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acid-ixx · 5 months ago

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〔00〕 — 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 : perfect perception

DIRECTORY: concept, chapter 00, chapter 01

it was always just you, and your family.

just you, your mother, twin brother, and grandfather. the puzzle is complete, there is no need for an extra couple of pieces to add on to your already satiated life. there is no need to work hard, or to endure painful endeavors to attain what you want; not when your family would complete it all for you.

it wasn't like you could, or should, complain, no? you have everything granted to you from when you were born. scarred hands, jagged figure, weary eyes; those aren't necessary for a person like you, who will always be sheltered, in both cozy blankets and loving arms. oblivious to the cruel world and pesting hands that claw on innocent beings like you.

a steady house life, a mother who shielded your innocence from all the bloodshed within the family's ordeals, who read to you fairytales, who had you sleep in her bed when you feared, when you foresaw what you thought were monsters under your bed. instead of inhibiting hatred for an heir who'd flinch at raising hands and the sound of clanging swords, she encouraged your meak demeanor and even spoiled tantrums. she runs her hands across your silky tresses, and kisses your forehead a thousand times if you'd even mention it in a passing moment. she dresses you in jewels, in velvety, silky clothes, and bathes you in toys and gifts you never seem to ask for. your little body sleeps on her chest, and listen the steady beat of her heart, calm and beating, all for you.

you teach her softness, and the joys of being a mother. a concept foreign in her eyes, raised opposite to you. she sees herself in you, and projects what should've been her childhood to her youngest twin child.

you have a twin brother, who, despite being born only a few minutes before you, was significantly older than you, both mentally and spiritually. from the moment he was taken into the world, his duty to take all your pain away and to become your very light was established. and like the warrior he is, he takes that daunting task and transforms it into motivation. he is your knight in shining armor, the prince who catches you when you fall, the one who braves your nightmares, the swordman to your royalty. he trains, all day and night, from such a young age to protect you from unnecessary dangers he understood even his mother fears you'd be subjected to. he does not complain, he does not find reasons to gripe; he takes the scars, the bruises, the punishments and missions all in stride. if it meant seeing you happy and unaware from all the cruelty of living; then so be it. as long as, by the end of the day, he comes back to your shared room to find your tiny form drawing a childish imagery of the little family you love and cherish.

you teach him compassion, vulnerability, and share with him the admiration for arts.

then there is your grandfather. a hardened leader, a monster to all those who serve, but an idol in the eyes of oblivious you. he justifies violence in the wake of achieving his goals, he doesn't tolerate mankind's treatment of nature and its animals, and takes the lives of those who dares oppose. but you are treated differently, like glass that shatters at the softest of hits. his words are sugarcoated and stripped down to the most infantine of comprehension, his eyes are soft every time he kneels to your level to gently request that you return to your room. ra's does not kneel, he does not plead, he does not stoop to those younger than him. but to you, naive and dewy-eyed, akin to a fawn hiding behind a mother's legs, he does. every week, he takes in various experts in the field of teaching to become your mentors in whatever passion you have. he is the foundation of your growth, and he prides himself in that regard.

from him, you learn your love of animals. from you, he learns of weakness, and defeat to such platonic desires.

with your little family, you are happy. you never have to find reasons to complain about food, clothes, or any luxuries their family, akin to royalty, could obtain. you have a family smothering you in affection, attention, to the point where all you have to do is smile at the slightest thing and notice how they melt to your whims.

you were never alone when you didn't want to, you were always guarded, safe, and constantly served.

as you should, as it always should be.

and it was a routine you were used to. you never complained, you never pondered beyond primitive knowledge, you had never desired for more, or wanted less. life was normal despite the strange arrangements with servants always being by your beck and call, or how your brother would always seem to come seeking you after another day of "hard work" your mother doesn't permit you to try, with gashes that litter his tan skin and usually sharp eyes, still fixed with a glare though softened once your arms come to coddle him as a reward.

he finds comfort in your hold. it never once registered within you his ever-growing strength and how his hold on you would always seem to to tighten whenever a potential friend would pass by.

yet you are loved either way, you are cared for. what more is there to ask when you have and always been the singular pearl dripping with grace, poise, and a softness beyond the brutish weapons swung within the training grounds your brother finds himself in.

you are loved by everybody: by your mother, by your brother, by your grandfather, and you're the necessary voice that calls out mercy for whenever a servant would be punished for maintaining a less than satisfactory performance when it comes to serving you. you're the light of reason beyond instictive swings of the sword and the impulsive raise of a voice demanding for battle to settle a deal; biting your lips in disappointment every time your mother attempts to punish a small mistake a servant would do right in front of you.

although certain voices in the hallways find your presence... unsavory, out of place, or they simply pity you; whispers filtering through the kind words everyone else never withdraws from you— nonetheless, they'd have no choice but to obey your childish whims, to smile at you, to be kind and diligent to your emotions.

everything is perfect.

yes, yes it is. an undeniable fact within the factions of your heart. you ignore the subtle strain within your chest, the way the emptiness becomes blatant, and the misunderstood desire for something else... something greater, far beyond the honor of your current family; and replace it with temporary joy.

a joy that softly smiles at the piling gifts, a joy that teaches itself to be good, to be grateful, and to dismiss the ever-changing spotlight you have for your family.

to ignore their hushed whispers whenever your small, eight-year old form with wide eyes, holding a toy between your chest, inquire about what they're discussing with that requires such... strained air and ridged poses.

to ignore their careful words, their gentle hands that pats your hair, that beckons you to come to a different room, and the irritation and bubbling tantrums paired with the heat that wraps your boiling thoughts and clenching hands.

you ignore, and try to neglect that growing ache that insurmountably never passes.

even if you lay in bed every night, unable to sleep, gaining consciousness slowly but surely after another day passes.

you ignore, and dismiss, and it all becomes a cycle that you ought to never break, to never rupture with childish curiosity and the thirst for wisdom.

... because everything is perfect.

everything is perfect. like the candlelight beams of the moon dancing through victorian styled windows, fluttering past the curtains to kiss your resting body every night you lay sleeping on a king-sized mattress, surrounded by soft, cotton plushies and silky, cool blankets as your brother coddles you; your head laying on his chest like routine.

it is perfect like the gardens of flowers all planted with your favorites, an array of colors harmoniously dancing to the sway of traversing winds and bumbling pollinators.

it is perfect like the daily hustle and bustle of your servants, buzzing through wide spans of hallways with their voices mingling through busy air and the wafting scent of a new delicacy your mother ornately chose for you to try.

everything was perfect, until it wasn't.

until the illusion of completeness, of unity and satisfaction were shattered like the bones of your brother's opponents, powderized to mere dust.

until you take notice of the hollow piece in your heart, until your servant mentions a father (a word so foreign, so similar to mother... but different all the same) in mere passing when you two had conversed whilst they were tying your shoes.

at first, you didn't pay a mind, proposing to yourself that you'd ask your mother instead after you've finished your daily assignments.

but then, unlike every other time where you dismissed, ignored and forgot— you began to ponder.

the word, the meaning, its possible etymology and every historical relationship it might've contained; a lesson your brilliant mentor taught you, one that served as a paveway for curious, little you, to investigate.

a trait you're sure nobody really tackled within your family.

if that is so, then where does your stubbornness, your drive to seek answers, come from?

you try to solve the puzzle pieces, ones you thought were never present in your life, your mind wracking through stored memories of a young, prying individual like you; until you came to a conclusion.

does it possibly come from a... father?

father...?

father?

father.

... your brother, too, said the same word.

when he was tired and beat from his training, when all he wanted was a singular hug, whose hands were stained with dripping ichor and knees bruised from hitting upon rocky ground. his emerald eyes were seeking your presence, and you find how his delirious state, itching for calm after another stormy trial of missions, was abnormal; unlike you who flinched at the dizzying scent of blood.

too mature, now you've noticed. a presence that exudes superiority, that takes the lives of those who rebel, that punishes anything less than perfect; that only softens, whose shoulders only sag when he takes in your presence within the same room as him— traits too foreign in the midst of a brother the same age as you.

so when you denied him of oasis, when your young brain was too scared, too worried and all the more wishing for answers on why he always comes back bleeding and injured, rejecting his offer for you to come closer— he all but seethes, and instead sighs; watching your quivering lips and the igniting fight in your eyes, a shaded mixture of your mother's and his.

"you're exactly like what mother told me. stubborn like our father when inconsolable... but i love you too much, akhi/akhti, to care for your lesser."

he muttered under his breath, emerald eyes gleaming under moonlit glow as he looks at you, emotions too miscellaneous beyond the swirling pools of green that always keeps a watch on you.

sometimes, he feels less like a brother and more of a knight. sometimes, you wish to rebel and instead dig deep into what's been happening to your brother these past few years, shaped by experience you never once caught yourself transpiring through. sometimes, you wish he doesn't treat you like a glass ornament.

sometimes, you wish you had a normal family.

as much as his words were sweet, as much as you would've felt warmth at the mere affection and exception he holds you in regard to his heart, even if he takes your body in his arms prior to your previous rejection, all but melting and rocking your body to sleep; a common method he utilizes to make you feel drowsy, and to eventually forget the blood on his sheathed sword and sinful hands once your eyes drift to a close—

you still reflect upon his words even if weeks had already passed by after that incident, even if he must've thought your somnolence was enough to dismiss whatever was the 'grammatical' mistake he'd mumbled that night was a product of fatigue after a long day of work.

... because despite being the perfect family, despite the love and care they foster within your heart; washing off the beating emptiness in your chest was harder than any injuries you've obtained after momentary clumsiness.

at least you knew when those scars were incurred, at least you had people to comfort you through the tears that escaped through your eyes.

but this immaterial emptiness has long since festered within the confines of your caged soul.

it beckons you to choose rebellion, it traps your thumping heart and tightens its hold on it, snaring it in a pit you couldn't crawl yourself out of.

desire drives you further away from delusion, from the foundations of weaved lies and rose-tinted picturesque perfection.

and you began to crave satiation to at least mend the missing puzzle piece in your heart; piece by piece, stitch by stitch.

who is your father? what is a father? why did dami told me i'm like... our father?

as you sit alone in your bed, toys long forgotten, alone with only the cool breeze fluttering by your window to accompany you. the questions begin to grate at your mind, yet all you do is bring your knees closer to your chest, lips dry at the forgone isolation you put yourself through after a cycle of endless thinking.

"momma will be here soon," you mutter to yourself. your voice, meek and highly pitched, young and cradling childish curiosity; it breaks at the seams when your fingers bring itself to touch and wipe away at wet cheeks and tender, aching eyes.

dami was right; you are stubborn like your father.

because even if they try all necessary means to shroud your life in seclusion from reality— you don't easily back out of a losing fight.

even if the tears you shed from the lack of progress were insurmountable, even if you knew you were at a physical disadvantage shall push come to shove where you'd have to fight your dearest brother, even if it means struggling against the invisible shackle your beloved family locked you in.

because your perfect perception of your fucked up family has long since dissipated from the moment your servant and your brother mentioned a foreign word.

a simple word, a small mistake, yet acting as a newer path of life that long since diverged from the only way you knew how to live.

and you still wish to solve the mystery of your forlorn emptiness.

will you give up just so easily? would the tears you shed all become mere depression?

no, not even as you sit in your too-huge bed, with no clue on where or how to start a hopeless journey; too young to plan, too little to fight, too tenderhearted in the views of your family.

even then, your red, rubbed raw eyes seek to look back on your first hint from within the room

a dictionary was sprawled across the opposite end of the bed, thrown haphazardly, opened to a certain page that highlights words closest to 'father'.

you crawl, with sore arms and wobbly legs, to retrieve the heavy, hard-bound and gold-encased dictionary, lounging on your bed with a damaged spine.

your fingers return to traverse multiple pages yet again—

stubborn, impatient and impulsive.

earlier, it came to you in the form of realization that the dictionary your mentor assigned you to read had a missing word cut precisely with a blade and replaced with an unintelligible one.

earlier, you realized just how much your perfect family was only perfect because they've hidden the truth from you.

earlier should've been years ago, earlier should've never been swept off the rug so easily. but what could an eight year old like you do? you've none of damian's talents to quickly learn, you're raised differently. it is only now you wish you weren't so gullible.

and as your fingers strum against pages, near to ripping out expensive paper, tears unceasing, lips bitten 'til bleeding— you learn, and you grow beyond simple comprehension.

motivation, and the drive to uncover all things unsaid, even if the end would result in something negative.

through them, you'll soon learn of spite, of anguish, and bitter contempt.

but for now, you're merely left alone, with only a mantra of words all circling back to dami's words; so many questions left unanswered.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: honestly don't know half of what i wrote + i don't like this as much as i wanted it to come out. this went through multiple revisions with an added fact of me trying to discern why my writing style keeps fluctuating 😭 guys please comment about what you think of this. if this flops, i'm gonna quit writing LMAO. this is a bit more formal than my usual style (re: again & again) because i wanted to capture the regality of the al ghul's family partly told through the perspective of a child.

taglist: @th0rn118, @obsessedwithromance @rogueofbullshit @ch1cky-093, @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd, @confused-they @biiibs01, @ghostdoodlen, @earlqurl, @chericia, @herebyaccident0, @ilovemyhusbandnanami, @mintynilla, @lilyalone, @anonymousdisco, @plsfckmedxddy, @maria-figueiredo, @143637-hrrm, @neerathebrightstar, @jsprien213, @realifezompire, @sammytheotakunerd, @sh4rk-k1d, @confused-they, @peptox, @lillian-morningstar.

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melanchoire · 27 days ago

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SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWGIRL ──── jang wonyoung.

── ( 🐎🌾) with her dreams at stake, wonyoung escapes to the forbidden rodeo in her room, joining forces with you for a night of tantalizing twists and turns, proving that sometimes, the hottest rodeos are the ones that break all the rules.

pairing. dom!farmer's daughter!jang wonyoung x sub!childhood best friend!gp reader

warning(s). cunnilingus, fingering, making out, pet names, use of weed.

word count. 10,2k

wonyoung was adrift in a sea of spun sugar clouds, the air sweet with the scent of cherry blossoms and designer perfume. in her dream, she glided down a parisian runway, the flash of cameras a dazzling constellation around her. each step was perfect, each pose effortless. this was it, the life she craved, the future she envisioned.

cock-a-doodle-doo!

the sound pierced her idyllic bubble, sharp and utterly unwelcome. wonyoung’s eyes snapped open, her dream instantly dissolving like sugar in water. instead of clouds, her vision was filled with the frantic flapping wings and beady eyes of a particularly audacious rooster. it stood perched on her dresser, its comb practically brushing against her cheek as it unleashed another ear-splitting cry.

with a groan, wonyoung threw back the covers, the remnants of her dream fading like morning mist. she’d meticulously closed the curtains the night before, a desperate attempt to cling to sleep a little longer. but no, the farm life always found a way to intrude.

panic flared. wonyoung bolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs. she swatted at the rooster, a shriek escaping her lips. “get out! get out!”

“i say: get out!” she hissed, grabbing a pillow and shooing the offending fowl towards the door. it squawked indignantly, flapping its wings before finally hopping out. wonyoung slammed the door shut, leaning against it for a moment, her chest tight with frustration.

“stupid bird.” she muttered, her voice trembling with residual fear and a healthy dose of annoyance.

she had been so careful last night, meticulously drawing the heavy curtains to block out the encroaching dawn. usually, that bought her a precious hour or two of extra sleep. but apparently, no amount of drapery could keep the farm’s resident alarm clock at bay.

this… this was her life. a room filled with fashion magazines and dreams of milan, situated on a farm where the alarm clock was a rooster and the air perpetually smelled of manure.

life on the farm. it was a constant clash between her aspirations and her reality. she’d grown up with it, of course. and it was a respectable, hardworking life. but it wasn’t hers. she, on the other hand, felt like a misplaced puzzle piece, constantly yearning for something different.

wonyoung dreamed of city lights, of towering skyscrapers instead of rolling hills. she envisioned herself gracing magazine covers, walking down runways, a world away from the mud and manure that clung to her family’s boots. but her parents, bless their hardworking souls, couldn’t comprehend her desires. her father, a horse blacksmith with calloused hands and a love for tradition, saw her future here, rooted in the land. her mother, the vibrant owner of the local town market, believed happiness lay in community and familiarity.

they couldn’t understand. they saw her dreams as frivolous, a childish fantasy. they wanted her to stay, to take over the farm, to continue the legacy. the legacy she desperately wanted to escape. their vision for wonyoung was a comfortable, predictable one, a life woven into the fabric of their small town. but Wonyoung craved the unknown, the challenge, the dazzling allure of a life she had only glimpsed in magazines and on television.

with a sigh, she ran her hands over her face, trying to shake off the lingering vestiges of sleep and the remnants of her shattered dream. she pulled her hair back into a messy bun, the image of sleek, professionally styled models flashing through her mind. slippers replaced the imagined designer heels as she trudged towards the door. time to face the music, or in this case, the crowing roosters and the aroma of frying bacon.

downstairs, the aroma of frying bacon and strong coffee filled the air. the sounds of the farm were already starting to swell: the lowing of cows, the clucking of hens, the distant clang of her father’s hammer. she murmured a polite greeting as she entered the kitchen, heading straight for the refrigerator. her parents were already seated at the table, their faces illuminated by the warm morning light filtering through the window. her older sister, daah, was perched on a stool, flipping through a magazine.

“morning.” wonyoung mumbled, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a carton of orange juice and poured herself a glass.

“look who finally decided to join us.” her older sister, daah, said without looking up from the stove. daah was everything wonyoung wasn’t: practical, grounded, and content with the farm life. their relationship was a constant battleground of differing opinions.

her mother, a sturdy woman with kind eyes and perpetually calloused hands, smiled. “morning, sweetheart. sleep well?”

wonyoung offered a noncommittal shrug. “as well as one can with a rooster for an alarm clock.”

“so, your father was just telling me about the rodeo this afternoon.” her mother said, her voice bright as she flipped a pancake. “it’s going to be a big one this year, with the usual dance afterwards.”

her father, a man of few words but immense strength, cleared his throat. “big rodeo this afternoon, wonyoung! should be a good one.”

wonyoung’s stomach clenched. rodeos were not her thing. the smell of horses and dust, the raucous cheers of the crowd, the sheer testosterone that seemed to permeate the air – it all made her incredibly uncomfortable. and the dance afterwards? an even greater nightmare, filled with awkward small talk and the persistent advances of overly enthusiastic farm boys.

“oh, i don’t know, mom.” wonyoung said, carefully avoiding eye contact. “i was thinking of catching up on some reading. i have a lot of schoolwork to do.”

her father chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. “schoolwork can wait, wonyoung–ah. this is a town tradition. besides, it’s good to get out and socialize.”

"oh, that's right!” her mother chimed in, placing a plate of steaming pancakes on the table. "it’ll be a good chance to see everyone, wonyoung. and maybe even meet a nice young man."

wonyoung choked on her orange juice. “mom, you know i’m not interested in any 'nice young men' from around here.”

her father nodded in agreement, pushing the plate of steaming pancakes in front of wonyoung. “it’ll be fun! i promise.”

wonyoung forced a smile. “maybe. but i really need to focus on my studies.”

daah snorted. “studies? please. we all know you’d rather be practicing your runway walk in front of the mirror.”

wonyoung’s cheeks flushed. “that’s not true.”

“oh, come on, wonyoung.” daah continued, relentlessly. “don’t be ridiculous.” daah scoffed, flipping a pancake with unnecessary force. “it’s good to have a bit of fun, wonyoung. you spend too much time locked up in your room, dreaming about things that will never happen. when are you going to give up on these childish dreams of yours? you’re a jang. we’re farmers. it’s in our blood”

there it was, the barb she knew was coming. daah never missed an opportunity to belittle her aspirations.

wonyoung slammed the carton of orange juice back into the refrigerator. “and you spend too much time judging me for having ambition! what’s so wrong with wanting something more than this?” she gestured around the cozy, familiar kitchen, the heart of a life she didn’t want.

“and what exactly is so wrong with our life?” daah challenged, crossing her arms. “2e have everything we need. family, friends, a roof over our heads. what more could you want?”

“more than just this!” wonyoung exclaimed, gesturing around the kitchen with a frustrated wave of her hand. “i want to see the world. i want to experience new things. i want to be someone, not just another farm girl who marries the boy next door and spends her life milking cows.”

“there’s nothing wrong with milking cows!” daah shot back, her face reddening. “it’s honest work… and– there’s nothing wrong with being realistic!” daah retorted, her voice sharp. “you can’t just ignore your responsibilities here. dad’s getting older, mom can’t run the market forever. someone needs to take over the farm.”

those words hit wonyoung’s heart hard. yes, it was true, his father was getting old and it was always a difficult task bending down when working in his blacksmith shop in the farm yard or when he had to take care of the animals and that involved squatting. wonyoung always tried to help his father when he spent hours and hours working in the workshop or the stable, always sitting on a small and uncomfortable bench and hunching his back in a way that is painful to watch. she didn’t have much knowledge about tools and that field, but over the years she learned how to learn – not because blacksmithing or mechanics is something that interests her or that she is passionate about, but because she was only interested in learning to help her father and take care of doing as much work as possible to prevent him from overexerting himself and getting physically hurt.

but daah it wasn’t like that at all. she called her father’s work “dirty” behind her parents’ backs, but she always pretended in front of them that she was a family girl who would give everything for them. she only contributed to helping her family with her mother’s job, who owned the local store in town, but she didn’t even help with anything in particular; sure, daah spent the whole day in the supermarket, but she just sat behind the cash register, filing her nails or laughing while texting with her friends, having the nerve to get upset and make a face when a customer puts their purchase on the register and it’s time for her to serve them and collect the corresponding money.

“and why does that someone have to be me?” wonyoung demanded, her voice rising. “why can’t you do it? you love this life!”

daah turned to face her, her expression hard. “because you’re the responsible one, wonyoung. you always have been. i have my own life, my own plans.”

“and what about my plans?” wonyoung cried, her voice trembling. “don’t they matter?”

her father cleared his throat, his voice stern. “enough, both of you. this isn’t how we start the day.” he looked at wonyoung with a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “wonyoung, your sister has a point. we’ve given you everything. the least you can do is appreciate it.”

wonyoung fell silent, her appetite gone. she pushed her plate away, the pancakes suddenly tasting like ash in her mouth. it was always the same. every time she tried to express her dreams, she was met with resistance, with disapproval, with the crushing weight of expectation.

she knew she couldn’t change their minds. they were too set in their ways, too deeply rooted in their traditions. but that didn’t mean she had to give up on her own dreams. she would find a way, somehow, to escape this suffocating routine and build the life she truly desired. even if it meant facing their disapproval, even if it meant breaking their hearts.

because in the end, it was her life, and she was determined to live it on her own terms. even if that meant facing a few more early morning wake–up calls from a rogue rooster along the way.

“this is my house, and you will both show some respect. wonyoung, you will come to the rodeo this afternoon. it’s a tradition, and we always support our community."

wonyoung bit back a retort, tears stinging her eyes. she knew arguing with her father was futile. he was a man of tradition, of duty, of unwavering expectations.

she looked at her mother, pleading for understanding, for support. but her mother’s expression was resolute, her loyalty firmly with her husband.

“it’'ll be fun, wonyoung.” her mother said softly, but the words felt like a sentence.

“fun?” onyoung whispered, her voice thick with tears. “you call this fun? being trapped in a life i never wanted, surrounded by people who don’t understand me? my dreams are not childish; they are my passion. and staying in here, pretending to live a life that i don’t feel happy about, is so much worse.”

she turned and fled, running back upstairs, the image of her 0arisian runway dissolving into a blur of tears. she slammed the door to her room, collapsing on the bed, the scent of cherry blossoms now tainted with the bitter taste of disappointment.

the rooster, oblivious to her distress, began to crow again. this time, wonyoung didn’t just shoo it away. she grabbed it by its scrawny neck and held it, its frantic flapping a futile protest against her grip.

for a moment, she considered doing something drastic, something that would shock them all, something that would finally make them understand the depth of her unhappiness.

but then, she looked into the rooster’s beady eyes, and she saw something… fear. and in that fear, she saw a reflection of her own.

with a sigh, she released the rooster, letting it scamper out the door. violence wasn’t the answer. running away wasn't either. but staying here, silently suffocating, wasn’t an option either.

“i’m sorry, buddy… it’s not your fault, i know.”

she would go to the rodeo. she would smile, she would socialize, she would play the part of the dutiful daughter. but she would also start making a plan. a real plan, a concrete plan, to escape the farm and pursue her dreams.

this rooster might have woken her up, but it wouldn’nt keep her grounded forever. she would fly. she had to. for her own sanity, for her own future. she wouldn’t let her dreams remain dreams; she would make them reality.

the afternoon sun cast long shadows across wonyoung’s bedroom, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. she twirled in front of the mirror, a vision in denim and defiance. her worn a skirt jeans, once relegated to mucking stalls, had been artfully distressed and studded with glittering rhinestones. a plain white tank top now boasted intricate embroidery around the neckline, and a fringed leather hat completed the transformation. this wasn’t just a farm outfit; it was a statement. it was a rebellion against the endless fields and the predictable routine.

“perfect.” she murmured to herself, smoothing down the fringe. “rodeo–ready, and runway–worthy.” living on the farm, churning butter and wrangling stubborn goats, felt like a cage around her aspirations. she dreamt of paris fashion week, of sketching bold designs in a sun–drenched studio, not mending fences under a scorching sun. but wonyoung was resilient. she’d find a way. she always did.

a piercing whistle shattered the quiet. wonyoung’s smile faltered.

daah, her older sister, leaned against the doorway, a smug grin plastered across her face. a battered cowboy hat perched jauntily on her head, and her plaid shirt was tucked neatly into her jeans. she looked every inch the quintessential farm girl, a stark contrast to wonyoung’s carefully constructed glamour.

“well, well, well...” daah drawled, pushing off the doorframe. “loook who decided to raid the costume box again. you going as ‘glamorous cowgirl’ this year, wonyoung?”

wonyoung stiffened, her fingers clenching around the vest. “it’s called ‘elevated rural chic’ daah. and it’s an outfit, not a costume.”

“right, right.” daah said, rolling her eyes. “because rhinestones and embroidery are exactly what you need when you’re dodging rogue cows. you know, practicality is kind of a big deal out here in the, uh, rural parts.” she emphasized the word with a saccharine sweetness that grated on wonyoung’s nerves.

“maybe if you spent less time gossiping with mrs. kim and more time actually helping out, you’d understand that practicality and style aren’t mutually exclusive.” wonyoung retorted, turning back to the mirror to adjust her hat. she needed to stay calm. engaging in a full–blown argument would only validate daah’s attempts to ruin her mood.

“ouch, sharp words.” daah chuckled, taking a step closer. “but speaking of helping out, shouldn’t you be, oh, i don’t know, making sure the prize–winning pumpkin is ready for judging? or are you too busy dreaming about escaping to the big city and leaving us all behind?”

wonyoung swung around, her eyes blazing. “what’s not fair, daah! i contribute just as much as you do. and having a dream doesn't mean i’m abandoning everyone. unlike some people, i actually believe it’s possible to have both."

daah crossed her arms, her smile gone. “oh, really? so you think you can be a successful fashion designer and still be a farmer’s daughter? that’s… ambitious, even for you. don’t you think you’re setting yourself up for disappointment? face it, wonyoung, this is our life. this farm, this town. it’s not some backdrop for your little fashion fantasies.”

the words stung, sharper than a bee sting. wonyoung swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears well up. “and what’s wrong with having fantasies? at least i’m trying to create something beautiful, instead of just accepting things as they are.”

“acceptance is maturity, wonyoung. chasing pipe dreams is… childish.” daah paused, her voice softening slightly. “look, i’m just saying, maybe you should focus on something realistically attainable. help dad with the farm. start a family. you know, the things that actually matter.”

wonyoung stared at her sister, a cold fury rising within her. “and who gets to decide what matters? you? is that it? because you’re perfectly content with mediocrity, you think everyone else should be too?”

“it’s not mediocrity, wonyoung! it’s… stability. it’s family. it’s belonging."

“and u can’t have those things and still pursue my dreams?” wonyoung challenged, her voice trembling. “is that what you're saying? that i have to choose between being a good daughter and being myself?”

daah didn’t answer, her silence speaking volumes. the tension in the room crackled, thick and suffocating. wonyoung turned back to the mirror, her shoulders slumping. for a moment, the glittering rhinestones and the intricate embroidery seemed hollow, a flimsy shield against the harsh reality daah had just laid bare. but then, she caught her reflection, her own determined gaze staring back at her.

no.

daah might not understand. the town might not understand. but wonyoung understood. and that was enough.

she squared her shoulders, adjusted her hat with a defiant tilt, and turned back to face her sister. “i’ll see you at the rodeo, daah.” she said, her voice steady. “maybe you’ll be surprised by what i accomplish. with my ‘little fashion fantasies’.”

and with that, she walked past daah, leaving her standing in the doorway, her face a mask of conflicting emotions. wonyoung had a rodeo to win. and a dream to prove.

the dust swirled around wonyoung’s ankles, a red–brown haze that clung to the air like a persistent memory. the rodeo was in full swing, a cacophony of roaring engines, twanging guitars, and the excited screams of the crowd. the air hung thick with the scent of dust, and something vaguely metallic, the smell of anticipation and adrenaline that clung to every rodeo. wonyoung, usually more at home in the sleek confines of her family’s modern kitchen or lost in the pages of a well–worn novel, felt utterly out of place. the stetson perched precariously on her head, a forced purchase by her zealous mother, felt like a brand.

she wandered aimlessly through the bustling grounds, a phantom limb grafted onto the rugged reality of the rodeo. men in worn denim and dusty boots tipped their hats, their eyes lingering on her with a frank curiosity that made her skin crawl. women, their faces etched with the lines of sun and hard work, offered polite nods, their eyes holding a mixture of amusement and pity. wonyoung was an anomaly, a polished gem dropped into a pile of rough stones.

thee truth was, she didn’t want to be here. Not even a little bit. the rodeo, the epitome of small town tradition, was the last place she felt she belonged. her dreams extended far beyond the confines of this dusty arena, reaching for the glittering lights of the city, the hushed reverence of libraries, the vibrant chaos of art studios. but her parents, particularly her mother, envisioned a different future for her, one rooted in the familiar soil of their village, a future involving a sturdy rancher and a life mirroring her own. Hence, the rodeo. the forced mingling. the subtle, and not–so–subtle, matchmaking.

her parents’ expectations had become a suffocating weight, a constant pressure that squeezed the joy out of her life. ever since she’d expressed her yearning to study art in seoul, a chasm had widened between them. her once bright and airy home now felt like a gilded cage. hours were spent locked in her room, sketching furiously in her notebooks, trying to carve out a space for herself in a world that felt increasingly hostile. the village store, usually a place of connection, became another source of awkward encounters and strained silences. helping her mother restock shelves felt like serving a sentence, each can of beans a reminder of the life she didn’t want.

wonyoung wasn’t entirely convinced she should be here. in fact, if it were up to her, she’d be miles away, lost in the pages of a book or sketching designs in her worn notebook. but family obligations, particularly those enforced by her father, were a force of nature stronger than any bucking bronco. her parents, particularly her mother, had become increasingly insistent on her embracing the “small–town life” on finding a “suitable” husband, and on abandoning what they deemed her “fanciful” dreams of becoming a fashion designer. this rodeo, apparently, was the perfect opportunity to showcase her “eligible maiden” status.

she sighed, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. the vibrant energy of the rodeo felt alien, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude she craved. ever since her parents had started tightening their grip on her life, wonyoung had retreated inwards, spending countless hours locked away in her room, a sanctuary filled with fabrics, sketches, and the whispered promises of a life beyond the confines of their expectations. the silence was a comfort, a buffer against the constant pressure to conform.

lost in her spiraling thoughts, wonyoung wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. she bumped, not gently, into someone, a soft “oof!” escaping her lips. a cascade of brightly colored pamphlets scattered across the dusty ground.

“oh, i am so sorry!” wonyoung blurted out, bending to help gather the mess.

“no worries, i should have been looking where i was going too.” a familiar voice responded, and wonyoung”s head snapped up.

she looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. standing before her was you. your eyes, the same warm brown she remembered from all those years ago, widened in surprise. you were even more beautiful than she recalled, your smile as radiant as the summer sun.

kneeling beside her, picking up a pamphlet advertising the local 4-H club, was you. your hair, usually braided neatly, was pulled back in a messy ponytail, escaping tendrils framing your face. you were wearing a simple shirt and denim jeans with some boots, looking every bit the part of a small–town girl, yet there was an undeniable spark of intelligence in your eyes.

“wonyoung?” you asked, a hint of delighted surprise in your voice. “is that really you?”

a wave of warmth washed over wonyoung, a feeling she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. it had been so long since she’d felt genuinely seen, not as the daughter of the store owner, not as a potential bride, but just as wonyoung.

“hey…” she managed, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips. “it’s… it’s good to see you.”

a genuine smile touched your lips. “wonyoung! wow, i haven’t seen you in ages! how have you been?”

the years melted away in an instant. suddenly, she was back in the schoolyard, sharing secrets and dreams with you under the shade of the old oak tree.

“i…” wonyoung hesitated, unsure of how to answer. the truth was, she hadn’t been doing well. she was suffocating under the weight of her parents’ expectations, her dreams slowly fading like a watercolor painting left in the sun. “i’ve been… busy.” she finally said, a weak attempt at deflection.

your eyes searched hers, a knowing glint in their depths. “busy doing what? last i heard, you were quite the artist, always sketching away in your notebook. making those... uhm, sketches about clothing collection ideas? the girl, daughter of the owner of the town library, you know, liz the blondke, told me about it.”

wonyoung’s heart ached. “i still am.” she admitted, “but my parents... they don’t really approve. they think it’s just a hobby, not a real career.”

“that’s ridiculous!” you exclaimed, your voice laced with indignation. “you’re incredibly talented, wonyoung. i remember seeing your drawings back in school, they were amazing.”

a flicker of hope ignited within wonyoung. “thank you.” she whispered, a genuine smile gracing her lips for the first time that day.

“so, what are you doing here at the rodeo?” you asked, gesturing around at the chaotic scene. “this doesn’t exactly seem like your kind of place.”

wonyoung grimaced. “tell me about it. my parents, they… well, they think it’s a good way for me to meet someone.” she rolled her eyes, unable to fully conceal her exasperation.

you winced. “ouch. that sounds… intense… ah, the age-old quest for a husband. remind me to hide if my mom gets any ideas.”

a comfortable silence fell between them, punctuated by the distant roar of the crowd. wonyoung felt a sense of peace she hadn't experienced in months. being with you, even after all this time, felt natural, easy.

“so, what about you?” wonyoung asked, eager to change the subject. “what have you been up to? are you still living here?”

“yep, still here.” you replied, your eyes twinkling. “i’m helping mom out at the school. i’m actually thinking about becoming a teacher myself, just like her.”

‘that’s wonderful!” wonyoung exclaimed. “you’d be a fantastic teacher. you were always so kind and patient, even back in elementary school.”

ypu blushed slightly. "thanks, wonyoung. That means a lot. i don’t know if { really want to be a 100% teacher, maybe an assistant, or whatever is enough to be able to help my mom at work. you know, she’s getting old…”

“she still talks about you.” you said, your voice softening. “she always said you were one of her brightest students. she was so disappointed when you stopped coming around.”

yeah, that made wonyoung’s heart hurt so much… she met you during school, when she and all her friends used to be little kids who loved singing songs and drawing pictures in elementary school. you, the daughter of the sweetest teacher in the establishment, were always a complete sweetheart to her; practically during the first day of school you were with wonyoung the whole day, never stopping talking like a parrot, but making wonyoung’s days happy and fun.

the reason why she dropped out of school? her parents. just one day after she finished getting ready and headed straight to the front door to head off to school, her mother told her that she stopped paying her school fees because the family needed wonyoung’s full help on the farm.

wonyoung’s smile faltered. “yeah, well… things got complicated.”

“i know.” you said gently. “i saw you a few times at the store, but… you always seemed so distant.”

“i’m sorry.” wonyoung said, her voice barely a whisper. “i just… i haven’t been myself lately.”

a long silence stretched between them, filled only with the sounds of the rodeo swirling around them. wonyoung felt a knot of guilt tighten in her stomach. she had let her fears and frustrations isolate her, cutting herself off from the people who genuinely cared about her.

you broke the silence, your voice firm and resolute. “look, i know this whole rodeo thing is probably your own personal hell, but you don’t have to stay here. not if you don’t want to.”

wonyoung looked at you, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes. “what do you mean?”

you grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “i mean, this town hasn’t changed much. we could ditch this rodeo and go for a walk. we could get some ice cream at the parlor, maybe visit mrs. davison. we could even go see mr. henderson’s pig, if you’re feeling brave.”

wonyoung’s heart skipped a beat. the idea of escaping the suffocating atmosphere of the rodeo, of reconnecting with the familiar comfort of the village, was incredibly appealing.

“seriously?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, your eyes sparkling with encouragement. “seriously. what do you say? want to escape?”

wonyoung looked around at the chaos of the rodeo, at the expectant faces of the townsfolk, at the invisible chains that bound her to a future she didn’t want. then, she looked back at you, at the genuine offer of friendship in your eyes, at the promise of freedom and escape.

a slow smile spread across her face. “let’s go.” she said, the words filled with a newfound sense of determination. “let’s get out of here.”

the sun was a furnace in the sky, beating down on the dusty main street of your town. you tugged at the collar of your shirt, wishing you’d worn something lighter. the annual rodeo was in full swing, and the air was thick with the smell of fried food, manure, and the general chaos that always seemed to follow the event.

“seriously, how many more cowboy hats can one town possibly hold?” you muttered, more to yourself than to wonyoung, who was walking beside you.

wonyoung giggled, a sound like wind chimes in the oppressive heat. “oh, hush. i think they look kinda cute.”

you snorted, but then your eyes landed on wonyoung’s outfit. she was sporting a denim skirt, a fitted white tank top, and a pair of intricately stitched cowboy boots. a playful bandana was tied around her neck, and a wide–brimmed straw hat sat perched on her head.

“okay, maybe you’re right.” you admitted, a blush creeping up your neck. “especially on you.”

wonyoung’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “you think so?” she asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“absolutely. you look…you look amazing, wonyoung.” the words tumbled out before you could stop them. you cursed yourself inwardly for being so forward, but the genuine admiration in your voice was undeniable.

wonyoung’s smile widened, and she bumped her shoulder against yours. “thanks. you look pretty good yourself, considering we’re trying to avoid the entire town.”

you chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “pretty good at avoiding the rodeo, maybe.”

the truth was, both of you had a perfectly good reason to be anywhere but the rodeo. wonyoung’s dad, bless his heart, was practically the mayor of the rodeo. he was the one who organized the events, wrangled the sponsors, and generally made sure the whole shebang ran smoothly. which meant wonyoung was expected to be there, smiling and waving, playing the dutiful daughter. it was a role she loathed.

as for you, your mom taught at the local elementary school and was, as always, roped into volunteering at the rodeo’s kid zone. face painting, pony rides, the whole shebang. you loved your mom, but spending a day surrounded by screaming children and glitter glue was your idea of hell.

and so, here you were, two outcasts seeking refuge from the rodeo's relentless cheer. you wandered through the quiet side streets, seeking refuge from the relentless “yee-haws” and the twang of country music.

“let’s go back to my place.” wonyoung suggested, breaking the comfortable silence. “dad won’t be home until late. we can raid the fridge and watch some terrible reality TV."

you grinned. “sounds like a plan.”

and that’s how you ended up here. lying on the hood of wonyoung’s dad’s vintage convertible, parked in the driveway. the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. a couple of lukewarm beers sat between you, condensation beading on the bottles. and the sweet, pungent aroma of weed hung in the air, courtesy of your friend yujin’s generous stash.

neither you nor wonyoung thought it would end like this.

the first few puffs had been a little rough, a tickle in your throat that made you cough. but now, a pleasant buzz was spreading through your body, making everything feel soft and fuzzy around the edges.

“you know.” wonyoung said, her voice slightly slurred. “i really appreciate you helping my mom with the school fair last month. you know, when she was giving out candy and snacks to the kids”

you blinked, trying to focus. “it was nothing. she’s an amazing chef."

“she really likes you.” wonyoung insisted, nudging you with her elbow. “she said you have a special way with the kids. you make them feel… seen.”

a warmth spread through your chest. “well, i like helping out. your mom’s really cool, you know?”

wonyoung giggled again, a sound that always made your heart skip a beat. “you think my mom is cool?”

“i…well, yeah. she’s dedicated and kind. and honestly, the school fair was way less stressful with you there.”

wonyoung turned her head to look at you, her eyes sparkling in the fading light. “you’re pretty cool yourself, you know that?”

“am i?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“totally.” she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “you’re… you’re really funny. and you always know how to make me laugh, even when i’m feeling like i’m forced into a role i don’t even know how to play.”

“that’a what friends are for.” you said, but the words felt inadequate, hollow. you wanted to be more than just friends.

the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken feelings. you took a long swig of your beer, trying to quell the nervousness churning in your stomach.

“these cowboy boots are killing me.” wonyoung suddenly announced, kicking one of her feet in the air.

you chuckled. “serves you right for embracing the rodeo spirit."

“hey, i was trying to be ironic!” she protested, but her protests were quickly lost in a fit of giggles.

you reached out and gently took her foot in your hand. “let me help you with that.”

wonyoung’s breath hitched as your fingers brushed against her ankle. you carefully unbuckled the boot and slid it off her foot, then repeated the process with the other one.

“better?” you asked, looking up at her.

her eyes were fixed on you, her pupils dilated. “much.” she whispered.

you continued to hold her foot in your hand, your thumb tracing circles on her skin. the air crackled with electricity. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“you know…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “you look really beautiful tonight.”

wonyoung’s cheeks flushed again, a deep crimson that stood out against her pale skin. “stop it.” she breathed, but there was no heat in her words.

“i’m serious.” you insisted, your gaze locked on hers. “you’re beautiful all the time, but especially right now.”

wonyoung leaned closer, her hand reaching out to touch your face. her fingers brushed against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

“you’re not so bad yourself.” she murmured, her voice laced with a playful flirtation.

the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment of pure, unfiltered connection. you could feel the warmth of her breath on your skin, the intoxicating scent of her perfume filling your nostrils.

without thinking, you leaned in closer, your lips hovering just above hers. you could feel her inhale sharply, her body tensing with anticipation.

“can i…?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

wonyoung closed her eyes and nodded, her lips parting slightly.

and then, you kissed her.

it was a slow, tentative kiss at first, a gentle exploration of each other’s lips. but as the seconds ticked by, the kiss deepened, growing more passionate and urgent. you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, until there was no space left between your bodies.

her hands tangled in your hair, her fingers massaging your scalp. you could taste the sweetness of beer and the lingering scent of weed on her lips. it was a heady combination that sent your senses reeling.

the world spun around you, the stars blurring into a kaleidoscope of light. you lost yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of her body pressed against yours, in the sheer, unadulterated joy of finally, finally, kissing wonyoung.

it was everything you had ever dreamed of and more.

when you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, you were both dazed and giddy. you rested your forehead against hers, your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

“wow.” you whispered, your voice still shaky.

“yeah.” wonyoung breathed, her grip tightening on your arms. “wow.”

the silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions, lingering desires, and a healthy dose of nervous energy. you pull back slightly, your eyes searching wonyoung’s, trying to gauge her reaction. her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and her gaze is locked on yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

“so,” you began, attempting a casual tone that falls flat. “what now?”

wonyoung laughs softly, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “i don’t know.” she admits, tracing a pattern on your arm with her fingertip. “but i definitely don’t want to go back to the rodeo.”

you grinned. “me neither. screaming kids and glitter glue are not exactly conducive to post–kiiss bliss.”

her smile widens. “exactly. besides” she adds, her voice dropping to a suggestive murmur. “i think we’ve earned a little more privacy.”

without another word, she slips off the hood of the car and extends her hand to you. “come on.” she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “my room is a much more comfortable place to, uh, discuss our future plans.”

your heart leaps at the invitation. you take her hand, the warmth of her touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. together, you walk towards the house, the gravel crunching beneath your feet.

as you approach the front door, you glance back at the convertible, the empty beer bottles sitting forlornly on the hood. a pang of guilt hits you – you’re pretty sure wonyoung’a dad would not be thrilled about the evidence of your little rebellion. but the thought is fleeting, quickly overshadowed by the anticipation of what awaits you inside.

wonyoung unlocks the door and leads you through the dimly lit living room. you notice family photos lining the walls, capturing moments of laughter and joy. a portrait of wonyoung in her rodeo queen attire hangs prominently above the fireplace. you can’t help but smile at the irony.

she guides you up the creaking stairs and down a hallway, finally stopping in front of a door adorned with fairy lights and a collection of concert posters. this, you realize, is wonyoung’s sanctuary.

she pushes the door open and steps aside, allowing you to enter first. the room is bathed in the soft glow of a string of fairy lights, casting dancing shadows on the walls. a large, plush bed dominates the space, piled high with colorful pillows and a patchwork quilt. a bookshelf overflowing with novels and CDs stands against one wall, while a desk cluttered with art supplies and half–finished projects occupies the other.

it’s a space that feels undeniably wonyoung – a blend of creativity, comfort, and unapologetic individuality.

“welcome to my humble abode.” she says, gesturing around the room with a playful flourish.

you take a moment to soak it all in, a sense of warmth and intimacy washing over you. “it’s perfect.” you breathe, turning to face her.

wonyoung blushes, her eyes darting around the room. “it’s a bit of a mess, i know.”

“it’s not a mess.” you protest. “it’s...lived in. it feels like you.”

her smile returns, genuine and radiant. she walks over to the bed and kicks off her socks, sinking into the plush mattress with a sigh of contentment.

“come sit.” she says, patting the space beside her.

you hesitate for a moment, suddenly feeling a surge of nervousness. this feels like a turning point, a step beyond friendship into uncharted territory. but the look in wonyoung’s eyes – a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability – reassures you.

you take a deep breath and walk over to the bed, sitting down beside her. the mattress dips beneath your weight, bringing you closer together. the air crackles with unspoken desires.

wonyoung reaches out and takes your hand, her fingers interlacing with yours. “so…” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “what do you want to do first?”

the possibilities seem endless. you could talk for hours, dissecting every detail of your feelings, exploring the depths of your connection. or you could simply surrender to the moment, letting your bodies guide you, exploring the physical intimacy that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

you look into wonyoung’s eyes, searching for an answer, a clue. and then, you know.

“i want to kiss you again.” you say, your voice raspy with emotion.

wonyoung’s eyes light up, and she leans in closer, her lips parting in anticipation. “then what are you waiting for?”

you don’t need to be told twice. you lean in, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that is even more passionate and electrifying than the first. this time, there is no hesitation, no tentativeness. it’s a kiss of pure, unadulterated desire, a melting together of two souls that have finally found their way to each other.

her hands move from yours to cradle your face, her thumbs tracing the contours of your cheeks. you deepen the kiss, your tongues dancing together in a rhythm that is both familiar and new.

the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intoxicating embrace of each other’s lips. time seems to stand still, and all that matters is this moment, this connection, this undeniable spark that ignites between you.

the kiss goes on, deepening and intensifying. you slide her tank top up, exposing her bare skin, and she reciprocates, tugging at the hem of your shirt. the room is heating up, and you feel a desperate need to get closer, to feel every inch of her against you.

you break the kiss, gasping for breath, your bodies trembling with pent–up energy. you pull back slightly, your eyes meeting hers, searching for permission.

until a reality check hits you. you two had escaped from the rodeo.

for your part, you were a little persecuted about the consequences this would bring you. it’s not that your mother was a very strict person who treated you like a little kid, but you did know that you would probably get scolded later for disappearing without telling her beforehand. of course, you had promised her that you would help her take care of the children and help them with the children’s activities during tonight’s rodeo, so yes, you had a more than guaranteed punishment.

but on wonyoung’s part... you were aware of how fussy and traditional her family is and always will be. a typical family with traditions and customs that they make and inherit for generations and generations for many years, like a spiral or an infinity. wonyoung was always rebellious and made it known that she wanted more than just harvesting crops on the farm and taking care of the barnyard animals, but she was always silenced by her parents and labeled as ”being confused by her age” or because she watched too many hollywood programs that were broadcast on television.

“wonyoung, we should go back to the rodeo–.”

“oh, you want a show, huh?" she asked, her voice dripping with sultry promise. now she was... different. you never saw this side of her, or at least, you weren't aware that she had it. “i thought you might.”

turning to face you fully, she put her hands on her hips, striking a provocative pose. she looked like a naughty fantasy version of a cowgirl – the outfit was far too small and tight, clinging to her every curve.

”how’s this, cowgirl?” she asked, doing a little twirl to show off her skirt, the fabric rising a little as wonyoung turned and the panties that were perfectly hugging her round ass. she walked towards you, her hips swaying, until she was standing inches away.

”this is the kind of cowboys show you wanted, right?” she whispered, reaching out to run a finger along your jawline, her touch electric. ”i can give you an even better show if you want... in private.”

“r-really?”

another important fact; wonyoung knows how whipped you’re and you were always for her. wonyoung can’t blame you, but it’s also not her fault that her natural charm and charisma are like a magnet that catches everyone’s attention. ever since you went to kindergarten with her and did most of elementary school with her by your side, she always knew how to have your complete attention and make you practically staring at her all day.

wonyoung smirked at your nervous stammer, finding your flustered reaction adorable. she stepped even closer, until her body was nearly pressed against yours. her fingertips traced along your collarbone as she gazed intensely into your eyes.

“mhmm, really.” she purred, her voice low and breathy. ”i want to show you everything... taste every inch of you."

slowly, teasingly, she began to unbutton the remaining buttons of her blouse, revealing more of her smooth, tanned skin. she shrugged the blouse off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle.

wearing only the skimpy denim skirt and black lace bra now, she reached behind her back to unclasp the bra. she let it fall away, exposing her perfect, full breasts to your hungry gaze. her nipples were already hardened into stiff peaks.

“i want to feel your hands on me.” she breathed, taking your hands and placing them on her bare breasts. “touch me, (y/n). i’m all yours…”

she arched her back slightly, pushing her chest further into your palms. the soft, warm flesh yielded under your fingers as she guided your hands to explore her curves. her skin was incredibly smooth and supple.

“i don’t know how to–”

wonyoung shushed you gently, placing a finger to your lips. her eyes softened with understanding, seeing the inexperience and hesitation in yours. “shhh, it’s okay. i’ll guide you... just let your instincts take over.”

she took your hands and slowly, sensually, began to trail them down her body. she let your fingers brush over the swell of her breasts, down her taut stomach, pausing at the waistband of the tiny denim skirt.

wonyoung’s tongue darted out to wet her lips as she looked at you with lidded eyes, her chest heaving with anticipation. she reached down to unbutton the skirt, letting it drop to the floor with a whisper. now she stood before you in nothing but a pair of white lace panties that left little to the imagination.

she took your hands and placed them on her hips, then slowly slid them around to cup her ass. She squeezed the firm globes, urging you to do the same. her skin was incredibly soft and pliant beneath your touch.

“that’s it.” she encouraged breathily. “explore me... discover what feels good. i want to feel your hands all over me.”

she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered. “don’t be shy, (y/n)... i want you to touch me like you mean it. i want to feel your desire…”

emboldened by wonyoung’s sensual guidance and the building heat between your legs, you began to explore her body with growing confidence. your hands roamed over her soft, smooth skin, caressing and squeezing the curves you found there.

you slid your hands up her sides, feeling the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. cupping her breasts, you marveled at their weight and softness in your palms. you could feel her nipples hardening even further against your touch.

wonyoung let out a soft moan, arching into your hands as they mapped out her body. she reached out to grasp your wrists, guiding your hands lower, over her stomach, until they rested on the waistband of her panties.

“touch me, (y/n).” she breathed against your ear, her voice ragged with desire. “i want to feel your fingers on my skin... i’m so hot for you right now.”

she nipped at your earlobe, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. her hips undulated slightly, rubbing her nearly bare mound against your thigh. you could feel the damp heat of her arousal even through the thin lace barrier.

wonyoung pulled back to look at you, her eyes dark and heavy–lided with lust. her chest heaved with each ragged breath, and a flush of arousal colored her cheeks. she gazed at you expectantly, waiting for you to make the next move, to claim her as she had claimed you.

spurred on by the raw desire in wonyoung’s eyes and the way her body trembled under your touch, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her panties. with a sudden tug, you yanked them down her long legs, baring her most intimate places to your hungry gaze.

wonyoung gasped, a sound of pleasure and surprise, as cool air hit her heated flesh. she stepped out of the puddle of lace, now fully nude before you. the sight of her, with her toned body and glistening pink folds, made your mouth go dry with want.

unable to resist any longer, you leaned down and pressed your lips against her stomach, feeling the taut muscles quiver beneath your touch. you trailed kisses lower, over her mound, until you reached the apex of her thighs. wonyoung let out a low moan, her fingers tangling in your hair as she guided your face closer to her dripping sex. the scent of her arousal filled your nostrils, musky and intoxicating.

“yes, my love.” she breathed out. “taste me... i’m so wet for you.”

she spread her legs wider, giving you an unobstructed view of her pink, swollen folds. her clit peeked out from beneath its hood, already engorged and throbbing with need.

and unable to resist any longer, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mound, inhaling the heady scent of her arousal. wonyoung’s fingers tangled in your hair, holding you close as you explored her with your mouth.

you dragged your tongue along her slit, tasting her essence, before focusing on her sensitive clit. you circled the hardened nub with the tip of your tongue, flicking and stroking it until wonyoung was writhing against your mouth.

“oh fuck, (y/n)!” she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls of her bedroom. “don’t stop... please don’t stop…”

emboldened by her reaction, you suckled her clit, then slid two fingers deep into her tight, wet heat. her walls clenched around the intrusion, drawing you in deeper. you pumped your fingers in and out of her, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot inside her that made her see stars.

wonyoung rutted her hips against your hand, fucking herself on your fingers as you pleasured her. her juices coated your hand, dripping down your wrist. the obscene sound of her wetness filled the room, mingling with her wanton moans and cries.

wonyoung’s body tensed, her muscles pulling taut as a coil of tension wound tighter and tighter in her core. her grip on your hair tightened, fisting almost painfully as she held you in place.

“fuck, fuck, fuck... i’m gonna... ah–” wonyoung’s words dissolved into a guttural moan as her orgasm crashed over her. her pussy clamped down around your fingers like a vice, fluttering and pulsing as waves of ecstasy radiated out from her core.

you felt the hot gush of her release flooding your hand, dripping down your wrist and forearm. the taste of her, the scent of her arousal, the sound of her pleasure – it was intoxicating. you couldn’t get enough.

as the aftershocks began to subside, wonyoung went limp, slumping back against the wall behind her. she panted harshly, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. slowly, she released her grip on your hair, her fingers uncurling from the strands.

with a trembling hand, she reached down to cup your cheek, tilting your face up to look at her. there was a dazed, blissful look in her eyes, a satisfied smirk on her kiss–swollen lips.

“that... was incredible.” she murmured, her voice still ragged. “you're a natural, big girl. but don’t think we’re done yet..."

she pushed off the wall and grabbed your hand, hauling you up and onto the bed with her. she shoved you down onto the mattress, crawling over you with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“now it’s my turn to make you scream.” she purred, a wicked promise in her voice. “and i have a feeling you’re going to scream very loudly indeed…”

she reached over to the nightstand drawer, rummaging inside before pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube.

“now, can you take those off or do you need my help?” wonyoung questions, raising an eyebrow as she moves one of her hands towards your body, pointing at your body. at first you didn’t understand what she meant because you were still overwhelmed by all the previous events that happened in a short period of time, like a blink of an eye – but then you realized she was talking about your pants, of course.

“oh, i– sure, i can do that.” with your cheeks flushed from her bold question, you brought your hands to the waistband of your pants, opening your belt buckle and unbuttoning the button and unzipping your pants with some clumsiness in the process, but accomplishing the task at hand. taking off your shoes and kicking them off your feet, you completely pull your jeans off your legs, leaving you with only your t–shirt and underwear on.

“you forgot about those.” to surprise you even more with her boldness, wonyoung is quick to approach you and finish preparing you for her, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, pulling your boxers down your thighs, releasing your throbbing cock from its confines, causing it to stand up happily and give a small thud against your stomach.

“now you’re ready for me. now lie down on the bed and wait for me.” she purred, tearing open the condom packet with her teeth. she rolled the latex sheath over your stiff cock with practiced ease, giving it a squeeze at the base.

next, she drizzled a generous amount of lube over your length, stroking you from base to tip until you glistened with the slick substance. she tossed the bottle aside and straddled your hips, the heat of her bare pussy radiating against your thighs.

wonyoung reached down to line you up with her entrance, rubbing the swollen head of your cock against her slick folds. she teased herself with the contact, coating your tip with her arousal until it was slippery with her juices. this action made you whimper due to the contact, closing your eyes and throwing your head back to rest it against the headboard of the bed, pushing your hips up in search of more contact.

with a roll of her hips, she sank down onto you, taking you inch by deep inch into her tight, clutching heat. she threw her head back with a guttural moan as you stretched her open, filling and completing her utterly.

“oh fuck yes.” she gasped, her walls fluttering around your thickness. “you feel so fucking big inside me... stretching me so good.”

once you were fully sheathed inside her, she began to move, rolling her hips in a sensual grind. she rocked against you, savoring the feeling of your cock throbbing deep inside her.

wonyoung braced her hands on your chest and started to ride you in earnest, lifting herself up until just the tip remained inside her, then slamming back down to take you to the hilt. her tits bounced with each powerful thrust of her hips, drawing your gaze to her perfect breasts.

and well, it seemed like her tits wanted to completely steal your attention! yes, you could have a beautiful woman in front of your eyes and making you feel so good while looking like a goddess in front of you, but having such a perfect, round pair of breasts moving in front of your face was something that took you out of reality and made you forget everything around you so you could only focus on them.

but of course, you could literally be fucking your childhood best friend now, but you were still a little nervous about making a big move or a daring action.

“can i…–?”

wonyoung looked down at you, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she saw the hunger in your eyes. she could tell exactly what you wanted, and she was more than happy to oblige.

“go ahead, baby.” she purred, arching her back to thrust her breasts forward invitingly. “touch them... taste them... i want to feel your mouth on me.”

she grabbed your head and pulled it to her chest, pushing her nipple against your lips. the stiff peak brushed your mouth, begging to be suckled. the scent of her perfume mixed with the unique aroma of her arousal was intoxicating.

wasting no time, you opened your mouth and drew her nipple inside, swirling your tongue around the sensitive bud. wonyoung let out a low moan, her fingers tangling in your hair as you suckled her.

“that’s it.” she encouraged breathily, holding your head in place. “suck on my tits while I ride this fucking cock. fuck, you’re driving me crazy…”

she began to bounce on your lap with renewed vigor, her hips slamming against yours with each powerful thrust. the wet sounds of your coupling filled the room, mingling with wonyoung’s increasingly loud moans and cries of pleasure.

you switched to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention as the first. wonyoung’s fingers tightened in your hair, holding you to her chest as she rode you with wild abandon. her body trembled and shook, teetering on the brink of another explosive climax.

wonyoung let out a sharp cry of pleasure as you sucked harder on her nipple, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. she arched her back, pushing more of her breast into your eager mouth. Her fingers tightened almost painfully in your hair, holding you in place.

“yes, just like that.” she panted, her voice ragged with arousal. “bite me, (y/n)... mark me... make me yours!”

spurred on by her desperate pleas, you closed your teeth around her nipple and bit down, not hard enough to truly hurt her, but with enough pressure to make her see stars. at the same time, you reached down to rub her clit in tight circles, feeling it swell and throb under your touch.”

you didn’t let up, continuing to suck and nip at her nipples while rubbing her clit through her climax. each touch sent aftershocks of pleasure radiating out from her core, drawing out her orgasm until it felt like it would never end.

wonyoung’s moans grew louder and more desperate as she rode you harder, chasing her impending release. her nails raked down your chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake as she clung to you.

“fuck, i’m getting close.” she panted, her voice tight with strain. “don’t stop, (y/n)... don’t you dare fucking stop!”

she slammed down onto you one last time, taking you as deep as physically possible. her pussy clamped down around you like a vice, pulsing and fluttering wildly as her orgasm crashed over her.

you felt her juices gush around your cock, soaking through the condom and dripping onto the sheets below. the sensation of her coming undone around you, combined with the taste of her skin and the sound of her screams, pushed you over the edge.

with a guttural groan, you thrust up into her one last time, your cock pulsing and throbbing as you found your own release. you filled the condom with spurt after spurt of your hot seed, your body shuddering with the intensity of your orgasm.

wonyoung collapsed against your chest, both of you panting and drenched in sweat. she nuzzled into your neck, pressing sloppy kisses to your skin as she slowly came down from her high.

“holy shit.” she murmured, her voice hoarse from screaming. “that was... fuck, that was incredible. you’re amazing.”

she lifted her head to look at you, a satisfied smirk on her well–fucked face. her eyes sparkled with mischief and promise.

“but don’t think we”re done yet.” she purred, a wicked gleam in her eye. “we’ve got all night long... and i plan to make the most of every minute of it.”

#wonyoung #wonyoung x fem reader #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung x fem reader #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung smut #ive #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive smut

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iru-doodles · 2 years ago

Text

IN ALL HONESTY AUTHOR IS HAPPY STIMMING A LOT RN :3

Shattered Puzzle

By: @thevoidisscreamingbackatyou / @shatteredpuzzlerottmntau

Iteration: 2018

Where You Can Find It: Tumblr

Summary: Draxum and Splinter raised Mikey and eventually Raph. Leo lived on the Hidden City streets until he was 8, when Hueso hired him. And Donnie was raised by Big Mama!

#shattered puzzle #shattered puzzle extras #shattered puzzle au #shattered puzzle competition stuff #MWAHAHA NEW TAG >:3 #anyways!!!!! GOOD LUCK TO WVERYONE!!!!! <333 cant wait to see where this goes >:3

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thewritetofreespeech · 5 months ago

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Could I request the Delico daddies with a s/o who makes toys for the kids?

It was around lunch time when [Y/N] arrived for an unexpected, but not unwelcome, visit to the nursery. Dali was always happy to see them. No matter the circumstances.

He excused himself to go check on their meal, then after Dali came back into the nursery to check on his sons. Of course, [Y/N] was there, looking after them in his stead. Along with a new guest to their little enclave. “Who is this then?”

Raphael looked up from his new, crochet bear at his father. “[Y/N] said they made it for me.”

“They did, did they?”

He looked over to his partner who smiled bashfully. “Well, I had the extra yarn.”

“Of course.” Dali replied knowingly. Touched that they would make something, by hand, for his son. “He will need a name though. What shall we name him?”

“Hmmm…Bernard?”

“I think you mean Bear-nard.” And Dali laughed at his own joke.

“Look Papa look! My doll has a lace dress just like me!”

“Mine has a pretty hat. Papa, can you get a hat like this for me?”

“Eh..?? Didn’t you just get a present Elena?” Henrique reminded his daughter as the girls gushed over their new dolls.

One of the nice things about seeing one of the premier doll makers in the city, was that the girls got all the new doll designs before anyone else. Sometimes Henrique thought they got more out of his relationship than him. But when he looked over at [Y/N], in awe of their beauty and the way they beamed when the girls got so excited over their new creations, he knew that wasn’t true at all.

“I actually designed this hat from one my friend did for her new couture line. Shall I see if she can make you one?”

The girls, of course, squeal for joy. Loud enough to pierce Henrique’s ears. “You’re spoiling them….”

“I know,” [Y/N confessed, “but I can’t help it.”

“I know what you mean.” He agreed, seeing their excited faces. “You girls will have to be extra good until you get your hats though. No funny business from here on out.”

“Ok!” They chime together while fussing with their dolls. Like perfect little dolls themselves.

“I have a gift for Theodore.” Dino arched a brow at [Y/N]’s announcement over tea. “I would like to give it to him after dinner.”

Dino sighed. He cared for [Y/N] but their professional hobby in making children’s toys was just…odd to him. What need did children have for toys when there were perfectly good books around? “Theodore does not need toys. He needs things that will stimulate his mind.”

“I agree. That’s why I made him this.” A small box, seemingly out of nowhere, was then placed on the table. Different woods aligned in an intricate pattern. “It’s a puzzle box.”

‘A puzzle box? Interesting.’ Dino thought as he moved to inspect it.

“The goal is to get all the same shades on the same sides. It’s a manner of mathematics, memory, and dexterity to get it to align properly.” Dino scoffed at [Y/N]’s explanation. How hard could it be? “So, may I give it to him?”

His fingers play with the shape and moving pieces. Getting them to move with ease and slot into their new spaces. “Hmmm…I suppose.” This did seem challenging, and any Classico would thrive on a challenge.

By the time dinner came around Dino and the puzzle box could not be found. Both were locked in his office. His fingers gripping the toy so tight it might shatter. “How do you solve this damn thing?!”

The clock in Gerhard’s office struck 9 o’clock and he put down his evening scotch to get ready for bed.

He felt it was important to get a goodnight sleep. In order to keep a sharp mind and foster good health. A virtue he hoped to instill in his son.

As he walked down the hall, Gerhard heard noises coming from his son’s room. Nothing alarming, but louder than the usual quiet of the house. When he got to the door he opened it, just in time to have a small toy cannonball hit him in the chest. “What’s all this noise?!”

Angelico sunk back into himself, a fretful look on his face as he looked at his father. Not sure what to say. “Don’t blame us.” [Y/N] answered in his stead from their place on the floor. “You’re the one that walked directly into our enemy line of fire. Friendly fire is almost a given at that point.”

Gerhard grumbled at them and looked at the toy soldiers all over the floor. “What is all this?”

“[Y-Y/N] got them for me father.” Angelico answered.

“Yeah. And you’re scuffing up my paint job with those heels.”

He looked down to see he had accidentally stepped on one of the toy soldiers; too distracted by projectiles to notice his mistake. Luckily it wasn’t broken. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it.”

“You could stay you know.” [Y/N] offered. Starting to move the left flank up to their makeshift river. “We could use someone for the rear platoon.”

Gerhard looked at Angelico, who looked up at him so hopefully that his hands nearly trembled. And Gerhard gulped. “Well…just for a little while. Then you have to go to bed. And clean this up.”

His son grinned but nodded eagerly before moving his soldiers as well. Gerhard knelt down next to [Y/N] and moved a couple of pieces in an effort to play as well.

By the clock struck 11 o’clock, the three of them had constructed a navy battle as well out of paper boats, and no one near ready for bed.

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hmhas-00 · 2 months ago

Text

Ch. 20

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hope you’re ready for sad Remy hours. 💔 Like and rb please! It makes me so happy seeing y’all’s comments even if I’m stressing y’all tf out lol. Love you all! Tune in next Thursday for the next chapter!

Remy’s POV

The last thing I remember is shattered glass, inflated airbags, and a loud car alarm. A faint memory of a man reaching through my once tinted window with a phone to his ear clashed with visions of blood all over me. I could smell and taste it, bringing a hand to my nose and lips. When I looked down at my fingertips there was blood, so much blood. The sight of glass shards clinging to my skin where they dug in made me lightheaded, as I leaned my head back into the headrest and allowed my eyes to close. The last thing I laid my eyes on before waking up here was the crumpled up metal hood on the rental.

Now I was sitting up on two very flat pillows stacked together, and occasionally staring at the bright hospital ceiling lights, counting each tile between them. My nurse, Mrs. Parker, was very attentive, helping me do things I couldn’t do with one hand, and keeping me pumped with drugs. I don’t know what’s worse. The body pain or the dwindling anesthesia leaving my arm.

I was trying to keep down some lime flavored jello, when she came in with an extra blanket for me. It was warm, like it had just come out of the dryer. “Here you go, dear.” She extended it over my body, throwing it up in the air so it falls down, layering over the other blankets.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” I smiled faintly, licking jello off a plastic spoon.

“You’re getting discharged tomorrow. Is anybody picking you up?” She waited for me to finish my jello cup so she could thrown it in the trash.

I shook my head, “I have to uber to the airport. I’m checking flights today.”

She looked a bit troubled, frowning slightly. “Do you at least have a change of clothes?”

“What’s wrong with the clothes I had on before?” I tilt my head.

“They’re-“ she stopped herself, taking the empty cup from me. “-Not clean, my dear. There’s… blood from the accident.”

I nodded, touching the bandage covering the gash on my forehead. “I didn’t know it was that much blood.”

She fluffed the pillows under my back, “Did your momma ever come see you after I went home yesterday?” She asked. After waking up a couple days ago, she told me my mother would be on her way to see me. I assumed they’d contacted her while I was still under.

“No… She called me though. I told her not to come, that it’s too far of a drive.” I lied, knowing she called me only to fill her quota. Only to comply with the unwritten rule that if a family member is in the hospital, you have to at least check in. She hadn’t offered to come see me.

Nurse Parker gave me my morning antibiotics, then left the room without showing that signature smile I had seen every day since I woke up from surgery.

Two nights ago is when I woke up from surgery. A full blown panic attack as I came off the sedatives welcomed me into my hospital room. Mrs. Parker did her best to calm me down. I had very little recollection of the accident, or what happened after I got hit.

I had somewhat of a blurry image that slowly came to mind like a puzzle solving itself. It might’ve been one of those weird visions during surgeries you hear about in books, about your body coming out of itself in a birds eye view. Or maybe just a dream I had before waking up. The image was of a girl with dark hair and light complexion, with familiar facial structure. I was almost 100% it was Billie, but it could’ve been another nurse taking care of me. Her demeanor was sweet and careful, a protective energy enveloped my unconscious mind. It felt like the color gold, warm and mellow.

I knew it was just a mere hallucination. If Billie had really been here, she’d be here, still. She would’ve waited until I woke up, and I’d probably be having to convince her— force her to leave and tend to her tour.

How fucked up, I thought. My own mother not here, but Billie and her family would be if they knew. And that’s when it hit me. She’s the one I wanted here, not my parents. I thought about calling or texting her, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I let her down and create a streak of undependability, and then ask her to come see me in the hospital? That’s fucked up. I’d already screwed it all up. All I know is I have to fix this.

Next morning, the nurses prepped me so I could leave. Nurse Parker seemed a bit off and I feared I had done something to tick her off. Maybe I asked for way too many cups of jello. I shrugged it off, signing the stack of discharge paperwork in front of me.

“Still no companion for the ride home?” She asked, wiping the dry erase board in my room clean.

“No, I’m okay, it’s not necessary anyway.” I shook my head, giving her a smile. I wonder why she cares this much, and if she gives all her other patients this much grief about being lonely.

Last night, she walked in on me crying. I couldn’t put a pin on what exactly was wrong. It was a multitude of things. There was, of course, being lonely. My absent mother, all of the mistakes I made in the past month somehow resurfacing as I’m trying to sleep, and poor Billie. This is how she must’ve felt each and every time I left her on the back burner. The mirage-like image of her looking down at me burned in my mind.

I felt like an idiot more than I felt sorry about myself. Especially after checking my voicemails and work emails. Joe was having a bitch fit over my no-call no-show. Despite having emailed HR about my accident, all he cared about was the fact that I didn’t call him directly. He gave me until the end of the month to recover, but I planned on working from home in the meantime. Eventually, Rachel reached out, asking me if I needed anything, and not to worry because Joe was in the middle of hiring a temp to fill in for me. I was replaceable, and it stung.

Nurse Parker folded up the extra blankets I no longer needed, as if to stay occupied while I finished up. Eyeing her, I continued to read through the never ending pile.

“Thank you for being so good to me.” I said to her.

“It’s my job, dear.”

I handed her the paperwork I finished, skimming through the last packet. “Can I ask you a weird question, Mrs. Parker?”

She looked up from her folding, “Yes, dear?”

“And please, don’t keep me here any longer, I promise this isn’t a crazy brain damage side effect thing.”

She laughed, putting a hand on her hip.

“Do people ever see things after surgery?”

She lifted a brow, “see… things?”

“Like,” I started, putting the pen down. “People.”

“Girl, I have nightshift today, don’t scare me like that.” She chuckled.

“No, no, not like that.” I laughed, “Never mind, it’s nothing.”

She watched me run a hand through my hair. “Okay. Here’s all of it.” I gave her the last bit of papers.

She read through it, making sure all of it was filled out, then walking out without saying anything. I sucked on my teeth. I definitely creeped her out.

I sighed, waiting to be lead out of here. My feet dangled off the hospital bed while I rummaged through my purse for sunglasses to hide my horrendous eye bags.

Nurse Parker walked back in with a folded stack of clothes. Without saying a word, she placed it on my bed, holding eye contact with me, before walking out.

I examined the clothing, holding up a large, dark green sweatshirt with embroidering on the front, and pair of black joggers to go along. The sweet, yet woody base notes filled my nose when I brought the hoodie to my face. I know exactly who the clothes belong to, bringing me to tears.

I got up, changing into them as fast as I could with one arm, tears fogging up my vision. I quickly walked out with my things, finding Mrs. Parker.

“So she was really here?” I asked, probably looking insane to the other nurses behind the desk.

She blinked, “I have no idea who you’re talking about, dear.”

“The clothes— Did you see who dropped these off for me?”

She placed a hand on my good arm gently, giving me goosebumps. “These are yours, aren’t they?” She said, monotoned.

I furrowed my brows, “No—“ I stopped myself, looking down at the new outfit I was wearing. I know she said the clothes from my accident were bloody.

She looked into my eyes, nodding slowly, as if to confirm my thoughts.

“You’re good to go, look out for any bills in the mail. Your insurance is taking care of a good chunk.” A discharge nurse handed me a sheet with post-surgery care instructions and pointed me through the door.

I nodded, walking away. Before walking through the door I looked back at Mrs. Parker, who quickly looked away from me, making herself busy.

******

In the comfort of my own home, I became restless. There was not much for me to do, barely anyone to talk to, and other than working on a few ideas for the column, I bore myself half to death. I tried to keep myself preoccupied to no avail. It wasn’t like me to sit still with nothing to work toward. My mother’s voice echoed in my head anytime I wanted to just sit and relax instead of cleaning, or working, or anything she deemed efficient.

December 18th, Billie’s birthday, finally came around, and as the holidays quickly approached, so did the empty, lonely feeling I always get. This is the first birthday that Billie and I won’t spend together. We had spent every single one of our birthdays together since we were 7 years old. I wonder if she was somewhere feeling like a part of her is missing too, or if her other friends filled that hole for her.

The presents I wrapped about a month ago were still under the tree I put up the day after thanksgiving. The sudden, sharp pain of buried memories hit me each time my eyes landed under the tree. I had presents for both my parents, a few coworkers I actually liked, friends, but also Billie, and her family.

I thought about actually spending Christmas with my parents this year, because what else am I going to do? I hadn’t spent Christmas with them in years. The divorce made things difficult, and to avoid the whole “you chose to spend more time with mom over me, or vise versa” trope, I’d always make up some excuse about work, and spending it with Billie’s family instead.

Billie, I thought. Her birthday present under the tree was the biggest. Wrapped in smooth, gold, wrapping paper, the good kind that took time to rip open, and a huge, gold, satin ribbon bow tying it all together. Inside was a scrapbook photo album I’d been working on since she started the making of her new album, focusing on time spent together. She didn’t know I had carefully handpicked each photo, ready to write paragraphs on how much each moment they represented meant to me. I wanted to rip open her present and go through the album myself. I wanted to throw myself on the floor as I thought about how I originally planned to read through the scrapbook alongside Billie.

I imagined the two of us on my couch, indulging in some sort of fresh pastry, turning the pages together and cackling about each memory and the flashbacks they’d bring. She’d smack my arm, or hit me with a cushion, each time a picture she didn’t love of herself made an appearance, and I’d explain away her self-critiques.

I wanted to watch her open my gift ever so gently, the way she always did, examining each fold and admiring my wrapping skills, while I tell her, “Just rip it open!!” And then, she’d save the ribbon, as always, saying she’d use it for another gift, another time, knowing she’d just hold onto it forever in a box full of other used gift bags and bows.

Billie, I thought, Billie needs my gift. She needs to know how wrong she is about me not caring about her, about how I looked up to her, about how much I noticed her, and wanted her to know I was there. Even nuzzled in a corner reading a book, or typing away at my keyboard, while she wrote music and recorded into her microphone, I admired each careful note and harmony that went into her vision. The spark in her every time she successfully added to a song without too much pressure never went unnoticed, and neither did her best efforts to keep our relationship afloat.

I’m going to make things right, I thought. But how? Introducing; my new preoccupation project.

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yourheart-inmyhands · 1 year ago

Note

YOU HAVE A CAT?! ME TOO?!

She hates me tho :(

---------

Zhongli, Neuvillette and Dottore

With a fox!darling that is always with animals and isn't social at all due to heavy torture in her past and they discover it? 💀

Man I'm in need of some gore rn 💀💀

- Weird anon ✨

i'm so sorry but i just couldn't write neuvillette for this prompt, he's too precious DX

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, delusional behaviors, torture, breaking of bones, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Zhongli sympathizes with you, and since it’s clear that the animals bring you comfort, he allows you to keep a couple when he moves you in with him. He even goes the extra mile and builds a special enclosure so they’ll be just as content as you are, even if you aren’t receptive to his love yet.

When he finds out about your past, which is inevitable with how overbearing he can be and how good he is at finding out things from the locals, it almost hurts his heart a little. But the more sickening side of him is thrilled because now he knows exactly how to get to you, exactly how to make you his perfect little spouse.

Whether it’s be reintroducing trauma through breaking bones, locking you in a cold, damp room with no lights for hours on end, or even things that border on torture, he’ll use it against you so long as it won’t entirely ruin you. While he wants you compliant to his whims and wishes, he doesn’t want you to be a shell, it would’ve been a waste of his time to break you to that point;

Zhongli would never stop as low as hurting your animal friends, but if need be he could certainly find ways to turn them against you. It’s almost amusing to him, the way you care so much for creatures who you’ll outlive. How you care so much for creatures who don’t even really know you, funny.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes through the room as Zhongli stands over you, the heel of his shoe digging into the freshly crushed bones in your leg. The makeshift gag, a towel from the kitchen, dug into the sides of your mouth as it muffled your screams and cries. The Geo Archon almost feels bad for using his strength in such a brutal manner, but it would all be worth it, at least that was how he justified it to himself. It wasn’t about the now, but rather what now would soon be bringing him. By breaking you down bit by bit, sending you spiraling back into some of the worst moments of your life, he could slowly rebuild your shattered pieces how he saw fit. What use was a puzzle if the pieces weren’t in the correct order, right?

Yandere!Dottore is sick, sick, twisted, and absolutely disgusting. If he wasn’t the cause of your original trauma, you could surely bet he’d be the driving force behind re-traumatizing you.

Whether he chooses to reenact every step, or to simply do something far worse than what had previously done it all dependent on how he feels that day. Some days will be so similar to your past that you’ll truly feel like you were back there, all those years ago. Other days are so awful it almost makes what happened in your past seem insignificant as if that were a stone among boulders resting on the ocean floor.

Dottore does think it’s funny though, using it as both amusement and research opportunities. It wasn’t often that animals such as yourself came across his table, so of course he’d taken the prime subject as soon as he’d laid eyes on you.

In his lab, you aren’t seen as anything but a thing that exists only for Dottore’s own gain. If you’re lucky one of his more sympathetic clones might take pity on you and actually give you a day to rest when he’s out of the Palace, but they’re expected to keep up the same treatment he inflicts in his absence.

It was almost sickening to the segments as the watched the fox-human endure soul shaking torture day in and day out. Everything from injections to straight up live surgery to see how much pain the body could take whilst awake had occurred on the cold, steel table. They were often left to clean up the mess, expected to stitch you up, administer antidotes to anything too harmful that had been administered today, and even sometimes bathe you due to the mess that had occurred. You’d been fed little since you arrived, given water only when necessary for your survival, and hadn’t seen sunlight in days- or months maybe? With the sickening way time seemed to pass, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been here. Your only reprieve would be when the doctor left for something more pressing, leaving you in the care of his segments that only sometimes took pity on you. Some seemed to hold a little more humanity than others.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #yandere dottore x reader #yandere dottore x male reader #yandere zhongli #yandere dottore #yandere genshin

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iru-doodles · 2 years ago

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so uh *cough* i actually did Not plan to do this but here it is!

i have never done a dtiys in my life please forgive me

@rise-april-art-challenge hope u like it <3 i love ur comic and art and tysm for doing everything u do to help rise!!!!!!

@nickelodeon Hello! Please consider making a Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles season 3; there's a huge fanbase and I've loved interacting with everyone in it :) We'd all love to see a third season! Thank you!

#dressatello dtiy #rottmnt #rottmnt au #rottmnt separated au #shattered puzzle au #rottmnt fanart #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise of the turtles #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #rise of tmnt #rottmnt season 3 #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rottmnt #shattered puzzle extras

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boredflautist · 1 year ago

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quotes that keep me alive

"all the people are fake, they're made out of metal. But I like you, and that is not fake" -young royals

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world." -song of achilles

"No one ever says goodbye unless they want to see you again." -turtles all the way down

"I want to be with you. If we have to keep it a secret then... So be it, if thats the only way... But no more secrets between us. I love you" -young royals

"Why does the word 'love' from you hurt me so damn much?" -Only Friends

"I've always thought Ray was my 25th hour, my extra hour. But the truth is, everyone has the same 24 hours in a day. And within Ray's 24 hours, I'm not part of it. I'm not that special." -Only Friends

"If I'm gone, I won't be anyone's burden anymore, right?" -Only Friends

"You were wearing corduroy, acting like a poster boy" -poster boy by Lyn Lapid

"I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. And I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion" -song of achilles

"Tell me every terrible thing that you ever did, and let me love you anyway" -edgar allan poe

"The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you... I can't breathe. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me... What can I do? I will do anything that you ask." -anakin skywalker

"If changin' my clothes would make you like me more, if changing my hair would make you care, then I'd grab the kitchen scissors and cut myself to slivers" -jigsaw by conan gray

"'Sorry' doesn't make up for everything you did to me." -heartstopper

"You were my brother Anakin. I loved you." -revenge of the sith

"The truth is what I make it. I could set the world on fire, and call it rain." -red queen

" But isn't it also that on some fundamental level we find it difficult to understand that other people are human beings in the same way that we are? We idolize them as gods or dismiss them as animals." -paper towns

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'I love you'" -somethin' stupid by frank sinatra

"Tell me it isn't true. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm blind. Tell me you love me. " -shatter me

"I do want to be your friend. I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend." -shatter me

"The truth is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies" -shatter me

"'Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to. Twice I've laid myself bare for you and all it's gotten me was a bullet wound and a broken heart. Don't torture me,' He says, meeting my eyes again. 'It's a cruel thing to do, even to someone like me.'" -shatter me

"Everything's a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win." -inheritance games

"The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive." -the last olympian "You think I didn't fight the same fight? I halfway convinced myself that as long as Avery was just a riddle or a puzzle, as long as I was just playing, I'd be fine. Well, joke's on me, because somewhere along the way, I stopped playing." -the Hawthorne legacy

"When you're ready, if you're ever ready, if it's going to be me - just flip that disk. Heads, I kiss you." His voice broke slightly. "Tails, you kiss me. And either way, it means something." -the Hawthorne legacy

"Hell is empty, and all the devils are here" -william shakespeare

"But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all" -10 things I hate about you

"It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone" -footnote by conan gray

"You made us past tense," I said, my voice cracking, "not me." -betting on you

"Because when they write the history of my life, I want it to include you" -red white and royal blue

"My life is the crown, and yours is just politics, and I will not trade one prison for another" -red white and royal blue

"Or maybe it was when I realized the bruises on your neck were fingerprints and wanted to kill them all over again just so I could do it slowly. Maybe it was the first time I recklessly kissed you or when I realized I'm fucked because I can't stop thinking about doing more than just kissing you. Does it even matter when, as long as it changed between us?" -fourth wing

"Oh darling all of the cities lights, never shined as bright as your eyes" -car's outside by james arthur

"I would rather lose this entire war than live without you, and if that means I have to prove myself over and over again, then I'll do it. You gave me your heart and I'm keeping it." -iron flame

"Because pain in the body quiets the pain in your head. It feels good - like a kill switch for your brain" -kill switch

"Then take your punishment like the pathetic creature that you are" -cruel prince

"Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop." -cruel prince

"If you're the sickness, I suppose you can't also be the cure." -the wicked king

"I hate you. I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else." -the wicked king

"Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god. I will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as I can." -the wicked king

"She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile." -the queen of nothing

"By you, I am forever undone." -the queen of nothing

"Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart, if you just. Just come home." -the queen of nothing

"I wasted all those yesterdays and am completely out of tomorrows" -they both die at the end

"For what it's worth, I doubt I will ever like anyone else in the world as much as I like you." -book lovers

"I'd never thought about my favorite color before. It never seemed important. Not until I looked into a pair of ocean-blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing" -powerless

if you've made it to the end good god please get some sleep

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joeliz99 · 7 months ago

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Unspoken Connection- George Weasley

Description: After leaving Hogwarts, (Y/N) and George Weasley develop a unique and deep friendship that soon turns into something more. One night, their feelings for each other push the boundaries of their relationship. Will they embrace the new dimension of their bond, or risk losing what they have?

Warning: Slow burn, friends-to-lovers, after war fic, grief, mentions of death, smut implied, major fluff.

Word count: 2588

______________________________________________

The power of appearance demanded immense willpower and concentration. It was a skill (Y/N) thought she would have mastered by now, after years of practice. Yet, standing in the middle of the desolate Diagon Alley, she realized there was still much work to be done when it came to controlling her thoughts.

Carrying her heels in hand, the young woman sighed with annoyance as she walked towards her shop. If she wasn’t able to get home due to distractions, she might as well spend the night where she worked daily, brooding and selling potions to all sorts of consumers. Softly glowing chandeliers illuminated the street where she dragged her feet, feeling the tiredness spreading throughout her body. Her vigilant eyes scanned every corner, ensuring her solitude and safety. She almost managed to ignore the big, flashy Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes stall just a few shops away from her own. However, a second glance shattered her attempt when she noticed the lingering light within the joke shop.

In any other moment, she would have continued walking and minding her business, just as she had planned. However, contrary to her intentions, (Y/N) found herself halting in her tracks and veering toward the entrance of the building. She attributed this deviation to perhaps the two or three drinks she had that night or an unexpected surge of curiosity. Nonetheless, she saw nothing wrong with ensuring everything was alright. It took merely a fleeting moment before she decided to continue on her way. But before she could take a step, she glimpsed a tall redhead navigating the aisles with a few items in hand. Her heart skipped a beat, an unwarranted nervousness suddenly washing over her.

She certainly didn’t want to appear nosy, though truthfully, she was. Hastily, she turned and began walking toward her intended destination once more. However, the same man spotted her through the window, detecting her presence immediately. George set down his things on the shelf and hurried to the door.

“(Y/N)?” Her feet froze, and she muttered under her breath as she turned toward him.

“Hey…”

“Hi…” He regarded her with a puzzled expression, noticing her attire and the shoes she carried in her hand. “Is everything okay? What are you doing out here so late?”

“Mhm…” (Y/N) smiled casually, sweeping a few strands of hair from her face with her free hand. “I’m headed to the shop. Just wanted to catch up on some work. You?”

“Stocking up the inventory.” His gaze lingered on her for a few more moments, now at ease knowing she was fine. “Special occasion today?”

“Yeah. Draco’s wedding.”

“That’s nice. You must have been the reason for some distraction.” George offered a cheeky smile, eliciting a similar response from her. “You look radiant today.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me walk you to the shop then. It’s not safe for you to be walking alone at this time of night.” He barely got the chance to take more than two steps before she interrupted him.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I’m okay. In fact, do you want an extra pair of hands? I can help if you want.” He raised an eyebrow, a puzzled but mocking look on his face.

“Didn’t you just say you were going to get on track with some work?” The girl’s eyes widened, almost feeling faint from self-shame.

“Right, yeah. I totally forgot about that. I should get going then.” George chuckled, rolling his eyes as he watched her turn away.

“Hey, I never said no! Come in. I wouldn’t mind having your company.” (Y/N) attempted to maintain her composure, ignoring him in an attempt to salvage whatever dignity she still had. Her resistance only prompted George to follow her, taking her hand and coaxing her into the shop. Before she could protest, he placed a couple of items in her hands, instructing her where to put them.

Despite having felt exhausted mere minutes ago, the girl began bustling around the shop, climbing and descending stairs, shifting boxes, and rearranging shelves, with George ensuring her dress didn’t catch on any edges. Since his brother’s passing, he preferred to spend his time alone. He found solace in working in silence, functioning better when he had no distractions. However, with (Y/N), it was different. He enjoyed, could almost say loved, having her around during everyday moments. They seemed to effortlessly understand each other’s needs and worked together seamlessly. Some might call it a natural fit, and to an extent, it was, but it was also the result of the considerable time they’d spent together, getting to know each other over the past few years.

After a while, (Y/N) settled on the first step of the stairs, sighing as the ache in her feet became increasingly noticeable. George glanced at her, abandoning his task to approach her.

“I think we’ve done enough for today.” He observed how her hands attempted to alleviate the discomfort. “Why don’t you come upstairs? I can grab some ice packs for that. I might have some medicinal balm too.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll fade soon. Besides, I should be leaving. You must be tired too.”

“Nonsense.” George extended his hand, which she accepted not long after, prompting her up. He led the way to the fourth floor, where the Weasley Twins had settled since opening their shop. Upon opening the door, he gestured for (Y/N) to take a seat while he retrieved the items he had offered. Once he returned, she thanked him and immediately used them for relief.

“Would you like something to drink? I can also rustle up some snacks. There must be something edible in that fridge.” Without awaiting her response, he headed to the kitchen, eliciting laughter from (Y/N) as she watched him from the sofa.

“Why are you even thinking about food? It’s like 2 in the morning.”

“What do you mean? This is the perfect time for a snack!” He peeked out of the fridge. “How about fried eggs and toast?”

“Sure.” (Y/N) shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

George took out the necessary ingredients, adding seasonings and miscellaneous items he found while cooking the eggs. After a few minutes, she decided to help, ensuring he didn’t burn the toast while he was engrossed in the other half of the meal. As everything neared completion, she grabbed the first two plates she found, while George rummaged through his cabinets for a bottle of wine.

“I’ll be back in a second.” (Y/N) nodded, engrossed in making the meal more presentable and finding two glasses for the wine. George took longer than expected, but when he returned, both burst into laughter as she noticed he was wearing a suit that seemed about four sizes too small for him.

“I figured since you look so elegant today, I had to play the part too. How do I look?” He did a careful turn, trying not to tear his pants or sleeves. “I wore this for the Formal Dance at Hogwarts. I think I still rock it.”

“You do.” She beamed, getting up and approaching him after fetching her wand. “It just needs some small adjustments.” With a flick of her wand, George’s suit transformed before their eyes, fitting him comfortably and perfectly. “That will do.” He smiled, glancing down at her. “You look very handsome. Good thing I don’t have to share this sight with anybody else.” His face reddened upon hearing that, laughing shyly as he offered his arm for her to take, leading the way to the kitchen where he offered her a glass of wine.

“Cheers.”

“What are we toasting to?” She inquired, mirroring his gesture.

“Whatever comes to mind. Doesn’t have to be anything big.” (Y/N) chuckled and clinked her glass with his as they began their meal, engaging in a conversation that constantly shifted from one topic to another.

“So, how was Malfoy’s wedding? Did you have fun?”

“I did. It’s actually the first time I’ve been to one.”

“Really?” He glanced at her, surprised, while (Y/N) took a sip of her wine.

“Yeah… You know, I’ve always heard about the beauty of being a part of something like that. But I never truly understood until now. It almost makes you want to experience it too.” He smiled lightly.

“Do you see yourself marrying someday?”

“I don’t know… Honestly, I’ve never envisioned it. But that could be a result of being raised to be comfortable in solitude. It’s not that I lacked love or anything. But, you know, we’ve talked about this before. I suppose that could change if it feels right with the right person at the right time. What about you?” George paused, contemplating his response, uncertain of the best way to answer.

“At some point, I did consider it. I’ve witnessed that type of compromise in my family my whole life. But I guess circumstances have changed. I’m just not sure if that will be part of my plans in the future.”

“Why not?” (Y/N) queried, curious about his perspective.

“Ever since Fred passed away, it doesn’t feel right. I don’t see the joy in experiencing things that my brother will never have the opportunity to experience too.”

“I never really got the chance to know Fred personally… But I feel that, above all else, he would have wanted you to find happiness in every aspect of your life. He’ll always be part of your life just by you existing and loving him as much as you do.” George glanced at her, a pause hanging in the air, before clearing the table.

" Ever since Fred passed away, it just doesn’t feel right. I don’t see the joy in experiencing things that my brother will never have the chance to experience."

" I never really got the chance to know Fred personally... But I feel that, above all else, he would have wanted you to find happiness in every aspect of your life. He’ll always be part of your life through you existing and loving him as much as you do." George glanced at her, a pause hanging in the air, before clearing the table.

" Maybe you’re right, but we’ll never know that now." (Y/N) chose to stay silent, understanding it was time to shift away from the topic. Instead, she got up to help clear the mess from cooking, despite his protests.

" You should stay here tonight." George’s statement confused (Y/N), prompting him to elaborate.

" You haven’t slept at all, we’ve had a couple of drinks, and I don’t think you’ll be able to get home safely."

" I’ll be fine. It’s one thing to visit for a while; it’s another to intrude on your personal space."

" It’s not intruding if I’m the one asking you to stay," he asserted firmly. " It’s settled. I’ll take the sofa tonight. I imagine you’ll want to change clothes. Let me find a towel and some clothes for you."

" George, wa—" Her words trailed off as he vanished and reappeared with the items.

" Here. The pants might be a bit big, but they should do the job."

" Thank you." (Y/N) accepted everything gratefully. " But you really don’t have to sleep on the sofa. I’ll be fine wherever."

" You can’t expect me to do otherwise, (Y/N). Go on, don’t worry." He nudged her playfully toward the bathroom, prompting her to follow his suggestion.

Once alone in the small space, she removed her accessories and let her hair down, reaching for her dress brooch to slide it down. However, during the process, the zipper got stuck, and despite several attempts to fix it, she made little progress. Frustrated, she tried lifting the dress up to remove it from the top, but that didn't work either. Growing more exasperated, she paused for a moment before doing something out of character.

“Hey, George,” her voice was raised slightly to get his attention. “Can you come here for a second?”

It didn’t take long for him to appear, knocking on the door with a look of confusion. When (Y/N) opened the door, he turned his eyes to the side to respect her privacy.

“Everything okay?”

“No, not really. My dress is stuck. Could you help me, please?”

“Uh, sure.” After fully opening the door, he took in the sight of her messy hair and the look of frustration on her face, as she held the dress in front of her. “Turn around.”

The girl did as told, sensing his hand brushing her hair away. George's large hands worked with the zipper for a moment before managing to fix it and unzip the rest of the dress, leaving her back completely naked. He deep swallowed, making an effort to focus and maintain some distance between them. George wasn’t sure whether it was the wine’s influence or just utter desire in his body, but he allowed himself to trail her back with his index finger, going from the hollow of her lowest part to her shoulders and finishing on her neck, (Y/N)'s skin crawling in an instant.

-There you go…-

His voice came out as a low murmur, a product of their proximity and the charged atmosphere. (Y/N) turned around, murmuring a soft thank you. George nodded, his gaze lingering on the familiar features of her face. She noticed his scrutiny and, moving a little closer, found herself drawn to his lips. Her feet rose, giving George the sign to lower himself to level her height, sneaking his arm behind her back and lifting her easily, removing any effort from her part. With her hands still holding her dress, (Y/N) took the lead, brushing her lips against his in a gentle touch. She lingered for a moment before pressing her lips to his again, this kiss lasting just a few seconds. As if it wasn’t enough for either of them, George dared to kiss her with more intensity, bringing one of his hands to her neck and slowly tangling his fingers on her messy hair. Their lips intertwined with an ease as a result of the memory of kisses they had exchanged before. She felt as if she could melt in his arms, and he seemed more than capable of doing anything to keep her close.

The moment continued to intensify, both feeling the heat and desire when their hands started to wander more, and the kiss got messier. Even when they didn’t want to stop, (Y/N) felt George taking a step back, his lips swollen and his breathing fast.

They stayed silent for a moment, recognizing what they had done, yet there was no trace of regret between them.

“It’s best if I give you some space… I’ll see you outside,” he said. The girl nodded, still at a loss for words after their intimate moment. He offered her a final smile before stepping out of the bathroom, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water to steady himself.

With a heavy heart, (Y/N) stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over her as she replayed the moments of intimacy in her mind. After finishing, she went to George's bedroom, lying down and noting his scent lingering on the pillow. Meanwhile, George was in the shower, struggling to clear his mind and not let thoughts of her overwhelm him.

How could you not want more than that? The desire for a deeper connection lingered, unspoken but palpable, as they both lacked courage to express it.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #hp fanfic #harry potter imagine #hp fandom #george weasley x (y/n)#george weasly x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley #the weasleys #harry potter fluff #george weasley fluff #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fic #george weasley x you

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