#old white shirt with short sleeves with paint stains

[thricev]

There is information that exists about the lore..... But just in my mind....

[rainbowstarheart]

Here it is Undertale fans! A full on info about my boi! :D

Description:

CeeGee is a Sans Variant from the Undertale Fandom,who is an OC/Son of Rainbow StarHeart herself! He is The Gatekeeper of his mom's team of Cosmic Guardians!

Appearance's:

CeeGee Sans is a 6'3 feet skeleton with Heterochromia eyes (red and blue)

He wears a long sleeve black shirt with a yellow belt, a sleeveless short jacket that's red and blue, long baggy black pants that has paint stains and black 'n white shoes

His accessories is that he wears bandages on both if his arms (his red fingers are part of his body,same as his feet that is stained in red) he wears a scarf that had his two close friends: Chara and Frisk and he wears goggles that has the same features and functions like his mother's goggles

Personality:

Just like his mother (Rainbow StarHeart), CeeGee Sans is a happygolucky and creative optimistic young man with a heart of pure gold mixed with mischievous cleverness, he is as sweet as a gentleman towards the elders and very childish to those who are younger than him!

Origin Story:

CeeGee Sans was created out of paper from one of Rainbow's 28 Original Artwork

He was hidden away from The Undertale Fandom for a few years due to Rainbow's overprotective nature,but at the time of his 18th birthday,he was free to roam.

Combats/Abilities:

Omni Teleportation

Omni Telekinesis

Omni psychic manipulation

Omnificence

Trivia/Fun Facts:

CeeGee's birthday is on the February 18th

CeeGee name is heavily based on Cosmic Guardians for short of C,G

CeeGee is around 18-20 years old

CeeGee came out as Aromantic Asexual when he was 16

CeeGee has a sweet tooth,but he mostly loves macarons

The scarf that are on CeeGee are Chara and Frisk,their design is inspired by one of Japan's Myths that is Rokurokubi, also known as nukekubi, are mythical creatures from Japanese folklore characterized by their long necks. The term “rokurokobi” translates to “wheel-necked,” referencing their ability to twist and stretch their necks like a snake,this is where I got their design from, however Chara and Frisk's heads and body is the scarf (they're both friendly and won't attack unless CeeGee got hurt first)

CeeGee is obsessed with any types of music and his top favorite is Hatsune Miku's

CeeGee is autistic

CeeGee plays the guitar (mostly learned it from his mother)

CeeGee is a momma's boy

When under the development of both CeeGee and the working conditions of The Cosmic Guardians around 2019, I've decided his best job would be The Gatekeeper of C,G HQ

CeeGee is born out of one of the 28 Original Artwork of Rainbow's 28 Fandom OC's (he is The 18th OC)

His weapon was given by his mother,a black hole scythe and a black hole shield

More will be added soon!

@blo0st4r @vexic929 @kenakostarcat16 @bbjxencanto-blogger @boltthevolt @scally-wiggles716 @sprinklehere @hotelcaliforniaenbydancer @chibitacolord @baxstarmallow06 @iookingle3rd @undertale-person

[multiverse--wanderer]

You Are My Quarter Mile | Dom x Brian (Fast and Furious) [ENG]

[Fan-fiction based on the OTP between Dominic Toretto and Brian O'Conner (Fast and Furious) With gasoline in their veins and living life on the road on the wrong side of the law, Dominic Toretto's life will take a complete turn with the arrival of Brian O'Conner. When the heart comes into play, there's no possible handbrake for the soul.

...

REMINDER:

This story has been written in Spanish, which is my native language. This story has been translated to the best of my ability, although it is possible that it may have mistakes.

This is just a way to transport my writing to a common language for the rest of fans like me. For a better immersion, I recommend reading the story in its original version.

You can find this story on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own.

Thank you so much for reading me and see you in the stars.

...

Chapter 3 - He owns you now

The morning sun warmed the asphalt in front of Dominic Toretto's shop, where engines roared and the smell of burnt oil and gasoline filled the air. Brian arrived driving an old van, its engine purring softly, with a trailer hitched behind. It had been a week since the last time they saw each other, a tense week after the events of that night when the lines between duty and loyalty began to blur. This time, Brian brought something special, although it didn't look like it at first glance.

In the trailer, a battered car swayed slightly with the bumps in the road. It was dented all over, covered in dirt, with no windows, and stains of grease and gasoline soaked into its chassis. Beneath the layer of dust, the red color tried to shine faintly, like a reminder of better times. The vehicle seemed more like a lost cause than a promise, but Brian wore a smile painted on his face, radiating an almost irritating confidence.

As he stopped in front of the shop, the team started to approach with curiosity and barely hidden amusement. Dominic came out after arguing with Mia about some bills, wearing his usual oil-stained white tank top and worn military sweatpants, wiping his hands with a rag he tossed aside without much ceremony. His gaze, stern and intense, quickly shifted to Brian, completely ignoring the car in the trailer.

—Great... —Dominic muttered as Brian hopped out of the driver's seat. With a mix of disbelief and mockery, he asked—, What the hell is this? What do you got there?

Brian's smile widened. His blue eyes, even brighter under the tan of his skin, sparkled with a mix of pride and defiance. Dominic couldn't help but notice the fresh scars peeking out from under the short sleeves of his shirt. Brian looked battered and yet strangely happy, as if he'd returned from a fight holding the trophy in his hand.

—This is your car. —Brian extended his hands toward the battered vehicle. Dom burst into a melodic laugh.

A deep, loud laugh that echoed through the shop. Johnny, who had come out behind him, walked up to the car and gave the hood a couple of sharp taps, which made it tremble under his hands as if it were about to crumble into sand.

—My car? I told you a ten-second car, beautiful, not a ten-minute one.

—This one crosses the finish line by pushing it. —Letty muttered, causing Mia to laugh.

—It won't even cross it being towed —Dominic added, though his eyes remained fixed on Brian, a mix of reproach and curiosity in his gaze.

Brian raised his eyebrows, still smiling, as if he were enjoying the others' disbelief.

—No faith?

Brian almost seemed offended, but his mischievous grin dispelled any doubts.

—Oh, I have faith in you, —Dominic replied, crossing his arms— but this isn't a junkyard, it's a garage.

—Alright. Pop the hood. —Brian ordered, moving toward the trailer to release the fastenings.

—Pop the hood?! —Johnny frowned, but couldn't resist the curiosity.

—Pop it and then tell me.

With effort, they took the car off the trailer and brought it into the shop. Under the lights of the lamps, the vehicle looked even worse, but Brian didn't seem concerned. He pointed at the hood, insisting. When they opened it, a murmur of surprise swept through the group. Under the dust and dirt, a perfectly preserved JZ-2 engine gleamed, a treasure buried in a rusted coffin.

—Shit... —Johnny whispered, wiping some parts of the engine with a rag to reveal the technical engravings. Dominic watched in silence—. JZ-2 engine... Damn...

—And what did I tell you? —Brian asked, with a triumphant smile, looking directly at Dominic.

—I retract my previous statement. —Dominic nodded, making a face.

—You know what? It'll beat everyone else after investing about 15,000 dollars in it, or even more if we urgently need to import parts. —Johnny said, tossing a rag over his shoulder.

—We'll put it on my tab at Harry's —Dom said—. We need you back in the race to make some money, Brian. —His voice softened slightly, though his gaze remained intense—. There's a challenge in the desert racing war. This car will be ready by then.

He smiled at him in a special, confident way. Mia, who was watching the scene, smiled to herself, understanding what that silent look meant to Dom.

Brian nodded, feeling a mix of pride and gratitude that he tried to hide behind his carefree smile. Dominic stepped closer, coming within inches of him, his presence imposing.

—I'll tell you what. —Dominic stopped near Brian's body, turning to face the rebellious driver's gaze. Brian felt pride as he sensed his approval, his attention focused on him. —When you're not working for Harry's, you're working here. If you can't find the right tool in this garage, Mr. Arizona... you don't belong near a car.

Brian held his gaze, not backing down, and nodded. There was something about Dominic's intensity that made him feel alive, like he was in the most dangerous race of his life. When Dominic stepped away, leaving a charged silence in his wake, Mia approached. With a knowing smile, she whispered in his ear:

—He owns you now.

The workshop was buzzing with activity. Amid laughter and technical discussions, everyone was collaborating to move the necessary parts to the work area, where the battered car would transform into a worthy racing contender. The engine, the shock absorbers, the brakes, and even the smallest components passed from hand to hand, while the tools resonated like a chaotic orchestra, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of grease and hot metal.

Brian, after making sure everything was in place, headed to Johnny's small office, a sort of technological sanctuary amidst the roar of the engines. The space was crowded with monitors, cables, and electronic parts scattered across the desk. A worn-out poster of a classic Formula 1 race hung on the wall, next to a bulletin board filled with diagrams and scribbled notes.

Johnny, who had already turned on his computer, smiled as Brian walked in. Silently, Brian pulled a small CD from his jacket pocket and inserted it into the computer's disc tray. The screen came to life with graphics and 3D models of the car, as if they were watching the dilapidated vehicle come back to life before their eyes.

—What do you think of this? —Johnny asked, pressing a key enthusiastically. The image of the car slowly rotated on the screen, showing the modifications he had in mind. "Adjustable shock absorbers—. They'll save us a kilo. —He smiled, proud of his technical precision—. And they'll give us better traction to secure the win.

Brian leaned toward the screen after sitting at a small wooden table behind Johnny, observing the details with interest. Johnny navigated through various schematics, pointing out key components and their proposed upgrades.

—Okay, this is the basic design of the car. —Johnny explained, as a simpler image of the vehicle appeared on the screen. He pressed another key, and the image changed, showing a much more streamlined and aerodynamic version—. And this is the design it could have once it's finished. The colors can be changed.

Brian let out a low whistle, impressed by the level of detail and Johnny's creative vision.

—You should go to a specialized university. —He said, looking at him in amazement.

Johnny laughed, leaning back in his swivel chair as if the idea were a recurring joke.

—Yeah, I should... —he admitted, with a nostalgic smile that quickly turned pensive—. But I have that... what's it called? Attention deficit...

—ADHD? —Brian asked, raising an eyebrow.

—That! —Johnny exclaimed, laughing lightly—. That damn thing. It's always messed with my focus. Look, I was good at math, especially algebra. I could solve anything they put in front of me. But everything else... I failed. History, English, even science. I dropped out when I was, I don't know... fifteen or sixteen.

He paused, staring at the computer screen as if he were seeing something beyond the graphics. His fingers drummed involuntarily on the table.

—I don't know... Motors have something that calms me down. —He whispered, more to himself than to Brian—. You know? It's like everything clicks. When I look at an engine, there's no chaos, no noise. It's pure math. Every piece has a place, a purpose. I like that.

Brian watched him closely, sensing the genuine passion in Johnny's words. There was something in that confession that felt familiar, something that resonated with his own relationship with cars and racing.

—Yeah, I get it —he said finally—. It's like being in a race. Everything is clear. Nothing matters more than the next second.

Johnny nodded, smiling. Then, he turned his attention back to the computer, moving the mouse to make adjustments to the design.

—Well, genius —Brian said after a moment, getting up from his seat and giving Johnny's shoulders a couple of pats—. Tell me what you need to turn this from just a pretty drawing into a reality.

...

CONTINUE READING THE FULL CHAPTER HERE:

[theonevoice]

Two halves of the same being

Ok friends, it had to happen sooner or later: I wrote a thing. I was stuck in a train station yesterday evening and this thing was screaming to be put on paper, so I did it. I wrote it all down directly as a post, over 3-4 hours of total estrangement, therefore I don't even know exactly how long it is, and it is probably encrusted with typos and titanic grammatical errors. It is also written in a language that I don't master at all, and it is my first attempt at narration since - I kid you not - the year of our lord 2006. This is really less then a draft, it's a test-drive of the storytelling side of my hyperfixated brain. If someone feels like skimming it and pointing out mistakes and things that sound wrong, I will be very grateful! Anyway, as far as fanfic genres go, I guess this would qualify as historical-minisode one shot: Aziraphale and Crowley are in Rome in 1509 and get more or less accidentally involved in the creation of a certain Renaissance masterpiece.

November 1509, Rome.

The heavy robe swooshed quietly as a white-blonde bishop entered the chapel door with a satisfied smile, like a man who had just escaped boredom for fun.

A man in a leather apron full of pockets and stained all over was standing at a cluttered table by the wall, staring gloomily at the figures sketched on a large sheet of brownish paper.

- Maestro!

The man raised his curly dark-haired head and pointed a pair of firey eyes on the newcomer. The dark circles around his eyes gave out the strange impression of a feverish man on the verge of collapsing mixed with a feral beast ready to jump at its prey. It was freezing in there, but he was wearing a shirt with sleeves rolled all the way up to his elbows, and his hairy forearms were covered in white dust and paint dribbles. He was a rather short man, but well-built and muscular, and even if the bishop was considerably taller and not thin himself, he felt that he could have easily knocked him down in one move.

- Monsignor Fell, back again...

The man didn't sound pleased, but he didn't sound displeased either. Considered his well-known temper and given the circumstances, his reaction was relatively welcoming. One could have even called it encouraging. After all, noone was ever really at ease in Rome. Especially not in that part of Rome.

- I was eager to see your progress. - Aziraphale said with a honest smile. - I hope I'm not disturbing your work. Please don't mind my presence.

They both instinctively looked up.

The enormous vault of the Sistine Chapel was looming over the empty hall as a giant shield, halfway covered in massive figures. Those bodies looked so real and heavy that they felt like they could plummet any second all the way down to the floor and crash the unfortunate bystanders. It was like a threatening storm of colors and shapes slowly covering the old starry sky.

- Not much progress to see. - Growled Michelangelo, turning back to the sketches and tossing a piece of reddish chalk on the table. - I'm bloody stuck.

Aziraphale moved his eyes across the ceiling, down to the farthest end of the vault, where the golden stars were still dimly shining on a deep blue background, on the two sides of the large ugly crack, now filled with bricks, that had scarred the old affresco when the south wall had shifted. It was a sad spectacle. He had liked the starry sky. It was beautiful.

- Stuck? How do you mean?

Aziraphale forced himself to look away from the ceiling and gently stared at the painter, who had turned his back on him and was angrily standing over his desk with his stained hands on his hips, like a severe father in front of a misbehaving child.

- I mean stuck. - The artist repeated drily, throwing an annoyed look at monsignor Fell. The bishop offered him a sympathetic smile, a strangely maternal smile that seemed to be saying that he took his worries very seriously but at the same time he was sure they were not insurmountable.

Michelangelo sighed forlornly. He didn't like priests, but he didn't mind this one. He curiously seemed very little concerned with church matters and a lot more interested in random things like paintings and statues and choir rehearsals. He had even spotted him more than once in a couple of his favourite osterie, and he meant the good ones, those small half-hidden godforsaken places that only the locals knew, ignored by travellers and definitely not visited by clergymen. And he had seen him sitting there in plain sight, amidst the common people of Rome, as if noone could tell that he was a bishop - and God knew if bishops were a hatred species in the streets of the Holy City. It was truly a miracle that he could just walk in there, eat and drink like he were any carter or boatman, and not end up robbed or stabbed or poisoned. He had even seen Teresina at the Gatto morto pour him the good wine once, the one that the innkeeper kept only for himself and his closest friends. Furthermore, he had a nice eye for drawing: in the past few weeks he had been visiting the chapel almost daily, and had dropped some genuinely good remarks. Some of them even brilliant. He relaxed his shoulders and continued with a softer tone:

- This is not working and I'm not putting this up there, con tutta la fatica che costa.

Aziraphale looked up again, this time at the wooden structure that was stretching upwards like a dark solid cobweb. It took indeed a lot of effort, to climb up there, dragging along the large cartoni with the refined lineart to transfer on the plaster, standing hours and hours arched backwards to paint over your head, seventy feet above the ground, with the colors running down the brush and dripping on your face...

- Do you mind me seeing the sketch?

The painter made a vague gesture to let him approach the table and eyed him with a certain curiosity when the bishop let out a little gasp and a peculiar nostalgic expression settled on his face. It was the sketch for the campata of the Original Sin.

Aziraphale felt a warm mix of emotions filling his chest, not all of which he dared to name. He focused on the drawing. Michelangelo was right: it was wrong, even if he could not imagine how wrong.

In the sketch, Adam and Eve were sitting at the center, under the Tree, Eve reaching up for a fruit, Adam following her movement with a concerned look. On the right half of the piece, in a stretch of desert, the confused shape of an angel was roughly outlined: he was standing all straight and rigid with his sword raised above his head and a threatening finger pointing at the first humans. The left side was mostly filled with a generic looking garden, too lush and too earthly at the same time, and the only other presence was a little, ugly dragon-like creature, with a grotesque charcoal snut, sharp teeth and a biforcated tongue sticking out.

Aziraphale at first didn't pay it much attention, but after a second he suddenly realised what he was looking at and his jaw dropped.

- Is that supposed to be the Serpent of Eden!?

He asked in a high pitched voiced, sounding somewhat scandalised.

Michelangelo frowned and pulled out his most intimidating look.

- What else should it be?

- But that's not how it looked at all!

The bishop exclaimed, entirely unfazed. "Here it comes," thought to himself the painter, letting out a huff of resigned annoyance, "another punctilious catechist who wants me to stick to some stupid half line in the Bible." But, much to his surprise, monsignor Fell did not bring up any biblical reference. He looked vaguely offended and at the same time, for some reason, deeply amused.

- And how did it look? - Michelangelo asked sarcastically, posing like someone who is interrogating an eyewitness. But the bishop didn't seem to get the hint, and instead answered with a focused face, as he were actually about to recount him old memories.

- Well, it looked... - Aziraphale paused, searching the right word. He found himself suddenly assaulted by a number of adjectives that he had not anticipated. - He looked... - his tongue ended up picking one before his mind had time to evaluate the implications - ...seductive.

- Seductive. - Michelangelo looked at him with an incredulous face and his eyebrows were all the way up to his hairline.

Aziraphale stumbled.

- I mean... He- he was the original tempter... - He tried to regroup. His thoughts were strangely tumbling in his head. - You see, in order to be effective in his... tempting, he couldn't have look like an ugly little monster. - Yes, that was reasonable, it was a logical explanation, just a sensible thing that nobody could disagree on. - He had to look... - but then again, Aziraphale felt a sense of warmth of unclear origin raising to his face, and his voice cracked in a weird way, - ...beautiful. Charming. He had to be so, so fascinating, that you couldn't help listening to him, considering his reasons... I mean, the poor, naive humans, that is. They couldn't help...

His voice trailed off mid sentence. Michelangelo was still staring at him with a certain look, but the words of the bishop were not completely absurd.

- And he didn't crawl. That was not what he was. - He finished with a sort of fond determination.

- You make it sound quite impressive, for the one who damned humanity.

- Oh but he didn't mean to! - Once again, Aziraphale ignored the astonished expression on the other's face. A deep, obscure feeling of injustice was tugging at his soul. He didn't mean to have them damned. It was an overreaction. His voiced lowered ever so slightly, sounding somewhat sad. - From his point of view, he was... freeing them. He was giving them a choice, he didn't force them. He was letting the door of their cage open to see what they would do.

- Does the Pope know that you go around spreading this sort of ideas?

- Pah, what should he know.

They both startled as that last sentence echoed in all its outrageous blasphemy on the high walls. They looked around in the empty chapel tucking their heads between their shoulders, like two kids who had just inadvertently laughed out loud during the silent bit of the mass.

A moment of embarassed silence fell in the room. But the words of monsignor Fell had already stirred the painter's imagination.

- Beautiful, you say... - He repeated, almost speaking to himself, squinting at the left corner of his sketch as a different version of the scene started emerging in his mind. - Not crawly...

The chapel door opened suddenly and a very alarmed young seminarist run inside.

- Monsignor Fell! - He cried. - I've been looking for you everywhere! The assembly started half an hour ago.

- Did it indeed?

The bishop replied, looking like someone who knew perfectly well when the assembly was scheduled and had deliberately made sure to miss it. Michelangelo found himself wondering once more where on earth had they found such a singular minister of the church, who was now tenderly smiling at the seminarist, visibly moved to pity by his distressed expression.

- Well then, I suppose I will be coming right away. - He gave one last look at the sketch as he stepped away from the table. - Thank you for your time, maestro. And forgive me for... - He hesitated, as if trying to free himself from some last string of thought that was keeping him tied there. - ...for my suggestions.

The painter watched the white-blonde head disappear beyond the door that the alarmed seminarist closed after them, and all of a sudden the vast chapel felt colder than it was moments before. In the silence he could hear that it was raining outside. He took a deep breath, felt the freezing air filling his lungs and a shiver running down his spine, but his mind was on fire: an entirely new image was coming to life, one that the pope would probably not appreciate, and that was the best part.

He decided to take the rest of the day off to work on his idea and run to the Gatto morto, where he knew that Teresina would free the little corner table near the fireplace for him, with a light good enough to draw and a wine good enough to keep himself inspired.

- Now that is quite the progress since the last time I saw it!

The man had approached him so silently that Michelangelo almost spilled his jug over the new sketches.

- What are you doing here, Antonio? Aren't you supposed to stay away from the city after the ban? Se ti prendono gli svizzeri ti fanno la festa.

- Oh come on! Do you really think anyone would notice me? - The man threw himself on the chair on the opposite side of the table and crossed his long legs, unwrapping himself from his large black cloak.

- Yes, I do. - He replied, expressively pointing at the man he knew by the name of Antonio, all clad in black, with his exotic smoked spectacles and his bright red hair brushing his shoulders.

Crowley raised his glass with a bright white smile, like he had just been complimented.

- I thought you were in Florence.

- I've just come back from a lovely visit to your dear friend.

- He's not my friend.

Crowley's smile grew even wider, and the painter suddenly felt ashamed and annoied. He had spent the last several years convincing everyone including himself that he did not consider Leonardo his rival, that he was perfectly indifferent to his achievements and was not at all vexed by people talking about him, and it had took all of ten seconds to this man to make him snap without even naming the other one.

- He is making some formidable machinery, these days. Oh, and some really masterful portraits. - His irritating grin was unbearable. - You should see them.

Draining all his will power, Michelangelo managed to keep his mouth shut and focused all his attention back on his new sketches.

- I'm busy, what do you want?

- I've come to see your progress! - Antonio said cheerfully, grabbing his drawings before he could stop him. - Quite impressive, indeed...

His expression became imperceptibly more serious as he was examining the small piece of paper where the painter had sketched a new version of the Original Sin campata. Michelangelo knew that he had not liked the first version: months before, he had come to his shop all swagger and cockiness as always, and after seeing the initial sketch of the Eden had left without saying a word and somehow had earned himself a ban from Rome. Not that it had stopped him from coming back on a whim just to mock him with news of Leonardo's incredible machinery, apparently. And after all, the swiss guard really seemed to ignore him to an impossible degree, as he were invisible. Michelangelo had a certain suspect that Antonio was having an affair or more than one with someone inside the Curia, earning the protection of a dame or two. Or a monsignore or two. Or both, whatever. Now he seemed struck by the new version of the scene.

The sketch was nothing more than a bunch of thick lines on a small piece of paper, but you could make out that the Serpent was no longer on the ground, but wrapped around the Tree, had no monstruous features but a human-like torso, and his head was towering higher than all the other characters in the scene.

Michelangelo watched him staring intentely at the drawing, with an unreadable expression on his face, until he put down the piece of paper with a careful movement.

- You're good, good job. - He said, trying to make it sound casual, but with a weird note in his voice.

- I know I'm good. - The painter said, grabbing the drawing angrily. - But this change is throwing off the entire composition. Now I have three characters in the middle and this one over here. - He muttered, pointing all disgruntled at what was supposed to be the Angel of Eden, who was sadly standing alone on the right side of the image like a piece of a column that someone had built there by mistake. A tentative detail of his profile, stern and scowling, was sketched sideways on the margin of the sheet.

- Why did you draw him so angry?

Michelangelo raised his head from his composition puzzle, not quite understanding what Antonio was talking about, until he saw his finger tapping over the profile.

- He's the Angel. - He said with a tone indicating that the implication was obvious. But the man sitting in front of him didn't seem to get the point. - He's the Angel who delivers the fucking wrath of God. He has to look angry!

- No he doesn't!

The painter straightened up in disbelief. What was with everyone that day? Why did every last person in that damn city had opinions on his work, all of a sudden?

- Oh sorry, should I make him all cheerful and smiling?

- Why would he be smiling?

- And what would he be?

Antonio took a second, and then aswered, deadly serious.

- Heartbroken.

- Why heartbroken?

- Because! - Crowley was not sure how to explain it, but he felt outraged at the idea that in all those century mankind had assumed the Angel was angry that day. - Because he was the Angel assigned to guard the garden of Eden, the first living bit of the creation! They left him there alone, to watch over the first humans, didn't give him istructions! Didn't tell him what to expect! And then he blinks and bam! they're damned, out of the garden, off you go struggling and suffering, you and all your kind for the rest of time!

Michelangelo was staring at him in utter surprise. He had known him for the kind of man who never loses his cool, and now here he was, losing it over the Book of Genesis.

- You didn't strike me as a man who would get heated over some biblical minutia.

Crowley leaned foreward, gripping his jug of wine so tightly that the painter could have sworn that he heard the glazed ceramic handle made a worrying crackling noise. The painter felt the instinctive urge to pull back on his chair.

- He was there, you see? Watching it happen, struggling to understand wether he had failed them or it was all part of God's blasting ineffable plan.

- He's the Angel of Eden! He would know the will of God!

- How would he know? - Crowley rebutted, now visibly enraged. - He's just an angel! And God doesn't speak to anyone. He's just an angel, he was there alone, scared to death... - he paused for a moment, like he had been struck by his own words, - scared to death because they were punishing the humans and making him deliver the sentence, but maybe they would punish him as well... for letting the Serpent get in.

He ended the sentence on a broken tone, and immediately after draw a small breath and gulped down his wine, all in one go.

Michelangelo wasn't sure what to make of it. Antonio didn't seem drunk, but that had been a wild rant. And yet, it could be interesting to draw an Angel of Eden that was not, for once, the usual severe messanger of death burning with God's divine rage, but a sad, sorrowful pal who had messed up his job. He thought of the merciful expression of monsignor Fell, earlier that day, when he had looked at the poor seminarist knowing that he had possibly gotten both of them into trouble by skipping the assembly.

Now he was starting to resent his composition, leaving that forlorn Angel out there, all on his own, while the others were grouped together under the Tree, as if they were having a pick nick. The humans and the tempter...

- The poor, naive humans... - he muttered, repeating the bishop's words.

- Well, - Crowley objected, apparently back to his usual composure, but still with an indefinible shadow on his brow, - they were naive only at the beginning. But after they became quite quickly aware of how the world runs.

- Well too bad, it has to be one or the other, I don't have two squares for the Eden scene.

But as he was saying that, a new image clicked in his mind, and he stared down at the piece of paper that he had been torturing for the past several hours, trying to solve his composition issue. The Tree was there, dead-center on the campata, dividing the space in two perfectly symmetrical spaces. The Serpent was already up there, in the branches: he could put the Angel there as well, and make the time flow from left to right, from happy but naive humans to desperate but aware ones, the two emissaries of Good and Evil standing in the middle as the two-faced needle on the scales of human destiny... no, not of Good and Evil, rather of Law and Chaos, of Safety and Freedom.

He raised his head with excitement and looked at the man in front of him. He was now sitting inhumanly still, and somehow Michelangelo could feel his eyes piercing through the smoked spectacles. He froze.

- Oh I know that glare. - Antonio said with a voice that he had never heard him before, a ghostly whisper, almost a hiss coming from another world. - That shine that sometimes burns in the human eyes, a spark from the forge of Creation itself...

Michelangelo felt an icey feeling gripping him from the inside, but he could not look away. He was hypnotised by invisible eyes, and even if the physical body of the man in black was still perfectly motionless, for a moment he believed he could see a different body, in a different shape, slowly swinging side to side with only his head fixed in the same spot, yellow pupils cutting through his soul like sharp knives through warm butter.

He wasn't sure how it had stopped. Next thing he knew, he was staring at Antonio who was looking at his drawings again, absorbed in his thought, with a sort of distant nostalgia in the curve of his mouth.

- I shall go. - Michelangelo said with a husky voice, as if he had been asleep for a long time. But he didn't get up.

- You shall. - Crowley repeated, looking back at him, this time with nothing strange happening. - That was a lot of inspiration to process for a human in just one day.

He launched his lanky body out of the chair with a movement that didn't seem possible, draped himself back in his heavy cloak, gave him a quick last look, and strode away, the light of the fireplace caught in his bright red hair. It was still raining outside, but there was a promise of snow in the air.

July 1510, Rome

The two corner doors of the antechamber opened at the exact same time and two hurrying figures rushed in and stopped just a split second away from running into each other.

For a moment they stood there, staring at each other, locked in place, the hem of the white robe and the flap of the black cloack swirling happily together like two puppies eager to meet again despite their owners.

- Good Lord!

Aziraphale gasped, finally stepping away from Crowley.

- Ah! What in Hell are you doing in here, dressed like that? - The demon snorted with a mocking grin, moving his gaze down Aziraphale's episcopal outfit and back up again, lingering on all the lacy bits with the most overtly suggestive motion he could perform. The short black capelet made a rather dashing contrast with the fair curls.

- I am on a diplomatic assignment. - The angel answered primly, ever so slightly blushing at the base of his neck, looking in turn at Crowley's tight fitting black attire under the cloak, all velvet and metalwork and shiny damasque. And then he lowered his voice and added, in a deliciously indignant tone, - What are you doing in here? We are on consecrated ground!

- Not quite yet. This is only an entryway and you should know damn well that nobody here is saint enough to make a single tile sacred outside the chapel.

Aziraphale tried to hoist an outraged expression, but it was hard to pretend that he didn't actually know damn well Crowley was right.

- Anyway, - the demon continued looking at the door on the other side of the entryway, - I was just passing by to take a look at the famous ceiling.

- It's not completed yet. - Aziraphale pointed out, immediately regretting it. He caught himself thinking that he didn't actually want the demon to leave. Not that he wanted his company, of course. But it would have been unpolite, with him being in the hosting party, so to speak, to send him away like that.

- I know, but I hear the last bit has made quite the impression around here.

- It has indeed! - The angel exclaimed, smiling and muffling his excited voice in a goofy way that made something twitch somewhere in the demon's chest. - The cardinals were utterly scandalised! I was going to take a look myself!

The angel moved to the door of the chapel and opened it cautiously, peeking inside.

- There's noone in there! - He whispered visibly thrilled, like the silliest conspirator who ever lived. Crowley stepped closer, thinking to himself that there was no end to the angel's childlike enjoyment of those little innocent transgressions. Not that he enjoied them too, of course. But it would be unworthy of a demon not to appreciate such evil deeds.

They both peeked out from behind the door. The chapel was empty, pleasantly crisp in contrast with the hot roman summer. A choir of cicadas was relentlessly chirping outside. The wooden structure had moved foreward since the last time Aziraphale had been there. A giant curtain was draped between the already completed campate and the ones still in progress.

Crowley managed to chart himself a path across the room, using the spare planks left on the ground as safe spots, holding his arms out to keep his balance, jumping from one board to the next and taking only a couple of quick steps on the floor when the distance was too great. Aziraphale was observing his movements from the corner of his eye and thought the demon looked like one of those large water birds that you could see flying by the river during winter, so big and yet so light and graceful.

The new part of the ceiling was hidden by the curtain. Without saying a word, they both moved to the ladder on the side of the wooden structure and climbed almost all the way up to the top. A strange expectant silence had fallen between them, and neither of the two wanted to break it. They knew exactly what they were about to see, but for some reason they were both pretending that they didn't, and the higher they climbed, the more they were steering their thoughts away from a certain shared memory that now, all of a sudden, was becoming inexplicably significant. A moment that had always been there, tucked away in their minds, but now seemed too bright to look at, too hot to touch, too heavy to handle.

They finally reached the main platform, the last large surface before the precarious scaffolding that brought the painter in reach of the ceiling, all still cluttered with buckets and rags and dried out palettes.

They stood by each other, breathing in the pungent smell of the paint, and with a synchronized movement looked up.

There it was. There they were. Their first meeting on Earth, as Michelangelo had envisioned it, channeling what the angel and the demon, unbeknownst to each other, had unintentionally lead him to imagine. He had turned the Original Sin into a backdrop, Adam and Eve into little more than extras on scene, leaving the center stage to them.

There it was. Their very first meeting as they, a recalcitrant demon who didn't mean to do anything properly bad and a doubtful angel who couldn't figure out what God wanted him to do. They were emerging from the Tree, the Wily Old Serpent stretching his beautiful androginous torso to the left, no man nor woman but both, passing Eve a fruit; the Angel of the Eastern Gate floating next to him, holding his arm out to the right, a disheartened look on his face as he used his sword not so much to threaten the humans as to direct them toward their earthly new existence.

- Look at you! - The angel smiled, - You're...

But the words died on his lips and he couldn't finish the sentence. Something heavy and mournful was tied to that part of his memory, like an iron anchor holding it under the surface of his conscience.

Aziraphale focused on the affresco, trying to distract himself with shapes and contours and brushstrokes... he felt a sudden burst of heat burning the skin of his face as he was studying the Serpent's coils spiraling up the Tree, and was startled when the demon spoke.

- He did make you sad.

The angel examined his supposed representation.

- I was sad.

- Yes, I remember.

- I felt so bad... so guilty...

Aziraphale felt Crowley's gaze settling on his face and lowered his eyes, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

- Guilty? Why? - The demon asked, with a hint of wonder in his voice.

The angels shrugged, twisting his hands and biting his lips with a tormented expression on his face.

- Because they were being punished, but I was the one who had failed them. - He looked up at the picture, but he was looking past it, rewatching a different scene. - And... and... - His eyes started stinging and watering, the effect of all that fresh paint no doubt, - And... had I spoken up for them...

He suddenly turned to look at Crowley, who was staring at him with his golden eyes wide open.

- They were only being curious... - the angel pleaded, and the effect of that paint was really terrible because an entire teardrop rolled down his cheek as he was speaking. - They only wanted to know things. And I let them be cast out and didn't say anything. - He took a short breath and his voice came out thin as a whisper - How will I be forgiven?

Crowley stood there without breathing, transfixed. His brain was struggling to process the angel's discourse, that pain for the humans, for their fault and their fall, and beyond that another pain, older, deeper, bleeding through his words like ink through thin paper. But the pain on the surface was easier to grasp and the other one was tangled in too many frightful thoughts, so the demon pretended that he had only caught the human part of that lament.

- I was the one who tempted them into that. - He said quietly after a moment of silence that could have lasted a second or a century. He felt like he was slightly suffocating. That paint smell truly was unbearable. It was even making his voice crack. - Do you still hate me?

A shocked expression darkened Aziraphale's face, and something behind his blue eyes seemed to crumble. There had to be a cloud hiding the sun, right in that moment, because up there under the vault the air became suddenly darker and colder.

- I never hated you. - He murmured. And then, with a wounded tone, - How could you think that?

The cloud moved away.

- It was my fault.

- I don't think it was.

They stood in silence again, and their confusion was so deep that a moment later none of them was able to tell anymore who had said "It was my fault" and who had replied "I don't think it was".

- We should get down, this smell is making me hazy. - Said the angel, sniffling.

- Yeah, this was enough church attending for me.

- Would you like... - Aziraphale paused, suddenly interested in a dented tin bucket who was draining all his attention, - Would you like to have lunch? I know a place.

Crowley opened his mouth and closed it again without making any sound, then opened it again and let out a couple of stumbling syllables before finally managing: - Well, I don't suppose that would hurt.

They exchanged a hesitant look and turned their eyes up at the two towering figures in the Garden of Eden one last time.

Michelangelo had given them two identical faces, the identical hair color, a shade that had been mixed somewhere in between a pale blonde and a bright red, and had put them up there, looking in opposite way but close to each other, almost hugging - the right arm of the angel almost around the serpent's waist, the right arm of the serpent almost around the angel's neck - as if they were twins, or lovers, or rather the two heads of the same chimerical creature. Two halves of the same being.

[renkenako]

✦ KENTO YAMAZAKI, CISMALE, HE/HIM ✦ REN KANEKO the TWENTY-SEVEN year old has been in willow’s edge for THEIR ENTIRE LIFE and was an EX-BOYFRIEND to JUNE, from the deceased family. whispers on the streets are that the MECHANIC AT ONE-STOP AUTO who lives in WILLOUGHBY COMPLEX are said to be CANDID and SELF-WILLED but i guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

tw: family issues, alcohol mention

full name: kenako ren

date of birth: january 30th

star sign: aquarius

place of birth: willow's edge south carolina

family: kaneko osamu (father), nakamura miu (mother)

sexual orientation: bisexual

religion: atheist

tattoos: dueling rabbits on either thigh, flames above his left ankle, broken glass around his left elbow, a very meta tattoo with question marks above his right elbow, skull / mechanic piece on his right calf, a fat bird above the crook of his left elbow, ladder above his right ankle, "whatever forever" on his left shin, a double-headed rat on his left bicep, and a broken bone on his left forearm.

style: linen button-ups, vans and converse, vintage beer t-shirts, light-washed dad jeans, carhartt jackets, miscellaneous trucker hats, short-sleeved button-ups or bowling shirts, grey jeans, white basic tees, well-worn nike sneakers, five inch inseam gym shorts, distressed jean jackets, a canvas messenger bag, headphones as a necklace, silver rings, dark brown cargo/utility pants, and doc martens.

[ aesthetics coming later because i am tired ]

ren grew up in winslow as an only child in an upper middle class family. his mother, miu, was a stay at home mom and an artist in her free time— though most of her paid work tended to be painting storefront windows in town. his father, osamu, now works as an office administrator but back in his heyday, he was the manager of willow suite's.

while both of ren's parents are more reserved, he broke tradition and even from a young age was the kid constantly being asked to change desks at school or earn a sideways glance. make no mistake, he's not the loudmouth demanding the spotlight but he's undoubtedly the loudest in the kenako bunch, standing out just enough to stress out his father.

his father expected ren to grow out of his tendencies and mature. but the more ren got told to quiet down or to grow up or 'stay in line', the less he wanted to. at a certain point, it wasn't so much his natural instinct but a choice made of spite.

maybe that was a factor in how things went with june. having grown up around the suites given his father's job, he'd gotten to know the willows well enough. it wasn't really until that one summer— ren was twenty and working at the hotel as a bellhop, having opted not to do the whole college thing (another decision made to spite the status quo). at some point, june and him had just gotten closer. it felt a bit forbidden. boss's daughter. father's boss's daughter. they hadn't taken it public when his father had found out in a moment of wrong place, wrong time. immediately, he didn't approve, calling it inappropriate. worrying about his job, how mr. willow would see him, what he'd think. june and ren hadn't lasted too much longer after that. even though ren refused to listen to his father's demands to end it, staying in a relationship where you're not feeling very welcomed... it made sense. ren never faulted her for that. — [ together for four months, mostly private but became more public knowledge after it ended ]

after not going to college, the initial plan (from dad) was for him to follow in osamu's footsteps and work at the suites, eventually making his way up the ladder. that dream never really took off and officially died after that summer with june. it was then that ren went to trade school to become a mechanic. he'd preferred the idea of a hands on type job and, to be honest, the grim of it seemed appealing. can't be all prim and proper with oil stains. it helped too that ren had always liked cars; hot wheels were his toy of choice as a kid. now he mostly collects speeding tickets.

owns a black 1967 chevy impala that he restored himself. it's his pride and joy.

moved into willoughby complex when he was twenty-two. he had a roommate for two years before moving into his own one bedroom.

loves a capri sun. he's a fan on most flavors but his favorite is obviously pacific cooler and he cannot and will not touch the grape. at a bar, he'll either grab a simple beer or a classic rum and coke.

loves music and doesn't go anywhere without at least some type of ear buds, though he prefers headphones. — [ greta van fleet, mother mother, the black keys, ren, rainbow kitten surprise, noah kahan, creedence clearwater revival, maneskin, k.flay, tamino, etc... ]

big fan of sitting anywhere but a chair: the hood of his car, the roof of willoughby, a tall stack of tires, counters, also the floor.

general connection ideas: best friends, friends, ex-friends, pseudo siblings, ex-roommate of two years, childhood/family friends, coworkers (now or once-upon-a-time), exes [ 1. non-serious childhood "girlfriend", 2. high school girlfriend, 3. june, 4. ex from early twenties, 5. recent ex. ], fwb, one night stand, dating app match, one-sided crush, old crush?, enemy, annoyance, drinking buddy, bad/good influence, extended fam… others that i cannot think of

[ PINTEREST ]

[macaroni-rascal]

Okay, I have to do the men first while they're still fresh in my mind.

Malinin wtf, that's one of the worst outfits I've ever seen. It's giving ClipArt, it's giving shitty MySpace photo edits done in MS Paint, it's giving WinAmp skin. And it's a freaking Succession program - a simple ribbed black turtleneck sweater would've sufficed, but no. At least he's improved his movement quality.

Kevin with the slay of the weekend so far, such a shame it was to Bolero. I had forgotten it was Bolero and then the dread of the realization set in when the music started. His gloves were stained red by the blood gushing from my eardrums. But when he was standing in the middle of the ice, hip cocked, staring down the judges? Iconic. He needs to close his shirt a little bit and it needs some sort of intricate beading or a pattern or something, it's all a bit plain and boxy again and dark. And the hair again - truly reminiscent of some of Scott's worst post-retirement moments.

Shun, if you're gonna skate to the Four Seasons, then why dress like the cracked earth of the Atacama Desert? It looked better up close and I'm sure it looked great as a drawing, but it had these skeletal lines that made me wonder if it was a Halloween costume. It looked like if someone ripped the ruffles off of one of Yuzuru's old costumes and ran over it with their car in the mud.

Nozomu - this costume is too literal and silly and it belongs on a cruise ship show, not a senior GP. If a novice boy was wearing this, it'd be cute, but this is a grown-ass man. I did like the color and beading on the vest upon closer inspection and default bonus points for not wearing black pants, but the music selections were too heavy and dramatic for such a childish outfit. And I thought we'd left the boot covers behind in the early 90s, wth.

An Eteri boy? In this economy? The ripping-open of the shirt is such a cheap Dani G gimmick as to be a parody of itself at this point. And a red shirt for Roxanne? Groundbreaking. At least he's appropriately attired for what he is to his coach - just another Redshirt.

Deniss would be my main B if it weren't for the problems. I love how the audience was creaming itself as soon as he started moving. I looooved the fuchsia color, but let's be real for a sec - that's a blouse. He's wearing a blouse. But I don't care. He looked like a slutty pirate and I'm here for it. That said, his body was performing, but his face wasn't, and I hate that for him, because he's the only boy here who could bomb and still get a standing O.

Gogo's shirt was having an identity crisis. Was it supposed to be kimono-inspired? Is the music from some obscure sci-fi show and this shirt is somehow based on an alien civilization? Because both short sleeves over long ones and a scarf (that's just a little shorter than the shirt) under a belt is a lot to be going on. Was the costume brief "just fuck my shit up"? The color wasn't bad and it suited his complexion, but the gloves were an unnecessary touch in an overall look that followed no rhyme or reason.

Litvintsev strikes again, this time with an overly literal costume and a community theater interpretation of a toy soldier that he doesn't have the rizz to make camp enough to work. The ruffled collar I found to be personally offensive.

Tatsuya wearing a random, loosely fitting tactical outfit and skating to contemporary classical music, because those two things somehow go together. Whatever.

Naumov's shirt I possibly liked best, but that's mostly because it was slim pickings out there. It was more interesting up close, but the little colorful islands of rhinestones just looked like stains in wide shots. I liked the ombre, it was well-positioned and the shirt was well-constructed and fit him well.

Torgs strikes again, this time in a system failure blue crewneck sweater someone tested black and white eyeliner swatches onto. I'm issuing an arrest warrant for whoever is responsible, he should demand his money back. At least he had a redemption skate.

Nordeback with the laziest Batman costume. I can't even be bothered to comment. His performance def was a dark knight of the soul.

I'm gonna give on sentence on each skater along with you, as a fun game.

Ilia: Why, bro...just why?

Kevin: V necks are apparently the reason for the season, but I'm not sure if they are in.

Shun: You nailed it so hard I have nothing to add besides a crisp thumbs up.

Nozomu: Boot covers should be outlawed unless you are skating to Kinky Boots, then an allowance will be made, but only if BOTH skaters wear bright red knee high boot covers.

Eteri boy: Ugh.

Deniss: Oh, Deniss.

Gogolev: Every time he skates I think: does he hate this?

Litvintsev: Camp is only camp if it's camp and this wasn't camp.

Tatsuya: Boring.

Naumov: Pretty solid.

Torgashev: What a choice.

Nordeback: Rough stuff.

[crimescenecleaning0]

Quick and Effective Emergency Cleaning Solutions for Every Situation

In the chaos of daily life, emergencies can arise unexpectedly, leaving us scrambling for quick and effective cleaning solutions. Whether it's a spilled glass of wine on the carpet, a grease stain on your favorite shirt, or a sudden influx of guests arriving at short notice, having a few emergency cleaning solutions tricks up your sleeve can save the day. Here are some handy solutions to tackle common cleaning emergencies:

Spills on Carpets or Upholstery:

Blot the spill immediately with a clean cloth or paper towel to absorb as much liquid as possible.

Mix a solution of equal parts water and white vinegar, and gently dab the stained area with a sponge or cloth.

For tougher stains, sprinkle baking soda over the affected area, let it sit for a few minutes, then vacuum it up.

Grease Stains on Clothing:

Sprinkle a generous amount of cornstarch or talcum powder over the grease stain and let it sit for about 10-15 minutes.

Use a soft-bristled brush to gently scrub the powder into the fabric, helping to absorb the grease.

Shake off the excess powder and launder the clothing as usual. Repeat the process if necessary before drying.

Foul Odors in the Refrigerator:

Empty the refrigerator of all its contents and discard any expired or spoiled items.

Wipe down the interior surfaces with a mixture of equal parts water and white vinegar to eliminate odors.

Place an open box of baking soda on one of the shelves to absorb any lingering smells.

Pet Accidents on Floors:

Quickly blot up as much of the urine or vomit as possible using paper towels or old rags.

Sprinkle baking soda liberally over the affected area to absorb the moisture and neutralize odors.

Once the baking soda has dried, vacuum it up and then clean the area with a solution of mild detergent and warm water.

Unexpected Guests Arriving:

Quickly declutter common areas by tossing items into baskets or closets to deal with later.

Focus on high-traffic areas like the living room, kitchen, and bathroom, quickly wiping down surfaces and fluffing cushions.

Light a scented candle or use air freshener to create a welcoming atmosphere and mask any lingering odors.

Stains on Walls or Countertops:

For non-porous surfaces like countertops, spray a mixture of equal parts water and dish soap onto the stain and scrub with a sponge.

For painted walls, try using a mild detergent solution or a magic eraser to gently remove the stain without damaging the paint.

Broken Glass or Sharp Objects:

Carefully pick up large pieces of broken glass using tongs or thick gloves to avoid injury.

Use a damp paper towel or slice of bread to pick up smaller glass shards that may be difficult to see.

Finish by using a lint roller or sticky tape to pick up any remaining tiny fragments.

emergencies can happen at any time, but being prepared with the right cleaning solutions can help minimize stress and damage. With these quick and effective tips, you'll be ready to tackle any cleaning emergency that comes your way. Remember to always prioritize safety and proper handling of cleaning materials to avoid accidents or injuries.

For more info:-

emergency cleaning solutions

san antonio homicide cleanup

[the-moonlightwitch-official]

reveal pt.1

SUMMARY: You have been kidnapped and will remain captive until you fall in love with your kidnapper. You wake up with zero memories of who you are and how you got there. Overtime you gain memories that will unlock the emotions and experiences that you’ve had with your very eventful life, and the role that your captor has played in each of those past memories. 

NOTE: This story is loosely based off of a movie called HIPPOPOTAMUS. take note that the story is somewhat like the movie, except the captor is Aizawa. and the story will have some of its own twists, and the memories will be a little different than the ones in the movie. You can watch the movie  HIPPOPOTAMUS for free on TUBI

 SERIES WARNING: KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS OF DROWNING, MEDICATIONS, MENTIONS OF CUTTING A LIMB, BLOOD, EVENTUAL SMUT, TRAMUA, MENTIONS OF RAPE, PHYSICAL FIGHTING, MENTIONS OF DEATH AND LOSS, MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY. 

You can't breathe. You feel heavy, like chains are pulling you down. The more you move, the heavier they feel, the faster you're dragged down. It gets harder and harder to reach the surface.  Flailing your arms and kicking your legs do you no good when you're drowning. The cold water causes goose bumps against your skin. 

Air bubbles escaping your mouth as you scream as hard and loud as you can. Nothing, Nothing, is coming to the rescue. The mucky, dark gray water consuming you and your memories. You gather all the strength you could possibly have left and push yourself to reach the surface. It’s working. You're so close. You kick your legs and feel the heavy weight on your ankles release. Furthermore, you feel lighter. You finally feel an escape. Your fight or flight kicks in hard. You're closer to the surface, you can just feel it. You can just smell the cool, fresh air already. Likewise, you reach your left arm up to touch the surface. Right before your fingers could touch the surface, everything fades to black. 

Blinking open your eyes, you see the color white surrounding you. Eyes fully opening and looking around. You notice that you're in a room, an old looking white room. Ice-cold, white floor tiles, white brick walls, old white door with deep cracks and chipping paint. To your right was a tiny window all the way up the wall. Way out of your reach and barred. To your left was a white toilet and sink. Above the toilet was a large drawing of a pink brain and next to it, above the sink, was the drawing of a side view of a blue chair tipping backwards. In front of you was the old white door, and on the left of the door was an old brown chair. On top of it sat a purse, a tan one. 

You were sitting up with both of your legs straight out in front of you. You were wearing a white tank top and gray shorts. Your hair was pulled up into a neat ponytail. Your head felt a bit tight. You reached up and noticed a white bandage wrapped around the middle of your head. A Blood stain on it. You gasped and moved to get up, but was quickly stopped by the sharp pain that ran through your calves and hamstrings. You let out an audible groan of absolute pain, and that's when you noticed white bandages wrapped around your knees, and a blood stain on the bandages where your leg ligament is located.  

Suddenly you can hear footsteps creaking on the floorboards above, and then they could be heard going down some stairs. The thumps of footsteps are heard coming closer, and it snapped you back to reality. You looked up from your legs when the old white door opened with a loud creak, and in shuffled a tired looking man with long black, unkempt hair. He was wearing a dark navy blue long sleeve shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Black sweatpants, and gray slippers. He was nursing a cup of coffee. Not only that, but he was obviously toned and muscular. The long sleeve navy blue shirt hugging his biceps tightly. His forearms were muscular as well. He looked you over and shuffled over to the toilet and closed the lid and sat on top of it. One leg rested on the other as he sat back and sighed loudly. And looked back at you while taking a long sip of coffee. 

“Who are you, where am I?” He took another sip of coffee before answering your questions. “My name is Shota, and I have kidnapped you, and you're going to be held captive until you fall in love with me.” You looked at him confused, and he just looked amused as he took another sip. “Why?” was all you could ask. “Because I said so.” he answered. “Why can't I remember anything, why can't I remember who I am?” you asked. “Because you’ve been in an accident and lost all your memories.” you looked towards the ground in confusion and defeat. “Your name is Y/n, you're 28 years old, you are an only child,  you're still afraid of the dark, Your favorite color is f/c (f/c stands for your FAVORITE COLOR.) You will be served 3 meals a day with water to stay hydrated. I will give you a wash every other day. You are being given pain meds, and meds to stop your menstrual cycle. You're taking pain meds because your legs are in great pain, because I cut your leg ligaments.” you looked at him in absolute horror before he continued talking. 

He stalked over to you and crouched to your level. “Running away would be useless, as would standing or trying to walk. Trying to do any of that would result in agonizing pain, and it would take longer for your legs to heal. You might even possibly fuck up your legs permanently. If you need to go to the toilet, I will assist you. Do not try to do this yourself.” You looked at him, trying to process things. Because honestly, what the fuck. You watched as he stood back up and spoke again. “Lights on at 7:00 a.m. and lights out at 11:00 p.m. and do not try to escape. We’re 10 miles from the nearest household, and your legs won't work.” 

“Over there on that chair is your purse. I have not gone through it, for it is none of my business and your personal belongings.” You stared at the purse, before he started speaking again. 

“ If I were you y/n, I would listen to me and follow directions.” He said before turning around to walk out. Once he reached the door and opened it, you stopped him. “Wait!” he turned towards you. You played with the hem of your shorts nervously. “D-did you rape me?” he looked at you and honestly answered. “No.” before walking out. The door closed with a loud groan. 

You leaned your head against the wall and stared up at the ceiling in defeat. The occasional sound of footsteps going up a staircase and a loud door creaking open and closed a floor above the ceiling.  You looked down at the silver bracelet on your right wrist, thinking deeply. It read your name on it. 

~TIME SKIP~

 A red tray sat next to you. On it was a white plate with brown crumbs on it. A fork and knife laying on the plate. Next to the plate was a clear glass face down, and beside the glass was a tiny paper cup filled with a couple of meds. You ate the food and drank the water, but didn’t take the meds. 

You looked up nervously as the door crept open and in came shota. He stalked over to the tray next to you, taking a peek at it and looked up at the ceiling letting out a large sigh. He turned towards you and bent down to your level again, reaching to the tray and grabbing the small cup of meds and sliding it close to you. You stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him, before he spoke.  “The pain will only get worse, y/n, if you don't take your medication.”  Your kidnapper was met with silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “Please y/n.” You looked away from his direction and served him with more silence. He sighed again and turned towards the tray, grabbed it and stood up straight before heading towards the door. “Why are you doing this?” you asked. He ignored you and walked out, closing the door behind him. You let out a scream, and then a louder one. “HEY” “HEY” you screamed.

~TIME SKIP~ 

The lights in the room turned red, which filled the room with a ruby red color. You were asleep, your body sitting upright with your legs out in front of you.  Another tray sat beside you. On it is a white plate with a fork and knife on it, besides it was an empty clear glass. Next to the other side of the plate was a tipped over, empty medicine cup. Indicating that you took your meds this time. In front of you was your kidnapper, shota. Still wearing the same outfit he was wearing earlier that day. He stood closely in front of your unconscious body, his feet planted on either side of your legs as he stared down at you. He slowly picked up his right foot and moved it closer to you, and then his left. The slippers he was wearing on his feet, only made soft sounds as he was trying to be quiet.  

He bent down the upper part of his body and gently grabbed both of your arms, and laid you down sideways on the ground, he took a small step back before moving your legs as well. Trying to put you in a more comfortable position. 

~TIME SKIP~

The sun came through on the upper window on the wall and bathed your body in soft light. You're still fast asleep and laying in the same position Shota had moved your body into. The door creaked open and in came Shota carrying a tray with your breakfast on it. His gray slippers made soft sounds against the floor as he quietly shuffled in and sat the tray down next to you. Shota turned towards you and crouched to your level. He looked at you in admiration. Before, he pulled a tissue out of his pocket to blow his nose. Afterwards, he stuffed it back into his pocket and grabbed your arms to pull you back up into a seated position, and extending your legs outward. He Then knocked on the wall a couple of times above your head. You startled awake. He took a step back and watched as you looked around.

 “Breakfast is served y/n.” The door shut, indicating that he left after saying that. You looked up immediately, as if you had a plan. 

Calming down your heaving breathing was easy. Everything you just did made you feel like a kid that got caught with their hand in a cookie jar. The door opened and in came shota with another tray of food. He crouched down and sat it in front of the tray he gave you earlier. Right as he was about to grab the tray from earlier and leave, he looked at you and grabbed your chin, moving your head left to right and inspecting you. Your face was a flush red and your breathing was heavy. He sighed, standing up and facing away from you. “You're in pain, y/n, you should have told me.” He reached into the right pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a dark brown pill bottle. He twisted open the bottle cap, tilting the bottle, and began to gently shake the pills out into the palm of his hand. “Now I have to up the dosage.” 

You struggled to scoot across the room and tried to keep the groans of pain quiet. Likewise, you finally made it somewhat close to the chair near the door, before giving up scooting because of the pain and just reaching as far as you can for the purse. You successfully grabbed it after a few attempts and flipped the top of it open and immediately began rummaging through it, trying to find something that could get you out of here. You dropped items from the bag onto the floor as you looked, such as a tampon bag, a pen, chapstick, gum, and a yellow tennis ball. You lost hope. Your hand hit something in the bag before you grabbed it and took it out. It was a small makeup mirror.

Something else collapsed out of the purse as you took the mirror out. You looked down. It was your ID. You held up the mirror and ID. You looked at your picture on the card and then at yourself in the mirror. Looking at the information on the card, you could tell that he was telling you the truth about your name and age. You closed the mirror and put it back in the purse along with your card. You grabbed the tennis ball and held it close to you as you pondered things, but your train of thought was quickly broken by a loud footstep upstairs. The footsteps making the light flicker.

From your short time here, you quickly learned that a loud footstep that makes the light flicker is an early sign that he’s on his way to your room. You shuffled everything back into the bag and threw it back onto the chair, before scooting as fast as you could back to your original space. Never noticing that the tennis ball rolled out of the purse. Once your back hit the wall, you looked to your right and noticed the ball before reaching over to grab it and putting it in the back pocket of your shorts. 

He put the cap back onto the bottle and put it back into his pocket. Crouching down to your level, he grabbed the unfinished water from your breakfast tray, and held his hand up that was full of the pills. His hand was in a soft fist to protect the pills in case you lashed out. “Open your mouth now.” You hesitated before opening your mouth. He smiled, very pleased that you didn't fight him. He gently put all the pills into your mouth. Once the pills were in your mouth, He raised the water to your lips. “Swallow.” He tilted your chin up as you gulped down the water. “Good.” 

You looked up at him. His long, raven colored hair covered most of his face. He wiped some hair out of his face, and you noticed the scar under his right eye. He looked back down at you. “Show me.” He gently grabbed your chin as you opened your mouth again to show that you swallowed all the pills. Furthermore, he patted your head and took the breakfast tray and left the room. 

You watched as he shuffled away, He opened the door and turned towards you with a soft smile before closing the door. You rested your head against the wall. 

“Holy shit, that was close.”

[sundaysundaes]

Monochrome

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But we don’t have a dog.”

“We can have one in the future.”

“We can?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, you’re only five!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“What if she walks into the kitchen?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But will you still sleep beside me?”

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

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

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

“There’s no life without you, Noona.”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought that was just a rumor?”

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

“They met each other in their dreams?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agreed.”

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t flirting.”

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

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

“A little.”

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

***

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

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

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

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

“You look like a clown, honestly.”

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

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

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

“Whatever. You still look like a clown.”

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

“To your clown costume?”

“Turn around!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanted to see your clown costume.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately for him, his prayer was not answered.

***

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

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

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

“Scream in horror, more likely.”

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

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

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

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

“Deliciously? So he smelled like tacos?”

“Smelled way better than you, at least.”

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up.”

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

“SHUT UP!”

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Do whatever you want, it’s not my business,” he muttered, walking back to his room but leaving the door open for her to follow.

“I like him, Haechannie,” she continued, and with every word that came from her mouth, a javelin seemed to strike him even harder in the chest. “I really do, but am I ready to have a relationship? Like what do I do? I know I joke a lot about having my first kiss but now that we’re about to become official, and knowing that he’s most likely going to kiss me soon, I get so nervous.”

Donghyuck didn’t say a word. He had nothing nice to say, so he kept himself in silence.

“W-what would you do if you were me?” She sputtered. “I mean, if a girl you like asked you to be her boyfriend?”

Donghyuck had his hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie, so she wouldn’t be able to tell when his fingers curled into balls of fists. He had the back of his hips pressed against his desk, locating his eyes on his shoes instead of hers. “This girl I like is actually talking about being someone else’s girlfriend,” he professed, “So I’m not sure I can give you proper advice.”

“Stop messing with me, Haechannie, I’m seriously begging for your help here.”

It was goddamn annoying, he thought, how she could be so dense when it came to things like this. Well, to be fair, he did have his fair share of flirting with her from time to time whether he meant his words or not, and knowing how playful he was, it’s a given that she grew to become accustomed to his teasing personality. It was nearly impossible for him to be taken seriously nowadays.

“Why are you even asking me?” He spat out, now looking at her eyes—almost glowering. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I don’t know, I really need someone to talk to, I guess.” She played with her hair, biting her lower lip worriedly. “And you’re my best friend so I naturally just come to you. You always seem to have the answers to everything.”

There was a pang in his heart when she singlehandedly decided on their relationship status and he knew he shouldn’t have asked for something more but with more days passing by where it was only the two of them walking side-by-side under the first snow, or calling each other’s names the first thing in the morning through their windows, Donghyuck couldn’t help but to hope for something more.

“Well, like I said,” he repeated, voice sounding low and foreign even to his own ears. “Do whatever you want. As long as it makes you happy.”

She took a proper look at his face. “Are you angry or something?”

“No.”

“What, like, did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“I said nothing’s wrong!” His voice thundered through the thick tension that was hanging between them and he felt his own heart shaking in pain from the tone he just made. They stared at each other’s eyes in what felt like hours before Donghyuck finally covered it with a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just really tired right now. Didn’t catch any sleep last night from playing too many games.”

It took a good few seconds for her to regain back her composure. “Well, I don’t want to bother you then.” She didn’t sound angry, but she did sound hurt. Donghyuck was still in the middle of sorting out his feelings when she walked out of his room, saying, “I’m sorry for pestering you like this. Goodbye, Haechannie.”

He had never hated someone as much as he hated himself then.

It took him five hours for his mind to finally make up the decision to go into her house and apologize in person, but only a second for him to immediately do it once he’d made up his mind. He ran down the stairs so fast, he almost fell face-first on the carpeted floor. When he stood in front of her house, desperately pushing back air into his lungs, the door was locked and no one came to answer no matter how many times he rang the doorbell.

Muttering a train of expletives under his breath, he turned to his iPhone and found the first number in his emergency contacts. He was about to press dial when suddenly her name popped out on his screen, asking him to answer her call.

“Noona?” Donghyuck called, breathing in relief. “Hey, I was about to call you. I wanted to apologi—”

“Haechannie.” She sounded so happy, almost to the point of shedding tears. “Haechannie, he just kissed me.”

Donghyuck’s lips were parted in shock, his throat felt like burning, even though puffs of air still tumbled down from his mouth. His heart almost stopped beating entirely.

“What do I do, Haechannie, I’m so happy,” she said, laughing between tears. “I’m actually crying right now. I’m so lame, I know, but—God, I can’t believe I got kissed by my crush—no, wait, my boyfriend—oh God, it’s still embarrassing to say that but—”

As if turning deaf, her voice in his ears was reduced into a silent murmur before vanishing entirely. The loud beating of his heart soon replaced it as it pumped more anger and jealousy through his veins but Donghyuck wasn’t going to repeat his previous mistake. He wasn’t going to let his emotions take control again.

“Well,” he breathed out, unfamiliar with the sound of his own voice. “I’m happy for you then.”

“You are? Oh, thank God, because I thought you’d whine about me for not spending time with you anymore.”

“Do you really think that lousy of me?”

“I’m kidding, Haechannie. I love you. You know that, right?”

And it hurt, the way she said it, because it meant nothing more than a platonic love and he wanted it to mean more. Perhaps he had been waiting for those three words to mean more for the last nine years of his life.

“Of course,” he simply said, hoping she wouldn’t hear the crack in his voice. “There’s no life without you, Noona.”

It took her a while to respond, and he was worried whether the cold tone in his voice stood too vividly again, but she laughed before he could think too much.

“It’s been a while since we said that. Of course, yes, there’s no life without you, Haechannie.” She giggled again, “It’s kind of embarrassing to say that when we’re already this old. Maybe we should start looking for another catchphrase. I don’t want Jaemin to catch me saying that to you either—”

“No, don’t—” Since when did speaking to her become this hard? “It’s something that we’ve been doing since we were kids. I’m not gonna change our tradition just because of one asshole that you happen to like.”

A silence, then a chuckle. “Seems like you’re back to your old self again. I was beginning to worry. All right then, let’s keep it that way. I’ll just have to be more careful.” He could tell that she was smiling all the way when she said her sentences.

“When will you be back?” I miss you. “I want to see you.” I want to hold you. “We haven’t really talked these days.”

“Oh, umm…” She sounded so apologetically soft, so quiet, so out of his reach. “Jaemin actually just asked me to go somewhere with him, but I’ll be back soon. Is there something you need?”

He curled his fingers. “Nothing important. It can wait.”

“Great. Oh, Jaemin just called, I gotta—”

“Stop saying his name.”

When a small gasp came from the other line, Donghyuck raised his head, startled by his action. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, his stomach doing somersaults. “It’s just—” He couldn’t think of anything fast enough. “You’re right. I’m sorry for taking your time.”

“Oh, no, it’s…” A pause, which struck like a hurricane. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Sure.” But he didn’t hold her on her promise, because she now belonged to someone else.

He just had to get used to being alone.

***

It was the color of eerie black, the denim jacket that he wore above his white shirt as he prepared himself for his date. Donghyuck had cut his hair short, ran his fingers through his bangs so they no longer covered his eyes, and sprayed the new bergamot perfume he bought around his neck.

He didn’t notice it at first, but he had become more popular in school for the past few months, after being a vocalist in a band and performing during the school festival. Girls were approaching him, asking from what class he was, wanting to know whether he wanted to hang out with them from time to time and it felt weird, although he had been quite popular back then too, it was more because he was the funny kid—not the hot kid in school.

So eventually he started going on dates, and every time he managed to spend a day with a girl, he’d come home to brag about it to his neighbor, wanting to evoke a reaction but what came out of her was only a small chuckle and a shake of her head, “What are you talking about? You’re just a boy. You know nothing about girls, let alone going on a date with one.” And he would drop the topic, fuming for the rest of the day.

“There.” He straightened his jacket, gazing at his reflection in the standing mirror. “New day, new beginning, Hyuck. You can do this.”

You can forget her and move on.

So he checked on his phone, noticing a new chat just popped up under the name of the stranger he had been seeing for two weeks, and felt his heart beating as steady as usual. Everything felt the same. Even after he’d kissed her for the first time, intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked from one cafe to another, or hearing her laugh over his words even when he didn’t try to be funny—everything felt the same. So… plain. Unexciting. And after two weeks had passed by, meeting this stranger—the girl with the auburn colored hair, crooked teeth, and waist thinner than most—began to feel like a chore.

No, you said you’d do this. You said you’d move on from her.

“Ah, Haechannie!” The way his childhood friend immediately smiled upon his presence, waving a hand back and forth as if they were long lost companions instead of neighbors, almost made him stop in his tracks. “You’re going somewhere? You look so nice!”

His resolution faltered as simple as that. Only by the sound of her voice calling his name, only by her contagious grin creeping to his face, only by simple praise that made his stomach flip most delightfully.

“What do you mean, I look nice? I always look nice.” Donghyuck was proud of himself to be able to conceal his feelings most of the time, and not actually acting like a blushing seventeen-year-old boy with the hugest crush on his childhood friend that he was.

She took her time analyzing him and for the first time in his life, he began to fidget on his feet, swallowing his breath.

“Stop staring at me, you’re making me feel weird.”

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re this big,” she said, her eyes sparkling in amazement. “Like, I know we’re neighbors but we’ve been busy dealing with our own things these days so I haven’t really taken a closer look at you but man, look how much you’ve grown. You’re way taller than me now.”

“Yeah, if you weren’t too busy playing tonsil hockey with that fucking Na Jaemin all the time, you would’ve noticed.”

“Indeed.” She looked amused, even proud somehow. “But I got to make-out and stuff. What have you done so far, cherry boy?”

He clenched his jaw, jealousy coursing through his veins. He tried to shove the picture of Jaemin running his hands all over her body—her perfect body—to the back of his head and he thought he did a remarkable job at it. But when he smiled, his eyes didn’t follow through.

“None of your business,” he simply said, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and walked away. “I’m going on a date. See you later.”

“You’re going on a date?!” She shrieked, eyes wide. “With who?”

“A pretty girl.”

She took a hold of his hand, stopping him from walking further. “Is this the girl you’ve been seeing for the last two weeks?”

He didn’t realize she kept count. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Nothing, I was just…” She awkwardly shrugged, her fingers hanging loosely around his arm. “Just curious, that’s all. So, like… Do you like her? What’s her name?”

It was almost possessive the way she asked the questions which on one hand, made him feel happy, hoping that she was jealous about it, but on the other hand, also pissed the hell out of him because if she was indeed jealous—if she ever felt the same way as him, even if only slightly—why did she go to Jaemin’s arms instead of his?

“Her name,” he glanced at her with lifeless eyes, “is Miss None-of-Your-Fucking-Business.”

Her smiled dropped instantly. “What is your problem? I just wanted to know—”

He knew he had the worst temper and patience in the world when it came to her, and he was not always like that before. Ever since the feelings he harbored for her grew bigger and bigger with each day passing by no matter how hard he tried to make himself fall in love with somebody else, he grew even more anxious, even less patient, and he hated the way he’d become.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Want to know what?” He asked, now facing her, circling his long fingers around her wrist and raising it in the air. “What do you want to know, exactly? It’s not just her name, is it? You want to know the things I do with her too? Want to know how I feel for her?”

Her eyes began to shake, frantically trying to understand him. “What—why are you so upset?”

“I’m not, I—” He sighed with a groan coming from the back of his throat, letting her go before he massaged his temple. I’m just so stressed out knowing how clueless you are of both your own feelings and mine. “Look, I gotta go. I’m running late.”

When he walked away, taking just about three steps ahead, she shouted. “Haechannie!”

He turned his head around, just enough to see her smiling softly at him. “This weekend,” she said, “Spend time with me this weekend. Please.”

“Noona, I—”

“I miss you.”

Just like that, she had him wrapped around her fingers again. It’s not fair. You’re not fair. You can’t keep doing this to me. But he smiled back, his gaze growing gentle, almost longing. “Then I’ll see you this weekend.”

He was in a fight he knew he’d lose every time.

***

It was coral pink, the color of the girl’s lip cream but he felt it pressed against his lips before he could see it properly. He felt his collar being tugged as his body was pushed further into her room, hasty hands pushing the jacket off his shoulders.

“You smell so good,” she said, giggling as she brought his bottom lip between her teeth. “And you look so fucking hot in this outfit.” Donghyuck hit the back of his knees against her bed and tumbled down onto her sheets, with his self-proclaimed girlfriend following shortly after.

“Wait—” he said, his eyebrows joining together in the middle from feeling both confused and uncomfortable. “What about your parents—”

“They’re not home,” she said in a rush, climbing onto his lap. “And I want you.” She tangled her lean fingers around his locks, pulling his head back to expose more of his neck. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, Hyuck,” she gasped, her mouth latching on his skin, tasting his bergamot perfume with her tongue. “And we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

A little more than two weeks had passed since they first went on a date, and he really thought he could like her but whenever he closed his eyes during the kiss, his mind would start acting on its own, morphing her face to someone more familiar. Someone who could pull on his heartstrings and play with them only by the sight of her smile.

It felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. But he said he’d move on, he promised himself he would, and this was one of the ways to do it.

“You seem distracted,” she moaned softly against his ear, pressing her hips against him. “Am I boring you?”

He didn’t say a word and instead forced himself to kiss her better. He held her by the nape, angling her head to the side, and she sighed against his mouth, hooking her fingers around his silver necklace to pull him even closer.

Donghyuck was lost deep in his thoughts, and his heart just wasn’t there, but he didn’t push her away. She spread her legs and tangled them around his waist, pressing herself down until she could feel the zipper of his jeans grazing against her underwear. Donghyuck hissed under his breath, not agreeing with how his body reacted on its own and she grinned against his lips, guiding the hands he reactively laid around her waist to move further down her body.

“Touch me here,” she begged, taking his right hand and slipped it under her shirt, pushing her breast against his palm. Donghyuck let out a heavy breath as he let her tongue slipped past his lips and he closed his eyes again because that was the only way that this could all feel right to him.

Noona…

But no matter how good her touches felt on his skin, guilt was the only sensation he could feel in his heart. The more they kissed, the more he realized that she was not her, and she could never be her. He couldn’t smell the scent of strawberries from her hair. He couldn’t hear the cute giggle she made when his jokes got to her head. And no matter how they seemed physically similar—the look of her hair, the shape of her eyes, the way she dressed—he still couldn’t lie to himself and pretend she was her.

“Wait—” He pushed her gently off his lap by landing both hands on her shoulders. “Let’s stop.”

“Why?” She was upset, he could tell. “What is it?”

You’re not her. “I feel like we’re going too fast.” I don’t want you, I want her. “And what if your parents come home?” I feel sick. I need to get out of here. I need to see her.

“They won’t be home until midnight, I promise.” She had her fingers curled around his nape again. “Please, Hyuck, don’t you want me?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer, swallowing his protest with her lips, tasting more of his mouth with her tongue. “Mmph—no—wait!” he pushed her away again, firmer this time to the point she almost toppled over. “Look, I’m not in the mood, okay?” His tone was getting harsher, which only led her to feel even more agitated.

“Why the fuck are you even here then?” She spat out, throwing her hands in the air.

Donghyuck shoved her away none too gently this time, stepping down from her bed. “I don’t fucking know,” he growled under his breath, putting his denim jacket back on. “I’m leaving.”

“What are you, gay?!” She was screaming as he stormed off, slamming her bedroom door on his way out.

***

It was the color of sunset that illuminated her face, as she sat on her porch with her knees pressed together to her chest and her spine glued to the wall. Her eyes were blank, almost lifeless as she stared into space, her previous conversation with her beloved childhood friend replaying non-stop in her head.

Does he really like her? Why didn’t he tell me anything about this? How far have they gone? Has he kissed her yet?

The heat was spreading to her cheeks at the thought of Donghyuck leaning in close, his eyes going half-lidded before he closed them entirely, his lips—his beautiful, plump lips—slightly parted in anticipation before he—

She buried her hands in her palms. What is wrong with you?! He’s practically your brother!

It wasn’t like she never thought about him as something more. She just never allowed herself to think about him that way. What they had was special—Donghyuck was special. He was her only true friend, the family that always stood by her side even when her parents didn’t. The one who noticed the simplest things about her without having to be told—like handing her a brand new sketchbook whenever she was about to run out of pages, or the way he would always take a day off school whenever she was sick in bed so he could accompany her the whole day, watching re-runs of her favorite show while munching red velvet cakes the way he knew she liked.

He was the one who could see behind her lies and excuses, and the only one who would come over to her side at any hour just to fulfill her dumb requests—even though he whined the whole time. And she knew she was special to him in some ways as well, because she was the only one who he allowed to see him cry while watching Titanic which to this day, still brought a smile to her face whenever the thought came up.

It was getting pretty distracting when puberty hit him like a truck somewhere in his first year of high school. His shoulders got broader, his jawlines became more prominent, his voice got a tad deeper, and he was getting taller and taller that she had to tilt her head upward to see his face properly during conversations. He was packing more muscles too, from all the soccer activities he did after school, turning his complexion from slightly pale into the perfect color of a sun-kissed tan. While she, on the other hand, only had two pimples appearing on her cheeks and her chest growing slightly bigger.

She adored him. To her, his existence had become such an integral part of her life that whenever she didn’t see him for a day, she would sit on her porch, counting the minutes until he walked past her house, calling her, “Noona,” with that cheeky smile on his face before he told her about his day.

That was before she dated Jaemin, though. Because after that, he became quite distant. It felt weird and slightly out of character for him to give her the cold shoulder whenever she mentioned his name, but she thought perhaps it was just a boy thing. The whole conversation about her drooling over her boyfriend was probably too boring for his ears, and Donghyuck was always straightforward with the things he wasn’t fond of so she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Maybe he just wanted to give her the time she needed, so she could spend her days with her boyfriend—like what she was supposed to do—but she couldn’t help it that whenever Jaemin called her noona because he was also a year younger than her, the thought of Donghyuck’s teasing eyes and lopsided smiles crossed her mind.

And then the thought of him, holding another girl on his bed, his lips brushing against hers—

Ah, she mentally groaned, attempting to massage her scalp but ended up yanking on the roots of her hair. Lee Donghyuck, what am I supposed to do with these thoughts of you?

“You look like you’re going insane, honestly.”

She’d recognize that voice in a heartbeat even if she had her eyes closed and when she saw him slouching over her fence with a teasing smile painted on his lips, she nearly crumbled to the ground.

“Were you waiting for me, Noona?” He questioned with his eyebrow raised in a teasing manner, causing her to blush even harder.

“Of course not, idiot, why would I?” And the sound of his small chuckle warmed her heart. “You’re coming back pretty early. I thought you were going to spend the night with her.”

“Yeah?” He dragged open the fence, walking closer to her spot. “You were thinking about me spending a night at her place? Doing what, exactly?”

“Shut up.” She threw her sandal at him which he easily dodged before he took a seat beside her. “Did something happen on your date?”

“We had sex.”

She wasn’t sure whether it was because of the way he just casually said the words as if he was talking about the weather, or simply because he said those words at all, but she found herself frozen to her toes, her heart dropping into a bottomless pit, her chest suffocating.

“O-oh…” She gulped, bringing her eyes down to her fingers. “That’s great… I guess.”

“It was great,” he said, leaning back to press his spine against the wall as well. “But her parents came home soon after so I had to bail.”

He was still talking but she could no longer hear him, as if he was drowning in the background, his voice turning into whispers.

There was a feeling she couldn’t understand that kept appearing in her chest, sending fire to her fingertips. It felt like he was crushing her heart little by little with every word he said, choking her until she couldn’t breathe. She never felt like this before. Was it sadness that she felt—knowing that her little Haechannie was not her little Haechannie anymore? Or was it loneliness, knowing that he had someone else in his life—someone who could feel his touches, and made him feel theirs, in the way she could never do?

“Noona.”

She blinked herself awake. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“I was just…” She desperately sought an answer. “I’m sleepy.”

It was a terrible lie and he could tell, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered her his shoulder. “Come here, then.” And she obliged, lying her cold cheek against his warmth and for the first time in her life, she began to be more conscious of everything.

Of his intoxicating scent. Of his slow breathing. Of his velvety voice sounding dangerously close to her ear.

Of his presence, entirely.

“So,” he pressed the side of his head against hers, voice turning gentle and quiet. “You’re not playing tonsil hockey with your stupid boyfriend today?”

“He had something to do, like a group project or something. And it’s fine, I needed some time alone to sort out my—” feelings. “—thoughts anyway.”

Donghyuck snorted. “Thoughts? Like, plural? You with that one brain cell of yours?”

She poked him on the side of his abs, forcing him to laugh in the way he usually did in the past. “All jokes aside though, Noona.” He sighed, staring at the way their hands were lying side by side on the wooden parquet. If only he could just move slightly… “Are you happy with him?” was the question he asked, but he actually wanted to hear the answer to Are you happier with him compared to when you’re with me?

“I think I am,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her words which ironically sparks pain to his every nerve. “I mean, it’s my first time being in a relationship so I barely know anything at this point, but… He does make me feel something in a way that no one has ever made me feel before.”

“What, like, horny?”

“That too, but—” She huffed. “I don’t know, like, he makes me feel wanted. Desired. He makes me feel pretty and I feel like I’m more confident now as a person, knowing that there’s someone out there who wants me that way, you know?”

Donghyuck stared into space, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “But does he need you, though?” Does he need you like I do?

“Is there a difference?”

“Well, wanting you would be like he wants to hold hands with you, kiss you, touch you, be intimate with you or something but you can be replaceable as soon as he’s satisfied with you and starts wanting someone else.”

“I don’t think Jaemin is the kind of person who thinks like that.”

I don’t fucking care about Jaemin. “Yeah, I hope not. I don’t ever want you to have your heart broken.”

There was a silence that hung around them, and it started to make him feel flustered at his own words so he immediately added, “By anyone else but me. The only one who can mess with your head and your stupid heart is me. That’s like the reason for my existence—to make sure your life is a living hell.”

She smiled, taking his hand in hers, and squeezed him softly. “Yeah. You’ve always been my little devil after all.”

The word ‘my’ had a nice ring to his ears, enveloping his heart in a warming sensation, and Donghyuck blushed again, for an entirely different reason but as long as she didn’t notice, he would be fine.

***

It was ash grey, the color of his sweater that she borrowed to be worn as her sleeping attire during their sleepover at his house. It felt strange for two young adults in their primal stage of life to be sharing a room, but Donghyuck was more than pleased to offer her his bed while he slept on the floor, and his parents also didn’t mind, as long as they kept their bedroom door open.

“Final chance to back down, Noona, because I’m not stopping once we go all the way,” Donghyuck warned, suggestively raising his eyebrow, making her gulp nervously.

“I-I’m ready,” she said, nodding her head shakily a few times.

“You sure.”

“Just do it.”

“Well then, here we go.”

And as he clicked play, the movie started. It felt like it had been years since the last time they watched a movie together, sitting side by side on a carpeted floor, with a popcorn bowl on her lap, and a MacBook on his. They shared earphones, forcing them to sit as close as possible to avoid having them slipped out of their ears. Horror movies were her weakness so he always insisted to watch one of them to torture her—and also to see her cute reactions but Donghyuck scratched that off his mind—and somehow, she always ended up agreeing to it.

Donghyuck could watch every jumpscare in the movie without batting an eyelash, but his heart jumped every time whenever she clung on to him, her arms wrapping tightly against his, her head sinking at the crook of his neck, her frantic breath fanning his skin.

“What are you so scared about?” He asked, thanking God that he didn’t stutter. “It’s just a ghost of his dead girlfriend, haunting him for vengeance while singing a creepy tune as she does it.”

“Literally everything you just said!” She sobbed, her fingers clutching tightly to the fabric of his shirt, her fingernails nearly scratching his skin.

Donghyuck knew he was blushing and he hated it, and if she kept doing that, who knew what he’d become. “Let’s just stop then.”

“But you want to see this movie, don’t you—AAAH!”

His ears began to ring. “Not with you screaming like this!”

“It’s okay, I can handle this.” She puffed out her chest, taking a deep breath. “But can I hold your hand, just in case?”

It was his turn to take a deep breath. “Sure.”

It was scary, Donghyuck thought, how his mind could pay no attention whatsoever to what was showing on the screen, and instead focusing every nerve in his body on the sight of her fingers resting on top of his, squeezing them tightly whenever she was scared out of her mind.

There was a knot in his stomach, making him feel lightheaded and he tried to push the thought of lifting her fingertips to his lips and kiss them until she could think about nothing but him away from his mind.

By the end of the movie, he knew nothing about the storyline but she was bawling her eyes out. “I can’t believe I’m crying over a ghost’s background story, this is so stupid,” she said, sobbing fervently until her entire shoulders began to shake.

Donghyuck lifted one knee to his chest, laying his arms on top of it before he rested his cheek on them, He gazed at her with a pair of longing eyes, gleaming in adoration. “You’re so cute,” he sighed in a breathy voice.

Still rubbing the tears out of her eyes, she asked, “What?”

“The way you get so worked up over stupid things like this is just—cute. You’re so cute.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop saying those kinds of things to me. You already have a girlfriend. It’s not right to do this to her, even if you’re just joking around.”

Maybe it was because she seemed a bit hurt, her voice sounding strained and plaintive, or maybe it was just her line entirely but whatever it was, it made his skin crawl and he could no longer control what came out of his mouth.

“What if I didn’t have a girlfriend then?” He questioned, eyes deadly serious. “What if I wasn’t just flirting with you? What would you do if I told you I meant everything I said, every praise, every feeling I had for you?”

Her hands froze mid-air as she tried to wipe the rest of her tears away from her eyes. “What are you—”

“What would you do if I told you I loved you?” He leaned closer, brushing his fingertips against her tear-stained cheek. “Would you believe me if I say I’ve been in love with you ever since I met you?”

Silence struck like a hurricane, and there was a storm swirling in her chest. “I…” Her throats felt dry. “I, uhh…”

She looked so conflicted that it began to hurt him even when she didn’t intend to, because Donghyuck wanted her to immediately say, “I would’ve said the same thing,” straight to his face without having to trip on her words. Without her voice sounding so brittle. Without her face looking like she was about to break someone’s heart.

So he simply got up to his feet, forcing a train of laughter to erupt from his mouth. “I’m just messing with you, idiot. Stop looking at me like you got your panties in a twist, I was just kidding.”

And he expected her to be angry. Angry enough that she would shout while throwing things at his face, but instead, she broke down in tears again but smiling so widely in relief.

“I’m so glad,” she said, nearly choking on her tears. “I’m so glad you were just joking.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the pain that fleeted on his eyes, so he turned around, sinking his nails deep into his palm so he could focus on that pain instead of the one in his heart before he gathered his quilt with both arms. “Let’s just go to bed, it’s late.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor again?”

“What do you think?”

“But…” She nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s, umm, I don’t mind if we sleep together—I mean, on the bed, like, side-by-side, not—” She caught herself, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s big enough for both of us anyway, and also…” She grew quiet, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m still so scared right now so if you could just, you know, sleep right next to me, that would calm me down a lot, I think…”

Donghyuck had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, glaring at his ceiling, asking his Lord, why must you test me like this?

“You do know that your boyfriend would kill me if he knows I’m doing this with you, right?”

She winced, smiling sheepishly. “Can’t you just keep it a secret?”

He sighed, making sure that he had the expression that said I’m-so-done-with-all-your-bratty-requests when deep down inside, he was shaking in both excitement and fear of not being able to hold himself back.

“I’m a man too, you know,” Donghyuck grumbled, slipping himself underneath the comforter. He didn’t take off his shirt this time, unlike the other nights when he slept alone. “I could attack you in your sleep.”

“Isn’t that the very reason why we’re keeping the door open?” She giggled, though the tremble from her previous breakdown was still there. “This is actually rather exciting. It’s been years since we slept side-by-side like this. It reminds me of our good old days.”

“Yeah?” He jeered. “Remember what else we do in our good old days? We take baths together.”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Donghyuck slept on his side, facing the other side of the wall while she laid on the bed with her spine pressed against the sheets and her eyes glued to his ceilings. Though she was the one who said those words, it took her forever to fall asleep. “Haechannie?”

“What?”

“You’re still awake?”

“No, this is his voicemail speaking.”

“If you’re too tired to talk, could you sing me a song or something? It’s too quiet and I can’t help remembering that creepy tune she sang every time she showed up.”

“My God, what are you, a kid?”

“You forced me to watch that, so take responsibility for it!”

“Ugh, fine,” he groaned, turning to his back with his eyes locked on his ceilings and then started to hum. She listened to it wholeheartedly, a smile popping up on her face but it didn’t stay long before she realized something.

“Are you singing the theme to Mario Bros?”

“If you even begin to complain, I’m going to kick you off the bed.”

“Right, okay, continue then.”

She listened again, prepared for the same tune, but he changed it at the last second. “I can’t believe you changed it to Spongebob’s now.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, just go to sleep!”

“Okay, geez!” Her smile became permanent on her face. “You just said the F word. Mommy’s gonna be pissed at you tomorrow.”

It ended up with them throwing playful punches and kicks under the duvet and Donghyuck laughed a lot, missing and loving every second of it because this was how they used to be—playing around like kids, messing with each other’s hair and faces. At one point, he began to hover over her, trapping her body between his arms, his knee placed on the small space between her thighs. The pendant of his silver necklace was grazing along her collar bone, making her shiver slightly from the cold.

She was sweating, her bangs sticking to her temple, and she was as breathless as he was, panting for air. It felt like time began to slow for Donghyuck the second his eyes were locked on hers, his surroundings vanishing into a blur. He was so close, too close, that he could feel her breath on his lips, could almost taste the scent of her shampoo on his tongue, and if he could just lean in…

The sound of his name tumbling down her lips in a soft, almost inaudible manner was what stopped him from pressing his lips against hers, and he was thankful because otherwise, he could’ve done it, and then everything would be ruined.

He couldn’t afford that to happen.

“Your breath stinks,” he said instead and pecked her quickly on her forehead. He immediately scrambled to his other side of the bed, shouting, “Go to sleep, you idiot,” as he gave his best effort to pretend he was sleeping.

You were so close, Donghyuck thought, you almost ruined everything. Pull yourself together.

And if I can’t have her, just let me have this moment for the rest of my life.

***

It was the color of ivory, her trench coat was as she wrapped it harshly around her body, all the while fuming in anger. Her phone was buzzing non-stop, alerting her to the new messages that arrived almost at the same time and she knew exactly who they were from.

I still can’t believe you’re choosing him over me to celebrate your birthday. - Haechannie, 09.10

We do this every year, Noona, we PROMISED to always celebrate our birthdays together. - Haechannie, 09.10

And now that you have Na fucking Jaemin giving you sloppy blowjobs as your birthday gift, you suddenly just forget about me?! How fucking ridiculous is that?! - Haechannie, 09.11

Does he even know it’s your birthday today? Did he congratulate you on it like I did? Showing up at your door at midnight, carrying the world’s most gigantic alpaca doll in my arms when it was fucking freezing outside?! Because I sure as hell didn’t see his stupid donkey face! - Haechannie, 09.12

Also, not trying to be an ass about this, but do you even know how hard it is to find a one-meter tall Alpaca doll?! Why can’t you just like teddy bears like everyone else for fuck’s sake. - Haechannie, 09.13

“Oh my God,” she groaned loudly to the air, almost stomping her feet in fury as she texted back, “I’m not ditching you, you selfish idiot! I’ll be back before dinner and then we can spend the rest of the day together so for once in your life, stop sounding like a fucking asshole!” She paused, thinking more words to add before she jabbed her thumbs to her phone screen again. “Also, I didn’t ask you to get me anything so you can take that stupid ugly doll back if you’re going to be a bitch about it because I don’t need it!”

And she pressed send. But before she could catch her breath, another response came by.

Great. Do me a favor, will ya? Don’t show up at dinner. I’m not your fucking backup plan. - Haechannie, 09.15

She was so close to smashing her phone against the wall, but the text coming from her boyfriend, telling her that he was waiting for her downstairs, made her heaved the heaviest sigh she’d ever made, shoved her phone into her purse, and stepped down the stairs with angry clicks of her heels.

The entire birthday date was a disaster for her because Jaemin was discussing something important but she couldn’t decipher a word he said. The look on Donghyuck’s face when she said she had promised Jaemin she’d go on a date with him on her birthday—how shocked and disappointed he was, not to mention furious—was the only thing that she could focus on. She kept replaying it over and over again in her head, until Jaemin took her hand and called, “Noona? Did you hear what I just said?”

And she was so terribly upset that she began to lose control of her mouth. “Don’t call me that. I have someone back home who calls me that a lot and it’s getting annoying.”

“O…kay,” Jaemin awkwardly said, pulling his hand away from hers. “I was just trying to be respectful.”

She threw her head back, sighing loudly in exasperation. “You’re right, sorry. I didn’t mean to take this out on you.” She took a deep breath, waited until she calmed down a little bit before she continued again. “I just had this fight with someone and it keeps bugging me.”

“Let me guess. Is it Lee Donghyuck again?”

She raised her head in surprise, looking at him. “What do you mean again?”

“He’s all you’ve been thinking about, for as long as I remember.”

“Yeah, because he’s like a little brother to me who annoys the hell out of me.” She rubbed her temple, feeling her energy drained. “Well, he’s not actually my brother, but he acts like one—he gets on my nerves, teases me a lot, calls me stupid all the time—”

“Why do I get the feeling that he’s more than just a little brother to you?”

She frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not listening to me—”

“Look, you know what?” Jaemin ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best to end this.”

“What?” She nearly dislocated her jaw. “What are you even saying—are you breaking up with me?”

“Well, you’re going to graduate soon and you told me once that you’d probably leave town for college, and with all this Donghyuck thing going on…” Jaemin sighed. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

***

It was the color of dark grey, the heavy clouds that hovered above the earth with thunders flashing between them. She stood in front of Donghyuck’s door, fingertips shivering slightly from the cold as she rang his doorbell. The boy came to answer shortly after, his usual gaze quickly turning into a menacing glare at the sight of her. He was about to rave over their previous fight when he noticed how she was all drenched from the rain with tears streaming down her face. She glanced up at him, murmuring his name between sobs, and Donghyuck hastily gathered her in his arms, not caring one bit how the rain seeped almost instantly to the grey Nirvana shirt he was wearing.

“Are you okay?” He attentively asked, cupping her cheek with his lean fingers. He lifted her face, examining every detail of her features, making sure she wasn’t hurt in the slightest. “Did something happen?” His voice suddenly turned gravelly. “Did he do this to you?”

She sniffled, burying her face in his chest. “Jaemin broke up with me.”

“On your fucking birthday?!”

She nodded.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Donghyuck said, almost growling as he embraced her tighter. “I’m gonna keep you company today and make sure you’re okay first, and then I’m going to kill him.”

There was no need for apologies to be exchanged, because Donghyuck already had his arms around her, drying her hair with a towel and lending her his sweater that he knew she loved. His parents weren’t home at the time, so they sat on the kitchen counters, legs dangling a few inches above the porcelain floor with a cup of hot coffee in their hands.

“This is the worst birthday in the history of mankind,” she said, slurping her coffee. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well, there was actually this girl who got murdered on her birthday—”

“Just humor me, will you?” He chuckled and patted her hair. “But to be fair, I don’t think he’s aware it’s my birthday today. He hasn’t said anything, didn’t give me anything. I also never told him, and he…Well, he never asked.”

“And yet, you still went out with him.” He sighed, now tucking a loose strand of her hair to the back of her ear. “I know you’re an idiot, but I didn’t think you were this much of an idiot.”

She grew smaller. “Please be mean to me another day. I’m currently wounded.”

“Right, okay, come here.” He cradled her in his arms, placing his chin on top of her head. “You smell like a wet dog, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She was about to lean more to his touch when his phone began to ring.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” She questioned when he did nothing about it and when he kept quiet, she broke apart from his embrace, jumped down, and grabbed his phone from the table.

“Unknown number,” she mumbled when his ringtone stopped playing. “Wait, there’s a text.”

“Don’t read it.”

“It said aren’t you coming over.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Is this your girlfriend?”

He yawned. “A different one.”

“What, that fast? Were you supposed to meet her? Oh my God, I’m so sorry for taking your time, why aren’t you—”

“Rather than saying that,” he took a sip of his coffee, “We should begin our revenge plan on that stupid ex of yours. I mean, I could just straight-up punch him in the face, but you already know his weakness. It’s time to strike, baby.”

She blinked, her puffy eyes soon began to gleam mischievously. “I’ve already planned it all out. Do you wanna hear it in alphabetical order?”

***

It was the color of burgundy, the quilt that covered her body when she suddenly woke up from her dream with a jolt, surprising the man who slept on the floor next to the foot of her bed.

“What happened?” Donghyuck asked, rubbing his eyes away from sleep. “Nightmare?”

Her eyes were wide when she looked back at him, gulping hard before she said, “I just had the dream.”

“What dream?”

“The dream, Hyuck.”

“Wet dream? I thought that was only for boys—”

“No, you’re not listening to me. The dream.” She threw her blanket away, scrambling back to her feet, and kneeled in front of him, taking his hand in hers. “I just met my soulmate.”

Donghyuck almost shuddered. “What?”

“It’s true, Haechannie, it wasn’t just a rumor,” she said, looking at her trembling fingers. “They said the dreams would start sometime after we turned eighteen and I saw it. I saw him. And it felt so weird. It wasn’t like a dream, it was—” Realization befell her eyes. “A memory. You were right, it was a memory—his memory.”

“Okay, wait a sec.” He held up a finger in the air. “What exactly did you see? And talk like a normal person this time.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, deep in her thoughts. “So, you know how when you’re dreaming, you can’t tell if it’s a dream? Like you’re suddenly somewhere, doing something that you can’t remember the beginning of it but it felt normal so you kept doing that, until suddenly you wake up and you start noticing how weird it really was.” Donghyuck nodded, albeit still a little unsure. “Well, this isn’t anything like that. You’re completely aware that it’s a dream—at least, I was. I remember telling myself it was a dream but now I realized it was a memory.”

“My God, you’re taking too long,” he complained. “What exactly did you see? For fuck’s sake, just tell me!”

“I was in a classroom at some school that I’ve never seen before and there was this guy who looked just about my age, sitting on the last row—just right by the window. He had the softest hair, a pair of big, beautiful doe eyes, cute thin lips, broad shoulders—”

“Hold up.” He grimaced. “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“One of these days, Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep, I swear to God, I will.”

“Right, apparently not then. Please, continue.”

She took another two seconds to throw ice daggers at him with her eyes before she finally started again. “He was scribbling something down on his book. And I tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t hear me. I could hear him, though, and everything else that was going on in the classroom. I could hear him hum a song before he nodded his head, looking like he just figured something out, and then he was writing things down again. I tried to reach out to him, but I couldn’t physically touch him too. I was just a bystander that saw everything—like watching a movie or something.”

“A completely boring movie, if you ask me.”

She rolled her eyes, completely ignoring him. “Then, when I blinked my eyes, I was standing somewhere else. There was this lake, so beautiful, surrounded by mountains—like the entire scenery of it was just breathtaking, and I don’t think that’s in our country so he might have traveled somewhere overseas.”

He snorted. “Sounds like an annoying rich kid.”

“Can you just—” She sighed, calming herself down. “So, I saw him there with a camera in his hands and a guitar case strapped to his back. He was taking some shots of the landscape and, uhh,” she shyly chuckled, “I know it’s too fast for me to say this, but his face when he’s concentrating—“

“Constipating?”

“Concentrating,” she corrected and Donghyuck sent her a kissy face. “The face he made when he was concentrating was so cute.”

“Ugh, enough with the lame commentary.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Why are you so sure he’s your soulmate? Sounds like just another weird-ass dream to me.”

“I can’t really explain it, but…” Her eyes turned soft, cheeks going a bit rosy. “It feels like I just found something that I didn’t know I lost—something important, something that was a part of me, even. And it just makes me feel whole, you know? It’s weird saying this when I don’t even know his name but… That’s just how I feel. Everything just clicked.”

“Huh…” Donghyuck’s tongue was protruding against the inside of his mouth as he tried to process his thoughts. It suddenly felt like his heart was being cut into several pieces, the moment his reality sank in. He didn’t realize it was that serious. Or at least, he didn’t want it to be that serious.

She squeezed his hand. “You understand how I feel, don’t you, Haechannie?”

He sent her a timid smile before he pulled her body into him, pressing his chest against hers, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah,” he muttered softly, his lips grazing the fabric of her sweater. “I get it.” And she giggled, embracing him tighter, thinking that maybe he was just as happy as her.

She didn’t notice the way his fingers slowly curled against the back of her sweater. She didn’t notice how he deliberately pressed his lips against her clothed shoulder as he spoke so he could hide the shivers in his voice. And she didn’t notice how his eyes were shaking in the fear of losing her, how he could barely bear the pain in his chest, how his mind almost made him vomit the words he’d been dreading.

It’s okay. She hasn’t met him yet. Maybe it’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.

God, please don’t let it mean anything.

***

It was a shade of purple, the color she used to paint a lavender in her sketchbook before she drew the rest of the landscape. But before she could finish painting the next thing, she sighed dreamily into the air, closing her drawing book with both hands.

“He’s in a band,” she said as they laid side-by-side on the grass, enjoying the warm sunlight on their faces and the scent of the pine trees in the garden near their homes. “Was. Or still is, I’m not sure.”

And she laughed, she always did whenever she talked about him and although the sound of it used to warm his heart, it made him struggle even more with jealousy. So he just hummed, scrolling down his Instagram feeds to distract him.

Three months had passed by ever since she had that dream, and Donghyuck was conflicted between wanting to know more or hearing none of it for the rest of his life. She had the dream every single night, reliving every single one of her soulmate’s memory—both past and present—every time she closed her eyes, and to him, she seemed more alive when she was about to go to bed, rather than after she woke up.

“I heard him sing once during his band practice when his vocalist had a sore throat. He sounded great but like, a bit hesitant, you know? Like he’s not confident with his voice.” She turned around to her stomach, staring at him with excitement in her eyes and a speck of scarlet painting her cheeks. “Well, he doesn’t sound anything like you, but I still think he’s great.”

“Good to know,” he coldly replied. She seemed to take notice of that.

“I’m sorry, Haechannie,” she said, “I must have bored you to death with all this soulmate talk.”

“Yeah, well, he’s your soulmate, not mine, so I couldn’t care any less.” He could’ve been nicer about it, but then again that wouldn’t be him.

“Well, guess what?” She landed half of her body on his stomach, knocking some of his breath with her weight but he just threw a glare in response and not pushing her away. “Somebody is having his eighteenth birthday in a month. So then, we’ll have your soulmate to talk about too.”

“Yaaay,” he weakly cheered, face flat and ignorant.

She pouted. “Why aren’t you excited about this? You’re gonna be dreaming about your soulmate! I’m excited to know who’s that lucky girl going to be.”

His chest felt heavy and it had nothing to do with the girl on top of him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I hope she’s nice and pretty,” she said, smiling genuinely at him. “Because only the most perfect girl in this entire universe can deserve my Haechannie.”

But he didn’t want a perfect girl. He just wanted her, so why was it so impossible to ask?

“Wish I could wish the same for you,” he said, placing his phone on his chest and leaned back on his elbows so he could focus his gaze on hers.

“What do you mean?”

And he switched their positions, rolling their bodies on the grass until she had her spine pressed against the ground with him hovering above her. “H-Haechannie?”

She looked so perfect like this—trapped between his arms, her doe eyes widening in surprise, taking in his sight, her lips parted making a soft gasp of his name.

Ah, I want to make her mine. Why can’t she be mine?

He leaned down, the tip of his nose almost brushing against hers. And if he could just forget everything—their friendship, her future life with her soulmate—for a few seconds and allow himself to be selfish, he would close the gap, meeting her lips with his, bask himself in her warmth, and he would let her moan against his mouth, would caress her cheeks with his fingertips, and would just wish the time to stop so they could repeat that for eternity.

But this reality of his was not that.

This reality of his felt more like a nightmare—one that he could never wake up from.

So in this reality, he brought his lips dangerously close to her ear, and whispered, “I hope your soulmate picks his nose and eats his booger whenever you’re not looking because only then he’d be perfect for you.”

And before she could kick his abs in response, he already scrambled back to his feet, running away as if his life depended on it.

***

It was the color of cerulean blue, the scarf that Donghyuck wore around his neck because he was a bit sensitive to cold even when spring was about to come to an end.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Donghyuck said, adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Anywhere. Just you and me.”

“What, now?” She frowned, looking at the clock on her bedroom wall. It was two hours before midnight—before he turned eighteen. “But it’s late—”

“I don’t care—”

“And it’s freezing outside—”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He was already tugging on her hand, pulling her up to her feet. He wrapped his scarf around her neck and placed his beanie on her head. “I don’t have my gloves but I’ll hold your hand all the way, so no more excuses and let’s go.”

Because it might be his last chance to spend his time with nothing but her presence filling his thoughts. He dreaded the possibility of having that dream sometime after the clock struck twelve. He didn’t want his heart to be taken by someone else—let alone, a stranger. And he knew he wouldn’t dream about her because she had found her soulmate and he was not him.

And if it was true—if having that dream changed his entire perspective where he could only love that one girl for the rest of his life then…

Just let me have this moment with her, where I can still love her with all my heart, even if she doesn’t love me the same way.

“Where are we going?” She demanded as they broke past the front door as quietly as they could since her parents were sleeping in their room.

“I don’t know—I don’t care—I just—” He breathed into the night air, puffs of warm breath painting the space between them. “Anywhere is fine. I just want to be with you.”

He saw her cheeks turning scarlet but he didn’t hope for too much. It was probably just the cold playing tricks on him.

“Okay, well then,” She tightened her duffle coat around her body. “Lead the way.”

He smiled, feeling blessed for having her putting so much faith in him, even after all this time.

There weren’t many places open at that hour, and it was fine because they already felt content just from walking side-by-side under the cherry blossoms that had withered all of their flowers. The way she held his hand reminded him of their younger days, both gentle and somewhat protective—like a sister to a younger brother and it made him feel both joy and sadness because he wanted to intertwine their fingers together as lovers, embrace each other under the dim glow of the streetlight, and connect their lips together while whispering loving words between chaste kisses.

“Haechannie,” she said, snapping him out of his reverie as she stopped them both in their tracks. “Happy birthday.”

Donghyuck blinked, not realizing how two hours just passed in an instant. “I’m as old as you, already?” He sneered. “I feel so gross.”

But she didn’t laugh the way he thought she would. Instead, she was looking at him with a glint of loneliness in her eyes which made him wonder why. “I bought you something.” She rummaged her coat’s pocket before she showed a little black box the size of her palm with a red bow wrapped around it.

Donghyuck faked a gasp. “No way, you’re proposing to me? But honey, I’m already carrying your child!”

She stomped her feet on his. “Shut up and just be serious for a sec, will ya?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He chuckled but he could hear how nervous he actually was from the little crack in his voice. He took the little present with a shy, slightly awkward smile. “Can I open it now?”

“Sure, as long as you don’t mock me for it.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her before he opened the box to find a silver oval locket necklace displayed inside it. He glanced at her. “Don’t tell me you have a picture of us taking our bath together as babies in it.”

“Interesting, but no. I did have something written on it, though.”

“Okay, but if you wrote something stupid, I will—” He froze, hands stopping mid-air after he opened the locket and read the words engraved on the silver plate.

To my first love, Lee Donghyuck.

“Okay, before you say anything,” she cut him off, fidgeting a little on her feet. “Let me explain about it first. I don’t want to come out as weird or anything because after this, we’re both going to find our soulmates and go our separate ways so let me assure you that I’m not saying I love you that way, but—”

He pulled her into his chest, wrapping both of his arms around her shoulders, his lips pressing against her hair.

“Haechannie—”

“Shut up,” he said, closing his eyes as he calmed his racing heart. “Just shut up and let me have this moment.”

She wasn’t sure whether he got her previous message but she no longer cared, because at the end of the day, he was her first love in every way—as a family, a brother, a friend, and even a lover once, though she never allowed herself to think about him like that. So she tangled her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, and closed her eyes for as long as he would let her.

Donghyuck wanted this moment to last forever but he knew time was running out even if he tried to stand still. It would be over the second he had that dream and fell in love with someone else. It would end the day she’d meet her soulmate, treating his existence merely as a bystander in her love story.

But for now… Just for now…

“I love you,” Donghyuck whispered so softly against her hair, almost inaudible by the sound of the wind passing through their ears. “I love you, Noona. So much that it hurts.”

She chuckled, embracing him tighter. “I love you too, Haechannie.”

Then why does this feel like a goodbye?

He pulled back, pressing his temple against hers. “There’s no life without you,” he said, a shy smile forming on his lips.

She cupped his cheek, rubbing comforting circles on his skin. “There’s no life without you, Haechannie.”

***

“So, umm, thanks for today,” Donghyuck said, as he walked her back to her house, rubbing his nape awkwardly as he said it. “And thanks for the gift. I’ll treasure it.”

“You better.” She playfully punched his arm. “It was pretty expensive, just so you know.”

“More expensive than a one-meter tall made-by-order alpaca doll I bought you?”

“Sorry, I’ll take that back.” She winced, and Donghyuck chuckled a little bit under his breath, patting her head and letting his fingers linger a little longer than usual on the soft strands of her hair.

“Well…” He retracted his hand, placing them in his coat’s pocket. “Good night.”

“See you tomorrow.” And she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek at the same time he was about to do the same and their lips grazed each other, soft lips meeting softer ones in the faintest of touch but carved something deep both in their bodies and minds.

They both took a step back at the same time, startled. He was busy looking anywhere but her face, and she concealed her lips with her fingers, bringing her head down to hide her eyes underneath her bangs.

There was a silence that made his skin crawl. “S-sorry, I was—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” she immediately said, forcing a smile before she hastily turned on her heels, her shaky fingers searching for her doorknob. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Donghyuck still had trouble breathing. “Y-yeah, sure.”

She timidly smiled again before she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Now that they were both out of each other’s sight, Donghyuck inaudibly cursed into the air, running a hand through his hair, feeling his heart ramming against his ribcages while she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and pressed her spine against the back of her front door.

The thought of their brief, accidental kiss was the only thing that painted their minds even behind their closed eyelids as they laid on their beds, hoping for exhaustion to take over their bodies. Once it did, they both fall into a soundless sleep where she began to think about another pair of lips but it wasn’t the case for Donghyuck.

Because, as he fell into his first soulmate dream, he was facing the same person—the girl who owned his heart, whose lips were just as soft as he’d imagined them to be.

Noona, he spoke inside the dream, staring at the sight of her, why am I dreaming about you?

***

[crazed-reviews]

Review: "Superhero Secret" Adrien and Marinette dolls from Playmates Toys

Superhero Secret Adrien is finally available in the U.S., and my sister got him last month as an early birthday present. I got Superhero Secret Marinette back in November, so I'll be showing her as well. Both dolls retail for $22.99.

Both dolls come with both their civilian outfit, their superhero suits, as well as an extra pack of sticky glue pads for when their masks stop sticking.

Sadly, all versions of the Adrien lack his staff and Plagg, but only the U.S. version of Marinette lacks her purse, yoyo, and Tikki. The international version still has these pieces.

(July 6th, 2022) Update: It appears the U.S. version of Marinette is beginning to come with these pieces! Of course, old stock will linger for a while, so it may be worth waiting a bit to get the newest version of the set.

Marinette comes with two pairs of earrings. One is black with red spots, and the other is red with black spots. I keep the red earrings put away so I don't lose them, and accidentally forgot about them until I finished taking photos.

Here are Adrien and Marinette in their civilian outfits. Both outfits have a shirt, jacket, pants, and shoes. Marinette also has removable earrings, but Adrien's ring is molded onto his finger.

I think Marinette's outfit looks really good! The spandexy material for her pants works for her, but for Adrien's pants, the printed jeans don't look very good to me. Especially considering the real denim that the promo images had, it's a bit disappointing to see the downgrade. Both of their pants have unfinished edges, which is a bit concerning, but they don't seem to be unraveling. As for their jackets, however... I'll touch on those in a minute.

Marinette feels quite solid, and is much tighter than some of my other Playmates dolls, while Adrien feels a bit more hollow, and his arms are a bit loose.

Here they are with their jackets removed. Adrien's shirt sleeves are a decent length, making it look like a t-shirt.

Unfortunately, Marinette's shirt is cut more like a tank top, so if you want it to look like a t-shirt, you really have to tug on the sleeves.

(Here you can also seen that Adrien has low-waisted jeans but high-waisted underwear... I keep trying to pull them up but they are just too short)

I wanted to take a second to talk about Adrien's face. I am not very fond of it. I think if his irises were a bit larger, he'd look better. His eyes are also misprinted in a few places, plus it chips very easily. The missing paint on his right eye happened almost immediately after he was opened. I think it's due to the material used for his face. It has a rubbery finish to it.

Ah, yes. The jackets. Both have issues, unfortunately.

The grey part of Marinette's jacket is the same spandexy material as her pants, while the cuffs and collar are a stiffer fabric. I love the look of it, but it won't stay closed. It always stays splayed oped, showing the seams in the collar.

Adrien's jacket is a stiffer fabric, and is stained from Adrien's black shirt. It's a miracle that he himself isn't stained. The sleeves cuffs are tucked inside the sleeve for some reason? They're only sewn in one spot, so his hands always get stuck on them. The unfinished edges are my least favorite thing about this jacket. It is unraveling like crazy. I doubt it will last long.

Adrien has two plugs of hair that can be removed to put on his cat ears. I like the idea, plus the hair plugs are pretty inconspicuous when they're in, but they are so small that when removed they can get lost easily. I imagine that in about three years, there will be plenty of plugless Adriens secondhand.

And here are the two in their superhero suits! Ladybug's is identical to the individual Ladybug's suit, while Cat Noir's is a bit different from the individual Cat Noir's suit. Cat Noir's lacks the pleather over the torso, as well as the white stitching for the pocket's zippers. While I think that the individual Cat Noir's suit looks better, this one is easier to slide over his body.

And here are their masks closeup! I like the look of them, though I feel Ladybug's would benefit from some painted on eyelashes since they cover hers. Cat Noir's has some green corners that cover most of his eyes, to give him the cat eye look that Cat Noir is supposed to have. However, his irises are a bit smaller than the mask's cutouts, so there's still some white.

Overall, I would give Superhero Secret Marinette an A-, and Superhero Secret Adrien a C+.

Marinette got a few points knocked off due to the accessories that got cut from the U.S. version, but since she looks good in both of her outfits, and has an improved face and body from earlier versions, she still got a good rating. I do believe she is worth the retail price.

Adrien, however, doesn't look very good to me. His eyes look strange to me, and chip easily, and his outfit has several issues, construction-wise. Having finished edges alone would have bumped him up to a B-. I think Fashion Flip Adrien has a much better face, but considering that a single-pack Adrien is not currently available, Superhero Secret Adrien is the only way to get Adrien's outfit. I have to say I would only recommend him if he either gets the updated face or goes on sale. I really don't think he is worth the full retail price.

[rhaenyratargeryn]

Title: Continuously, Without Interruption Rating: 🍋 Pairing: Takemura x female!V Summary: AU pwp fic where Takemura and V stick together after the events of the main story mission “Search and Destroy”. 

The motel was barely more than four walls and a dirty mattress, paint peeling off in stained chips and carpet reeking of cigarettes and booze and the faintest hint of mildew. It wasn’t preem, but when had anything in her life been?

Luxury it was not, but safe? She would take safe, especially with her arms half full with a teetering, bleeding former Arasaka bodyguard. She went for the light switch, forgetting herself, but his hand caught hers and through labored breaths he said, “No lights.”

Takemura’s voice was always low, a rumble of thunder… but in pain, it was harsher, like gravel and sandpaper. V nodded in the dim light and helped him to lean against a far wall as she fumbled around in the darkroom. She found three half melted candles and a nearly empty lighter, but it would serve well enough to give them some kind of light in the motel bathroom. What first aid supplies she’d managed to scrounge from the hotel staff were in a box that looked older than her, but last she knew, bandages didn’t expire, and even if they did, they needed them. And most importantly, V had bought a half empty bottle of vodka from a drifter hanging outside room 102.. A true medical necessity.

Takemura had been grazed by at least a bullet, that much V was certain. The older man tilted his head back against the wall he leaned against while V hurried throughout the room, bracing himself as he took in shallow, but even breaths. 

“C’mon, gotta see what we’re dealing with…”

“You ripperdoc now?” Takemura asked, repressing a dry chuckle that surely caused him pain by the way his shoulders flinched.

“Yep, step right into my office.” V said, letting him lean on her as they stumbled into the small bathroom. She shut the door, running a finger along the seam to make sure it would stay light tight. V picked up one candle and after a few flicks, managed to get a light from the lighter. The room was soon lit in a soft glow, completely unfitting for the task at hand.

Takemura’s eyes moved around the room as he sat on the edge of the tub.

“Your medical facilities are not to code.”

It was a joke, but he said it with such damn seriousness that V felt the laugh punch out of her, sharp and breathy.

“Well, ya know how it is. Cut backs.”

“Ah, I see.”

Carefully, Takemura unfurled his arm from where he clutched at his side. The bleeding had slowed, oozing sluggishly now only when he moved too much. Takemura’s fingers curled around the bottom of his shirt, tugging it free from where it tucked into his trousers. The white material was stained with dark spots, nearly black in the candlelight. 

“Let me help.” V said, automatic, thoughtless. She came to stand between his knees, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt. Her hands still trembled slightly, the rush from the firefight and the pain of a couple dozen bruises doing their work. She had seen the chrome work at his throat and was unsurprised to see it continue on, flaring out over his shoulders like veins. The rest of him though was ganic, smooth skin over hard, toned muscle. 

Takemura only winced once when she peeled the fabric, tacky with blood, away from where it stuck to his left side. She knelt down, noting the blood had seeped out from the back of his shirt too.

“Fuck.”

“Indeed.”

“Well… you are gonna have one hell of a scar. How the hell were you even walkin’?”

“Had one injector. Used it after that shot.”

“Good thinkin’.”

V set the kit on Takemura’s thigh, using him as a makeshift table as she picked through the contents. There was no MaxDoc or Bounce Back, but it helped Takemura already had one dose. It would boost his own body's healing process for a good enough while… the graze looked nasty, but the bleeding had stopped. The only thing threatening to kill the old koger now was a staph infection— and given their surroundings, it was probably best to wrap him up.

With a gruff sound, he tugged his shoulder free of his sleeve, removing the soot and blood streaked shirt and discarding it on the floor. No doubt this room had seen worse.

V unscrewed the top of the vodka bottle off with one finger and then casually flicked it off, the metal clanging across the tile. She offered it to Takemura, “Anesthetic?”

He wrinkled his nose. V shrugged, took a drink herself and then, without warning, spilled a generous amount over his wound.

Takemura swore, loudly.

“Shoulda taken the anesthesia.” 

“...わるガキ.”

V’s cyberware helpfully provided a translation: Brat.

There was almost a hint of fondness in the word even, V thought for a moment. Just a little. And judging by the way he hid a smirk that was threatening to overcome the tightness of his expression, maybe she was right.

Maybe it was the blood loss, or the near death experience, or failing to convince his last chance at finding revenge for his employer— but Takemura took the bottle from her then and drank deeply.

“Wow. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You going to be doctor or comedian?” he said, taking another shorter drink as V fished through the first aid kit and pulled out a few large gauze pads. She tore the wrappers free, packing two against the wound just in case.

“Hold please, nurse.”

Takemura growled, but did as directed, setting down the bottle to help hold the bandage in place as V used the gauze roll to wrap it tightly against him. Half way done, V realized… she had never been this close to Takemura before. His body was like a furnace, overstimulated and heightened from pain and the lingering effects of adrenaline. Beneath the smell of smoke and copper V almost thought she caught the scent of cedar… of faint pepper and incense.

V finished tacking the wrappings on, using her palm to smooth over the gauze to make sure it wouldn’t come off easy. Her fingertips ghosted against his skin and she felt the muscles of his abdomen clench, a tiny, nearly undetectable shudder going out across his skin.

Her eyes lifted to his, a smirk already spreading across her lips. Takemura was doing his best not to notice, picking up the vodka bottle and swishing the contents around.

“Takemura Goro. Elite Arasaka soldier, top of the class… and ticklish.”

“Should have separated. It is not safe for us to be together.” Takemura grumbled, pointedly ignoring the statement.

“Didn’t leave you then, not gonna start now.” V said, voice a murmur as she moved to flip the first aid kit closed, sliding back away from his space. A firm hand stopped her.

“You are bleeding.”

V looked up as Takemura let go, gesturing to his own temple. V touched the same spot on her forehead and pulled her hand back to see the smudge of sticky thickened blood. The swipe of her touch had been enough to break the clot back open, a droplet of fresh warm blood pooling up and dropping down her face.

“Didn’t even notice…” V said with a hiss, the sharp pain now registering. Takemura nodded and offered her the bottle.

“Anesthesia.” 

V huffed a laugh, taking him up on the offer as she knew well enough what Takemura was going to do next. She took one quick shot and held the burning liquid in her mouth, swallowing the moment Takemura splashed the alcohol unto her temple.

“Hold please, nurse.” he said, handing her the bottle and trying to ignore the positively shit eating grin of approval she wore at her own barb returned. V handed off a large adhesive bandage to him, the kind a kid might put on a scraped knee. She was surprised how gentle his hands were, brushing aside her hair as he meticulously checked where to best place the bandage before he ripped off the thin paper on the back and settled it in place.

V’s fingers twitched, itching to hold a smoke between them. The impulse born, like most weird shit in her life recently, from Johnny. She settled on rubbing her thumb across the inside of her forefinger and middle finger, staring at nothing as silence settled over the pair of them.

It wasn’t a tense silence. It wasn’t even grave, though given their current situation such a silence would be warranted. It was… comfortable. Or just plain tired.

When he was finished, Takemura rested his right arm on his thigh, taking care not to bend too far on his injured side. He let his head bow forward, his shoulders going lax.

“... I had thought tonight... I was to face my death.” his words were slow, cautious— no. Careful.

“You had no reason to come back for me.”

“Bullshit.” V said, the word falling like an exhale. 

He tilted his head up, eyes half lidded as he met hers, looking up at him now from where she knelt. Something in V’s chest ached. A pang, sharp and sweet and good. It arched it’s way from her heart to her stomach just from the way he looked at her.

She sat up a little taller, movements going still again when his hand came up to rest against the side of her neck, holding her steady. His thumb traced a circle against the space behind her ear and V felt as if the very blood in her body had paused, her breath shorting out on an inhale. The smell of him, the heat of him… it all came crashing back into V’s perception until she all but heard Johnny groaning with exasperation in her head.

Takemura didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything and that silence gave V the boldness she needed to close the hairbreadth of distance between them and touch her lips to his. It was soft, chaste in it’s hesitance and briefness. Takemura did not kiss her back.

V pulled back, eyes fixed over his shoulder on the far wall, anything not to see his face right then. The silence stretched on until V felt she would be crushed beneath it, words forming in the back of her throat, but dying before they could reach the tip of her tongue.

Then Takemura’s other hand came up and he held her face in both his hands, firmly directing her to face him. She looked at his lips, at his jaw, anything but his eyes.

“Look at me.”

His words translated in her mind from Japanese, the change in language startling her enough into obeying him. V didn’t have to look long, because within a moment his mouth was on hers, urgent and demanding. It took a moment for V to take control of the spinning in her head, but when she did she carefully settled her hands on top of his thighs, fingers curling slightly as she slid her palms up over the fabric of his trousers until she could wrap her arms high around his middle, above the bandages. She was content to let him cradle her jaw in his hands, holding her fast as if he feared she would spring away, vanishing into smoke.

V made a small sound, soft and needy, her mouth opening at the same time as Takemura. A shudder coursed its way up and down her arms when he made a sound, rumbled and deep in his throat and then caught her bottom lip, letting his teeth press against it.

She let her nails run a slow path across his shoulder blades, tension dropping from her arms as she sunk against him. They were both ravenous for touch unmarred by violence. By pain. When was the last time she had embraced someone other than to silently subdue them? When had he? In the grand scheme of things, Takemura had been starving for longer.

Her legs were unsteady, even with him helping to set her up on her feet. They stood together, breaking their contact only when absolutely required. If his mouth was not on hers, it was on her throat, her shoulder— bared now as he pulled and tugged her shirt collar aside, desperate to feel the soft warmth of her against his skin.

V shucked off her jacket, walking backwards as Takemura pressed forward, stalking her as surely as he did his prey with eyes darkened with artificial pupils blown wide. It was his hands that pulled off her tank top, throwing it away carelessly. V gave a nervous chuckle when those same hands gripped against her lower back and forced her up hard against his chest.

The soft swell of her breast pressed firmly against his skin, the shared heat positively searing as they stumbled out of the bathroom and unto the creaking worn motel mattress.

This was stupid. Irrational. Dangerous. They needed to be on guard, to be vigilant. Arasaka was still hunting them and yet V was certain Yorniubu himself could bust through that door and Takemura would not untangle himself to kill him until he had had his fill of her.

V fumbled with his belt, Takemura’s hand coming between them to catch her wrist, stopping the movement.

“You are sure?” he managed, his voice breathless and ragged. Falling into his mother tongue was something he did when he was overwhelmed, it would seem.

V’s answer was to settle her weight back onto her shoulders and press her hips up against him in a slow, enticing roll.

“はい.” 

Takemura needed no further convincing. 

He kissed her again, thoroughly and practiced, taking her other wrist in his hand and holding them down above her head. V’s last coherent thought was to wonder where he had found time to learn, but those thoughts scattered apart like a bullet through glass when he drew his mouth down her jaw and she felt the rough scrape of his beard between her breasts.

He pace was so slow. So agonizingly slow. Placing open mouth kisses against her breastbone as if he were a man with all the time in the world. 

“Oh— so suddenly that graze doesn’t bother you? Made me drag you halfway—“

V’s voice broke off with a surprised yelp as Takemura bit her nipple, a gruff sound of disapproval in his throat at her monologuing. The slight painful tug was all but forgotten when he rolled the same tightened peak with his tongue. 

V was quiet then, except for a soft panting as he went back to his own easy pace. 

“Goro…” his name came out unbidden when he switched to her other breast, a soft laugh sending hot breath over her skin.

“Better.” 

Smug bastard. V wiggled beneath him, one hand coming free of Takemura’s grip because he let her. That fact only made her tangle her fingers even more roughly at the nape of his neck, drawing strands loose as she tugged him demanding upwards.

She could feel the smirk against his lips when she kissed him, fiercely and sharply as she bit him back.

“Why hurry?” Takemura said, in English this time, his voice a low murmur.

“Cause when Arasaka busts that door in, I’d rather die having been well fucked.”

“You will.”

God, if a voice alone could make her cum those two words would have done it. That sharp pang hit right to her core again, making her want to press her thighs together and spread them open at the same time. 

“‘Fast is slow, but continuously, without interruption.’”

For once his quoting made some goddamn sense to her. It also helped he was using his now unoccupied hand to unfasten her jeans, sitting up to pull them off her legs.

He seemed to consider for a moment, the pause making V groan in impatience and then protest when Takemura pulled back and slipped off the foot of the bed. He took off his belt and the rest of his clothes before he kneeled onto the floor.

V was rising up on her forearms to get a better look at just what the hell he was doing— that was, until his hands slipped beneath her calves and pulled her to the edge of the mattress. He guided her legs over his shoulders and without warning, licked that same trail he had over her breast up the length of her slit.

V’s hips bucked, but Takemura was ready for that too, folding his arms across her middle and keeping her held in place as he bowed his head between her thighs and utterly devoured her.

There was a joke to be made here, V was certain, given Takemura’s picky “tastes'”— but every time his tongue traced a new pattern over her labia the joke short circuited.

Even Johnny, tucked away inside her head, was silent now. 

Takemura alternated at a whim, but his pace stayed slow… deliberate. Savoring. His beard tickled against the inside of V’s thighs. She fisted the motel sheets so tightly in her hand the damn thing pulled off the corners.

He only stopped once, forgetting himself and trying to force her thigh up higher and wider and managing to pull at his wound as he raised his arm. V reached down to touch him, to brush her hand through his hair and draw her thumb over his cheek.

“You okay?”

Takemura sat up, the dazed look that had settled in his eyes since they began clearing. He pressed a kiss against her knee as he let her legs slide off his shoulders, climbing back into the bed and moved to hover over her.

“Goro? Are you okay?” She asked again, worriedly touching the gauze tape and making sure he wasn’t bleeding through.

“... I am fine.” he said at last, the words soft and almost.. awed? As if he had never said them before. V searched his expression, holding his face between her hands and feeling something in her heart strain when he shut his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“Come here.” He said, though it was him who snaked his arms beneath her lower back and brought her core up flushing against his hips. 

She could feel him. Feel the length of him rested against her mound, feel the slight movement of his hips as he rubbed faintly against her.

She laid back, her hips elevated and secure in his arms. Takemura was back in his head again, eyes heavy and meditative for a lingering moment before he shifted his hips back enough to slip his head up against her and then slowly began to press into the silky wetness between her legs.

A deep deliberate breath exhaled from his lungs as V barely managed to keep herself from rolling and bucking beneath him.

No matter how many times she did it, that initial slow stretch brought with it the most intense feelings of fullness. Takemura was so poised, so controlled… V envied him in that moment and hated him for it in the best possible way. She wanted it fast and rough— pleasure easy and quick. Takemura though, clearly was more inclined to relish each and every motion.

The act felt… intimate. Too intimate. Takemura’s focus was pinpointed, every touch, every dragged out pull of his shaft inside her and then the gentle push back within her heat was done with such steady intent.

V felt almost god damn shy. The attention. The intensity. It was good, it was amazing,  but at the same time some part of her felt like it was on the verge of shattering… and the last thing she was going to fuckin’ do was cry during sex.

But fuck— when was the last time she felt safe? When was the last time she felt held? Takemura gently stroked his hand up across her stomach, over the valley of her breasts and back again, his eyes fixed on not just her but himself touching her.

V made sure not to wrap her leg around his injured waist, but squeezed at him hard with her other, trying to pull him in. To edge him on.

“Faster…?” She breathed, adding a raised lift at the end of her words. Questioning. Asking.

Takemura only nodded, returning his grip around her lower back. The position made it nearly impossible to give anything but deep, shallow thrusts, but V was not complaining. The quickened pace was giving her the friction she needed, the press of his pelvis against her clit, the edge of his head sometimes finding that spot deeper in that sent sparks through her body.

It gave her more than her own pleasure too. It was giving her his. He had been so quiet, purposeful and diligent.. and now his brow furrowed and his breath came sharper. His skin flushed hot and red where he was organic and untouched by chrome or cyberware. V bore down around him, clutching at his shaft when he pulled back and grinned when his hips suddenly snapped back forward. A rough groan slipped from his lips, a curse following when she rolled her hips forward and began to rather enthusiastically fuck him back.

He wasn’t shocked, but pleasantly surprised would have been an accurate term. As a man who lived to serve, it only made sense he wouldn't expect to receive.

“Pull me up.” 

V demanded, rising up on her forearms and then her hands until Takemura had no choice but to slip his hold up higher along her back and pull her up, sitting into his lap.

V grinned wickedly and saw the exact moment Takemura realized his mistake.

She rose her hips and thrust down, hands running from his chest up his neck and then back down to grip hard to his shoulders as she rode him.

“Oh... fuck—“

And that was the only word V managed to make sense of before Takemura slurred into half incomprehensible Japanese. She didn’t need her cyberware to translate that.

One solid push was all it took to have him flat on his back, her hands running up and down his chest as she took control.

He hissed once, grabbing hard at her thigh to move it away from his wound, but after that? The only word she understood from him beneath the rest was yes.

When she came, it tightened in her core, holding steady and constant and lingering right at the edge for long enough that when her body finally burst into spasms, she cried out half in shock of it.

The sound keened to a low whine as V rode out the waves, rocking her hips gently as the initial exhilaration faded to pleasant fading throbs. Takemura’s hands had slid down to her hips, squeezing and rubbing for the sheer pleasure of touching. He was far away again, but somehow, V knew that it was less to do with her and more to do with the fact he remained hard inside her.

“... you didn’t—?” V started to say, hips slowing, but Takemura’s grip tightened and he urged her on.

“Keep doing that.” 

So she did. Slowly moving and becoming intensely aware of how he felt wrapped up and pressing inside her walls. His eyes shut, his lips parting and V couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss him, the movement as languid and lazy as her hips.

Takemura did not tense like she did, but instead every muscle went soft and lax beneath her. A quiet moan, half gasped out was her only warning before she carefully slipped off of him and he came, slow spurts spilling across his skin.

It was less like he had lost control rather than he’d allowed it to slip, but V had dismissed the thoughts, trying not to overthink it. Right now, she was busy making work of cleaning him up, licking a trail along his pelvis and enjoying the way the muscles played beneath her touch.

Ticklish, her thoughts reminded. Takemura rubbed a hand over his eyes, as if waking, alertness coming back into his expression, but… something still softened its edges. Made him more of himself but also less— or maybe it was just the side of him V had not yet seen.

She stretched, rolling off to lay alongside him like a cat, one leg still thrown over his as she propped up her chin on the heel of her hand.

“So… I don’t know if maybe there was some kinda life debt you mighta been thinkin’ bout giving me for saving your ass but uh— consider it paid.”

Takemura, to his credit, laughed.

“You realize, that is like saying my life is worth—“

“Oh, I know what I’m saying.”

“I do not know whether to be insulted or flattered.”

“Just be both and cover all the bases.” V said, leaning down to press several kisses along his jaw, indulgent and very appreciative.

She expected him to disparage the attention now that their purpose was completed, but while he did turn and shy away from the kisses, he also drew his arm up to wrap around her and hold her in a loose grip.

“Someone needs to keep watch.” Takemura said, his voice begrudging the very words.

“I’ll do it. Arasaka didn’t fuck me up near as bad as ya.”

He scoffed.

“You fell three floors, V.”

“First of all, it was two.”

“And second?”

She kissed him, thoroughly obliterating any desire he might have had to protest as he turned to bare her down into the mattress.

“Very persuasive.” He said against her lips, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. Despite that he let her go, grimacing when he noticed they would need to redo his bandages after the mess he made.

V got up from bed, finding her discarded jeans and tank top and tugging them on, delighting in the way her body ached just slightly still.

Spontaneous we-might-not-live-through-the-night sex clearly was the pick-me up she needed. Takemura was the opposite though, seeming sluggish and sated, laying still upon his back, his chest rising and falling with lingering speed.

Something like concern warmed through her and V returned to sit on the edge of the bed, carefully stroking the back of her knuckles over his cheek and feeling the scrape of his beard against her skin. He silently looked up at her.

“You really doin’ okay?”

“Three times in one day…” Takemura said with a short mirthless laugh.

“Three?”

“You’ve asked me three times if I am okay. I ...can not recall the last time anyone has asked me such a thing.”

Takemura gingerly rose only to pull his trousers back on, getting back into bed without bothering with the fastens or his belt. 

V didn’t even know what to say to that revelation, feeling her heart clench as she sat, waiting as Takemura settled back against a stack of pillows and closed his eyes.

“If someone arrives to kill us, wake me.”

“You got it, Goro.” V said, forcing humor into her voice as she stood only to retrieve her shotgun and then sat again at the edge of bed, muzzle poised towards the door.

Yeah she’d wake him alright, by killing whatever fucker dared come through the door for him.

Christ, V.

Johnny. His voice tinged with disapproval in her mind, the emotion almost acidic on her tongue.

Worry about us first. Though if you do manage to somehow live through this night, that’s gonna be a conversation I’d rather you take a blocker and sign me the fuck out for.

V responded with confusion, a mental indication of Whaddya mean?

The shit that Corpo just laid on you? That wasn’t just some casual fuck. As the minstrels say, he was makin’ love to you.

V audibly choked.

“V?” Takemura asked, a unspoken question lingering over her name. She shook her head without turning around.

“S’fine. Cough.”

And you were to him. Hormones all over the fuckin’ place. Nauseating.

I was not.

Don’t bullshit me, V. I can feel your emotions get all mushy every time you look at him. Now it’s just gonna get worse.

V tried to ignore him, making a pointed effort of blocking out his words with a stream of thoughts. Song lyrics, scenes from an old Bushido flick, the way Takemura looked at her with such open desire and sheer wanting when he had settled inside of her, warped up in the heat of her and her in him—

Fuck.

Yep. Told ya.

Headlights cut through the dark, shining between the blinds of the motel room as a car slowly edged across the parking lot. V’s grip tightened on her weapon.

There were more pressing dangers to worry about now, but somehow they felt smaller… when her thoughts would scatter into panic, rapid and heated, inevitably every single one landed back on the one thing that gave her comfort— Takemura was here with her. He was alive and here with her.

But that was some shit to sort out another day.

[chocolateheart]

Twenty Minutes

Title: Twenty Minutes

Word count: 3088

Pairing: Professor!Dean x Reader

Summary: Online school sucks but your professor is worth the torture. 

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos), oral sex (male receiving), office sex, desk sex, sex from behind, biting, hair pulling, a hint of choking, professor Dean Winchester (yes, it’s a warning), student-professor romance and so on.

A/N: This one was inspired by “Pay Attention” written by my dear, lovely friend @winchest09 who also happened to be my beta once again and one of the best people I know. Thank you honey! <3

A/N:  @talesmaniac89 once again, thank you for those amazing dividers! <3 Guys, go check her stuff, she’s a talented devil! 

Lockdown sucked. Since the very beginning you knew it'd be a pain in the ass. Stay away from people, sit at home, wear a mask. Dammit. So many plans went to hell; your photography classes, your friends birthday party, visiting your parents in your family town. You knew it was safer like that but hell, you hated it. Your own apartment seemed to be getting smaller and even the flower on your window sill became annoying. Not to mention your online classes; sure, you didn’t have to get ready and drive almost half an hour to get to the Uni but sitting in front of your laptop had started to get on your nerves. 

Your eyes were heavy and red after hours of looking at the screen, your body yelled to be stretched and you wanted to scream every time your internet lost connection. Headache became your best friend, so did coffee. You were pretty sure your addiction just deepened and instead of blood, there was caffeine in your veins.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes as you were sitting in on the first period of your last classes. The whole day on the same chair, you were sure you used every possible sitting position to try and remain comfortable. Glancing at the clock you growled; it’s been almost 10 hours. 

How long can one day be? 

Thankfully this subject was one of your favorites. And it wasn't because of the handsome man in white shirt who helped in enjoying the last two hours of this nightmare; at least that's what you've been telling yourself. 

You like the subject, Y/N.

You smirked seeing how he brushed his longer than always hair with those beautiful hands; forearms exposed and tempting because of the sleeves being rolled up. His stubble was more visible due to quarantine and he just simply got hotter; you honestly thought it wasn’t possible. But there he was, behind his desk in a soft light; black watch on his wrist as usual, ring on one of those long fingers. Knuckles, little bones and veins, all making you lick your lips. This sharp jawline you dreamed to kiss, eyes so green that you could drown in them even through the screen. Arms hidden under the shirt that gave him a more casual, domestic look which made him even more attractive. You bit your lip seeing a gorgeous smile spreading on his face as one of his students said something funny. 

Those teeth; incredibly white and sharp… the way they could sink in your flesh, leaving marks all over your body as his hands travelled up and down, raising up your temperature.

The things you could do with this man… The thought itself was bad but you couldn’t stop daydreaming about your professor. He was too tempting, too beautiful to hold back your imagination. You didn’t remember most of what he said during any classes, too mesmerised by him and even though his deep, smooth voice was so listenable, you weren’t able to focus. You caught yourself staring at him or closing eyes just to feel those vibrations running over your skin. 

You missed sitting in class on his lectures. There was a reason why you chose the first row and it obviously wasn’t your ambition to learn more. 

“Okay guys,” Dean started when you stretched. “I think we can take a break now. In the next meeting we’ll finish this Unit and I’ll let you free earlier. Um… so let’s make it twenty minutes and I will send you an invitation. Just don’t drink yet, I know it’s friday evening but I want you all sober just a little bit longer,” he joked and you smiled seeing few people laughing on muted. 

Then he simply said “see you” and ended the meeting. You stretched again, taking a deep breath and stood up. Before leaving your room you opened the window to let in some fresh, evening air and then went to the kitchen. Filling cups with some sugar and tea bags, you waited for water to be boiled. 

Leaning against the counter, you focused on the wall in front of you. The pictures hanging there were way too old and there were some stains marking the paper. This lockdown made you crazy; you already painted your bedroom and the office, and you made some renovation in the bathroom. All in all, you spent more money without walking out of home. Ridiculous. 

You jumped a little, detached from your thoughts by the whistling kettle and soon your tea was ready. Humming some random melody, you turned off the light with your elbow and headed towards the office room. Using your elbow again you opened the door and smiled.

"Hey there, professor," you put one cup down on the desk. "How's your class going?" 

He turned around on his chair and flashed you this charming smile. You were smiling at yourself from his laptop wallpaper; he took this photo almost a half year ago in his apartment, just two flats above your head. You still could feel the softness of his white sheets you had been tangled in on this picture.  

"All fine," he took a small sip and frowned. "Just… one of my students seems to be off today." 

"Oh, really? How?" You asked, leaning against a desk. He played with the cup, shrugging, visibly holding back a smile.

"She stares blankly, lost in her thoughts. She's not answering any questions willingly, she seems to be away." He acted like he was talking about some random girl. 

You felt his knuckles briefly touching your naked thigh; it was way too warm indoors to wear something else than shorts. The delicate movement tickled you and your legs jerked uncontrollably. You looked at him, deep in the eyes and suddenly the air thickened. The tension between you two shot up; his intense gaze pierced into you like a sword, forest green eyes making your breath lose its track. 

"Hmm, maybe it's your fault," you managed to suggest, putting down your cup. His eyebrows raised along with mouth corners.

"My fault?" 

Now both his hands gripped your legs and sharply pulled you closer to him. You sifted his fluffy hair between your fingers and scratched the back of his head. He hummed in response closing his eyes as his palms sneaked under your shirt, making you shiver a little.

"You can be very distracting, Mr. Winchester," you purred standing between his legs. 

Dean was looking up at you with sparks in his eyes and dimples caused by a pert smirk. Your shirt suddenly lifted up, exposing your stomach that he gladly kissed. Slowly and wet, using his tongue first, squeezing your hips at the same time. Hot, soft lips pressed to your skin, slightly sucking, heated breath fanning over your flesh, causing the ocean of goosebumps. You felt your insides tremble at the feeling. Closing your eyes you let yourself enjoy him; his strong hands now caressing your back, mouth placing open kisses across your belly and going up.

He knew how to build you up, how to turn you on. You swallowed hard and gasped when he licked your nipples; you didn’t bother to wear a bra at home. He smiled against you and backed away; you immediately looked down and kissed him. Deep and hard, cupping his cheeks, pushing on him so he leaned back on the chair as you straddled his lap. His grip tightening on your sides, fingers dipped in your flesh. 

"How much time did you give your students?" You jokingly asked when his lips dropped to your neck.

"Twenty minutes," he answered and stopped, looking in your eyes again. "How much did you get?" you smiled and kissed him once.

"Twenty minutes," you whispered as you played with his ear. 

"I like your professor," he whispered back, staring at your lips from under the hooded eyes.

"I like him too… A lot."

Smiling at your words Dean stood up, then dipped down just to catch you under your ass and lift you up. After sitting you down on the desk, he took away the cups and placed them on the floor; for safety.

Spreading your legs you allowed him to stand between them. Brushing your hair away he cupped your cheek and kissed you deeply, squeezing your thigh with his second hand. You didn't waste any time and kissing him back, you started to unbutton his shirt. When the material fell loosely, you caressed his strong stomach, feeling muscles rippling under your touch as he inhaled sharply. He sucked on your lower lip in response, then switched to your jawline, neck and collarbones; forcing you to close your eyes at the pleasurable feeling. When he reached this one, specific spot between your jaw and ear, a trembling gasp escaped you and your head fell back, revealing even more neck which he attacked immediately. 

"Dean," you breathed out heavily, glancing at the clock. "You have to speed up." You noticed how his eyes fired up in a second. "Do your magic baby, or I'll have to help you finish in front of my friends." You flashed him a devilish smile as he wiggled his brows on you.

"Would be interesting, we have to try it one day." He winked at you and helped you stand up so he could take down your shorts and panties. 

Then you dropped to your knees, taking down his pants in one move, freeing his cock. He moaned deep in his throat when, without waiting, you sucked on the tip. Looking up you saw his exposed neck as his head was tilted back. You licked the sensitive spot under the tip and smiled when Dean shivered and his body swayed a little. Taking him almost whole at once, you scraped his stomach; he instinctively gripped the back of your head which only made you growl. You bobbed your head a few times, hollowing your cheeks, tasting his flavor. Nipping on the apex every so often, dragged sexy noises from Dean what only made you weaker. You loved every tiny sound he made, you could listen to it all the time; that's why you enjoyed going down on this man so much. He was not holding back at all and it was such a turn on. You were easily losing control; wouldn't be the first time he finished like that because you couldn’t stop.

"Not today, sweetheart," not being able to take it anymore, he pulled you up, turned you around and with your front pinned to the desk you heard a low growl next to your ear.

"You have no idea how hard it is to focus while having you on the screen, knowing that you're next door, so close to me." 

Strong chest against your back, pressing down your body; you could feel his heart racing.

"Vice versa, professor," you panted, feeling the weight of his cock resting on your lower back. 

He fisted your hair, scraping your head and slightly lifted himself from you, kissing your shoulder blades and spine. You inhaled loudly, suddenly feeling his fingers on your clit, making small, sharp circles; drawing quiet whines from you. When his index slid inside, your body jumped in surprise. Dean chuckled low and sucked on the crook of your neck from behind; you couldn't help but smile, already drugged on him. And Dean Winchester was a high quality drug.

The last hour had been a torture. You knew he kept making moves that were waking up the corbes in your brain. Licking his lips, smiling straight to the camera, playing with his hair, "casually" flexing his body; this bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

Placing his palm on your lower back, Dean made sure you were trapped and a moan flooded out  when he entered your pussy. Inch by inch he was going inside, stretching you in the most pleasurable way. You both moaned when he bottomed out, his fingers tightened even more on your skull. Your eyes rolled back with his first hard thrust; you clawed the edge of a desk. He pulled slightly on your hair and grabbed your shoulder, then started thrusting firmly, causing you to greet your teeth from the intensity. Every move, every push and pull, every squeeze and kiss was so delicious. Dean’s hot, fast breathing tickled the skin on your back, creating waves of chills that shook your body. 

Dean started slamming his hips stronger, hitting your sweet spot, making your head spin. None of you were quiet anymore; the mix of your voices, moans and skin slapping on skin, filled the room. His hands appeared on your ass and he squeezed it; you expected to see red marks from his nails later. Dean's muscles were flexing with every move, his face grimacing from blissful sensation. 

Even after almost a year, his game was a mystery to you; you had no idea what he was doing but the way he was moving was just different, making you feel some spiritual stuff you couldn't explain. Dean Winchester was the only guy who could make you feel like you weren't yourself; he was the only one you were completely losing control with. And with every bite you wanted more.

“Ah, Y/N,” he breathed out when you arched, giving him even better access, changing the angle a little bit.

“Five minutes, Dean,” you said almost out of voice, checking the time. “Faster.” 

He growled and fastened; slamming into you with more speed, pulling you to him with every push. He was close, you could sense that by his more and more erratic movements. He couldn’t decide where to hold you, where to touch; hazed by the pleasure and the smell of sex filling the air. His voice got higher and every moan was a slightly higher pitch.

“Come on baby, let go,” you encouraged him, reaching behind you to claw his side. 

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath and scraped your back, leaving red lines on your body. 

Then he bent over and his sharp teeth sinked in your arm at the same time his fingers found your clit, rubbing fast. You choked on your voice that got stuck in your throat; it was too much. He was filling you completely, scrapping every spot inside and outside that you needed. Warmth radiating from every inch of his powerful figure heated the air. Sweat broke across your bodies; a lonely drop rolled alongside his spine, strands of hair stuck to your forehead. 

You managed to lift yourself up almost to a standing position; Dean palmed your throat, slightly squeezing it and kept working on you with his second hand. You started twisting, your knees sagging, eager for the relief you felt coming.  

“Y/N, baby,” he licked your earlobe. “Please come with me, I need you to come, please,” he literally begged, craving for mutual finish.

“Oh my… Dean,” you warned him feeling the knot in your lower abdomen tightening unbearably. “Dean!” fiercely gripping the back of his head you leaned back on him as he kept pounding into you. 

“Oh, fuck,” he stammered and thrusted forcefully two more times, then you felt his teeth sinking into your neck one more time, leaving yet another mark. 

“Oh, yes!” 

All of your muscles tightened to the max and then let go. Your pussy started pulsating along with his throbbing cock; it was like your bodies didn’t need any information from your brains, they knew exactly what and when should happen, they were connected. 

Dean coated your walls with a hot cum; hugging you tightly, panting against your nape. You were shaking, your heart racing; breathing was problematic and if Dean didn’t hold you, you would surely hit the floor. Your nails left half-mooned marks on his forearms, so did his teeth on your neck. 

You usually were slow - all touching, feeling every little inch of each other, moving smoothly but deeply, steady rhythm, building the other to the breaking point, to the edge. So when you needed to go quick, you would get crazy and high kind of easily. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” Dean took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

You rested your hands on his desk, chugging, unable to stand on your shaking legs without any support. The blood in your veins was still boiling, rushing in your ears pumped by your hammering heart. Hissing, Dean slipped out of you and his seed dripped down on the floor. He showered your back with small kisses, caressing your sides and arms. You purred and turned around, softly pressing your lips to his.

“We have two minutes, baby,” you said and laughed when he moaned unsatisfied. 

“This hour will be torture.” You both rushed to put your clothes on. 

“I know, but then we will order pizza and watch some horror movie.” Smiling at him you opened the window and smoothed your clothes; he quickly cleaned the floor. 

Standing in front of him again, you adjusted his hair and pecked him a kiss, thinking that people from your class will surely notice his blush and glassy eyes. 

He looked at you with adoration and gentleness, his orbs shimmering. You knew this look; he gave you it when you first bumped into each other on your staircase, unaware that you were living in the same building. You were already crushing on your professor back then, so the fact that you were about to see him way more often than just in class made your stomach clench. That’s how it started. Later he offered you his help in some housework and studying, you became his healthy food service and after realising you couldn’t stay away from each other you opened the whiskey and let fate do its job.

You both had the feeling like you had known each other for years and you understood the other, not to mention how honest the two of you were, you still couldn’t fully believe that you were the one his heart had chosen.

“I love you,” he spoke almost like he could read your mind. 

Your face lit up with a smile but the moment he bent down to capture your lips in yet another kiss this evening, you avoided it, biting your lip to shoo away a wide smile that wanted to break free and turned around heading to the door.

“See you in class, professor,” you said over your shoulder and smiled hearing his low chuckle.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tags: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns​

If you want to be on my tag list, shoot me in asks or DM’s! :) 

[sugako]

late to the party

timeskip!mattsun x f!reader warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of funeral home (? not in a sexy way tho), oral (f recieving), quickie, slightly rough, slight orgasm denial  synop: reader and mattsun are getting ready to meet up with some of his old volleyball friends from high school but end up a little late

You were struggling to get the delicate necklace clasped, hands shaking as you rushed. Admittedly, you were shaking out of pure nervousness too. You had only met one of Issei’s friends before, Makki, but now you were about to go to a bar far fancier than you had imagined and try to make small talk with a bunch of strangers who had known him far longer than you. It was stressful. Sighing at your reflection in the vanity, you dropped your head to stare at the bedroom floor.

“Hey, pretty girl.” From behind you, his deep voice jolted you out of your inner dread. “Need some help?” His hands were already closing over yours before you could answer. 

“Yes,” you pouted. After one try, it was clasped. You huffed, a little jealous at how nimble his fingers were from working in the funeral home. 

His large hands smoothed over your shoulders. You sighed, leaning back into his chest. He leaned down a placed a small kiss against the crown of your head before turning you around. 

“Wow…” He breathed, looking you up and down. 

“Wh-what? Is there something wrong?” You let your panic get the best of you as you smoothed out the slip dress, checking for pulls, stains, or tears. 

“It’s just not often you’re dressed up like this. You look really beautiful, y/n.” 

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in so you were tightly pressed against one another. Your arms trailed up around the back of his neck, playing with the little curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Thanks, you look nice too.” You caressed his cheek as he leaned his head in closer and closer to yours. You knew the look in his eyes well, and held him back at the last second. “Issei, I have lipgloss on.” The way your bodies were pressed so closely made you lose your resolve. 

“I don’t fucking care.” He whispered, tugging at the base of your back so your hips jutted into him. His head came down, tongue already shooting past your lips to taste you. While didn’t want to admit it to you, he actually kind of liked kissing you when you had makeup on. The feeling of the thin layer of gloss against his lips and the idea of ruining your perfect face was too exciting. 

You relaxed into the kiss, letting him take the lead. For a moment you worried about your face, but the idea vanished when his hands came down to roughly cup your ass. You broke away from him with a squeak, panting. 

“Issei,” you warned, noticing the darker look in his eyes, “We’re going to be late.” He ignored you, continuing his kisses along your exposed shoulders and collarbones. When you felt him start to nip and suck right above your breast, you pushed him back with a small laugh.

“What?” He rolled his eyes. 

“Everyone can see.” You whined. “And we’re going to be late.” This time you tried to sound a little more stern. You didn’t believe yourself though. You felt so hot in your little dress and he looked amazing in his black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. Holding his hands in yours, you fiddled around with the thick rings on his fingers trying not to think about how good they felt inside you and around your neck. 

“You’re so cute. I’ll just leave marks where no one can see.” He smirked, backing you up against the bed. When your knees hit the edge you immediately slumped back. He kneels on the ground and hooks his hands under your knees and pulled you forward until your hips were at the edge of the bed. When you let out a little yelp he chuckled into the soft inside of your thigh. 

“Issei!” You whined. 

“We can be a little bit late. No one will mind.” His lips trailed messily up your thighs. “Plus, I know you’re nervous, baby girl. I can help you relax if you want?” He said, stopping at the hem of your dress.

“Yes, please.” You wheeze out. 

As soon as you answer, he pushes the dress up your hips. His hands clamp down to keep your legs spread apart and his teeth grazing up and down your sensitive flesh. He spends forever sucking love bites into your skin, leaving deep red marks. By the fifth one, your legs are quivering and you’re moaning out for him. 

“Issei, please.” You whine. 

Normally, he might tease you for a good while longer, but he knew you needed this now. He licked over the wet spot that had grown on your thin thong. 

“So wet already.” He groaned as he slowly pulled them off, being sure to lightly graze your skin as he went. You could feel how cunt was already gushing and hoped nothing was getting on the dress. He neatly folded the small piece of fabric and tucked it into his front pocket. “I won’t keep you waiting, baby girl.” 

Before you could respond, he moved his face back between your legs. You scooted your dress up so it was bunched around your chest. The first, languid lick he gave made you jolt. He focused on your swollen clit, sucking and giving sweet little licks. Knuckles on your hands turned white as you gripped the sheets below you. 

The soft moans he let out sent vibrations through your entire body. Thankfully, his hands kept your rocking hips in place. You shivered under him, feeling so close, so close. 

Until he pulled away with an lewd smacking noise. 

“Issei!” You whined, panting. A breathy moan left your mouth as he pumped two long fingers into you. His cool metal rings brushed against your delicate walls. Still, your clit was throbbing, needing more attention. 

“Want you to cum on my cock, baby.” He said hoarsley. As he stood he continued scissoring and thrusting his fingers into you. 

“Y-yes, please.” You nodded quickly. 

His other hand clumsily undid his belt and pants, tearing them down and pulling his stiff cock out. You wanted to help, but couldn’t bring yourself to sit up. He pumped himself a little in time with how his fingers pumped in and out of you. 

In another second he had pulled his soaked fingers out of you and pressed your knees up against your chest. He loomed over you, lining himself up before quickly pushing in. You winced a little at the sudden intrusion, but in moments he was moving and the feeling had disappeared. 

“So pretty.” He groaned as you clenched around his length. 

His pumped in and out of you quickly. His hand came down where you were connected and traced quick circles over your clit. You were already on the edge between his thick cock and being so close only moments ago. 

“Cum on my cock, baby girl. You can do it.”

With a few more swipes of his fingers you felt the pressure spilling over. As your cunt tightly convulsed around his cock, your hips rocked roughly against his. You cried out incoherent moans and babbling as small tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Mind hazy, you watched, limply as he continued to slam into you. His thrusts slowed a little from the wave of his own orgasm crashing down over him. In a few short thrusts he was painting your cunt with his seed, moaning out your name and a string of swears. 

He slumped over you for a moment, panting, before he sat up on his elbows. You leaned up to kiss him sweetly. 

“Feeling better?” He grinned, pecking your cheek. 

“Much.” You answered, sitting up as he pulls out of you. “Let’s get going.” 

The mix of your fluids seeps a little out onto the bed, but you try you hardest to hold it in as you rush off to the bathroom, not waiting for any soft aftercare. Issei took care of himself with some soft tissues from the bedside table. You were still worried about being too late, if you were being honest. 

When you meet him in the living room, minutes later, he’s totally fixed up. You reach out a hand. He just cocks an eyebrow. 

“My underwear.” You say plainly. 

He chuckled and puts a finger up, walking to the doorway to step into his shoes. You follow him, realizing he won’t give in, and putting on your own shoes. 

“Those are all dirty, baby girl. No bending over tonight.” He chided. “Well, not until after the party.” 

[rat-father]

I said I'd give Pora comfort so here it is

This one got long at 2.5k words and I didn't do any editing so good luck y'all lol this is the longest thing I've written

Tagging; @skunkandgrenade @jordanstrophe @whumping-out-of-time @whatwasmyprevioususername

-- tw;; intimate whumper, slave whump, food/eating, implied starvation, dehumanisation, normalisation of slavery, non con kiss (not sexual), mild whump mainly comfort, Mynci's attempt at being nice for day --

Pora stretched their arms out, finished hanging the last of the faerie lights. A heavy sigh escaped their lips, muscles aching from constant movement and repetitive posing. Cheerful laughter pierced their ears constantly, even at the dead of night. They dreaded the next day, they wanted to sleep through it all. Halloween had been.. Fun? The years prior. Or at least they thought so. They didn't remember hating it as much as they didn't remember anything else. It gave them a headache thinking back so far, to before they met Mynci. The lights greeted them when they came back out their thoughts.

Pora stepped back subconsciously, forgetting that they were standing on a stool until the hard floor collided with their body. Pain shot throughout them, crying out a sob. They greedily sucked in air through clenched teeth, deciding to take the moment to rest. They couldn't have closed their eyes for long when Mynci's footsteps calmly neared them, coaxing them to quickly push themselves up to their feet. They struggled to find their footing, terrified gaze locked on him.

„Sorry- I- I wasn't-“ they stammered.

„Sleeping without my permission? You definitely were.“

They swallowed dryly, accepting their inevitable fate. Their hands trembled nonetheless, waiting in anticipation.

„But,“ he continued. „I'm in a good mood today, so I'll forgive you this time.“

„Really?!“ they exclaimed in disbelief.

„Yes. But if you ruin my mood that will change before you know it.“

Tears sprung to their eyes, the information settling in. He saw their relief, a wide grin splitting his face. His hand carded through their tangled hair, freeing it from their sweaty forehead.

„Now, be good for me and finish setting all this up, hm?“ He gestured at the left over boxes filled with decorations.

„Yes, sir. I will.“

They snaked past him, his burning gaze following them. They caught a glimpse of the moon outside, surrounded by the tiny stars. The idea to stop and admire it crossed their mind, immediately deciding against it with Mynci still watching them. They searched through the closest box, taking out the biggest decorations to get them out of the way. They were planning to handle the smaller ones later. Once he was out of sight they could take things easy, and hopefully have time to rest before sunrise. He said he had a surprise planned for them, and they feared what that would be.

~-~

„Wake up, baby,“ Mynci cooed, squishing Pora's cheeks between his thumb and index finger.

They reluctantly opened their eyes, messy hair falling in front of their face. Slowly they rubbed their eyes, trying to speed up the process of waking up. He placed his hand on their chest, tracing down to their hips. They immediately sat up, legs twitching away at the touch. He chuckled lightly.

„Slept well? I found you passed out in the back room last night.“

„Sorry, I- I didn't mean to. I'm sorry,“ they stammered.

He hummed thoughtfully. „No matter. I don't want to ruin this special day. And neither do you.“

Pora nodded, slowing their pounding heart beat. He swung his legs over the mattress, jumping off the bed. He only wore black jog pants, contrasting his bare chest. They stared a moment too long, catching his attention.

„You get to stare at the me all day, you know,“ Mynci leaned over, dragging them out by their collar.

They yelped in surprise, latching onto his shoulder for support as they stumbled into him. He chuckled, his fingers tangling in their messy hair pulling them forward. He pressed his lips against theirs, nails moving up their spine. They melted under the touch, muscles relaxing. A blush warmed their face, gasping for air once he pulled away.

„Now, tell me, baby. Do you love me?“

„Y-yes.“ Pora said, hesitating slightly.

„Say it.“

„I..I love you.“

He gave a satisfied grin. „I love you too. I want this to be an amazing day, so be good for me.“

They nodded. It's rare that they got surprises, and they hoped that it would be a fun day, like he promised. He stepped away from them, swiftly moving to the closet to change his outfit. They took a quick glance at him, sitting back down on the mattress. The new breathing room it gave when he left felt nice, letting them regain their senses. A wave of nausea overcame them as hunger clawed at their stomach. They closed their eyes for a moment and waited for it to pass, listening to the sound of fabric getting moved around.

Pora subconsciously tugged at their own shirt, stained with dry blood. They couldn't remember which wound was the source of the stains, all the times he hurt them blending together in a fog. They squinted their eyes open, in time to watch him pull another set of clothing out of the closet. They straightened their back, slightly adjusting their position.

„I think the clothes you have now are a bit too cold to wear outside this season. If people see you like that they might just think I'm torturing you!“ Mynci laughed.

They forced themselves to smile, catching the clothes as he threw it at them. They took off their old shirt, replacing it with the gray blouse he gave them, and put on the long pants. The fabric felt a lot softer with a welcoming warmth as their exposed skin got covered. He pulled his hair back in a ponytail, side eying them. He offered his hand, helping them get up. They placed their hand on top of his, their fingers intertwining immediately. A kind smile painted his face, making them forget who he was momentarily.

He led them out to the front door of the tent, familiar sound of laughter and cheering much clearer to them. They saw the source of all the noise, children holding hands with their parents or running in front of them. Pora couldn't help but stare as they passed them by, unknowing of their situation. Mynci lightly squeezed their hand, pulling their attention back to him with a glare. They quickly muttered an apology, walking a small step closer by his side.

Pora's eyes kept wandering over to the various attractions, stalls and everything in the environment, awing at it all like a child. Mynci smiled to himself, seeing his slave so amazed by everything. He took them to his favorite small restaurant on the edge of the park, close to the circus. He knew the owner personally, and had since she moved there. She always struck conversations with him, chit chattering until his ears fell off. She had no problems with him bringing Pora into the establishment, seeing as she had a pet of her own.

The building was just out of reach of the sun, sheltered by the surrounding trees. Elevated wooden planks subsidized as floor leading into the front door, wide open to greet them. Purple and white flowers bloomed around the walls, bees stopping by now and then. Pora followed him mindlessly, taking in as much of the sight as they could. They saw the owner before she did, busy scribbling something down on a notepad.

„Hey, Cai!“ Mynci greeted, letting go of their hand to spread his arms towards her.

She jumped at the noise, cursing under her breath before burying herself in his arms.

„You need to stop doing that. Scared the shit out of me.“

„Not my problem. I'm here to take you up on that offer you gave me last time.“

Cai leaned her head past his chest, squinting her eyes at them. She nodded. „Brought your slave

They took a step forward sheepishly, unsure of what they were supposed to do. He chuckled, nodding enthusiastically.

„Mhm. I wasn't lying when I said that they're the most adorable slave I've seen.“

„Sure wasn't. And their name was? Pora?“

Pora nodded, hiding their hands in the long sleeves. They felt awfully exposed, being talked about as if they weren't there. She never fully acknowledged their existence, showing them to their table and handing Mynci a menu. They sat next to him, sneakily peeking over his shoulder to see the options. The letters all blurred together, not becoming any clearer despite their rapid blinking. Their heart sunk to their stomach as realization set in.

His hand tucked a bit of stray hair behind their ear, making them flinch. Their eyes met his, followed by a short kiss on their lips.

„I'll order for you, baby. Don't you worry about it,“ Mynci said, tapping his finger on their nose.

They knew better than to go against him, slowly nodding. He must've known they couldn't read anymore, that was probably his intention. The waiter walked over to their table almost immediately after he signaled for them. Pora didn't look their way, barely listening as he put in the order. The family sitting by the table next to them caught their attention, the way they laughed and talked together tied a knot in their stomach, a distant familiarity to the sight.

Mynci put his on theirs, giving it a squeeze. They turned back to him, hesitantly leaning on his shoulder. They forced their tensed muscles to relax, taking deep breaths. They stared at the decorative doll of a tiny ghost, casually sitting on top of their table. It seemed to be a having a great time doing nothing all day.

„Where do you want to go next?“

The question threw Pora off for a moment. He raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly.

„Um. I-I don't know.“

„That's alright, you can choose as we go. Decisions like that aren't made for slaves, so I see why you struggle.“

On cue, the waiter came back holding trays, filled with drinks and plates with food. They set it all down in front of them, Mynci thanking them politely. Pora's stomach twisted with hunger, mouth watering at the smell. He nodded at the slave, allowing them start eating. They wasted no time scarfing it all down, savoring every bite. They didn't recognize most of it, but they didn't care. Some of the drinks were bitter and stung the back of their throat, taking their mind off the situation. Giddy with joy, they couldn't stop smiling. It was the first time in forever they had a full stomach and a full meal. Mynci pressed a kiss to their cheek.

„Enjoying yourself, baby?“ he asked.

„Yes, sir.“

They couldn't contain their smile, the collar around their neck feeling as light as their head. He carded his fingers through their hair, leaning into the gentle touch. He ordered them a bowl of ice cream, covered with colorful sprinkles and whipped cream. They finished it all within minutes, quickly regretting it as their brain froze up from the cold. They whimpered pitifully, earning mock laughter from Mynci. They pouted, taking the hand he offered to walk them out the door.

Creaking floorboards turned to tiles, stepping outside. Everything was a lot calmer in the morning, giving them more place to walk at their own speed. Mynci got greeted by a lot of visitors and off duty employees, calling out to him or giving a wave. His tight grip on their hand didn't loosen, checking to make sure they were still there often. Pora remained busy watching the birds fly by or sit in their respective trees, singing their songs. The sunlight was a welcome change to them, being way too adjusted to the natural colored lights the circus tent provided when the sun was out.

Tiny stones crunched under their feet, disrupted by orange and red leafs. They stopped to pick up a small bug they found, hurriedly finding a bush to place it in. He smiled at them, eyes glistening with adoration. They hopped after him again, intertwining their fingers with his. The wind had a smell they couldn't quite place, but it was nice nonetheless.

„Can we try one of those arcade games?“ Pora stopped dead in their tracks, pointing at the building standing on the side.

„Of course, baby.“

It was a newer place set up recently, evident by the newer technology. He hadn't gotten around to personally welcoming the owner yet. Not that it mattered, he'd meet them soon enough. They entered the building, the whole place decorated festively with darker lights to fit the mood. The games shone brighter in the dark, standing out in contrast. The person at the reception greeted them wholeheartedly with a polite nod. Mynci got them tickets to play some of the games by themselves, trusting they wouldn't attempt to run while he made small talk with the owner.

Pora took the opportunity to take a go at one player games they distantly remembered being their favorite. It didn't take them long to get the gist of it again, as if they never stopped playing, The claw machines were the ones they struggled with the most, taking multiple tries before they got something. They excitedly grabbed the round plushie, representing a fake monster with a small head poking out above the dark gray fluff that made up its body. They continued playing more games with their new found friend in their arms, until they ran out of tickets and went to find Mynci.

He wasn't hard to spot, his green hair standing out from a distance. They hopped over to him, lightly tugging on his sleeve to get his attention. He turned to face them, raising an eyebrow.

„What is that you got?“ He asked.

„It-it's a plushie I won, from a, a game.“

Pora held it up to him to show it off, letting him feel it.

„It's nice,“ he said „Do you want to go?“

They nodded, following him back out the door as he said goodbye to the employee. The sun blinded them momentarily. More people slowly started to flow in to the park, noise getting louder with each person entering. They hovered close to him, keeping their eyes down. He steered them away from bigger crowds, nearing food vendors with all types of snacks. They perked up at the sight, silently pleading to go to one. He got the message and brought them to get crunchy waffles with sweet syrup in between. It was sweet and tasty, a light treat to end the day outside with.

He threw the last waffle piece in his mouth, crunching down on it. „Let's go back home, darling. I'll let you get some rest before the show.“

[asunshinepuff]

 Secrets of the Darkened Seas

🧜🏻‍♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter one! This has been a long time coming and I apologize for the wait. Please give a follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @ladynightmare913 ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help!

This chapter features one of my own ocs, and I really hope you like him! As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however it will be explained over time so no worries. There’s no mention of lore for right now.

The Included lore on different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. I will not take credit for it’s writing. It’s a childhood book of mine that I adore dearly and sincerely think you should all check out! 

Anyways, that’s about it. I hope you enjoy! 🧜🏻‍♀️

.

Chapter 1: The Tail of Fates

The gulls glided across the scorching sky, the sun beating down on the portmen docking the ships that traveled across the sea. The merry drunken men who stumbled their way out of the taverns filled with jolly music made their way to the docks. Wincing at the harsh rays of sunlight, the sweltering heat and humidity offers no reprieve for the men who indulged in the advantages of liquid courage to disregard their tasks. Merchants bring in goods from the islands that seemed worlds away to a mere boy at the age of fourteen.

The boy had medium-length tawny brown hair, tanned skin from days working out in the sun, and very bright amber-colored eyes which seemed to capture the same essence of the crystalized equivalents of the color. Dressed in a rather modest attire appropriate for his status - consisting of a white long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves were rolled up due to the heat, light brown slacks, and dark brown boots. Around his waist was a light blue scarf, supposedly what he had been found swaddled in when he was just a babe. He could never find the strength to part with it. The guilt overpowered him. 

“The beauties of the islands lads, best three days of me life mate.”

“Three days of only looking at the dames.” The sailor snorts a retort as he leans against a pillar on the dock. “They probably ran off in the other direction just at the mere sight of your pathetic self.”

The group of three jolly sailors laughed in merriment as the sailor who was sharing his tale shoved the other two in embarrassment.   

The boy had been sweeping the dock nearby the sailors, rolling his eyes at the stories. It was always the same. Seamen making port and bedding the beauties from the mysterious island that he himself has never traversed. Internally, he began counting the seconds till one of the sailors again made mentions of the maidens of the sea, and as always- it took only a count of ten. 

“I wager the beauties on that port can’t hold a candle to their maidens of the sea.” A sailor with three scars slashed across his face grinned. 

“Oh not this, again,” The first sailor, with a fancy for the beauties, with tattered clothes and blonde hair groaned. “Bloody hell mate, you say that cursed tale every time. The women of the sea, with a fishes tail.” 

“Aye, and you’d best heed it.” The sailor with three scars eyes his mates in suspicion. “Lest you never return to land, drowned like a dog and fed to the fishes.”    

“No one has seen those monsters for centuries mate. Let it go. It’s nothing but stories to scare sailors, nothing more.” 

“No!” The sailor yells. “I’ve seen them! The war didn’t wipe them out. They were the ones who scarred me face! There ain’t anything like it, to hear the songs of those maidens. You try to pull away, to drown it out with your thoughts, but ya can’t. There is no escape, it invades your minds, pulling you to the sea and into their webbed claws!” He grumbles out as he touches his scarred face tenderly. As if the scars were fresh, open with fresh blood spilling. 

“You lads wouldn’t stand a chance, I should be at the bottom of the sea, but these maidens be fickle things, they are.” He looks out to the sea, calm waves kissing the shore. “To see one, changes your fate. To hear one’s song, is your doom.” 

The boy paused momentarily as he heard the scarred sailor's warning. His thoughts race across his mind before he returns to the present when he’s called. 

“Oi boy!” A man from upon the ship called down, leaning overboard. “Come up here lad! There’s a job I need ye to take care of!”

The boy looked up to the adult man, he couldn’t discern fully from this far away the man’s appearance. The high rays of the sun give the wooden docks a shadow of coverage. He was rather reluctant to leave the cool reprieve, however, it would be worse if he neglected his duties of the port, “Be right there.” 

Walking upon the loading dock to the deck of the rather large ship, it was difficult to fight the urge to look around in a strange awe, even though it’s appearance is rather haggard and beaten. Although he has spent many a day upon ships for moments at a time since beginning his work a few years back, there was a certain mystery behind each ship that entered the ports of this bustling town. Each ship held a story behind its experiences. Each cannon battle, the waters of the seven seas it has traversed, the storms it has survived possible destruction, treasures it has held and lead its captain’s to discover. 

“Yes sir?” The boy looks up to the bulk of an angry looking man whose face always seemed to have a sneer. Even in his sleep. The bulk of a man was dressed in a shirt that looked two sizes too small, and a tattered grey coat that squeezed the man, fitting his frame with strain as his arms were always pulled back. His pants were faded from black to grey, his boots were old and worn. Smelling like a dead rat. His teeth were ghastly to gaze upon, yellow with brown stains, his breath could probably kill a man. His eyes were a beady black like the sharks that swam in the shallow waters, a bald head with black spots. A pity, he must’ve looked worse as a child. As most children do. He glowers at the scrawny boy before he looks away.

“Go search the taverns for this ships’ Captain. We leave at dusk. Blokes probably drunk beyond hell, feeling up the women.” He shakes his head as he waves the boy off with a mere wave of his hand. 

With a nod in confirmation, the boy exited the deck and headed off in search of the tavern so that he may find the Captain of the ship, rather grateful to being away from the rather disgusting first mate. If that bulk of a man looked that haggard, he could only imagine the Captain with a shudder at the thought. In the distance, he could see another ship that seemed to be a practical stark contrast. The masts that were open, were as white as the very clouds that floated in the sky, the wooden haul was a rich brown mahogany, the railings were painted gold like the sun. The sailors looked well-groomed, their clothes neat and fitted to their frames. 

The boy searched from tavern to tavern, until finally, he came across the Buccaneers' Oyster. With a sigh of exasperation, he opens the doors and enters the busy tavern hoping that this time he had finally found the correct one. The tavern was dark with dim lighting from the candles that were scattered about the establishment. The windows were the only source of natural sunlight that seeped into the tavern that reeked of alcohol and vomit. The sounds of clinking glassware and cheers from sailors echo all around, the soft giggling of women sitting on the laps of the drunkest of seamen. Ignoring the commotion, and his disgust at the reeking smells, he makes his way to the main counter where a man was the barkeep. The wall behind was lined with large kegs and the shelves were lined with clean pints.

“Excuse me. Do you happen to know if Captain Barclay is here?” The boy says, raising his voice over the loud cheering of the sailors in their merriment. The barkeeper doesn’t even spare the boy a glance as he simply points to the back of the tavern where a man was sitting, well more falling off his chair than anything, as he smiled stupidly at a lady. 

The captain in question was a tall lanky man with a hooked nose, horrible teeth, a large mole on the side of his neck, tanned skin, and green eyes. His clothes were an absolute mess which could possibly be vomit, or mashed potatoes. The boy was very much hoping for the latter. A white shirt with a red stain, rum possibly, short brown pants, and his shoes seemed to have vanished. Hopefully, the shoes walked away themselves, saving what little dignity they had, and drowned themselves in the sea. The stench dying with them. Or the captain had lost his shoes in a gamble. That seemed more likely. 

Taking a deep breath in preparation, he makes his way over to the back of the tavern so that he could finally fetch the man and get out of this place. The man seemed practically worse close up, if that was even possible. “Excuse me? Captain Barclay?” He asks, hoping to gain the drunken Captain’s attention and draw it away from the woman. “I was asked to fetch you by your first mate. And bring you back to your ship.” 

The man makes a small noise of acknowledgment as he turns to look at the deck boy. His alcohol glazed eyes look over the small boy before he shrugs him off and turns the lady he had in his lanky finger. “Bugger off boy, the adults are talkin.’” His hand waves him off with the pint of rum that sloshed to the ground in his sluggish gestures. “Now where we?” 

“Please sir, let me go. I do not work here. I am merely looking for my fiancé.” A pale soft face young lady pulls her hand to try to free herself from the seaman. Her soft brown curls bouncing as she turns her head to the boy. Her hazel eyes lock eyes with his, her skin pale from her bold green dress. Help me she mouths. 

The boy’s eyes widen a small fraction, trying to figure out a way to help the woman out of her predicament. “Captain. I insist.” He repeats, his tone much more firm and without argument. 

With a sneer, the lanky captain looked to the boy before he points at the boy with his pint. Standing up, he was two heads taller than the boy. “Listen boy,” he stumbles closer, the pint in his hands dropping what little rum it had to the floor. “I spent six months at sea, I ain’t about to let a lass like this slip past me, now runoff. Before I beat you.”     

“You chose quite a profession that allows you to be at sea for months at a time, Captain.” He says, looking up at the man, “Guess there’s sacrifices to make now isn’t there? And if you actually listened with your ears rather than another part of your body, then you would understand that this lady has no interest in you. And is taken.”

“Why you little rat!” The man grips the boy's collar, forgetting the pint, dropping it to the floor, letting the lady go as he raises his fist. “I’m going to enjoy this.” 

“You’re really going to punch a child mate? How low can you get?” A voice interjects as a rather handsome young man walks over. The tall young man, around the age of twenty-one, had short tousled red-brown hair, fetching blue eyes, and light tanned skin. Dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt with a light brown vest on top, a burgundy red long buckled coat with bright red accents, dark brown slacks, and black boots. On his left hip, a wide looking sword was sheathed in solid black and red with gold accents. 

“Who the bloody hell are you? Bugger off!” 

“No one of consequence. Just let him go.”

“Why the hell would I do that, a good beaten ought to teach about being respectful to his elders!” He looks away and aims for a punch.

The man scoffs, “As if you’re worth giving respect. The boy was just doing his job.” He steps forward and grabs the man’s fist in a hard grip as it nears the boy. “If you want respect, then earn it.” 

“Why you!” The man drops the boy and turns to punch the man who stopped him from giving the boy a lesson.

The man can’t help but roll his eyes with a sigh, “Oh for Heaven’s sake.” The drunk captain isn’t even able to reach him before he retaliates with a punch of his own, knocking the captain out cold. A satisfied grin falls upon his lips. The lady gasps before she quickly runs off after giving the man a quick thank you. The man turns to the boy. 

“Are you alright there boy?” 

The boy nods, looking up to the taller man who intervened. Why did he? He cannot help but wonder. Most people would've just ignored the ruckus and not bat an eye. “I’m alright. Thank you, Mr…” 

“Sandoval, Quinn Sandoval. But please just call me Quinn.” He smiles down at the boy. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you boy now can I?” 

“No, I suppose not.” He replies with a light chuckle, “My name’s Remus. Remus Lupin. It’s nice to meet you, Quinn.”

“Well, Remus, it’s nice to meet you as well.” He looks down to the unconscious captain with an exasperated sigh, lightly kicking his leg. “Best take him back to his ship eh?” He looks at Remus with mirth in his eyes before he walks over to the captain’s head, grabbing ahold one of his arms before pulling him up. “Grab his other arm will you? Let’s take him back to his ship. Although I doubt he will be useful.”  

Remus nods quickly before he walks over to the other side, grabbing ahold of the other arm to help hold him up. “Doubt he will as well, to be frank.”

The pair carry the dunkard back to the docks without much strain. Aside from the occasional bump to the head. They walk up to the ship where the first mate sees them approaching, walking down the loading dock.

“What the bloody hell happened to him? I have been waitin’ here for hours boy!” The bulky man marches to Remus. His face red in anger. 

“Well rather difficult to track down a man with this many taverns in this town isn’t it?” Quinn says in defense, looking down to the unconscious man before continuing an explanation, “Your Captain got himself plastered and in a tavern fight. I had to help the boy carry him back.” He glances at Remus and gives him a conspiratorial wink.

The first mate begrudgingly orders two men from the crew to take the captain onboard. He looks to the boy with a scowl. “What are ye waitin’ for, get back to work!” 

Quinn frowns lightly as he looks to Remus. “You work the docks?” 

Remus fights the urge to flinch at the hard scowl under the first mate’s gaze. He looks to Quinn at his question before nodding. “I do.”

Quinn can only nod once slowly in understanding. He looks to the first mate, then to the docks, then to Remus before he smiles. “Well not anymore.” 

Remus’ eyes widen as he looks quizzically at the man he had just met. “What?” 

“What the bloody hell are you talkin’ about.” The first mate growls out.

Quinn ignores the man as he looks over the young boy. “Tell me honestly Remus, would you rather work the docks for men like him, or come with me to my captain’s ship and actually live your life without regrets.” He looks back to the docks and the wrecked ship the bulky man sent the drunk captain to dock. “I know what I’d chose. And it wouldn’t be a life with little to no rewards.” 

Remus looks out to the sea beyond the docked ships, watching the sun’s rays reflect upon the blue waking waters as he contemplates. This man hardly knows him, practically just met him about half an hour ago, and yet he’s offering him a chance to sail? A chance to leave this place? How can someone be this trusting? 

He looks back to Quinn with a skeptical look, “Why are you offering me this? You hardly know me. I could be a thief for all you know.” 

Quinn smiles. “Because I like you, you have wit and you clearly are a hard worker. I have a good feeling about you.” He looks to the sea. “So, what will it be, Remus? A life of servitude, or a life of freedom?” He looks back to Remus.

Remus cannot help but smile in return, “Freedom.” 

[darks-ink]

Glow Sticks - Ectoberweek 2020

Almost done! I should really go and finish up the last fic for this event huh?

Rating: Gen Warnings: - Genre: Hurt/Comfort Words: 2,975 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - canon divergence, Identity reveal

[AO3] [FFN]

---

Quite frankly, Valerie didn’t know what she was doing here.

Yes, she’d gotten invited to a blacklight party by some of the A-listers, but that wasn’t because they cared about her. Hell, there wasn’t even anything special about her. Just about every one of their classmates had gotten invited. Even Danny and his friends were here!

And if she honest with herself, that might just have been why she was here at all. She didn’t care much for parties, not anymore, nor did she care about her lost popularity. Her old friends had abandoned her, and new friends…

Well, aside from Danny, she didn’t really have any of those. And counting Danny as a friend was kind of a stretch, too, after she’d broken up with him. But, god… Valerie needed it. She needed someone to just be normal with.

Steeling herself, Valerie cracked the glow sticks in her hand until they lit up in bright pinks and oranges. With short, resolute motions she curled them around her wrists, turned them into armbands.

Then, before she could change her mind, Valerie entered the darkened room.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but it was immediately clear that almost everyone in her class was here. Definitely busy and crowded. Ugh, why was she here again?

Right. Because she wanted to be a normal teenager for once.

Valerie stepped forward, planning to go and find Danny. Instead she was, almost instantly, intercepted by Star. The girl’s white shirt shone in the blacklight, her teeth equally bright when she grinned at Valerie, curling a hand around Valerie’s arm and tugging her to the side. “Valerie! I didn’t think you would come!”

Yeah, neither did she, to be honest. “I… It was kind of a spontaneous decision.”

“Well, you’re forgiven for not telling me, then.” Star patted Valerie’s hand, then grabbed it and held it closer to her face. “Wow! Look at that paintwork! How long did you prep for this spontaneous decision, Val?”

“Uh…” She pulled her hand away from Star, frowning down at it. Straight lines cut through her flesh like circuitry, glowing a fluorescent pink. A familiar fluorescent pink. “Well, you know… I had the stuff anyway, I figured I could put it on and… then decide?”

Star snorted disbelievingly. “Whatever makes you feel better. I gotta go before Paulina sees me talking to you, but you enjoy yourself, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Valerie told her dryly, playing with the glow sticks around her arm, pretending that she hadn’t been checking out her supposed paint job. “You have fun too, Star.”

The other girl grinned at her, then turned around and darted away into the crowd. Sometimes Val wished they could’ve remained friends, too, but it was hard to ignore that Star chose Paulina over her every single time. No matter how important it was, and how unimportant Paulina was… It was always Paulina, and never Valerie.

And quite frankly, Valerie was done with being the second choice.

She worked her way to a less crowded corner, glancing around to make sure no one was keeping a close eye on her before tucking herself away. On close investigation, both her hands seemed identically pattered, the circuitry perfectly mirrored.

With a frown, she pulled up her sleeves. Yeah, it continued all the way up her arms. It must’ve been from the suit, the new one. She thought it was some kind of nanotech, small machines which tucked away flat against her body, so small they couldn’t be seen. In her darker moments, she considered the possibility that they hid away inside her body, yes, but…

For them to glow under blacklight like this… It must be ectoplasm. Everyone knew that ectoplasm glowed bright under blacklight, and the coloration matched exactly with the shots from the suit.

But, god… what did that mean for her? That she carried so much ectoplasm in her body, so well integrated that she hadn’t even noticed?

It… It didn’t matter. There was nothing she could do to change it, not for now. Later, she would worry about the implications, about how it might affect her. But she was here to have a normal evening, for once in her damn life, and that was exactly what she was going to do. Tonight, this circuitry, this ectoplasmic ghost hunting suit, was no more than a spectacular paint job.

So, with her mind thus made up, and all the important matters locked away behind a wall of determination… Valerie once more set out to track down Danny Fenton.

Not that finding Danny ended up being that difficult. She had barely made it halfway through the room when she heard Dash yelling and, figuring it was either something involving Danny or something involving ghosts, she turned that way.

She found Danny crowded against a wall by several of the jocks, including Dash and Kwan. However Danny had dressed up for the occasion, she couldn’t tell with the jocks between her and him, but it was clearly causing a reaction.

“Dash, man, you still beating up people who won’t fight back to stroke your ego?” Valerie shoved him, creating an opening in the wall of football players so she could see their faces. “If you want a fight so badly I’d love to give you a wooping.”

Dash turned to face her, eyes narrowed and mouth opened to respond. But something about her must’ve made him change his mind, because he snapped his mouth shut.

“Oh, I see,” Dash said after a long moment. “You two freaks are matching. How cute.” He scoffed, then waved to the rest of the jocks. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else before it spreads.”

She watched them storm off before shaking her head and turning to look at Danny properly. He looked ruffled, his hair mussed up and his black shirt askew like Dash had grabbed onto it. Green splatters littered him, like he had sprinkled fluorescent paint all over his clothing as decoration.

Green paint, or… ectoplasm? It certainly looked like the shade of green ectoplasm normally was, and it would be an easy enough resource for Danny to access. But using it to paint his clothes? Really?

“Did you really use ectoplasm for those splatters?” she asked him, incredulously. The look on his face answered her question before he could even open his mouth, and she shook her head. “Never mind. Oh, you got it all over you too. Danny, this stuff is dangerous, you shouldn’t let it…”

She stopped, staring down at the pale hand she held. The ectoplasm she had seen, what she thought was a stain, wasn’t just splattered over his hands. It formed neat lines, perfectly replicating the human vein system with unbelievable detail.

“I, uh. Had Sam paint it?” Danny tried, the lie stupidly poor even without his abysmal skill at lying. “Anyway, I know the dangers of ectoplasm, Val, duh. Don’t you know my parents?”

“Danny, seriously.” She ran a finger down the bright vein on the bottom of his wrist, ignoring the way he cringed. “I can feel that there’s no paint here, just skin. Also, you’re a terrible liar.”

He huffed. “What, and you are? You’re criticizing my paint, but I can’t feel any on your fingers, either.”

“Hm.” She paused, throwing a brief glance down. Right. The circuitry continued down all the way to her fingertips. He would’ve felt the paint when she touched him, too. “I think… we should talk. Somewhere private.”

“Yeah, I guess we should,” he agreed, before sighing, deep and weary. “Let’s go outside.”

Valerie hummed, shifting her hand so she gripped his wrist instead. She didn’t think he would escape into the crowd otherwise, but, well. Better not to risk it. She wanted to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.

She weaved through their partying classmates, Danny right behind her. A few times they got bumped, Danny more so than her, but they made it through well enough. At the door, Valerie released him again, letting him step through first.

“You got somewhere in mind?” she asked, watching him take lead.

“I… might know a spot.” He shot her a brief look over his shoulder, but turned back almost immediately. “I guess we’ll see.”

Well, didn’t that sound ominous. “Guess we will,” she agreed.

Honestly, she felt like she’d left her brain back at the party. First the discovery that her own suit was not only ectoplasmic in nature, but that it had integrated into her body, and now this? Danny, with enough ectoplasm in his veins that they glowed under blacklight? What did it all mean?

She followed Danny outside, then around to the back of the building, where he stopped to peer upwards.

“What, you want to get onto the roof?” she asked skeptically, looking up as well. Sure, she could manage it with her hoverboard, but still… He didn’t know she had that. Did he?

“Not much risk of anyone interfering or overhearing,” Danny pointed out, shrugging. “But I guess we would need to get up there first.”

“And how had you imagined that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Even if he knew, would he admit as much?

Danny frowned up, then shook his head and met her eyes. “Well… Do you trust me, Valerie?”

What was this, a trick question? If she said yes, would he ask why she hadn’t told him about being a ghost hunter?

“I… guess I do?” she settled on, quirking her eyebrow even further. Tried to come across as questioning as possible. “Why?”

“Just… don’t freak out.” Before she could react to that cryptic statement, he stepped forward, grabbing her by her upper arms. And then, suddenly, the ground was gone.

They floated, Danny just above her, grip sturdy but not painful. He met her eyes steadily, his own as bright fluorescing green as his veins had been under the blacklight.

After what must’ve only been a short moment, Danny lifted them up further. Their flight was stable and fairly fast, and before she knew it, her feet touched down on the surface of the roof.

Danny let her go the moment she stood stable, landing a little distance away from her. The moment he stopped floating the glow from his eyes faded. His face felt much darker without the glow, out here in the dark.

But also… what the hell was that? He’d just… floated, like a ghost? Glowing eyes and all?

“What the hell was that?” she snapped, despite herself. “I know you’re not a ghost, but— that—”

“Yeah,” he agreed wryly, shrugging. “I’m… kind of a half-ghost? I have ghost powers.”

Well. She hadn’t expected him to be so straight-forward about it.

“I… Look,” he said, suddenly, like he was cutting himself off. “I wasn’t planning on telling, okay? No offense, but I know what you’re like with ghosts, so… Some basic self-preservation, right?”

“Right.” She frowned at him, tried to process the fact that he was half ghost. What did that even mean? “But clearly you changed your mind. Why?”

“The lines on your arm.” He gestured vaguely, like he wanted to point at them and then realized they weren’t visible outside the blacklight. “Do you know what that is?”

Right, so he probably knew she was the Red Huntress, huh? “It’s ectoplasm, isn’t it? I thought as much when I saw it glow.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded, his expression softening a little with… relief? “Oh, that’s good, I don’t have to break that news to you then.”

“It’s not the same as with you, though,” she pointed out. “With you, it clearly followed the veins in your body. The lines on me were different, more like circuitry.”

“Circuitry?” Danny repeated. “I guess that that makes sense, since you got your second suit from Technus. The ecto-contamination sucks, though.”

“But it’s not like with you?” she prodded. “You say you’re half-ghost, but I’m not, then?”

“Well…” He paused, clearly considering that. “No, I don’t think so. I think you could become half-ghost, but you’re not currently. The ectoplasm is bonded to you, but it’s not part of your body, not sustaining it like with me. That’s why you only have the suit, and no ghost powers to go with it.”

She considered that. “Sounds like there’s a “but” missing.”

“But, I don’t know how it will hold up,” he admitted with a grimace. “Technus isn’t exactly a human expert, and I don’t expect he made the suit with much of a thought of how it’ll hold up, or how it’ll affect you over time. It’s definitely possible that it might turn you half-ghost over time, slowly leaking ectoplasm into your system.”

Yikes. That didn’t sound very appealing.

“Can it be undone, then?” She cocked her head at him. “I assume it can’t be with you, because you said that it’s sustaining you. But for me?”

Danny hummed. “Maybe. But that’ll make you lose the suit, you realize that, right? And you might remain susceptible to ectoplasmic contamination, so you’ll need to give up on ghost hunting entirely.”

“Oh.” Could she do that? Just give up on ghost hunting like that?

But what if she didn’t? What if she became half-ghost? It didn’t seem to affect Danny too badly, but… But how much did she really know about Danny Fenton?

“Don’t make a decision yet,” Danny said, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Take your time to think it over. We can start with looking into it a little more, figuring out how the suit works. Maybe there’s no danger of it turning you half-ghost at all. Maybe it’ll only happen under the same kind of circumstances as with me, and the suit is just an indicator that it wouldn’t kill you.”

He shrugged. “I really can’t say, not without knowing more. But we can fix that, at least. How does that sound?”

“What would that involve? Learning more?”

“Come back home with me. I’ll call Sam and Tucker once we get there, see if they can come in.” He snorted at her look. “Valerie, honestly. There’s nothing I keep secret from those guys. They literally watched me die, or, well. Half-die. If we want to learn more about the suit, we’re gonna need everyone.”

Danny paused. “Well. Maybe not Jazz. We might need her to run interference instead, to get my parents out of the lab.”

“The more I hear about this, the less I like it,” Valerie admitted with a shake of her head. “But I guess I can’t exactly back out. So, we go to your house next?”

“Yeah.” He raised one hand to rub the back of his neck. “So, uh. Are we walking or flying?”

“I… guess we might as well fly?” She had never flown in company, only ever chased after ghosts, but… “You can ride on my board, maybe?”

He snorted. “No thanks. It doesn’t look like there’s a lot of space on there.” He grinned at her, suddenly. “Besides, I love flying. Definitely my favorite power.”

“Oh.” Well, he would, wouldn’t he? He loves outer space. The gravity-less-ness of ghost flight is probably the closest you can get on Earth. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll try to match your speed, then.”

She let the suit cover her up, the tiny metal plates clicking together to form a protective layer. Even now, knowing what it was made out of… it didn’t feel like ectoplasm.

Metal pooled together underneath her feet, forming her pronged hoverboard. She lifted up slightly, hovering just above the roof.

“Ready?” she asked Danny, who still hadn’t moved. Who had been staring intently at her. Observing the suit, maybe?

“Uh, yeah, one moment.” He shuffled, like he was suddenly uncertain. Then, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back, he met her eyes through the helmet. Light flashed.

And suddenly it was Phantom who stood there, instead of Danny.

“I’m ready,” the ghost said, and… and…

And his voice sounded just like Danny’s, except with a ghostly echo.

How had she missed it before?

“Valerie?” he asked, suddenly a lot closer than he’d been before. “Hey, are you okay? Sorry, I thought you would’ve— No, that’s a stupid excuse. Sorry, I… I guess I was just afraid of telling you outright.”

“What happened to the self-preservation you mentioned earlier?” she blurted out, one hand snapping out to catching the glowing white glove reaching for her. “Because really, Danny, reaching for a ghost hunter whose intentions you don’t know?”

He stilled, shock on his face. “Right. Um. Don’t tell any of the others.”

She snorted, letting go of his wrist again. “I’m starting to think that they spend a lot of time keeping you out of trouble. Since you dated someone who wanted to destroy your alter ego.”

“Do you know how much shit I caught for that?” He shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “I swear, Sam and Tucker were seconds away from killing me themselves.”

“Stop inviting trouble, then, Fenton.” She slapped him on the shoulder, then let her hoverboard raise her higher. “Come on, let’s get going. The sooner we get this over with the better.”

“Yeah, yeah. We both know you can’t keep up with me in flight, anyway.” He shot her that awful cocky grin Phantom loved to sport, then suddenly shot off.

“That’s cheating!” she shouted after him, already dropping into a crouch, pushing her hoverboard to go as fast as she could.

Maybe the suit would turn her into a half-ghost as well. Maybe pushing it like this would only speed up the process. Who knew?

But, really. Would it be so bad? With Danny’s guidance, with his help? Because he would help. She knew him well enough to say that much.

Yeah.

She would be fine.