greatest matches the Colosseum had ever seen! Some cheered for Lucy. Others cheered for Chinjao. The atmosphere was electric.
âYouâre quite a fighter,â Don Chinjao said.
âYeah, youâre strong too, as I thought,â Luffy answered. You know. Being honest as he is.
Don Chinjao totally overreacted. âWHAT U SAY? STRONG? U TRYIN TO INSULT MEH??â
Luffy was, quite rightly, bewildered. âWtf, all I said was that youâre strong?â
Apparently, this was a grave insult to Don Chinjao. A huge kick in the ego. Chinjao had been much stronger before.
âIâm no better than a wolf without its fangs now. A skin-headed man without his drill. A brat like you canât understand how miserable I feel living my life like this. Iâm frustrated, disappointed and sad. But you can never understand.â
I laughed when Luffy yelled, âHow can I understand? You keep messing with me without explaining anything!â (Heâs just saying what we were all thinking, right?)
âYou really want to know why Iâve become like this?â
âNo, Iâm not that interested.â (Lmao! We meet again, harsh Luffy.)
âWell, Iâll tell you before you die, since you insist.âÂ
Don Chinjao is one of those old dudes that is TELLING you that long and rambling story even though you have showed zero interest and have been glancing at your watch for the past half hour.
Suddenly, Luffy the Fight Therapist was unwilling and open for business.
According to Chinjao, Garp punched his head in thirty years ago. Literally. As in Don Chinjao once looked like Dan Akroyd from 90s sci-fi comedy, Coneheads.Â
That was until his resplendent, pointy napper met Garpâs fist.
The whole flashback was hilariously weird. Turns out Chinjaoâs drill-like bonce was the only means to access his remote family treasure vault under an ice sheet. Once Garp took away the key, Chinjao fell into a deep depression. Heartbroken, he retired from piracy, a lifeless shell, just idling away time.
That was kind of sad. I felt for Chinjao then. Heâs like the model of the old, proud working man who suffers a physical injury, can no longer work and slips into anger and depression. Since Chinjao knows and values nothing but strength, wealth and power, he cannot and will not see another way forward. Unlike Luffy, Don Chinjao got his ass beat and never found the strength to crawl out of the gutter and retrain.
Instead, he decided to lay the blame for his misfortune squarely at Luffyâs feet.
Luffy, naturally, was outraged. âWtf are you talking about? Grandpa and I are different people. Look, mate. Iâm busy. Iâm gonna win Aceâs fruit at any cost and become the Pirate King. I have no time to be your therapist.â
Then Chinjao made two Big Mistakes.
Wow, Chinjao has Really Specific Taste
Mistake #1?
Chinjao laughed off Luffyâs chances at becoming Pirate King. The reason was typical crotchety old man talk:Â âthe media lionised you worst generation squirts and it emboldened you. But none of you are strong enough to sail across the sea *we* fought on. After Whitebeardâs death, I ainât expecting much. The only guy who looks good is Blackbeard Teach.â
At the mere mention of Teach, Luffyâs eyes became two circles.
âIf I had to pick one, itâs him. But anyway, if youâre only good enough to compete against me, just give up!â
Oh, Chinjao, I thought. Ohhhhhhhh, you just goofed. You goofed big time. You do not mention Teach in a positive light within Luffyâs earshot. You just do not. Teach was the asshole who captured Ace and handed him to the Marines. He shares Public Enemy Number One status with Akainu. Tell Luffy you believe Teach will become Pirate King and your fate is sealed.
Mistake #2?
Chinjaoâs fighting style is kinda lame. People who spin during fights in shounen anime are always fodder (the one that sticks out is that spinning top guy in the HxH Heavenâs Arena arc.) This was not his mistake. Itâs just a side thought.
The Teach comment pushed Luffyâs buttons. But what Chinjao said next was even worse.
âYouâre not too bad but if a guy like Rayleigh chose a brat at this level as the flag bearer for this generation, heâs not as smart as he used to be. The Marines were smart when they squelched the most evil one of the lot: Ace. That man had demonâs blood in his veins. Do you think you can beat the Marine admirals, the Yonkou and surpass Roger? Thatâs impossible!â
Demonâs blood? Most evil one of the lot?
*cue Kill Bill red-mist music*
âStop whining over one punch!â Luffy yelled, as he wound up a Thor Elephant Gun attack. âI canât count how many times I got punched by Grandpa!â
When the attack connected and that spike popped back out of Chinjaoâs head, I laughed like a drain. Luffy hit Chinjao so hard, he turned the clock back thirty years.
Iâm sure Chinjao will be ecstatic. Take the L with good grace, mate. Your conehead is back! Go and wreak havoc on the high seas again. Recoup that treasure. The world is your oyster!
Up on the balcony, Bartolomeo still has not revealed his connection with Luffy. Cavendish is still throwing a strop. Bellamy is lurking in the shadows, clearly in two minds about his new assassination mission. And Burgess, thanks to Cavendish and his big mouth, knows that Luffy is Lucy.
Thanks, Cavendish.
(And Burgess really does walk around chortling and flexing all the time. Heâs like an evil All Might.)
Thus the Legendary Heroes of Green Bit were Born
This cast reunion based on Usoppâs total bullshit was so much fun.
I loved Usopp and Robinâs expressions when the Tontatta took them to their airport. They were starry-eyed. And so they shouldâve been. It was a miniature version of a proper, fully-equipped modern airport. I wouldnât be surprised if the place had Duty Free, passport control and Starbucks concessions.
But it was not a holiday destination Usopp and Robin were flying out to. The entire airport had been overtaken by a military operation. Cub, the yellow bee squad leader, and Bian, the pink bee squad leader, reported for duty. Usopp picked up the bee planes and kept saying, âI wanna show this to Luffy.â (They are such good pals, it warms my heart.)
Unfortunately, Usopp and Robin were too big to travel by bee plane, so they had to take the local number 20 bus to Dressrosa. The buses were cute, vulpix-like foxes with huge, fluffy tails you can sink right into for a comfortable ride.
While they made their way through the tunnel, Master Roshi - the pervy little Tontatta chief - emerged from Robinâs cleavage. He bore dire warnings. âI should tell you because you will risk your lives for our cause.â
Usopp was thinking, âI ainât gonna die for you but go on...â
âDoflamingo has been causing our tribe a lot of pain recently, but our connection with him goes way back before the last decade. Nine hundred years ago!â
Then the narrator interrupted and I was like, âSo youâre just going to leave it there when I was about to get Doflamingo family history? I am not at all mad about this. No, sir. Not one bit.â
The action cut to Flower Field, where Franky and Sol descended a secret stairwell. Said stairwell led to the Resistance Army HQ! Some soldiers ran up to Sol and addressed him as âCaptainâ, so Sol is a Big Deal in the Resistance.
Franky was like, âWhy are all these small people swarming me?â
Sol explained. The Tontatta people were called fairies in town, how they moved faster than the human eye could detect and how they were immensely strong. Franky put two and two together and realised one of them stole Zoroâs sword!
And guess who reached Flower Field before Franky? Before any of the other Strawhats!
Thatâs right. Itâs our boy Zoro. (So proud he learned to follow directions.)
Zoro, hilariously, had made himself at home and was watching Luffy vs Chinjao on the big screen TV. He was absolutely fuming. Why hadnât Luffy told him there was a fighting competition? THE BETRAYAL. Will he get over it? Probably.
He mustâve been distracted by the fight, as he completely forgotÂ
Then some intelligence scouts ran up. They had a report for Sol. âWe already know what our enemies and Sugar are doing!â (Sugar? Who dat?) âAnd with the battle close at hand, some legendary heroes have appeared at Tontatta: Usoland and Robiland. They have brought with them Luffyland, Zoroland, Namiland, Sanland, Chopperland, Fraland and Boneland.â
Franky and Zoro exchanged a Look. They knew instantly Usopp was on the bullshit wagon again.
âUm, I think Iâm Zoroland,â Zoro said. (Lmao, better get into character quick.)
âAnd Iâm Fraland. Nice to meet you!â Franky added.
It was round about then that Zoro remembered that Nami, Chopper and Brook were in serious trouble back on Sunny. He now wants to skip the battle (he doesnât yet know about) and rescue the other Strawhats.
I wonder how this will go? Wicka did say she would let Zoro go back to Sunny once heâd taken her back to Resistance HQ. But Leo and the others back on Green Bit were suspicious of Robin and Usopp escaping. Will they let Zoro go or will he have to fight the battle first? Hmmm... Iâm fifty/fifty about this.
God damn it, Caesar
*curb your enthusiasm music kicks in*
Meanwhile, back on Green Bit, Law was under heavy bombardment. Fujitora took a step back in this episode and Doflamingo stole the limelight. The cool music from Enies Lobby (as I call it in my head. I have no idea what the real title is) played as Doflamingo pursued Law.Â
As Doflamingo was about to land a finishing blow, Caesar shrieked, âOI, JOKER! Before you kill Law, I need you to take something back for me. Law took my heart and I donât know what heâs gonna do with it!â
Doflamingo looked round like, âWtf... are you talking about?â And while he was distracted, Law shambled his way out of trouble.
Doflamingo was furious. FFS, CAESAR. I bet he wanted to say that but couldnât. Gotta keep your cash cow scientist happy..
Please send help. Our art teacher has locked us in class.
Unfortunately, Law didnât have time for a breather. He had an urgent phone call to make.
While Nami, Chopper and Brook were brought up to speed on the Humans Turning Into Toys situation by Giolla, the shipâs DDM rang. Chopper hilariously ignored Giolla and answered the call (she was maaaaad).
It was Law. He said, âIs that Nami-san?â
To my disappointment, Chopper did not answer, âNo, this is Patrick.â
âI donât care whatâs going on over there,â Law said. âListen carefully. I need you to sail Sunny to Green Bit right now. I wanna leave Caesar with you guys. No time to explain. Bye!â
Okay, so I added in the âbyeâ part. Law abruptly hung up.
I like how he has faith that Nami, Chopper and Brook will be able to handle the situation, but their weapons have been rendered usless by Giollaâs Art Art Fruit power. I have no idea how theyâre going to get out of this one (and Iâm keen to see Odaâs creative solution).
The shitshow that is Lawâs current existence continued once he hung up. Doflamingo is Doflamingo. He caught up with Law again near the end of episode 648. With that slasher smile, he shot Law with a string bullet and demanded to know who Law had called for help.
Doflamingo must be confident he has Law where he wants him because he spilled the beans on his diabolical plan to snare Luffy. âGive me back Caesarâs heart already. Itâs so meaningless for you to keep hanging on here. Strawhat has already walked into the trap I set. Heâs fighting in the gladiatorial contest at the Colosseum. Tough contenders from all over the world come to fight in it. Outlaws only. Itâs a deadly competition. When someone loses, itâs a one way ticket to hell! He will never come out of the Colosseum alive! Itâs the end of your alliance, Law. Just give up!â
I wonder if Law will use the heart as leverage. Maybe heâll give up Caesarâs heart to escape, regroup and stop Doflamingo the old-fashioned way: with Tontatta military might. (Doflamingo better not kill him off...)
Donât worry, Chinjao. Luffy will beat you until you feel better! :D
#one piece#neverwatchedonepiece#nwop#never watched one piece#monkey d. luffy#monkey d. garp#trafalgar law#donquixote doflamingo#roronoa zoro#sanji#usopp#nami#tony tony chopper#nico robin#franky#brook#blackbeard#marshall d. teach#jesus burgess#dressrosa#don chinjao#caesar clown#admiral fujitora#leo#wicka#foxfire kinemon#giolla#bartolomeo#cavendish
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this has "let's kill ashlee" written all over it. oh my fucking god.
i am very extremely overtly agnostic but this is saurrr up my alley........ i love blasphemy and sacrilege i love fallen angel aus i love horror i love dark religious themes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you for the meal i genuinely needed a fic like this in my life and you delivered. you delivered so hard wtf sol you always write the most creative fics. how dare you.
OKAY SO. OPENING SCENE. i adore the amount of detail you put into your fics first of all, like. i can picture every setting and feel every feeling and AGHHHH the worldbuilding is wonderful I NEED U TO UNDERSTAND THAT. like yes i am in a wintery little village bundled up in 80 layers being helped up by this handsome and charming stranger and i am devout to a fault....yes.........also u immediately made me hate the priest. i hate that man saurrr much (lowk highkey deserved what he got sorry not sorry)
AND BEOMGYU'S IMMEDIATE OBSESSION WITH MC???? I AM SHAKING U BY THE SHOULDERS RN!!!!!!!!!! he is soooooo fucking sick and twisted...i need him biblically,,,, fuck it let me just quote the paragraph that had me reeling:
"Such a cruel hand life has given you. Because now that Beomgyu has found you, heâs made a silent vow to not let you escape from his hands; youâre the perfect prey, innocent and trusting and charmed by the closest thing to ever be graced by God's presence."
LIKEEEE i love an evil man (demon?) đđđ he knows exactly what to do to keep mc in his clutches, knows how to use her innocence and naivety to his advantage bruhhhhh you can't keep doing this to me. i need to be institutionalized.
and the way he manipulates her dreams???? bye. BYE. you nailed the guilt that the mc was feeling after her dream, it wasn't just a "oopsie i sinned lol" moment, but something all-consuming and terrifying because why is she suddenly feeling this way? having all of these sinful thoughts and desires after so long?? her panic is so palpable and it made me really feel for her because what are you supposed to do when the very sins you've avoided appear so suddenly? you confess, of course, to the very priest that has your worst wishes in mind. GRRRRR WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON THAT PRIEST đđđ thankfully beomgyu did what i wanted to do to him! đ he represents everything that is wrong with the church and he's as manipulative as beomgyu in a way...
âYou were so perfect, my child,â he says softly, frowning at the fear in your eyes, the heavy heaving of your chest, âyou were divine.â
âMay God have mercy on your soul.â
like. he knew that would fuck her up. and he's weirdly possessive over mc when he has no right to be????? even he looks to use her trust in him to his advantage â while he is a priest, he is no better than beomgyu in this and like i said earlier i fawkingggg hate him. just to reiterate.
OK PRIEST RANT OVER. now, onto the final scene,,, just tell me to kms already. what the fuck. beomgyu revealing what he truly is to her, the blood beneath her, the way he calls her a little lamb, urging her to give into him, into her sinful desires...dawg. he's insane for telling her that this is what god has fated her with,, taking her in the church that she sees as home made me so đľâđŤđľâđŤđľâđŤ i like. can't handle this rn i'm feeling faint............manipulative to the very end, wanting to hear her say that she wants it and takes her while the priest lies dead, his blood painting the floor,, this is so sick and twisted and i'm very much into it i don't think you understand.
AND THEN HER DEATH WTFFFF i knew something bad was gonna happen to her but THAT WAS CRAZYYYY.......... and then. then he. what the fuck he eats her heart ?????????? INSANE ASS ENDING i am concerningly obsessed (feds if you're reading this i promise i am fully sane and normal,, )....oh how i love horror, i'm so glad you write txt fics like this bc literally no else does and i just. thank you đđđđđđđ i will NEVER get over this đđđđđđđđđđ
ANYWAYS. that was really long, i apologize (i will do it again)...this might have nearly killed me but i will come back stronger !!! beware!!!!!!!!!
Divinity for the Damned
âThere is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.â
âWhat sweet bliss it is to follow the teachings of God. To put in your faith and trust wholeheartedly, even if it means getting nothing in return.â
fallen angel! Beomgyu x fem!readerÂ
Genre: horror, religious au, smut, angst
Word count 18.3K
warnings: i was delirious when i proof read this sorry in advance, very detailed descriptions/elements of the catholic church, mc is super duper religious, and innocent, lots of religious guilt, corrupt church members, assault in one scene, sacrilege and blasphemy i suppose, abuse of power, manipulation, guilt tripping, MCD, slight gore, violence, cannibalismâŚ? ahaâŚ
smut warnings: dubcon/coercion, manhandling, mind breaking, corruption, virgin!mc, sub!mc, condescending soft dom!beomgyu, blindfolding/sensory deprivation? dacryphilia, fingering, oral (f. rec) edging, overstimulation, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie. lmk if i should add anything!
notes: hi guys! i have no idea how i got here.
[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]
The day is wintry and cast with a heavy snow; it is advised for citizens to remain inside due to the extreme weathers, flurries falling outside your bedroom window that is tinted with a frost that creeps from the corners. But it is Sunday morning, and a simple snowfall will do nothing to deter your humble duties.Â
Today, you rush to get ready; the layers of clothes on your form make it difficult for you to pull on your snow boots, thick and warm as your fingers fumble to lace and tie the shoesâ youâve begun to feel overheated, but youâre sure all the layers you have on will not go to waste the moment you exit your home. Standing with a huff of exertion, you pull the coat on you just a little bit tighter; with a gloved hand and one final glance at the clock, you finally open your door and make your way out.Â
The little village is quiet today. The snow is up to your anklesâ it makes the trek to the church a little more difficult than usual, and itâs not as though the gravelly paths were any more helpful. A wind carries flurries into the air, sticking to your clothes and onto your hairâ it makes your skin sting and your arms come up to hug yourself instinctually, a hand coming up to rest on your chest, almost able to feel the cross necklace thatâs tucked beneath all your clothesâ your fingers press against the layers, able to feel the pressure of the delicate charm on your skin.Â
Shops are open, but they arenât very busy; it seems as though the snow has turned the place into a ghost town, and you wonder with a frown if a simple change in weather was enough to make people set aside their dutiesâ in the distance, the tall pinnacles of the church begin to fade into view, a sight of a cross at the very top of each one bringing a sense of relief into your system, like a warmth that floods into your veins.Â
There are twenty minutes left before the mass begins. But even so, you note that there are not many others making their way insideâ your frown tugs at your lips a little deeper, and youâre too lost in thought to take note of cracked path before you; your foot is catching and you fall to the ground unceremoniously, yelping at the impact and the snow that drenches your tights and dress within seconds.Â
Your knees sting; with the multitudes of layers you have on, itâs a lot more difficult to standâ youâre wincing in pain from both the cold and the fall, your gloved hands now soaked as you try to steady them on the ground to help you up; you stumble slightly, the weight of your clothes now doubled as you fall back onto your kneesâ you huff with frustration, your head hung down in defeat.Â
âExcuse me, are you alright?âÂ
The voice is gentle and melodic; like a song in your ears, breathy, deep and smooth as you look up with surprise, not expecting anyone else to witness your fallâ your face is heating up pitifully and your eyes are widening the moment they meet with those of a stranger, a man whose beauty is almost otherworldly; his hair is long and covered with flurries of snowflakes, decorated along his head and in his bangs like a crownâ his face is blushing a soft red from the cold and his eyes are filled with concern; briefly, your eyes flicker up to his furrowed brows, taking notice of the scar that decorates his face, reddened and stopping just above his eye, a small deformity on his otherwise perfect face.Â
He looks like a prince.Â
âIâIâm⌠Iâm fine,â you stutter out, still a bit dumbfounded by this captivating stranger, trying your best to remain composed as you take his outstretched hand for help; his hand is warmâ no, itâs hot, even through your glovesâ the contrast of temperature startling you for a moment; you try not to show it, much more distracted by the way his grip tightens instantly and heâs pulling you up with a surprising strength, the motion so sudden and unexpected that youâre stumbling out of balance; with a swift hand on the small of your back, the man steadies you.Â
âIâve⌠never seen you around before,â you say softly, continuing your attempt to remain casual as you shrug his hands off you, taking a step back and trying to ignore the lingering heat his touch leftâ and you smile politely, hands folded in front of you as you tilt your head.Â
âAh, I moved here recently,â the man explains, sending you a smile thatâs just as charming as the rest of him; his eyes scan your sullied outfit, wet with snow and dirty at the knees, and he frowns. âYou must be terribly cold. I suggest you go home and change.âÂ
Your hands are patting your clothes off immediately in response; small clusters of snow that stuck to you fall off with every swat of your hands, attempting to rub at the dirt with your soaked gloves as you merely laugh him off and shake your headâ youâre glancing back at the church in the distance, and are suddenly reminded of your responsibility.Â
âIâll be alright, I assure you,â you say softly, doe eyes bright and optimistic, even if he seems doubtful of your words, âI have somewhere I need to beâ itâs much warmer in there anyway.â
âOh?â he says, raising a brow and scanning over your appearance once more, wondering what could possibly require such dedication from you, âmay I ask where youâre headed?âÂ
âSunday mass,â you say eagerly, your voice sweet and lovelyâ and though his expression is suddenly unreadable, you remain enthusiastic as you continue, âIf youâre not busy, Iâd love for you to comeâ our church is beautiful, youâd get to meet so many amazing people.â
Mass is starting soonâ youâre visibly antsy to go inside, yet you remain patient as you wait for the manâs answerâ and though youâve always been used to the polite turn downs from others youâve offered to in the past, you canât help but get your hopes up the longer you wait for a response.Â
He sighs; itâs soft and would have remained unnoticed under your gaze, except it comes out as a smoky puff of air due to the cold weatherâ his gaze skirts away from yours, lost in thought for a second, and you can feel yourself deflate as you begin to brace yourself for yet another rejection. But then he glances back at you, lips pursing and gaze taking you in slowly as he begins to speak. âI suppose I can,â he says gently, smiling at the way youâre immediately lighting up again, âI donât have much else going on today anyway.âÂ
A smile spreads through your face; youâre trying to control yourself and remain unfazed, but itâs a lot more difficult than you anticipated as you merely nod happily like a puppyâ with his soft lead the way, youâre nodding again and taking him to your safe space.Â
âYou never told me your name,â the man says suddenly, the two of you making your way up the steps to the churchâ youâre turning to him in surprise, mouth parting in slight shock as you realize that you really didnât introduce yourselvesâ and youâre telling him your name softly, your tone a lot shyer than you expected, feeling small under the intense gaze of this handsome stranger. He laughs softly, eyes filled with amusement as he repeats your name back to youâ it sounds so captivating and fragile on his lips, and you try to ignore the way the sound sends shivers down your spine.Â
âBeomgyu,â he says before you can direct the question back at himâ and just like he did for you, youâre testing his name with your own voice, taking his nod of approval with a smile.
Conversation dwindles down the moment the two of you enter the building; it is low in light due to the cloudy day and the candle-lit lanterns that donât fully light up the large establishment, and a warmth engulfs the two of you the moment the heavy wooden doors shut behind you; sending Beomgyu another encouraging smile, you take him softly by the arm and lead him further insideâ you promptly stop at a small basin filled with holy water, dipping three of your fingers in and crossing yourself slowly, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to mouth an unintelligible wordsâ and while Beomgyu is presumably doing the same, you take this time to say a brief prayer.Â
Beomgyu simply watches you with blank eyes. He makes no movements to follow after you, watching apathetically as your brows twitch and your eyes remain shut for a few seconds more, sweeping his gaze over the area as he will his lips to not upturn in distasteâ his expression morphs to one of content the moment youâre opening your eyes to look at him again, the only thing to fuel his feet to move being the way your delicate hand squeezes his bicep gently, as though you were leading a scared animal into the unknownâ he canât help but find your mannerisms amusing, filled with an overwhelming innocence he hasnât seen in a long time.Â
As a child, your family moved a lotâ going from town to town, your father offered newer and better opportunities due to his tradeâ and, just like you, your family remained dedicated during it all, never failing to find a church to become a part of, a place to spend their Sundays and worship their God. Because of this, youâve seen and been in more churches than you can keep track of; able to take in different interiors and atmospheres, different communities and sermonsâ yet, despite attending more churches than this whole town combined, youâve found that the one you currently stand in cannot even bear to rival the othersâ it is wholeheartedly your favorite.Â
Nothing quite compares to the feeling of warmth and comfort this quaint building brings you, from the friendly smiles others in the community send you the moment they see you, to the smell of incense and flowers that fills your nose the further you walk down the nave, automatically going to your usual pew closest to the altar; the spot is basically reserved for you at this point, anyone who has come to this church at least once knowing that the third pew away from the altar is your favorite spot.Â
Beomgyu trails a little behind you. A little hesitant, you thinkâ it must be difficult being thrust into such a new environment so suddenly, and youâre stopping in your tracks to turn around and reach for him with a kind smile.Â
He seems startled by your sudden gesture. His expression is completely lightening up within seconds, and if you hadnât been dreadfully nervous to offer him your hand so you could walk together, you would have been able to pinpoint the clear scorn in his gazeâ instead, all youâre able to see is the way his brows raise in surprise and his gaze turns warm, smiling fondly as he takes your hand; he tucks it snuggly in the crook of his arm before heâs nodding at you to continue walking.Â
Youâre suddenly much more aware of the eyes pinned on youâ youâre sure many must be surprised to see you with someone new, always used to you coming in early and quietly, head bowed down and mind already lost in prayerâ and in this condition nonetheless, your body heating up slightly as you stare down at the ghastly state of your clothes.Â
âRelax,â Beomgyu suspires, leaning close to your ear so only the two of you can hear his words; his other hand reaches to place itself over your gloved hand, and again, you can feel the heat of his touch permeating through the wool. âYou look lovely. A bit of snow or dirt could never take away from your beauty.â
His sudden compliment has your face heating up and reacting drastically; you can only squeak out a flustered oh, in response, unable to do much more than look in the opposite direction and stare at the scarlet rug that rolls down the naveâ and youâre arriving at your usual spot, close enough to the altar that youâre bowing in respectâ stiffly, Beomgyu is pulled down with you; his jaw clenches at the action.Â
The sermon begins as usual and proceeds as it always doesâ though, with Beomgyu at your side, you seem to have garnered quite a lot of attention to you; from others around you eagerly wanting to wish you and Beomgyu peace, shaking his hand firmly and with looking up at him with awe-stricken eyes, to the priestâs gaze that inevitably falls back onto the two of you again and again, not used to the scrutiny in his eyes as you flush with heat at the sudden realization of what others might be assuming the two of you areâ as subtly as possible, you try to make space between the two of you, using the armrest of the pew as your excuse to scoot away as you try your best to remain inconspicuous, pretending to get comfortable and resting your arm against it.Â
Beomgyu doesnât seem to pick up on your particular train of thoughtâ heâs sending you a curious glance before heâs closing the space between the two of you again, feeling the way your body stiffens and your back straightens the moment you feel him against you, thigh against thigh; the small pressure of his body against yours enough to have you flustering pathetically, lips pressing together as you try to keep your expression neutral.Â
But if thereâs one thing Beomgyu has learned about you from the short time heâs gotten to know you, itâs that youâre undeniably terrible at keeping a poker face; all your thoughts are written across your expression clear as day and seep into your body languageâ anyone who has you in their line of sight would be able to immediately pick up on your flustered and shy state.Â
Youâre such an innocent little thing; like a lamb, Beomgyu thinks, gaze visibly boring into your side profile as you attempt to pretend as though youâre unaware of it, even if the nervous fiddling of your fingers gives you away. Thereâs an air of purity around you that is simply enticing, unable to pretend as though he isnât endeared to you the moment you finally break and turn to look at him once it is time to receive the eucharist, bright, wide eyes silently asking if heâll join youâ he shakes his head no gently, and youâre nodding in understanding before you finally scurry away to get in line.Â
Your heart is pounding; youâve never thought a man could have such an effect on you, your poor brain confused and running laps to try to reason why you canât even keep eye contact with him for more than a secondâ youâve just met him, just a little bit ago, yet even so you canât help but feel a strange pull toward him, undeniably charmed by both his looks and soothing auraâ your hand goes to place itself onto your heart, a weak attempt to steady itâs erratic beating. The charm of your necklace presses against your skin, and as it nears to be your turn, you pray for your heart to have more resilience.Â
âThe Body of Christ.âÂ
Beomgyu watches as you stand dutifully before the priest. He watches as the older man stares down at you with an intense gaze, one that seems to hold silent disappointment; he watches as the priest looks back at him, their eyes meeting and his gaze hardening before it falls back onto youâ with a twisted realization, Beomgyu realizes where this emotion stems from.Â
The priest is careful with you, hand reaching out to slowly place the Eucharist on your awaiting tongue; heâs gentle, as though you were made of nothing but glass, gaze following you even after youâre long gone.Â
Youâre walking back with your hands clasped together and your eyes downcast, undoubtedly lost in prayer again. But even so, you canât help but sneak a glance at Beomgyu once more, relieved to see his eyes werenât on you already this timeâ instead, heâs watching the priest acutely, observing and analyzing his every moveâ and you feel star-struck by his beauty yet again.Â
The day outside must have cleared more; at least, that must be the case if there is light shining through the stained glass windows, myriads of colors casting themselves on the floors and the people around youâ Beomgyu is not an exception to this, entranced with the sharp reds, purples and blues that cast onto his delicate skin, making his appearance seem more otherworldly than it already was.Â
His brows furrow. Part of his face is lit up with a faint red from the window, hitting his right eye and the scar above itâ suddenly, his eyes are flickering back to meet yours, and youâre jumping slightly in surprise; his eye is practically glowing.Â
Your gaze becomes downcast again. You try to ignore the feeling of him watching as you kneel down and begin your prayer once more, staring at the altar and at the captivating marble statues, eyes falling onto the candles that hypnotize you by its flickering flame, lost in thought as the taste of wine that lingers on your tongue becomes the only thing youâre still aware of.Â
Beomgyu makes no attempts to conceal his desperation to leave the moment mass is over. His goodbyes are brief and he manages to pull you along, simply because youâd feel bad if you didnât accompany him out. Youâre almost out the front doors, so close to leaving, only to be stopped the moment youâre stepping outside, not expecting the priest to slip out of the doors behind you, calling out your name and asking you to wait; obedient as always, youâre practically frozen on the steps of the churchâ Beomgyu doesnât bother to hide the clear distaste on his face as he hears the priest ask for a word with you; in private.Â
Without hesitation, youâre scurrying up the steps and meekly asking Beomgyu if he was going to stayâ you canât help but be surprised at the immediate nod of his head in response.Â
âLovely seeing you today. Like always,â the priest says, sending you a fond smile that you eagerly return; heâs taking a step close to you, voice lowering slightly as he continues. âThis is the first time Iâve seen you attend with someone else.â
âAh,â you say quietly, evidently flustered by the breach of this subject; youâre turning away from him to glance back at Beomgyu, who sends you a small smile the moment your eyes meet. âI met him this morningâ he aided me when I fell, and agreed to join me when I invited him to todayâs mass.â
The priest frowns. Youâre taken aback by the clear disapproval in his eyes, blinking owlishly as you silently question whatâs wrongâ the priest is taking another step closer to you, his brows pinched together and his voice cautious as he speaks.Â
âMy child,â he begins carefully, taking in your wide and curious eyes as he warns you, âIt is admirable of you to spread Godâs word so dutifully. I admire your devotion to both our Lord and this community.âÂ
âHowever,â he says solemnly, âI advise you to be very careful. You have only just met him after all.â
The two of you glance back at Beomgyu, who leans against the stairway with a blank expression, staring out at the snowy scenery before him as he waits for the two of you to finish; he can feel your stares on him, but he doesnât bother to look back, already knowing where this conversation must be headed.Â
âOh Father,â you say softly, giving him a reassuring smile, âyou shouldnât worry, I know how to handle myself.â
And, Beomgyu has been nothing but kind to you, you think to yourself, though you know better than to rely solely on the limited hours youâve spent together.Â
âOf course. Though you canât blame me for being concerned,â he says, taking yet another step closer to youâ the space between you is limited now, and youâre unable to stop the way you retreat subconsciously in response.
âI wouldnât want anything to happen to,â he reaches up to place a hand on your shoulder, heavy and making you stiffen at the sudden contact; it remains there, thumb rubbing soft circles on your coat, âsuch a dedicated servant of God. It is my duty to protect you, child.âÂ
He is reluctant to let you go. You breathe out a soft laugh and smile, taking another step back and watching as his hand slides down your arm, his touch lingering and grabbing at your hand momentarily; he squeezes it in an attempt to give you reassurance, and you nod.Â
âI understand,â you say quietly, pulling your hands in close to your chest, clasping them together as you take another step back, âI must leave now, Father.â
His lips press, as though disappointed to see you leave to soonâ but then he nods in understanding, wishing you a blessed day and encouraging you to stop by anytime; you nod, bidding him one last goodbye before youâre turning around and descending the stairsâ you miss the way his eyes harden and his brows knit together the second they meet Beomgyuâs, lips pressed to a thin line as he watches the two of you for a moment more.Â
âIâm sorry I kept you waiting,â you say meekly, feeling a smile grow on your face the moment Beomgyu simply shakes his head in reassurance, boldly taking your hand and placing it in the crook of his arm once again; a gesture that has your body warming up as much as his touch warms you, allowing him to pull you close to him as you walk awayâ he allows you to speak about whatever is on your mind, listening intently as he glances back at the church one final time.Â
At the top of the stairway, the priest remains, watching. Beomgyu is unfazed at the sight, and instead of returning the harsh glare the older man sends him, his lips curl into a smileâ wide and wicked, showing off his perfect teeth and sharp canines that adorn his mouth, confusing the man before himâ and his expression switches in the blink of an eye the moment you squeeze at his bicep subconsciously to get his attention as you speak, leaning in to ask what he thought of todayâs mass.Â
âIt was lovely,â Beomgyu says smoothly, eyes crinkling into a fond and kind smile. Youâre returning the smile without hesitation, feeling as though itâs become second nature to your being now.Â
âI think Iâll be seeing you around more.â
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The two of you part ways once youâve reached the center of town. Beomgyu tells you he has somewhere he needs to be, and you explain that you still have a few errands to do; with the promise to see each other again soon, youâre reluctantly bidding him goodbye.Â
He asked if youâd be willing to show him around the town a bit more; if youâd like to show him your favorite places to eat and visitâ you told him yes in a heartbeat.Â
With new promising plans with this handsome stranger, you felt lighter on your feetâ a giddiness that undoubtedly was written all over your face, laughing shyly at the remarks others would give in regards to your good mood; and though the trek back to your little cottage on the outskirts of town was a long one, you didnât seem to particularly mind it today.Â
The rest of your day is quiet; peaceful like always, not a soul stopping by to interrupt your day. Youâve fallen back into routine, and with your sudden encounter with Beomgyu earlier, youâve begun to realize how mundane your everyday life isâ youâre suddenly antsy, waiting anxiously for the day to bleed into the next so youâre able to see him again.Â
Night falls and you have yet to forget about him. Beomgyuâs soft gaze and kind smile, the way he hovered over you and humored your spontaneous offer to join youâ his touch that warmed you through your layers of clothing and left your body hot and flustered.Â
This sudden change in your train of thought has you snapping back to reality; your eyes are blinking into focus and youâre now hyper-aware of the hot water that runs over your skin, the dishes in your hands that you had absentmindedly been washingâ and youâre straightening up to stare out your window, feeling a breeze slip through the small opening and hit your warm face; you definitely need it, you think to yourself, scolding yourself for thinking of such scandalous things about a man you just met.Â
You think youâll go to bed early; with the final dish placed on your drying rack, youâre off to your bathroom, washing up before you make your way into the bedroom, slipping into nothing more but a thin nightgown; the moonlight casts a glow on your figure as you change, already feeling sleep weigh your eyes as the soft silk of your gown brushes against your skin.Â
Your bed feels a lot more comfortable than usual; your body is more tired than you realized. The blankets weigh down on you securely, and any restless thought seems to dissolve in your mind the moment your head is resting against your soft pillowsâ for the first time in a long, long time, youâre able to achieve a peaceful, immediate slumber.Â
Poor thing; todayâs events must have truly exhausted you. After all, being around a demon for such a long time takes a lot of energy.Â
Beomgyu watches the soft rise and fall of your chest with fond eyes and a small smile. He thinks that the moonlight casts a truly angelic glow on your face, unaware and peaceful to the dangers around youâ not much of a difference from your awake self, the man muses.
The energy you emit is as pure as the light in your eyes; innocent, untainted by the horrors of the world. Unlike the rest of this town and their putrid thoughts, their intentions to rip you apart and force you to stoop as low as them, youâve remained the same: devoted to your God, devoted to live an honest and peaceful lifeâ your being is nothing short of angelic, and Beomgyu has found himself addicted to it.Â
Heâs weakenedâ you remind him of the life he used to live, the person he once was before he gave in to the beauty of temptation, ensnared for eternity to the carnal sin that allowed him to reject the teachings of his god. Heâs lived this life longer than he can remember, memories of pure beings and a light heart long gone; itâs instead been replaced by an insatiable hunger and instincts that led him to you.Â
Beomgyu wasnât supposed to find himself here, he supposed. Damned to nothing but a void of flames that seared and marred his skin, to be given bodies of those who shared the same sin as himâ indulging in his cravings, but never truly satiating them, just enough to keep his soul hooked and coming back for more, a constant cycle of addiction and hunger and desire.Â
But this is â you are â different. Just being near you is enough to get Beomgyuâs heart racing, his body buzzing with a slight nervous energy that begs to just touch you, to take you, to use you. His body is weak, drained from its descent from the heavens and its unexpected escape from his perpetual state of limbo, from his punishment. His bones ache and his skin begs to be with you, his soul guiding the rest of him to find you; just one night with you could keep him strong for eons.Â
Such a cruel hand life has given you. Because now that Beomgyu has found you, heâs made a silent vow to not let you escape from his hands; youâre the perfect prey, innocent and trusting and charmed by the closest thing to ever be graced by God's presence.Â
He closes his eyes, and hones in on your energyâ to properly entangle you in clutches, Beomgyu must begin to plant the seeds in your mind; seeds of doubt and want, seeds that will allow you to see the world as is and bring you into his awaiting, protecting arms.Â
After a moment, he finally feels it; the soft beating of your heart, the aura that hums like an enticing melody. Deep breaths bring a slow rise and fall to his chest, allowing it to match the rhythm of your own. A harmony is created between the two, and only then does Beomgyu finally feel itâ your mind is inviting him in. He suppresses the triumphant smile that makes his lips twitch.Â
Declining such an offer would be quite rude, wouldnât it?
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You wake with a start.Â
Your chest feels as though it might cave in and your gown sticks to your skin in an unbearable way, your body exuding so much heat that youâve found yourself covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Your mind is racing, you feel as though your heart is ready to burst out of your chestâ what happened, why do you feel like this?Â
It takes a minute before everything else floods back in. A wave of shame and horror washes over you, searingly hot against your skin as you find yourself throwing the covers of your bed off your body, reaching over at your nightstand instinctively and kneeling at your bedside; your hands shake slightly as you try to ground yourself with the feeling of the rosary beads against your palms.
Prayers leave your lips like a waterfall; attempting to forget the dreamâ the nightmareâ that your mind conjured, surely nothing but a test of faith and temptation to make you stray from the path you painstakingly set up for yourself.Â
The beads of the rosary dig deeper into your palms. Your hands press tighter together, your face screwed into a frown of concentration, attempting to rid yourself of the way your mind seems to want to do nothing but wander. Wander to the foreign feeling of a hand gliding against your skin, a smooth path along your bare back and chest, lips that caressed your neck and whispered nothing but praises and promises of divinity and eternal life.
A shudder rips through your body like an earthquake. You must rid yourself of these thoughts.Â
Your will is strong, but the temptation is stronger; it sings memories and images from your nightmare, appearing at the most inconvenient moments and making your every movement falterâ when you change, vibrant images and raw skin replacing the sight of your body in the mirror with one of pure lust and sin, when you prepare to go out, tucking the rosary safely underneath your layers of clothes, and as you spot Beomgyu in the distance, waving at you with a kind smile on his face; shame bubbles hotly beneath your skin, and you hope that the man who asks you to lead the way with bright eyes simply blames the flustered look of your face on the cold, the pure snow around you.Â
âYou must be cold,â Beomgyu muses softly, turning to you and suddenly cupping your face; wide eyes meet his as you merely remain still, unsure of what to do as the feeling of his hot hands cupping your flushed skin only make it burn hotter, embarrassment eating you up as his brows twitch at the feeling; he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion as he inspects you slowly. âOr⌠perhaps not? Your face is burning.â
âIâm so sorry,â you manage to spit out, taking a step away from him and averting his gaze entirely, hands pressed firmly against your pounding heart, âIâm sorry if I seem to be acting strange, Iâm not sure what has gotten into me.âÂ
Beomgyu shakes his head softly, brows knitted together with worryâ oh, you must seem to have lost it, you think to yourself, biting your lip and attempting to brush off your skittish behavior with a soft laugh, Beomgyu must find you strange now.
And whilst Beomgyu continues to feign concern for you, brushing off all your apologies and maintaining a curious facade, his body practically buzzes with excitement; poor, innocent thing, one simple dream was enough to bring you right to where he wanted youâ one dream was enough to fluster and break down the solid fortitude you once set up for yourself, the man before you catching you so off guard that you never had a moment to question the sudden turn of events; he had you right where he wanted you, smiling to himself at the way you could barely maintain eye-contact before you were flustering and looking away.Â
You told yourself it would pass with time. But hours fly by with Beomgyu and nothing changesâ if anything, everything simply got much, much worseâ the man seemed to have found solace within you, getting comfortable and finding confidence in being subtly affectionate with you; holding your hand and pulling you along to show you something, brushing the corner of your mouth and teasing you for being such a messy eater, and holding a firm hand at the small of your back while you walkedâ you couldnât pretend to be unaware of everyoneâs stares even if you tried.Â
âSuch a small town, isnât it?â Beomgyu muses to you, taking in the scenery, the people that wander the streets; he finds his eyes meeting with every person they land on, holding back a sneer at the way their stares linger with fascination, landing on you with a myriad of emotions: envy, lust, disdain, he sees it all. âI feel like thereâs someone watching us at all times.â
âOh, I suppose,â you say sheepishly, as though you were the one to blame for his discomfort, âI apologize, I had no idea it would be this busy todayâ but itâs natural to be curious, I know they mean well.â
Beomgyu nods thoughtfully at your claim; surely, thereâs only so much innocence you can harbor before it begins to become naivetyâ do you really believe such lies? But of course, youâre filled with nothing but surprises, the clear look in your eyes telling him that your words are more for you to believe than him.Â
When the sun is beginning to set and the street lamps are beginning to get lit up, Beomgyu sees your mood flip like a switch; youâre getting antsy, you must want to leave soon. It doesnât take a genius to guess what might be going on in your mind at the moment.Â
âYou must be tired,â Beomgyu says, slowing to a stop before turning to face you; you led him to one of your favorite parks, taking him into the maze of a garden and along your favorite trail, the light and excitement in your face enough to make the scenery around him seem dull.
You look like a deer caught in headlights at his words; was it so obvious? You stammer and try to sugarcoat how you feel unsure of how to tell him that you want to leave now, not because youâre tired of his presence, but because you feel as though youâre not in your right mind at the moment.Â
Oh, how could you possibly tell him that the reason you must leave soon is because you feel a nauseating urge to repent? That, as soon as you say your final goodbyes, smiling shyly and turning around to walk away from him with a haste, youâre going to make your way straight to the church? The night is cold but your body is far from it, face burning with shame as you walk into your sanctuary with a haste, unsure of how to deal with the fact that youâre thinking very impure thoughts over a man youâve just met; the very reminder is enough to make your stomach lurch once more.Â
The warmth of the building doesnât feel as welcoming anymore; it only makes your body hotter, breaking out with a light sweat as you slowly approach the basin of holy water, dipping your fingers in and slowly crossing yourselfâ you take a deep breath, ignoring the flames of shame that eat at you as you walk inside.Â
The confessional is just by the entrance, at the very end of the left wall and tucked in safely from any private eyes. The velvet curtain beckons you, and as you rush over in a haste, you canât bring yourself to catch eyes with the priest that stands by the altar, having caught sight of you immediatelyâ there was no one else that would come here so late at night but you.Â
You sit at the very edge of your seat, hunched over and staring at your lap as you wait. You can feel the heat of the single lightbulb above you on your back, searing into your nape as you pick at your nails anxiously. It feels like time has frozen within this small booth youâve cooped yourself in, the heat of it all only making you more restless as you wait, head ducked down in shame, much too afraid to look into the screen that separates you from the only other person that will ever know about the dark thoughts that plague you.
After what feels like an eternity, you hear footsteps approaching; you peek up instinctively, just in time to watch the velvet curtain on the other side get pushed openâ your head goes back down hurriedly.
Itâs not too often you come into the confessional, but you still find yourself doing the routine like you were born to do so. Your hand crosses yourself dutifully, licking nervously at your dry lips that part to speakâ your voice feels timid and broken, the words you speak heavy on your tongue.Â
âBless me father, for I have sinned.â
Itâs been about four weeks since you last confessed, you tell him, wringing your hands together as you attempt to find the words to say, feeling as though a heavy lump in your throat prevents you from expressing the truth; itâs too much, you find yourself thinking, the burden and shame of it all bringing a heat to your cheeks, reluctant to voice your sins aloud. Moments pass and you have said nothing, but the priest on the other side remains patientâ the silence and the heat of his stare through the screen only makes you more aware of the guilt that sits in your stomach.Â
âFather, I donât know what to do,â you sob softly, the dam finally breaking in one, swift motion; words spill from your lips with abandon, unable to keep track of what to say as you scoot close to the screen, barely on your seat as you lean your forehead against the cool wood.
âI have restrained myself all my life, Iâve avoided the temptation that is thrown my way, the dangers presented to meâ Iâve remained strongâ yetâŚâ you swallow thickly, a shuddered sigh leaving your lips as your hands brace themselves against the screen; your palms press against the sturdy structure, a false sense of security as you hesitate to say the words youâre about to admit, âyetâ these past few days Iâve been plagued with nothing but thoughts of lust. Of blasphemy.âÂ
For a moment, thereâs only silence. Memories seem to bubble up from the confession, detailed and vivid, playing against your eyes that screw shut as though in pain.Â
Itâs all wrong. So, so so wrong, the warm feelings that stir within unfamiliar as you remember all the thoughts that fill your mind throughout the day.Â
âItâs unlike meâ Iâve never found myself to think anything so crude, so immoral,â you say, hanging your head with shame, âYet I find that I cannot stop. Father, Iâve prayed and Iâve remained abstinent, but the thought that I fear the most is the one⌠that makes me doubt whether Iâm on the right path.â
On the other side of the screen, youâre faintly able to make out his figure shifting. Your hesitation is evident as you finally admit something you hadnât been able to accept yourself.Â
âFather, Iâm afraid that Iâll give in.â
More silence follows. Youâre sure that the priest must be in deep thought on the other side, but the silence only seems to make you more anxious; how low youâve come, a voice within you chides, wanting to throw away your purity for a man youâve just only just met. How vile.
The voice is cold and blunt and unlike your ownâ the sudden thought startles you, your spine straightening as you look around you, a shiver going throughout your body. Inevitably, you look through the screen once more. On the other side, youâre able to see the faint image of the priest, his head hanging and lost in thought.Â
You feel as though youâre in a daze for the rest of your time there; you can only nod softly with every piece of advice he offers you, telling you to remain strong and trust that your faith in God will guide you to the right pathâ he tells you to pray, to devote yourself to the church in any way you can, your penance weighing your heart as you agree to it all.Â
âMy child, be aware that this is another test of your faith. You mustnât give in,â he finally says, stopping you in your motion to leave, âYou are a pure flower, bound to attract others who do not have your best interest in mind.â
Hesitantly, you nod, unsure if youâre deserving of this praise he sings to you.
âIf you ever find yourself in doubt, know that you can always come to me.â
Thereâs an odd feeling that blooms within you at his words; you know you should feel comforted, honored to have someone to support you in your time of need, but instead you can only muster a wry smile, whispering a soft of course before youâre exiting the booth in a haste.Â
Glancing behind you, youâre reassured to see that the priest has yet to come out; you donât think you could face him any time soon, knowing that despite the anonymity of the booth, your identity is quite obvious.Â
No one else resides in the church as you make your way down the nave and down to your usual spot. Your footsteps feel heavy on the rug as you stand before the altar, head tilted up to be able to take it all in properly; the marble statues that look as though they might come to life, the angels that bow down and the intricate details that go to frame the cross in the middleâ you stare up at the altar for what feels like hours, the guilt in your heart weighing you as you take a deep bow and go to sit.Â
Your mind is calm, but your heart is restless; you pray for forgiveness and plead to not be led astray, yet something within you itches to do just thatâ a tug at your heart, wondering what it would be like to indulge yourself for onceâ youâve seen the other members of your church, the way they comply and worship yet change in the blink of an eye once theyâre out of this sanctuaryâ so, would it really be that bad? Youâve seen their actions, know their hearts; they treat you so kindly, worship your lord so devoutlyâ so, is it really unjust for you to do the same?
Your nails dig deep into your skin, a way to snap yourself out of that train of thought, scolding yourself for thinking this way of others around youâ for attempting to reason with the whispers of temptation that attempt to lure you.Â
How long you spend lost in thought is unknown to youâ minutes, maybe hours, your knees sore and your clasped hands clammy as you rest your forehead against them, eyes screwed shut and lost in prayer; it was a meditation of sorts, finally able to cast out straying tangents and focus on one thing. Your breathing is slow, tired, your body slowly giving in to the exhaustion, muscles weighing you down as you continue to prayâ it isnât until youâve found yourself about to doze off that you realize you must leave.Â
When you stand, youâre shaken awake instantly. You couldâve sworn youâd be the only one left in the building by now, yet the priest still lingers by the altar, tending to the candles and shifting aboutâ the smile you send when he glances behind curiously and meets your eyes must seem as ingenuine as it feels, because you see his expression fall instantly.Â
Itâs important to rest. You must be seeing things, you think, tightening your coat around you before youâre stepping out of your pew and turning to leaveâ your steps are unconsciously haste, your arms that wrap around yourself unnaturally tight, yet you still flinch the moment your name is being calledâ softly, but still echoing throughout the building.Â
You find yourself feeling reluctant as you turn. Your words are timid as you address him.
âYes Father?â
Upon your surprise, he is not too far from youâ as though he had been mere steps behind, wanting to close the gap between you two as he continues to move forward; he sends you a soft smile, head tilting in curiosity and brows furrowing in worry as he speaks.Â
âMy dear, are you leaving? At this hour?â he asks, watching you nod meekly, âBut it is so dangerous; it is far too cold and dark for someone like you to be out alone.â
Sheepishly, you smile, hands wringing themselves without you realizing.
âItâs quite alright, Father. Iâm stronger than you think.â
The soft laugh he lets out is meant to be lighthearted, though you canât help but think itâs one of disbelief instead.Â
âIâm sure, but you must understand my concern; to let you leave alone like this would be wrong of me.â His smile is fond as he steps closer to you, gesturing behind him as he proposes, âWhy donât you stay here for the night? Itâd be much safer.â
âOh, thank you Father, but I think itâd be better for me to go to my home instead,â you say softly, pressing your hands firmly against your beating heart, âI have a busy day tomorrow, and I donât think itâd be wise to rest on the pews.âÂ
He laughs again, shaking his head in amusement; your brows knit together in slight confusion, laughing along hesitantly nonetheless.
âOf course my dear,â he starts, your smile widening in hopes that heâs giving up this small fight, âbut thatâs not what I was referring to.â
âI meant that you should rest here tonight,â he repeats again, voice softening as he continues, âwith me.â
Your eyes widen in shockâ itâs painted all over your face as well, unsure of what to make of his sudden offer as you resort to letting out an incredulous laugh instead.Â
âOh Father, I couldnât possiblyââ you gulp, softening your tone at the sight of his confused face, âItâ it wouldnât be right. I mustnât disturb you.âÂ
âBut you wouldnât be disturbing at all,â he insists, taking a step toward you, talking animatedly with his hands as he does, âIâm inviting you, afterall, Iâd love the companyâ it does get lonely sometimes, I must admit.â
You attempt to maintain a look of understanding, nodding along to his every wordâ but you remain firm in your stance regardless as you respond.Â
âI understand, and I truly do appreciate the offer,â you try again, beginning to walk back despite the slow souring of his face, âbut, even so, I really must leaveââ
âWhy?â he suddenly interrupts, his voice sharp and his expression cold, âwhy are you so insistent on leaving?â
âIâm tired, is allââ
âLies.â he shuts you down again. âAll of it. For if you were true to your word, youâd have no issue accepting my offer to accommodate you.â
Shaking your head, you shrink within yourself, shoulders caving in as he begins following your stepsâ you attempt to give him reason, to be polite and kind, yet he hears none of it.Â
âYou come to plead for forgiveness yet are so quick to run back to your old ways,â he says, his every step like a resounding boom in your mindâ you deny him adamantly again, but all you get in response is a cold look.Â
It seems as though youâve nowhere to goâ the doors had been shut due to the cold and your back presses against it, but before you can reach for the handle and open your only exit, you find yourself trappedâ the priestâs hand is heavy as it slams on the handle, the loud sound causing you to jump and yelp in surprise.Â
âCanât you see? I only want whatâs best for you,â you feel as though you might merge with the wood of the door as you press yourself to it, eyes glued to the floor in an attempt to escape the cruel wrath of the priest that towers above you, spitting words of discipline, âItâs dangerous for you out there. You havenât the slightest idea what would happen to you if you were found like thisâ alone, helpless, defenseless.â
âI have gone out of my way to provide you shelter, yet you refuse; I know what it is youâre truly adamant to get back to,â he grits, as though it pained him to sayâ his eyes narrow, watching as you merely tremble and refuse to look at him, finding himself tired of you not meeting his eyeâ the cry you let out is insignificant as he takes hold of your shoulders, shaking you and crouching down to meet your face.Â
âAnd I will not have you whoring yourself out to another man! â Your eyes are screwed shut now, tears threatening to flow down as you reach for the hands on your shoulders, attempting to pry them offâ he pays no mind to your attempts, continuing to scream in your face until you find that you can withstand no more.Â
âPlease! Let me go!âÂ
Your chest heaves. Your wide eyes are brimming with tears and your legs are shaking terribly, just like your hands that have just shoved the priest off you; he seems just as shocked as you are, mouth parted in surprise before he finally goes to regain his composure.
âI-Iâm so sorry Father, Iââ your voice breaks and you feel the hot streams of tears on your cheeks, a trembling hand reaching behind you in search of the handleâ when you find it, you immediately pull it open.Â
âIâIâ I must go, Iâm so sorry, please forgive me, I didnât mean it, Iâm soââ
âYou do not deserve to be deflowered and tainted by the evils of this world,â the priest says, his voice hoarse and stopping you effortlessly in your tracks; he doesnât bother looking at you anymore, staring at your feet with a pinched expression of frustration instead. âBut if that is what your blasphemous heart truly desires, then so be it.â
When his head raises and his eyes meet yours, youâre stunnedâ his eyes shine, a forlorn look settled within them.Â
âYou were so perfect, my child,â he says softly, frowning at the fear in your eyes, the heavy heaving of your chest, âyou were divine.â
âMay God have mercy on your soul.â
Brows furrowing together, you deny him one last timeâ this time, he simply watches as you slip out the door, fleeing with sharp steps and sobbing quietly into your hands, cheeks stinging from the cold.Â
The path before you is dimâ the trek to your home is long. Without realizing, you think of the priestâs warnings, tears an endless stream as you part your lips in a soft whisper.Â
âOh Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protectionâŚâ
Through the long journey back to your way home, you sob and you pray. By the top steps of the church, hidden by the columns and tucked safely into the darkness, Beomgyu watches. He watches until your figure is nothing but a small speck against the vast landscape of the town, your trembling body and the echoes of your soft sobs ingrained into his mind.Â
Slowly, he turns back to look at the doors, into the small sliver of warm light provided by your failure to close the door properly.Â
His eyes catch movement; a grin grows on his face.
  âŞââ
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Tonight, it seems as though your heart and your mind have finally conceded. Tonight, you dream deeply.Â
In your dreams, it is all a haze; youâve found yourself within the holy sanctuary once more, slowly making your way down the nave, past the crowded pews of hooded figures with their heads ducked down, hands folded dutifully in front of you and your eyes pinned straight ahead. The altar beckons you, the thickened, incensed air bringing a calm through your system as you walk. You walk and you walk, eyes pinned on the cross that looms over you.Â
The path seems to warpâ the nave seems never-ending, the carpet slowly becoming worn and darkened with every step you takeâ your heart beats a little faster now, nails digging into your skin with a subconscious tension; yet you continue to walk, whether you want to or not.Â
Everything feels so heavy. You feel lethargic and dizzy, feeling as though submerged underwater, limbs moving oh so slowly; the room around you has begun to darken, unable to halt your trek down to the altar no matter how much you tryâ everything has begun to fade to black, the pews of people turning to dust, the carpet beneath you disappearing beneath your feetâ the only thing that remains steady is the altar in front of you and the steps you take.Â
You canât breatheâ have you been breathing at all? Itâs a fleeting thought that crosses your mind, the burning of your lungs and the pressure on your chest sudden and alarmingâ the smell of incense no longer enters your system, but you can still feel the air thicken around you; somehow, your eyes remain wide open through it all, stuck onto the mesmerizing, pure altar that remains on its fixed point in the distance.Â
It feels as though hours have passed, and youâve yet to make any progress. Your body remains still as the darkness around you. Just when youâve begun to wonder if there will ever be any end in sight, something changes.Â
Itâs subtle, at firstâ you think it might just be a trick of the mind. The very edges of the altar have started to fade into the darkness, the sharp edges of the pure, white marble statues turning fuzzyâ the wings of the angels, the top of the cross, the podium that holds it all upâ itâs fading into the abyss, becoming one with the eternal nothingness around youâ and as much as you feel yourself panic, wanting to speed your pace, break into a run in a weak attempt to stop itâ you canât. The sound of your steps is like a metronome in your ears, falling against the void and keeping you still. All you can do is watch.Â
Your eyes remain wide open throughout it all. Your dress sways with every step you take, your body not realizing that soon enough, youâll be walking towards nothing. The faces of the angelâs are now fading into obscurity, the darkness prickling at Jesusâ nailed hands and thorned crown; your heart hammers against your chest, forced to watch as it pools around Maryâs feet.Â
The few remnants of the holy altar are slowly being swallowed by this strange darkness; sorrow fills your weak being, wondering why it is that your body continues to walk forwardâ there is nothing left to go to, the last of Maryâs bowed body getting lost into the abyssâ and as your eyes scan her smooth, marble complexion, you catch on a single crimson tear, welling up at the inner corner of her eye, able to watch it grow as though you were standing inches before itâ it grows and grows, until it can no longer stay still. The path it runs down the smoothness of her cheeks is striking, a sharp trail left behind as it drips off into nothing.Â
The last of her fades away.Â
There is nothing but darkness ahead of you; even so, you continue forward. Your mind has emptied, body becoming lax as the steps you take become effortless, light, like walking on air. Your eyelids feel heavy with sleep, the haze in your brain returning twice as strong.Â
You can feel yourself walking, but you cannot see anything; not even yourself. A voice within wonders if you might be left to walk forever, towards an end goal that will never show itself to you.Â
Come to me.Â
Despite your shock, you do not halt. The voice is soft and sweet, like dripping honeyâ itâs only three words, but even so, you find yourself entranced, following the command even if youâre unsure whether youâre going the right direction.Â
Closer, come.Â
The voice beckons you so effortlessly, like a leash that wraps around your figure, pulling you forward, following your instinct to continue to walk, to explore what it is that calls to you so sweetly.Â
Unlike the altar that has now been lost on your once worried mind, something has begun to fade into view. It is soft and hazy, with a slight glow that hurts your eyesâ unable to make out what it is youâre now making your way towards, eyes dilating and adjusting slowly.Â
A bright, ruffled shirt, a corset thatâs tied tightly, long flowing sleeves covering the hands that rest leisurely at their sides; your gaze is quick to sweep up their appearance, a quick observation before you move onto what tugs at your curiosity the mostâ only to find that their face remains obscured by the darkness, a slight blur of what could be registering in your mindâ you think you see soft, plump lips that curl into a reassuring smile, but it might be wishful thinking, if anything at all.Â
Slowly, they raise a handâ calling you closer, the path beneath you finally beginning to shrink with each step you takeâ their fingertips outstretched toward you, as though expecting you to do the same. And even when you fail to mirror their actions, they refuse to falter, accepting you as you are.Â
It is only when you stand before them that your body finally stops. Your face expressionless as you observe the person in front of you carefully, oddly hesitant to accept their offer. You stand for a moment, left in a standstill as the figure lets out a soft, echoing laugh.Â
Do not be afraid, they tell you, their words wrapping around you warmly, take my hand.Â
You blink. Your body suddenly feels like your own, the grounding heaviness of your limbs making you realize that it is now you who controls what you do next; glancing down at yourself curiously, you look back up at the figure, where they remain waiting expectantly.
You take a step closer. Their smile widens slightly.Â
Good, they say, soft and deep like a purr, closer.Â
Slowly, you bring a hand up, finding a slight hesitation to make contact with this outstretched handâ and, as though hearing your doubts, the figure chuckles, teasing and lighthearted, as though already aware of what you will choose in the end.Â
When your skin touches theirs, you feel nothing. It is like air under your palm.Â
Your grip tightens, unsure if youâve taken their hand at all; before you can so much as take a breath, their hold shifts, hand sliding forward and deft fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist, fingertips digging into the skinâ youâre pulled in without warning, stumbling forward and crashing into their strong chest.Â
Looking up, you find that you cannot bring yourself to feel afraidâ their smile is radiant as they look down at you, the faint outline of their head much too fuzzy for you to understandâ the air cracks as two pure wings stretch out, curling around the two of you and moving to cage you in shortly afterâ feathers fly around the air from the aggressive movement, fluttering around before they rot black, lighting at the quill and turning to ashes, the crackling sounds filling your ears as you look around you in confusion, only to get the sight obscured by the darkening wings that trap you.Â
Eyes on me, the voice says, echoing in your mind, following their command immediately. The soft smile that remained on their lips can no longer be contained, growing into a grin that shows off brilliant canines that shine down at you. I will give you everything you seek.Â
Feeling the twinge of hope in your heart, the figure pulls you closer still, allowing your body to press against theirs.Â
Seek me, they whisper lowly, a hand beginning to snake around your waist, dancing fingertips pressing into the small of your backâ leaning down, they whisper softly into your ear.Â
Find me in our sanctuary, you can hear their grin through their words, and I will give you all you yearn for.Â
Their lips ghost over the shell of your ear.Â
Quickly.Â
Before you can react, they dissolve to nothing.Â
Youâre left alone in the abyss once more.Â
  âŞââ
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When you startle awake, you find that it is still nighttime; sitting straight up in your bed, you look out the windowâ snow falls peacefully, the quietness of the scenery doing nothing to calm your beating heart.Â
The dream.Â
Words and messages echo throughout your mind, unsure of what to make of it all. Your chest heaves slightly with confusion, eyes adjusting to the darkness as you glance over at your bedside tableâ the statue of the cross greets you like always, the soft voice from your dream resurfacing in your tired brain.Â
Your body is moving on its own accord; your coat, your shoes, all of it is being thrown on before your dazed mind can even process it, still weighed with sleep as you stumble around in the darkness. Only one thought seems to keep you moving, like a restless pull that leads you out your front door.Â
Swinging it open, youâre met with the freezing winter breeze; the trees sway and creak, snowflakes falling in your direction and landing against the apples of your cheeksâ shaking you awake slightly, a quiet voice within you wondering what it is youâre doing, telling you that you should go back inside and restâ but even through this small window of reason you receive, the warmth that leaks from behind your home attempting to wrap around you and pull you back in, the need to seek closure haunts you; your boots crunch beneath the freshly fallen snow, sealing your fate as you haphazardly close the door behind you.
It all feels like a dream stillâ and you wonder if it is, blinking away the snow that gets in your eyes, your walk through the emptied path that leads back to the center of town turning haste; you feel as though it is something else that is pushing you forward, allowing you to head through this dark and barren path without so much as a light to guide the way, the sound of the wind whistling through your ears and the snow crunching beneath your feet following along.
There must be a reason, your weary mind thinks, a passing thought through the blankness of your mind, passing through the desolate, closed shops, not a single street lantern lit to give you a sense of security, there is something calling you back.Â
In your right state of mind, you never would have found yourself doing this; after what happened mere hours ago, you wouldnât have been able to walk in this general direction without feeling guilt and fear weighing you downâ in your fully conscious state of mind, you would have stopped to contemplate your actions the moment you began to lace up your shoesâ but in this moment, as you slow to a stop and turn to face the stone steps that lead to the first faint, flickering light youâve seen tonight, youâre none of thatâ instead, you allow yourself to give in to this strange, delirious state of being youâve found yourself in.Â
The tall steps of the church have blurred together. Your head remains bowed, eyes glued to your feet as you ascend, hands folded neatly in front of you as snow falls around you, on your clothes and in your hair.Â
When you arrive at the top, a hand reaching out for the entrance, you hesitateâ your eyes widen, and as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over you, you take in the door that has been left ajar, the lights that are no longer on inside; your hand remains outstretched for a moment, and for the first time tonight, a single question runs through your head.
Why are you here?
Standing straight, you turn to look over your shoulder, out at the town behind youâ all is still, eerily so, like youâre the only person there. Even in the distance, in the neighborhoods, you do not find a single light on. A chill runs through your body, suddenly aware that youâre standing outside in the snowfall with nothing but your nightgown and a winter coat on; with blazing cheeks, you rush to slip inside the sanctuary in hopes of getting your confused mind back in order.Â
The door falls shut behind you, the soft click rendering you in complete darkness; not even the magnificent, stained glass windows are able to provide you with a proper source of light, nervously looking around and taking in the church in this desolate, foreign state.
Youâve heard that old habits die hardâ without realizing, youâve made your way to the basin of holy water, shaking fingers reaching in to be dipped so you can cross yourselfâ only, you continue to reach in, going in further until your fingertips are touching the cool porcelain of the bowl; head snapping over the sensation, you frown in confusion at the sight of the empty basinâ walking over to the one placed adjacently, you squint, reaching in unsurely, only to be met with the same cold feeling.Â
Strange.
Retracting your hand, you cradle it close to your chest, a frown tugging at your features as you try to brush off the confusion; looking forward once more, youâre left face to face with the marble altar that sits at the end of the nave, beckoning you to come closer.Â
It mustâve been a sign of God. That is the only explanation that would justify the strange circumstances of it all, making you way down the familiar carpet, the soft sound of your steps enough to rival the beating of your heart in your ears.Â
Stepping off the carpet, you go to bow in respectâ only to hear a strange sound beneath your feet, like a splashing of sortsâ glancing down in confusion, your eyes narrow, attempting to decipher what it is youâve stepped in; a pool of water maybe, looking above you to see if there might be a leak in the ceilingâ a few seconds go by, and when you neither feel nor see anything fall, your frown deepens.Â
âYou came.âÂ
Your heart spikes and your gaze drops to the source of the sound, unable to do anything but gasp from the startleâ through the darkness, standing behind the altar, a figure speaks to you. The sight is reminiscent and makes your legs shake, a mixture of fear and awe filling your body as you find yourself unable to speak.Â
âI wondered what it would take for you to finally give in,â the voice, soft and melodic, murmurs; even through the darkness, you can feel their gaze pinned onto you intently. âSuch a shame it had to go this far.â
Before you can react, a thunder-like sound fills the empty walls of the church, cracking loudly and causing you to flinch, ducking down and covering yourself instinctivelyâ through your eyelids that remain screwed shut, you see light filling the room around you, the flickering warmth of the candles glowing against your lids, beckoning you to lookâ after a moment, you give in.Â
Your hands tremble as you put them down, straightening up and taking a look around you: the candles have been lit up, from the chandeliers and lanterns above you to the small, worn candles at the sides of the altarâ your eyes squint, trying to adjust, rubbing the sleep out of them and blinking slowly as you finally take in the figure that awaited your arrival.Â
A familiar face smiles down at you sweetly.Â
A loose, white shirt, a corset that ties tightly around the waist, flowing sleeves that pool around his delicate handsâ your shaking pupils take it all in, lips parting to speak, only to close once more when youâve found that nothing can come out. His hair is mused and curls at the nape of his neck, long strands falling into his kind eyes that watch you carefully.Â
Behind him, two vast white wings stretch out, the grand sight making your eyes widen in wonder.Â
Before you can control yourself, your knees buckle in shock.Â
Beomgyu laughs at you, the sound tender to your ears; placing his hands on the table of the altar, he leans forward, looking down at you and tilting his head in curiosity.Â
âWhatâs wrong, my lamb?â
All you can do is stare, left speechless and shaken as you remain silentâ he laughs again, eyes crinkling in amusement, bright smile on display and adding to his otherworldly appearance.Â
âDo not be afraid,â he says, cradling his face with his palm, cooing softly at the way you still remain paralyzed with shock, âI only want whatâs best for you, little lamb.âÂ
You blink; shifting, youâve found your clothes have become soaked at the knees, realizing belatedly that you mustâve fallen into the puddle from earlierâ glancing down, you wince, only to freeze at what you see.Â
A striking crimson soils your clothes. It drags into a path that leads off into one of the rooms on the side, your heart sinking and a cold fear striking down your spine.Â
The scream that rips though you echoes and burns your throat.Â
Beomgyu frowns. Heâs not surprised, nor is he confused; he simply continues to watch you, beginning to round the altar table the moment you begin to crawl back from where you kneel, your legs refusing to cooperate as hot tears brim your eyes.Â
âOh no,â he tsks softly, wings folding inward so he can make his way down the nave, brows knitting together as he watches you, the intensity of his gaze keeping your eyes pinned on his as you cry in confusion, attempting to stand shakily, only to failâ he pouts, stepping in the puddle that startled you, watching as you flinch at the sight of the brilliant droplets that splash out and cling to his once pristine, white boots. âWhy do you run?âÂ
âThatâ the-the bloodââ you sob, hysterical, unable to get your words out through stuttered breaths, âWhatââ
âShh,â he hushes you hastily, closing the distance between the two of you and stepping on your delicate nightgown, forcing you to be still as he towers over youâ he leans down, hair framing his face beautifully, mischievous eyes twinkling as his face hovers inches before yoursâ his wings cage around the two of you, a sight to see as you merely stare up at him in utter consternation, âdonât bother with him.â
A chill runs down your spine, electrifying and forcing you to sit ram-rod straightâ through the small cracks beneath his wings, you take in the streaks that have dried against the tiles, the implication of his words causing a feeling of dread to pool within you, feeling as though you might vomit with the next words you speak.Â
âWhoâŚâ you breathe out, shaky and helpless as you stare up at Beomgyu; he had already been watching you, apathetic expression bringing sheer horror to your system, finally noticing small details you had been so eager to gloss over in your earlier hasteâ the tainted sleeves of his shirt, the messiness of his clothes, his empty, dark eyesâ and your face screws into an expression of sorrow, your nails digging into the soiled carpet beneath you.Â
âWhat have you done?â
Beomgyu doesnât react to your question. He remains still, eerily so, before he finally stands up straight, wings spreading proudly behind him; he stares down at you, hands held behind his back and voice flat as he speaks.Â
âNothing I havenât done before.â
Beomgyu thinks this might be his favorite part; he allows himself to watch as you force yourself to your feet, eyes blown out with horror as you stumble back, afraid he might come after youâ when you see he has yet to move, you turn and run, the sight familiar as a grin grows on his face; he allows you to slam against the doors, watches confusion flood your actions as you attempt to force the door open, only beginning to take steps to go after you once youâve begun to pound on the door hastily, hoarse voice screaming and crying for help, hoping for someone to hear your pleas and rescue you.Â
âYou know, thereâs no one that would be out on a night like this,â Beomgyu calls out, his voice booming effortlessly over your painful attempts to seek rescue; his steps are slow and cruel, and you look over your shoulder, tensing at the sight of him nearing you, refusing to give up as you try slamming your body against the wood, only to no avail. âNo one stupid enough, that is.â
Your body is well beyond bruised by now, pausing your attempts to break down the door in a desperate hope to check the handle once more; youâre rattling it roughly, crying out when youâre met with resistance. Defeated, your forehead slams against the wood, allowing your sobs to wrack through your body, fingers tightening around the handle hopelessly.Â
âNow now, donât be like this,â Beomgyuâs soft voice coos into your ear, much closer than you anticipated him to be; you flinch, feeling his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his chest pressing firmly against your backâ his arms wrap around your waist slowly, bringing you in and forcing you to remain pressed against him, âis this not what you have been seeking all along?â
Effortlessly, he pulls you away from the door. Maybe itâs the will to fight that ebbs out of your being, or maybe itâs his superhuman strength, pulling you off and forcing the two of you to walk backwards, your hands falling limply at your sides and your head falling back to stare at the ceiling, glossy eyes barely processing the words he speaks next.Â
âCome with me,â he murmurs, the searing touch of his hands searing through your clothes, burning your skin, âyour heart has been searching for me, you know.â
Allowing him to walk you backwards, you whimper at his wordsâ a sharp reminder of what it was that kept bringing you back here, unwavering guilt sinking your stomach at the faint fire that flickers within.Â
âNo. Please,â you breath out, hushed and hurried as you shake your head, âPlease, I beg of you, have mercyââ
Beneath you, you hear the familiar splash of liquid; you yelp in panic, jumping against Beomgyuâs body and trying to look down on instinctâ youâre stopped before you can successfully do so, his heated palm pressing against your eyes, forcing you to be left in the dark.Â
âDonât.â he says softly, his arm tightening around you, feeling tears pool beneath his skin, âyouâre alright, Iâm here with you.âÂ
âSuch a poor thing. Life has treated you quite unfairly, hasnât it?â Beomgyu speaks aloud, feeling you hesitate and stumble as he leads you up towards the elevated altar, listening to your jagged breaths with a slightly pitied look. âPerfect and pure all your life, a devoted follower of god.âÂ
âDonât worry,â Beomgyu says, hand coming off your eyes for just a momentâ not that you even noticed, your eyes had been screwed shut all alongâ only to wrap a cloth around your head instead, deft hands making a careful knot at the back of your head; sliding your clothing to the side, Beomgyu ignores the way you jolt when his soft lips press a kiss to your shoulder. His breath tickles as it fans on your skin.Â
âYouâve done well, my lamb.â
Beomgyu knows that you will never be able to grasp what is happening; especially not in this stunned state youâre in, the cloth around your eyes already soaked through with silent tears, hands limp at your sides as he takes in your face curiously, noticing your lips that move with silent words.Â
Even now, you pray.Â
My Lord and my God, your lips read, whispers of the faint words slipping from you, in my acceptance of the type of death you plan for me, I join your sufferings on the Cross.Â
Beomgyu watches you hesitate. Your bottom lip wobbles and your throat swallows thickly.Â
All I ask is that you stand beside me and never leave me.
Even through the veil that has been put over your eyes, a stray tear manages to slip through.Â
Beomgyu should feel bad for laughing, he supposesâ but he canât help it, taking in the melodramatic sight with thorough amusement, watching you flinch and press your lips together tightly. He shakes his head softly, finding himself becoming fond of your antics as he takes a hold of your hand, ignoring the way you startle so easily as he guides you to where he wants you instead.Â
âOh dear,â he sighs, leading you to press back against the altar table, stiffening at the unexpected feeling, âI fear you may have misunderstood me entirely. See, I donât want to kill you, my lamb.â
Your brows furrow; heâs confused you, he can tell.Â
âThereâs something your pretty little heart has been curious about, isnât there?â he asks, a grin stretching across his face as you shiver, already aware of what he may be hinting atâ but even so, you try to remain clueless, even if youâre quite terrible at it. âSomething⌠you want.â
âThere is nothing,â you reply, quickly, albeit shakily, âplease, I justâ just spare meââ
âNow, thereâs no need to lie.â Beomgyu coos, placing his hands on your waist, hoisting you up on the altar table in one swift motion; you gasp, hands reaching blindly for something to stable yourself on, one landing on Beomgyuâs shoulder and the other on the marble beneath youâ the hand on his body quickly slips off, and Beomgyu finds himself craving for more.Â
âYouâve been denying yourself for so long,â Beomgyu murmurs, his voice a hypnotizing lull that causes you to gulp. His fingertips dance across your waist, trailblazing a fire that refuses to die down, mixing with the fear that pounds your heart against your chest. âYou must feel so, so trapped.â
âThereâs no need to pretend here,â he smiles, reaching up to caress your cheek, watching you gulp, fists clenched tightly in your lap, âIâm aware of everything. Itâs only human nature, after all.â
Fervently, you shake your head. Your consistent denial is almost impressive to Beomgyu, the facade of confidence you try to exude with your voice both evident and pity-inducing.Â
âI refuse to give in to the temptations of sin,â you say, the words like a recited script at this point; Beomgyuâs lip curls in distaste.Â
âIt is not sin,â he whispers softly, hands beginning to wander down from your sides to your hips, grasping softly at the skin before moving down, to the tops of your thighs and over your hands that remain clenched tightly, âit is merely the human experience.â
His hands feel hot over your own; you can feel him press against your body from where you sit, undoubtedly looming over you and caging you in as he speaks. His actions are absentminded as he caresses your hand, stroking the skin soothingly as he continues to invade your senses, whispering things that only the deepest, darkest parts of your heart have considered.Â
âYouâve worked so hard to live a pious, pure life,â Beomgyu says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you frown, finally beginning to listen to the words he feeds you, âeven at the face of danger, you remained loyalâ even now, you continue to refuse me.â
âBut, donât you see? The lord has brought you here for a reason.â His eyes shine the moment you shift restlessly under his grip, pressing himself tighter against you, âyour dreams, your thoughts, they have led you here for a purpose only you can serve.â
You try to refute him yet again; your lips open, but you hesitate, unsure of what to say. You remain quiet instead.Â
âWill you deny the fate god has bestowed you?â
A soft pout forms on your face; your heart is racing, and your mind must be too, because you donât bother to react when Beomgyuâs hand leaves your own, trailing down your thighs and prodding your legs open so he can stand between themâ too deep in thought to realize that heâs lifting your nightgown up, bunching it at your knees tentatively.Â
Beomgyu watches you carefully, taking in your silence and smiling triumphantly as he speaks, âHere,â his other hand slides to place itself on the bare skin of your inner thigh, watching with sadistic pleasure as you jolt and yelp in surprise, âIâll show you what it is youâve been searching for.â
Your skin is tender as he begins to trail forward, eager to touch you and familiarize himself with youâ only to get stopped by your trembling hand, his eyes darting to your troubled face, brows furrowing with confusion as he watches you muster the courage to say something.Â
âNâŚNotâŚâ it feels as though nerves and fear have swallowed you whole, having to take a deep breath in order to continue your sentence, âNot here. Not like this.â
âHmm? But where else could this possibly happen?â he asks teasingly, much too desperate to heed your half-hearted request, âmy lamb, it is perfect here.â
âBeomgyu, this place, itâs sacred,â your lips pressed together, using all the courage within you to speak up, âIt is a home to me, I couldnât bear to desecrate itââ
Beomgyuâs fingers dig into the plush of your thigh, able to feel his face hover over yours as he speaks through gritted teeth, eyes burning holes into your skin.Â
âThis was my home too.â
It all happens so suddenly; youâre pushed to lay back against the table, legs forced open as Beomgyu gets closer still, your lips parting in a soft gasp as he successfully bunches your nightgown at your hips, looming over you so he can undo your coat.Â
âAnd our lord has decreed that it is here where I finally take you.â he hisses, watches as you can only let our a broken whimper and shift restlessly beneath him; the fire has consumed you wholly by now, he knows, the seeds of lust planted within you far too much for a person like you to bareâ even the graze of his fingertips against your bare skin is enough to have you gasping.Â
âIâve waited long enough to taste you.â
Your body is alight with nerves, buzzing at the sensations around youâ though you see nothing, it heightens your other senses, forced to take note of every motion and touch Beomgyu leaves on you, from his deft hands that undo your coat to the warmth of his body between your thighs, lips pressed together in a mix of anticipation and dreadâ all you can do is lie and wait.Â
When Beomgyuâs hands slither back down to your core, youâre a squirming mess; heâs done nothing to you, yet you already seem so broken down and pliantâ youâre a sweet sight, bitten lips parting eagerly in surprise once he suddenly plants his hand firmly against your core; your panties are pathetically soaked through, a soft cry escaping you at the heat of his touch against you, hands flying to grab at his wristâ unsure of whether to press him closer of pry him off.Â
In the end, you do neither of the two. Beomgyu grins at your hesitation, a clear battle still ongoing inside your mind as you allow him to slowly rock his palm against your cunt, rubbing at your clit and causing you to sob softly at the unfamiliar sensation; your back arches and jolts of pleasure strike through you, the underlying guilt of it all causing tears to quickly well up at the corners of your eyesâ though, from pleasure or shame, youâre no longer sure of.Â
âPoor thing,â he coos softly, applying a sudden pressure against your cunt, all to watch the way your back arches in surprise, âitâs quite easy to make you cry, isnât it?â
âThis must all be so new to you,â he hums, rubbing at your cunt until your panties have begun to stick uncomfortably to you, your arousal soaking through and coating the heel of his hand thickly, âso pretty. Like an angel.â
His words cause a wave of heat to wash over your body; you feel restless, desperate for more, yet unsure of how to communicate as you find yourself hesitating each time, the undying guilt within you forcing your fingertips to dig into Beomgyuâs forearm a bit deeper.
âHmm? What is it you need, my lamb?â he asks, even if he can practically see the thoughts running through your head, reading your body and the way your hips fight to cant against his hand, âTell me, what do you want?âÂ
The way you shake your head petulantly brings a huff from Beomgyu; he watches as you heat up at his question, lips trembling with embarrassment, chin tucked down into your chest as though it would be enough to hide from his gazeâ chuckling, Beomgyu allows a few more seconds to pass, letting you sit with your own confliction, before he finally decides to take pity on you; a shaky gasp escapes your lips as Beomgyuâs hand shifts, middle and ring fingers trailing up until they press against the fabric of your panties, pushing in and teasing your leaking hole.Â
âWhy do you hold back still?â he asks softly, his hand that isnât teasing you incessantly smoothing down your thigh, stopping at your knee so he can wrap it around his slim waist, âthereâs no need to continue this act of yours; do not lie under the eyes of god.â
You cry softly, a cacophony of emotions raging within you as your nails dig deeper into your palms, cunt throbbing and sending sparks of electricity as Beomgyu presses his fingers further into you, stretching the fabric and soaking it with your own arousalâ through hushed, trembled words, you finally gather the courage to speak.Â
âI wantâŚâ you hesitate, shifting on the cold marble of the altar table, turning your head to the side in a faux attempt to avoid Beomgyuâs scrutiny, âI want more.âÂ
âI donât believe you.â Beomgyu immediately chides, his fingers moving to ghost over your clit, a satisfied smile growing on his face as you feel the shocks of pleasure from his movements, already too much for your innocent body, âyou expect me to take such a weak request seriously?â
You gasp in surprise as Beomgyu suddenly takes a hold of your chin, forcing you to face him once more as you feel him hovering over you; his breath fans across your face, eyelids fluttering behind your blindfold at the sensation.Â
âTell me again,â he says, his fingers applying just the slightest more pressure on your clit, watching as the pleasure breaks you effortlessly; his lips brush against the corner of your mouth, able to feel his coy smile as he speaks. âTell me like you mean it.â
Beomgyu waits for you eagerly; his touch on your cunt is almost nonexistent, applying just enough pressure here and there as a reminder of what it is you so desperately wish forâ itâs so easy to get you to where he wants, he thinks, watching you become overwhelmed by his presence, by the pleasure he continues to give and take away. After a mere few seconds, you finally cave.Â
âBeomgyuâŚâ you trail off, the sudden use of his name bringing a shiver through his body, the sound sweet and pure like he dreamed it to be, âBeomgyu, I canâtâ I feel so strange, please help meâ I need more.â
He chuckles lowly at your words; placing a gentle kiss at the corner of your mouth, Beomgyu straightens up, leaving you for a moment in order to hook his fingers under your panties, ready to drag them slowly down your hips.Â
âDo you have any idea what you do to me?â he sighs aloud, watching with fond eyes as you startle at the sensation, legs jumping to close back togetherâ but he wonât allow it, standing firmly between them and forcing your hips to lift, all so he can pull off the only article of clothing standing between him and what heâs desired for so long; his eyes darken at the string of arousal that follows the seat of your panties, eagerly taking in your puffy, needy cunt, body becoming alight with a carnal need to consume you whole. âYouâre perfect. Truly a gift from god.âÂ
He canât help but grin at his own comment, eyes flickering back up at the altar above him, the candles that flicker wildlyâ then he looks back down at you, your puffy, tear stained face and your hands that remain tense at your sides, lips pressed together in fear of letting a sound escapeâ but Beomgyu is much too eager to let you have what you want.Â
This ashamed and reserved attitude of yours will be no moreâ heâs determined to have you melt under his touch, fingertips curious as they finally begin to caress your bare cunt, teeth sinking into his lip as he takes in every gasp, arch, and tense your body gives him.Â
Itâs slow and oh so cruel, the way he swipes the pads of his fingertips along your slit, bringing the arousal to your clit and circling it softly, all so he can watch you pant and shiver at the sensationsâ your hands have moved to grasp at your clothes, jaw clenched as your mind tries to keep up with all these new sensations: you feel so hot and restless, a fiery itch settling deep in your core, only alleviated with the stray sparks of pleasure Beomgyu gives youâ itâs too much, yet not enough at all.Â
âWonât you let me hear you?â Beomgyu asks, fingers beginning to prod at your entrance, circling it leisurely as he observes you, âitâs no fun like this.â
You can hear the pout in his words, petulant and teasing as he coos out your name, âCâmon, I know you sound as sweet as you look.â
Youâre given no warning when his fingers breach your entrance; a yelp escapes you before you can process it, the sudden stretch bringing chills down your spineâ itâs just his middle finger first, lithe and calculated as it curls and prods at your walls, feeling you flutter and clench around him as he adds his ring finger in nextâ youâre letting out a cry at how fast it all happens, a hand reaching down to grasp at his wrist, a mixture of shock and pleasure filling your being.Â
âBeomgyuâŚ!â
âAgain,â he murmurs, fingers beginning to stretch your walls, pumping steadily and curling, listening to the quiet mewls and moans you let out, âlouder. Show me how much you like it.â
âBeomgyu⌠ohâ! N-not there, ahâ!â Youâre a squirming mess, shifting beneath his hold and shaking your head, the feelings far too much for youâ Beomgyu doesnât bother to heed your requests, abusing the soft, spongy parts of your walls that seem to make you react the most; you choke and hiccup pathetic moans, thighs tensing and spasming around him, hands shaking from the tight hold you have on your nightgown; it gets difficult having to chase your hips after a while, Beomgyuâs eyes narrowing as he places a harsh hand down on you, pinning you down against the table, fingers digging into the soft skin as you gasp.Â
âStay still.â is all he says to you, palm pressing against your clit as he slowly fingers you, drinking in the miniscule changes of your expression eagerly, âDonât fight it.âÂ
âIt feels good, doesnât it?â He asks, punctuating his words with a cruel curl into you; you gasp, chest heaving as a tight coil builds up within you, âdoesnât it feel so nice?âÂ
âSo sad, youâve been denying yourself such bliss for so long,â Beomgyu utters softly, cooing at the way you cry and struggle to remain sane, overwhelmed by everything Beomgyu does to you, âwonât you let me take care of you?âÂ
Carefully, he hovers over you, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, lips caressing the column of your neck as he smiles softly.Â
âWouldnât you like for me to taste you?â
Heâs sure you donât fully grasp what it is he might meanâ but youâre eager nonetheless, a gasp escaping your lips, so soft he mightâve missed it if he hadnât been so closeâ the tight clench of your cunt around him is enough of a sign anyway.Â
You can only hear shifting; your ears perk up as you try to decipher what could be happening, feeling Beomgyuâs hand wander down your thighs, the loss of his heat above you, the flickering warmth of the candles around youâ you lay still, with bated breath and buzzing nerves.Â
Your mouth falls open, a loud moan falling from your mouth and bouncing off the walls.Â
Itâs all too much for your poor, inexperienced body; itâs overwhelming, the pleasure wrapping you up and burning you alive as your thighs attempt to shut, only to close in on Beomgyuâs head that remains steady, large hands splayed on your hips as he holds you down, his mouth continuing his assault against your cunt.Â
The chants of his name and your broken moans are enough to keep him motivatedâ heâs lapping at your clit hungrily, moving down to suck at the arousal that leaks from your entrance, perfect nose bumping into you as he sighs and groans against you.Â
You think you mightâve gone mad; sounds you didnât think were possible are escaping you, each more pitiful and helpless than the last. Your hands wander absentmindedly, not realizing what it is youâre searching for until theyâve finally curled into his thick hair, tangling strands around your fingers and tugging rashlyâ you can feel him moan against you at the actions, the feeling bringing a shiver down your spine.Â
âB-BeomâŚgyu!â you whine out, hips attempting to wiggle out of his hold, hands tugging his head closerâ your eyes remain screwed tight behind your blindfold, tears pricking at them as your mind races to process what is happening to youâ between your legs, Beomgyu grins triumphantly, nails digging into your delicate thighs as he licks a long stripe along your slit.
In times like these, Beomgyu canât help but be reminded of who he is, what his existence is forâ his tongue is long, abnormally so, as it enters you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he laps up your essence and fucks you with it, listening to your startled cries morph into nothing but wanton lust, choking on the syllables of his name and brokenly pleading for him to not stopâ as if he could ever be capable of doing so.
Youâre delicious, like a ripe fruit that has been eyed for too long, too high on a tree for anyone to takeâ victory feels sweet on Beomgyuâs tongue as you clench and leak around him, allowing you to grind against him and take the reins of what you want, giving you the pleasure you seekâ and he can feel you getting wound up quite quickly, your keens and cries loud enough to rival the screams of fear you were letting out only moments agoâ but then again, none of that matters as long as Beomgyu has his hands on you.Â
Youâre almost there, a climax strong enough to wreck you approaching quicklyâ and as much as Beomgyu would love to feel it, to swallow your cum as it drips out your fluttering cuntâ he canât. Not yet, and certainly not like this. Though it pains him, he pulls away from your cunt that attempts to suck him back in.Â
The sob you let out almost makes Beomgyu regret his decision; youâre a broken, confused mess, panting like a dog as you cry and wonder why it is that Beomgyu stopped so suddenlyâ gently, Beomgyu pries your hands off from where they tug at his hair, listening to your disoriented mumbles of his name, reaching blindly for him as he rises to his feet. And youâre left in the darkness once more.Â
Before you can react, Beomgyuâs hands lift your head, quickly undoing your blindfold, letting it fall against the altar next to your face; your eyes flutter open from the action, brows furrowed as everything slowly comes into focus.Â
Beomgyu hovers above you, the flickering candlelight around the two of you casting an ethereal glow around his face; it is warm and fond as he looks down at you, plump lips pulled into a gentle smile as he caresses your cheek, letting out a breathy chuckle at the way you fluster immediately, unable to hold his gaze.Â
âLook at me.â he says, his voice compelling enough to have you following his command, the feeling so natural you havenât realized youâve obeyed until youâre meeting his dark eyesâ there is no light in his pupils, despite the many sources that continue to fall onto the two of you. He smiles, a hand continuing its reassuring strokes against your skin, the other moving down to grab your thigh, wrapping it around his waist once more. âDonât be afraidâ keep your eyes on me.â
You feel something prodding at your entrance; you stiffen, breath hitching and hands instinctively reaching up to place themselves flat against Beomgyuâs chestâ with wide eyes, you stare back at him, unable to break this entrancing spell youâve caught yourself in, lips parting in a silent gasp as Beomgyuâs eyes soften. Slowly, he pushes in.
The feeling of his cockhead breaching your walls has you gasping sharply, shock painting your face and nails digging into your chest as your back arches slightlyâ the stretch is new and unexpected, the feeling of him inside you causing your stomach to twist in pain and pleasureâ itâs so sudden, you feel as though youâre not ready, yet your body cries for him to continue, feeling him pause and still inside you.Â
The smile on Beomgyuâs face is practically permanent; words could not explain the satisfaction he feels, the twisted victory he gains from every inch he pushes inside you, virgin walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice, your wide, doe eyes glazing over with pleasure the longer he takes, the more he allows you to adjust.Â
Your chest heaves by the time heâs fully inside you, face screwing up as you feel him bottom out, his tip pressing firmly into youâ your voice breaks as you call out his name, searching for comfort he will not be able to provide. Instead, he coos softly at you, empty, sugary words and reassurances that are merely practiced in his mind, feathery caresses against your temple as he shushes you, telling you that everythingâs okay, that youâll feel good soon enough.
âIâve got you,â he purrs, even if you continue to tense every time he shifts, legs twitching at the sheer stretch youâve suddenly been forced to take. âItâs okay, donât be nervous.â
When he begins to pull out, criminally slow and teasing, you gaspâ and he grins, fully expecting it as he hovers over your lips, only to press a chaste kiss to your nose as he moves to stand straight, only the tip of his cock left inside you.Â
The sight of you is nothing short of divine; just seeing you like this is enough to bring him energy, greedy gaze taking in your broken expression, eyes flickering to your parted lips that tremble and gasp out his name. He groans softly, the eyes fluttering shut as he takes a moment to appreciate the way your cunt clenches around him, warm and wet, nothing like the scraps he was forced to feed on as punishment. Youâre perfect, pure, full of life.Â
Before he can second guess himself, his hips slam back in.Â
The pace heâs set is nothing short of cruel; his feather-light touches and chaste kisses had been nothing but a show, all an attempt to lower your guard and allow him to seize you at your weakest; you yelp in surprise and attempt to cling onto him, overwhelmed by the harshness of his cock as it pounds into you, aiming for the most sensitive spots within you that leave you begging and crying outâ but whether itâs for him to stop or continue, youâre not entirely sureâ your reasoning blurred into one big mess long ago.Â
It doesnât take long for Beomgyu to lose himself in the feeling of you; greedy, rough hands grasping at your skin, groping the soft skin of your thighs, your hips, wandering up to squeeze and toy with your breastsâ and you can only lay there and take it all, watching him use you to satisfy himself, unable to help the way your cunt clenches and drools at the sight. His hips angle and his cock slams deep against you, hitting a spot heâs never hit beforeâ and you stiffen, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cry out.Â
âOh!â you yelp, tears pooling at your eyes, a hand slamming over your mouth at the sudden noiseâ but even so, your muffled cries still slip out from the cracks of your fingers. âO-Oh myâ! ahâ!â
âWhy silence yourself?â Beomgyu laughs softly, slightly out of breath as he continues to cling to you, hips rutting wildly into you, chasing that familiar bliss he grew addicted to; he proceeds to aim for that particular spot over and over, watching tears ebb from the corners of your eyes, flowing down the sides of your face and dripping onto the pristine white marble of the altar table. âGo on, say it.â
âSay it, call out their name, let this whole sanctuary know how good it feels,â he hisses, face hovering over yours once more, eager to watch you crumble.Â
âCall to your god,â he whispers, a soft moan falling between heavy breaths, feeling the way you squeeze and suck him in, your peak approaching much too fast for you to handle, âgo on, pray that they forgive your sins and look past the way your tight cunt begs to keep this demon inside you.â
His cock feels like heaven inside you; itâs relentless, slamming into you as his hand falls from its tight hold on your thigh to your clit, rubbing tight circles that cause your body to tighten until it can no longer hold back.Â
âOh my Godâ Beomgyu!â youâre a drooling, tearful, pitiful sight as you finally crash down, sobbing and babbling words that blend together, your hands pulling at Beomgyuâs shirt until youâre bringing him down to you.
Beomgyuâs kiss is celestial. His lips slot perfectly against yours, a soft grunt escaping him as he finally cums inside you; thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your cunt, filling you until you can no longer hold it inâ you tremble and you hold Beomgyu close to you throughout it all, your mind emptied out and craving nothing but him.Â
Your eyes flutter shut; your body tingles, your hold on him weakening as you begin to slump back against the altar. Itâs getting harder to move, sluggishly trying your best to keep up with Beomgyuâs sloppy kisses, your chest beginning to cave in as your lungs burn and beg for air.Â
You want to pull away. You want to stopâ yet, you find with a delayed horror that you canât.Â
Beomgyu wonât pull away; Beomgyu canât pull away, feeling his arms snake beneath your figure, one wrapping around your waist tightly, the other slithering up your back and cradling the back of your head, holding it up so he can keep you as close to him as possible.Â
Your vision has begun to blur; your hands have fallen limp at your sides. You feel weakened, only your lips able to move as they mindlessly follow after Beomgyu, sluggish and messy movements that go on whether you want to or not.Â
Behind him, a crackling sound emits; the candles around you flicker wildly, divine feathers that were once proudly on display above you beginning to darken and fall, burning off and becoming a charred blackâ blood seeps from the crevices where feathers slip away, landing on top of you and on the altar you lay on.Â
His wings are a shriveled, grisly sight. Heâs transformed entirely before your very eyes, pulling away slowly and sighing softly into your parted lips. Slowly, his hands slither off you, laying you gently and standing straight to take in the mess heâs made. All you can do is stare back through bleary eyes.Â
âMy lamb,â he says affectionately, bringing a hand up to cup your face; it is only then that youâre able to notice the state of his hands, charred and injured, just like his wings, animal-like claws replacing his nails. They dig slightly into your skin as he smiles down at you, utterly enamored.
âI will cherish this âtill kingdom come.â
His enchanting expression is the last thing you see. His claw moves faster than the human eye can process as it slices cleanly across the canvas of your neck.Â
Your body jolts at the action, not a single shift in your expression as your body relaxes against the altar table. Your eyes remain open and dazed with pleasure.
Blood flows from the deep crack of his cut; it flows from your mouth as well, and all Beomgyu can do is watch as the color slowly fades from your skin, the light in your eyes no more. He looms over you in silence, lingering on even when he knows thereâs nothing left for him there. A pool of your blood has formed around your head, a twisted halo that stains the marble.Â
Beomgyuâs eyes remain transfixed on your wound, emotionless eyes watching the blood drip out steadily. Then, they begin to wander, trailing down until they stop at a certain point, hypnotized by the thought that suddenly enters his mind.Â
Before he can second guess himself, Beomgyuâs hand hovers above your chest.Â
It is not easy to reach your heart. It is an obscene and difficult process, though Beomgyu doesnât bat an eye throughout it all; blood coats his forearm once he finally succeeds, a happy hum escaping him as he examines the item in his hands with fascination.Â
Itâs just as transcendent as the rest of you. Taking your life force was enough to make Beomgyu feel normal again, but with this, heâs sure that you would fuel his energy for the rest of his miserable eternity.Â
His eyes soften; itâs so fragile, it drips onto his skin and sings to him, the last of your innocence begging to be released, to be given peace; instead, Beomgyu brings it closer to him, sighing slowly as he gets one last look at it.
And he bites.Â
He can almost hear your voice, the memories trapped within as he closes his eyes, chewing and swallowing and biting again. Tilting his head back, he all but groans in satisfaction.Â
His eyes slowly flutter open. Heâs met with the chandeliers above him, the looming altar to his left calling his attention. Apathetically, his head lolls to the side, getting a better look at the statues that stand over him. Taking another bite, he feels blood leak onto his lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile.
Heâs never tasted anything purer.
#currently slamming my head into my desk bc this was so immaculate#BUTLER! fetch me my straightjacket and sedatives.....#txt#beomgyu#smut#angst#horror#agust.nsfw
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For me you are the mutual of mine I was ASTOUNDED you followed me back (because I don't post art, I don't really make personal posts, etc), and honestly it brightened my mood for Days afterwards! You are such a cool guy and you are so nice. I would have tried to make friends if I knew how to go about it because you are a HUGE cool dude and some of the things I have gotten into was because of how you talked about them, you have really good taste & I also look up to your art too!
ask meme
AWH?? IT BRIGHTENED UR DAYS???? PLURAL????Â
oh man oh man thatâs such an honor angjkfd wrow,,, days?? thats crazy,, aaa BUT THATS SO NICE OF U WTF,, IM GONNA CRY MAN... I SWEAR IâLL DO IT........Â
and im so flattered u think my taste in interests was good too ?? agjkfdn and my art.......... golly im just up to the brim with these compliments im gonna sob...... thank u sol much love to u...
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this is @pezzimizt btw
i was tagged by @radregeneration and @k-liight to do this :-D ty guyz
Answer 21 questions and tag 21 People
tagged by ⢠@radregeneration and @k-liight
nickname ⢠liibby
zodiac ⢠virgo but i can NEVER relate to the star sign pointsÂ
height ⢠average
last movie i saw ⢠oghf. i think it was love actually on netflix im so lame. it was with my bf. or wait maybe it was into the spiderverse? i saw that in cinemas. i cant remember which came last. spiderverse was good. i also saw that with my bf. oh actually we were watching tomorrowland in school but i didnt see all of it and also its bad? that doesnt count
last thing i googled ⢠âhow many tentacles does a squid haveâ cos my jellycat sol squid came and he has 10!!! squids have 8 arms and 2 tentacles
favorite musician ⢠it used to be WHY? but now its modest mouse (listen to good news for people who love bad news please)
song stuck in my head â˘Â nothing atm but quick aside cross put âmarch of the mildly annoying by pezzimiztâ and i made that song wtf ... thank u
other blogs ⢠@pezzimizt is my main/art blog, this is my relaxed reblog blog, then i have @creative-mode, @mystery-incorporated and my private diary 1.Â
do i get ask ⢠like do i receive asks? generally no
following ⢠1943 wtf wtf wtf
followers ⢠141 on here, 970 on @pezzimizt
amount of sleep â˘Â too much :-(Â
lucky number â˘Â 19 or somethin
what im wearing ⢠nighty :-( its 4pm and i havent gotten dressed YES i exist YES its a miserable existenceÂ
dream job â˘Â i want.... my own animated tv show. or id like to be a director maybe. film or animation field generally anywhere
dream trip â˘Â i dont have a dream trip or anything, i loved california when i went though
favorite food ⢠waitrose has this amazing fried chicken. i love chicken. annd burgers and stuff.
play any instruments ⢠i play the ukulele but im self taught and its technically a guitaleleÂ
languages â˘Â i wish i had the brain power to learn a language other than english
favorite song ⢠modest mouse - the ground walks, with time in a box
random fact ⢠squids... have 8 arms and 2 tentacles
describe yourself as an aesthetic ⢠oh farmcore and cottagecore and all that
i tag anyone who reads this because i dont know who my mutuals are and at this point im too scared to ask. like genuinly i recognise ppl but i never know. i think maybe ? i think im certain of about 2 or 3 ppl. but even then im not gonna tag them. if you see this im gonna assume we r mutuals so do this and then tell me that weâre mutuals. or that we should be. followbacks r from @pezzimizt as a quick reminder. oh i suck :(Â
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