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subskz · 1 year ago

Text

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you.

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence.

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl.

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone.

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake.

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you.

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties."

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice."

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts.

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm.

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory.

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy.

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them.

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out.

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better.

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day.

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face.

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance.

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?"

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

"Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet."

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you.

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him.

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably.

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before.

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year.

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

"Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food."

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display.

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces.

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?"

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn.

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring.

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face.

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout.

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down.

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner.

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit.

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting.

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice.

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden.

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you.

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words.

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly.

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly.

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story.

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on.

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems.

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant.

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you.

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only.

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it.

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it.

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place.

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face.

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods.

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study.

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is.

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning.

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it.

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his.

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you.

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room.

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile.

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him.

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue.

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname.

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow.

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips.

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat.

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles.

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands.

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it.

This was something friends think about, right?

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you.

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again.

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading.

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time.

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me."

"Don't mind me. Do your thing."

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too.

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course.

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving.

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere.

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin.

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you.

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into.

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him.

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own?

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again.

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you.

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey.

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed.

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly.

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it.

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe.

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body.

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now.

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly. You hated how weak you felt in that instant.

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds.

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him.

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

"Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people.

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly.

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again."

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will.

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment.

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up.

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie.

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone.

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you."

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you.

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now.

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him.

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down.

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves.

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic.

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you.

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?"

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face.

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music.

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key.

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing.

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance.

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck.

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life.

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again.

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you.

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity.

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features.

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome."

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you.

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him.

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly.

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will."

"Okay."

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer."

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply.

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds.

That's four seconds more than the first time.

Progress.

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days.

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting.

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her.

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her.

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are.

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called.

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay.

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart.

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain.

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her?

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself.

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing.

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better."

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure.

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob.

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug.

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho.

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along.

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm.

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace.

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head.

"I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first.

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore.

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you."

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

#FINALLY!!! turning the lights down low scattering rose petals lighting candles…my date w invisible thread is upon me at last 🥰#also i’m doing a sahar-style live reaction so apologies if i comment on literally every little thing that happens hehe im excited #hitting me w the clay metaphor right off the bat...i'm in awe of how perfectly you described childhood development w just a single analogy #molding the reader when she’s young n impressionable and leaving those imprints to harden beyond repair even after she's grown #what a beautifully melancholy way to describe her relationship w her mother and how it affects her view of herself i love it so much ㅠ #lesm inho. leemingo. LEMINHO!!! THE LAZY SMILE NOO U ALREADY GOT ME 😭😭😭 it’s so fucking over and i only just started oh my god #his eyes being the first thing she notices when they meet…the reader is just like me fr but describing them as black holes that draw her in #is making me crazy IT’S SO TRUE!!!! the most mesmerizing eyes known to man that warp space n time this comparison is absolutely stunning #the chill in his hand reminding her of a horrible memory like that 😞 so heartbreaking but also such a clever way to give insight into #the reader's character as well as insight into the the type of relationship she n lino will have and how it will likely resurface old wound #“u weren't sure what u would find on the other side nor did u have any desire to find out” u conveyed the odd magnetism of his eyes SO WELL #im very glad she got a higher grade than him i was not prepared for the smugness that would ensue if he beat her -_-; but a detail i really #adore is how casually lino takes the loss i feel like it goes to show that he truly doesnt have any ill intent despite being so provocative #the cat cafe is called limbo PLEASE THATS SO CUTE 😭 lino mimicking her words…n dodging the pillow i cant stand him actually #to be minho is to be insufferable and get away w it…she should throw a brick at his head next (<- madly in love)#oh my god the part where he laughs at her for hitting her head but from that point on covers that edges of the tables to protect her 😭😭😭#i’m going to be sick to my stomach thsi is the most minho expression of care on earth. all the careful linoisms u included are killing me ㅠ #comparing his eyelashes to the wings of a butterfly ARE U KIDDING!! that has me clutching my heart it's such delicate n gentle beauty #i love that he’s just as competitive as the reader but in a much more lighthearted way…he sees it almost like a game whereas she sees it as #a very serious demonstration of her worth. minho eventually becoming the one she wants to prove herself to rather than her mother #is so intensely sweet and heartwrenching at the same time ): in just a few months he's shown her a healthier love than her mother ever did #THEIR FIRST SNOW TOGETHER NONONO 😭 this entire scene has me inconsolable oh my god LINO W HIS SNOWBALL HE IS SO ANNOYINGLY CUTE #“u cant decide if ur shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him” critical hit on my heart…u painted such a #lovely picture of his laughter i can clearly envision his wild giggles and the way his entire body laughs w him when he’s really excited ㅠ #I WAS GONNA COMMENT ON THE SNOW NOT SPARKING THAT SAME AWFUL MEMORY THIS TIME 😭 his laughter brought her so much warmth she didnt even have #the chance to think abt it i'm so devastated by this parallel…little by little she’s healing w him and melting the frost her mother left #the way the reader grabs her fork to threaten him like he did w the spoon HELP theyre rubbing off on each other without even realizing it #every character detail u included is so well thought out u did a brilliant job ㅠㅠ it makes them human and the story all the more immersive #lino letting her eat first while he cooks the meat and him blushing everywhere when she feeds him MY BABY 😞💔 he thinks he’s so slick…#asking how she’d dispose of a body over dinner…lee minho master of romance everyone 🙏 but literally OF COURSE HE WOULD

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

Text

A Fluffy little Buggy X Fem-Reader

This popped in my head randomly. Enjoy!

Support me on Ko-Fi

Theater Brat 🎭

(Y/N) hadn't been on the ship long, Acting as a Quartermaster of sorts, Especially with Nami having abandoned them. She hadn't been apart of the group long, being the freshest face besides Sanji in this whole ordeal. She hadn't exactly been the biggest Fan of Nami, especially after she had betrayed them for Arlong- however she believed in second chances and that people were the way they are due to past events- not that they just so happen to be bad. That and she trusted Luffy- What was more to say?

After a rather long day of helping with the ship and doing inventory (Y/N) set to relax a little- choosing to play a record and draw for a while. Deciding to do a peice of their favorite theater play they had recently seen before setting off with the Strawhats- as she set off to ink her work a loud knock shook her from her peace and the door opened revealing a very irritated Zoro with a bag in his hand.

"(Y/N)! It's your turn to take it-" Zoro grumbled, Tossing the bag onto the desk, ignoring the grunt of pain from the severed Pirate head inside. "Ow! You Broccoli headed bastard!" Buggy yelled from inside the bag, Zoro glaring at the bag before grumbling about some sort of nap or something and marching off. (Y/N) sighed at this, Opening the bag and carefully setting Buggy's head upright. "Ohh~ I get the pretty girl tonight! Watch out Zoro the amount of noise we are gonna make may keep you up all night!" Buggy cackled, (Y/N) simply shaking her head at this and turning back to her drawing. Buggy clearly not liking to be ignored in such a regard.

"Ugh- That damn bag smells! Has no one heard of deodorant? It's like a bunch of teenagers running a ship-" He said sarcastically, his eyes landing on the girl infront of his drawing away. Trying to take a peak at whatever was being drawn.

"Ugh- Did I get the weird one of the group? Not even gonna entertain me? The least you can do is shimmy your ti-"

"I was just finishing up the lines on this is all, Calm down" She said carefully, her words not even laced with a hint of venom as she blew on the ink to dry. Ignoring c

The clear sexual joke he was trying to deliver.

"What are ya drawing? A wanted poster for the tangerine girl?" He questioned and gave a crookeded grin, assuming Nami was a sensitive topic for them. However frown when he didn't get a reaction.

"No a drawing from one of my favorite musicals. I try to do a drawing of each one I see" She admitted, holding up the paper for him to take a peak at and huffed in genuine surprise at seeing someone on THIS ship actually take some form of interest in the performing arts.

"Huh- Never expected anyone here to be into performing arts. You should draw one of my shows next! One of the best you've ever seen!" He bragged, Grinning as he started to talk about his favorites acts in his shows. From his innocent juggling tricks to the gruesome of having a marine try to tightrope over a raging fire. (Y/N) raised a brow at his boasting and patted his head, more out of habit then anything else which surprised Buggy.

"Well if I ever see a show of yours we're people aren't being tortured to death I'll draw it for you. Deal?" Buggy grinned widely at this and nodded excitedly.

"So what- you're a theater kid or something?- not many people know about shows like this"

"Oh yeah. I'm a total theater brat- My mother was a performer and my father was a musician" (Y/N) said with a chuckle. Thinking back to those days, The anxiety that hung in the air before a show, the live music that filled the air and the heartwarming stories that everyone watched.

"Is that the only type of brat you are?~" Buggy teased with a wink, (Y/N) gave his a mock disgusted look and poked his forehead.

"Pervert- Like you're one to talk. I can smell a fellow theater kid from a mile away- Also the grease paint doesn't help"

"Hey! While my shows are top notch I wouldn't compare them to some low brow theater"

"Oh? So you don't watch any plays" She questioned, a knowing smile on her lips as she met his now narrowed gaze. "No..." He muttered, his own tone of voice starting to betray him.

"Damn- well I could have sworn that I heard a certain barrel singing a song from that really sweet Romcom Play Gaizu & Douruzu (Guys and Dolls)-" She said with a bright smile- Buggy's face turning pale and staring at her with a mixture of embrassment and mild anger.

"...Now you are just being cruel-" He deadpanned and (Y/N) couldn't help but let out a cackle.

"That one is an exception!" He shouted making them laugh harder, He puffed his cheeks in a pout. (Y/n) Wiping the tears from her eyes and poking his puffed our cheek.

"Awww, I didn't mean to make you upset Mr. Scary clown- It's a good play!" She protested as he gave her a Mock glare. He stared at her for a second as she straightened herself out, Buggy staring at them for a hard moment.

"Hey W-" Buggy voice was cut off as the intercom system sounded through the ship. "Food is Ready" Sanji voice rang out as (Y/N) got up with a skip in her step. "I'll be right back!" She called out leaving Buggy by himself- He didn't voice it but he had enjoyed (Y/N) company.

When she returned (Y/N) holding a large bowl of seafood risotto. Buggy felt his mouth watering at the sight and his face twisted up- Expecting him to just have to watch them eat like all the other Strawhats. However he was pleasantly surprised when you held out a spoonful to him. His eyes widened at this and he greedily took the bite, Moaning as he savored the taste. (Y/N) taking her own bite with the same spoon before offering him another. He stares at them for a moment-

"..Why are you being nice to me?"

Buggy asked as he accepted at the bite of food. Watching them as they ate a bite of their own and thought for a moment.

"Well I don't see why I need to be mean to you?" She said softly, Making Buggy stare at them a bit confused.

"I'm ... Me? I mean I hurt your friends, Im a Pirate of a rivaling pirate crew! You should hate me?" He said softly, he felt a small peg to his ego but he couldn't help it.

"I guess...but I wasn't there to see all of what you did. I always try to think people deserve a chance even if others think against it. After all, we are a different kind of Pirate-" She said softly, Feeding him another bite of the risotto. His eyes locked onto her, He didn't remeber the last time someone treated him with this level of kindness?... actually thinking he could be something better or giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"Huh- Quite the sappy one" He joked, making (Y/N) also chuckle a bit and shrug once more.

"Well what can I say- Us theater brats gotta stick together"

#x reader #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #op buggy #one peice x reader #one peice #buggy x reader #one piece imagine #one peice live action

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corroded-hellfire · 9 months ago

Note

With Eliza at school and Luke nervous about a little girl a thought came to me.

How would Eddie react when Eliza came home and I just talked about a boy giving her things, like a picture of them holding hands?

And Luke talking to reader, asking how her dad made her fall in love with him.

Obviously you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

I love you.

This request just seemed like the perfect one for @munson-blurbs and me to write for Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy and that Cupid shoots all of you in your wonderful butts with an arrow 💘

Warnings: smut, oral, f receiving, male masturbation, pregnant!reader, older!eddie

Words: 2.6k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Little Eliza Munson slides her glittery green Little Mermaid backpack off and sets it down on the coffee table in the living room. Her small Mary Janes had been kicked off near the front door and now she tucks her pink sock-clad feet beneath her as she unzips the bag.

First out comes the folder that her homework is always secured safely inside. Keeping with the theme of Disney Princesses, a smiling Mulan stares up at Eliza as she opens the folder. Before she can get to her homework though, a drawing slips out and floats down onto the carpet next to her. Heaving a sigh and rolling her brown doe eyes in annoyance, she snaps the folder closed as Luke traipses into the room.

Drawings weren’t uncommon in the Munson household. In fact, there was probably a drawing from every member of the family hanging on the over-crowded fridge. But as Luke glimpsed this slightly crumpled paper next to his sister on the navy carpet, he knew he didn’t recognize the style—or lack thereof—from anyone in the house.

“Liza, whatcha got?” he asks his sister.

“A drawing from my boyfriend,” Eliza replies, nonchalantly.

A loud bang and a murmured “shit” from the kitchen has Luke snorting in amusement at what was obviously their dad’s reaction to Eliza’s little announcement.

“Oooh, Liza likes a boooooy!” Luke teases as he walks over towards her. He bends over to pick the drawing up, but Eliza snatches it and slams it down on the table in front of her before he can.

The little girl wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Ew, no! I don’t like him. He’s always eating sand from the sandbox.”

Ryan pokes his head in from the kitchen, his mouth full of food like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Hey, Luke used to do that.” He strolls over to his siblings. Luke glares at his older brother as he continues speaking. “When did you finally stop? Last month, right?” Eliza giggles and it diverts Ryan’s attention back to her. “Then why is he your boyfriend if you don’t like him?” The oldest Munson sibling takes a seat down on the floor next to the little girl. He tilts his head as he inspects the drawing the boy made for her. Ryan is able to make out that it’s supposed to be Eliza holding someone’s hand—presumably the boy who drew it. The little hearts around their heads in reds, pinks, and purples add the final touch.

Eliza shrugs. “Cuz he said so.”

“Who said what?” Eddie asks as he comes into the living room. He’s caught wind of what’s going on from being just on the other side of the wall in the kitchen, but he doesn’t wanna come in ready to send this four-year-old boy with a crush on his daughter to Siberia. “Please don’t tell me you listened to Luke again. Didn’t you learn your lesson when we had to unglue those shoes from your feet?”

Luke throws his arms in the air. “Why am I being attacked like this today? You know what, I’m going to find the one person in this family who actually likes me.”

Ryan smirks to himself and can’t help adding, “Wormy Munson died when you were four, dude. He’s long gone.”

Luke flips him the bird as he walks out of the room. Eddie crouches down and looks over the drawing with Ryan when Luke returns with you in tow.

“It’s them,” Luke says in a whiney voice, pointing to his older brother and father.

You sigh and shake your head as you rest your hand on your swollen belly. “Why are you all picking on my son?” You wrap your arms around Luke the best you can in your heavily pregnant state and press a kiss to the side of his head. “My little angel did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah,” Luke adds petulantly, and it transports you back to when he was five. Ryan rolls his eyes and Eddie lets out a bark of laughter. Even Eliza isn’t buying it. Luke pretends to recover from his ordeal and turns to the little girl. “Okay, Eliza,” he says to his sister, “tell Mom what you just told us.”

“My boyfriend drawed me a picture, but he’s gross and I don’t like him.”

“He’s only her boyfriend because he said he was,” Ryan tells you.

“Honey,” you say with a soft sigh, “if you don’t like someone, you can say ‘no, thank you.’”

“And if he doesn’t listen, you can always hit him with the one-two.” Luke demonstrates by punching the air.

Eddie shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him. “Absolutely not.” You breathe a sigh of relief that he’s putting an end to Luke’s bad advice until he says, “you gotta kick, too. Aim for the—”

“Okay, that’s enough violence for our four-year-old, thank you very much.” You waddle your way into the kitchen and open the cupboard to find one of the few boxes that haven’t been ravaged by teenage boys. “Who wants fruit snacks?”

“Not Liza’s boyfriend,” Ryan snickers. “He’s still full from all the sand.”

Luke looks at you for a moment but doesn’t speak until you’ve handed a pouch of fruit snacks to Eliza. “Was Dad your first boyfriend?”

Eddie wraps his arms around your growing middle. “No, but I was her last,” he teases, kissing your cheek with an exaggerated mwah!

The boys mirror each other with their grossed-out faces. Luke shakes it off though and playfully nudges his father out of the way with his shoulder.

“So then how did he make you fall in love with him instead of with another boy?” he asks.

An instinct is telling you that there’s more behind this line of questioning than simple curiosity of your and Eddie’s relationship, but you know better than to pry in front of his siblings—or his dad, for that matter.

Taking advantage of the others being occupied by the snack, you tug Luke towards the front of the living room and plop down on a couch with him. You’re facing him as much as you can with a seven-month pregnant belly, adjusting to a comfortable position.

“So, what do you want to know?” you start off asking Luke, keeping your eagerness to a minimum. The last thing you want to do is scare him away by seeming too excited.

“Well, like…” Luke looks down and picks at a loose thread on his sock. “What made you want to be with dad? Like, you were in college when you two met. There were all those college guys, but you wanted dad. Why? What did he do to…get your attention, I guess?”

Your memory flashes back to when you first met Eddie. It feels like you’re watching a mini movie in your brain about how the two of you ended up together, a reel that wouldn’t be allowed on cable TV. The story isn’t exactly something you want to tell your son, so you comb through to find the bits that can be given as advice.

“What did he do to get my attention?” You shrug and shake your head. “There wasn’t something he specifically did that made me want to be with him. It was a bunch of things that make up who he is. The first thing that caught my attention though was seeing how great of a dad he is to you two boys. You guys just adored him, and he’d do anything for you. It melted my heart.”

Luke chews on his lower lip as he considers your words. “So, there wasn’t something that he…bought you or anything?” He scrunches up his nose in contemplation.

“Luke,” you say with a kind chuckle. “You can’t buy someone’s affection.” When he stays silent, you decide to press your luck. “Is there any particular reason you’re asking?”

His cheeks go pink; it makes you think how bashfulness is an odd look on the boy who is seemingly unfazed by everything.

“There’s, um, this girl at school. And I was gonna ask her to the Valentine’s dance, but I don’t wanna look like an idiot.”

You smile. Mystery solved. Honestly, you should have known that Luke would be experiencing these kinds of feelings sooner rather than later. “Part of liking someone is taking that risk,” you tell him. “Although I highly doubt you’ll look like an idiot.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs, not fully satisfied with that response. “I just don’t wanna do too much, but I also don’t wanna do too little.”

The gift question makes more sense now. Usually, Luke’s gift-giving was reserved for birthdays or bribery, but it looks like he was making an exception to the rule.

“Well, maybe you could get her a rose? Just one, not a whole bouquet,” you suggest. “And then you can ask her to the dance.”

“You think that will work?” Luke asks, a nervous quiver in his voice.

It breaks your heart to see him this anxious, and you wish you could make certain that his plan will be successful.

“Since I don’t know this girl, all I can say is that it should work. And if it doesn’t, she’s not worth your time because she doesn’t realize how thoughtful and caring you are.” You think for a second and then add, “not to mention hilarious.”

“And devastatingly handsome,” he quips with a straight face, making you giggle.

“Of course, that too.”

Your youngest son stands up from the couch and presses a kiss to the top of your hair. Pregnancy hormones have you tearing up as you remember when you used to do that to him.

“Thanks, Ma.”

Luke helps you off the couch and as you walk closer to the kitchen you can hear your husband and daughter conversing.

Eddie stands in front of Eliza with a serious expression. “Now, what do we tell boys we don’t like when they like you?”

“No, thanks!”

“Right!” He offers her his hand, and she slaps him five. “And now what do we tell boys if you do like them?”

Eliza thinks for a moment before remembering the answer. “I got a tall Daddy and crazy big brothers.”

“That’s my girl!”

Luke walks past and chimes in. “Tell them one of your brothers went insane from scurvy. Like it seeped into his brain and turned him into a flesh-eating zombie.”

The little girl makes a grossed-out face, giggling when Eddie gently slaps him upside the head. As if wanting to join in, you feel a kick from within your belly.

“You wanna know how I snagged this gorgeous lady?” Eddie puts an arm around you and looks at Luke. “Turned on the ol’ Munson charm. It’s irresistible.”

The comment about his irresistible charm plays on a loop all evening. Once the kids go to bed, it’s time for you to see if you can whip up some charm of your own.

While Eddie brushes his teeth, you strip down to nothing. Well, nothing but the necklace he gave you on the night you two first slept together. The night you’d finally felt him inside you after months of using your own fingers and pretending it was him. The night he promised to knock you up with his babies.

Mission accomplished.

He walks back into the bedroom, his eyes immediately drawn to the pendant resting between your milk-filled breasts.

“Jesus, baby.” He practically flies into bed and starts kissing you. His burgeoning erection presses against your thigh through his boxers.

You tilt your head slightly, so he knows to move his lips to your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you, Eds. How good you treat me, how loved you make me feel…”

Eddie’s fingers find your clit and make precise circular motions. “Always gonna treat you good. Like my goddamn princess.” His mouth finds your collarbone. “The way you look when you’re pregnant…god damn.”

Smiling, you start to push yourself up, but he shakes his head. “I wanna spoil you tonight.” He positions himself between your thighs, licking a gentle stripe up your folds. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet. Here, see for yourself.” He leans over your stomach and kisses you so you can taste your own arousal on his tongue.

“‘S all about you tonight,” Eddie promises. He lowers himself back down and buries his nose in your pubic hair. His tongue glides over your clit, softly at first, but gradually increases in pressure.

“Mhm, y-yes. R-Right there,” you murmur, relishing in the build-up to the stimulation.

Eddie’s hips rut against the mattress as he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull himself closer to you. The feeling of your fingers tangling in his hair has him surging towards painfully hard.

The soft moans and whimpers that float from your sweet lips break Eddie’s resolve and he reaches down to wrap a hand around his aching cock. He strokes himself in time with the flicks of his tongue over your aroused clit.

“Eddie…Eddie—oh!” You throw your head back against the pillows. A pleasant warmth grows within you and it has you arching your back, legs tightening around your husband’s head.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“That’s my girl,” Eddie says against your dripping, throbbing pussy. “Cum for me, princess.”

Sparks dance in your vision as your orgasm breaks over you. It makes its way throughout your body, curling into every corner until it feels the absolute euphoria that Eddie brought you.

Trying to catch your breath, you watch with dark eyes as Eddie pushes himself up to his knees. You know what he wants, so you lay down as flat as you can so it’s easier for him to crawl over you.

Eddie’s still fisting his cock, the tip angry and leaking precum. He manages to straddle your body and braces himself with one hand pressed on the mattress right beside your head. His other hand works over his cock until the rhythm becomes erratic—your husband’s telltale sign that he’s about to cum. You only encourage this by arching your back and presenting your enlarged breasts and rounded stomach to him.

With one final growl, Eddie releases over your bare skin. You watch as the pearly white lines make patterns across your belly with each pump of his fist over his cock. There’s so much and you love it.

Once he’s finally spent, Eddie collapses down on the bed next to you. You miss when he’d just fall down onto you after sex, but the growing in your womb has put a pin in that for the time being.

Neither you nor Eddie want to clean his cum from your body, but Eddie grabs his boxers and takes his time in cleaning you. If he went over your nipples more than once or maybe give a tit a squeeze here and there, what of it?

After a few attempts, you manage to roll onto your side so you’re lying face to face with your husband. He leans in closer and gently presses his nose against yours.

“You always make me feel so good,” you say softly.

Eddie smiles and it makes your heart kick up. That smile will never lose its magic.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Eddie replies sleepily.

You lean in the last few inches and press your lips against Eddie’s.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say.

“It’s not Valentine's Day yet,” Eddie says with a soft chuckle.

“True,” you say as you curl up into his chest. “But I don’t need that day to tell you and show you how much I love you.”

“You’re right, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re my Valentine every day.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie #eddie munson imagine #AYW #AYWS #request

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erineas · 10 months ago

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Hey/

Did you see 6 skeletons 1 maid updated?

Thoughts?

I was saving this ask to make a little comic of how that last chapter felt but- lets say it didn't turn out how i wanted. Instead, i just dug out some of my old Maid-chan drawings and stared at them blankly for the next days.

I'm still particularly fixed on this one little page:

Mister Green was my absolute favorite and the only light i saw at the end of her tunnel. He was so kind and sweet, and pretty much the only one that treated her like a person (besides Yellow of course). When i first read this fic so many years ago i didn't trully realized the dark tone of this story but i still chose the only "healthy" option. I wanted MC to be happy and free, and oh how i wanted him to give her that. I held those drawings of him for years imagining a chapter where they would encounter again and that would drive her to a better ending (either skeletons overcoming their issues and treating her with respect or him taking her away).

But then this final chapter appeared and it was... a thing.

(Kinda spoilers for the babes that haven't read it)

First of all, I FINALLY GOT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AFTER BEACH CHAPTERS OMG I NEEDED THAT

Second of all, it didn't look good at all and it was getting worse as I read. But then good because it was a week alone for her to rest and Sans was eating with her?? But also that whole scene reminded me how bad her situation really was so it actually wasn't good at all.

And then the scene that broke me.

I was aware that I wanted her to flee before, but I never thought she could.

It was oddly satisfying, if not a bit anxiety inducing because of the thought that they would caught her eventually. As always.

But then Asgore, and Orange. And nothing...

I got mad that he found her. Which was a weird feeling since I remember liking him a lot. It felt to me like he ruined her good enough ending. But despite that, it makes sense it was him so I don't complain.

What crushed me though, wasn't that she couldn't say goodbye or that Sans got tired of trying to get her back. It was the fact the Gs didn't even try looking for her. They didn't even got mentioned. What happened there, I wonder. Didn't they like her? Care for her? Mister Green wrote her letters, of course he liked her. But then why...?

Suddenly he looked like a fairytale.

The ending was great, finally lending her the ability to choose. It made absolutely everything worth it and the way it was written made me feel like I do have a say in the matter. And for the first time, i didn't choose the skeletons.

I realized she could find her happy ending alone.

(My live reaction)

#Thank you for asking I'm still not over this fic but I'm so relieved we got some kind of closure yknow #Seeing maid-chan after so many years felt like meeting an old friend #and they summarize the hell they went through just to finish it with a “but I'm ok now”#I wanted to hug her so bad #I'm just glad she's free #I still love my skellies duh but I now recognize their highly toxic behavior #I still love Green I would redraw him but damn man where tf are you?!#I'm team Asgore and Chara now #Fuch them everyone else #5am talks #6s1m #That damn woman also had the EGGS to live off of moss and stream water wth

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queen0fm0nsterz · 1 year ago

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Reblogging this again i cannot stop starring at it. They make me want to eat bricks with cement as condiment

the girls (New)

#almost 3 years and i still get a gut visceral reaction everytime i see them this is actual madness #tarsier studios will hear from me and you too op #how did they make a duo of antagonist that is toxic old wo-men yaoyuri #i need to make a term up for them specifically because what in the fucking world #gonna call whatever tf this archetype is the haunted shitheads because they haunt each others narrative and they suck at a personal level #yes they have never met on screen. yes they are viscerally present in each others narrstive in a way that cannot be ignored once you see it #im gonna unhing my jaw like a boa constrictor and eat them until only bones remain #to all my followers who are reading this this is nothing you but op i hope you know the damage you've caused me mentally #i will never reocver from this. are you happy.#/pos #the inherent gay air present in whatever tf they have going on has to be scientifically studied in a lab #THIS INSPIRED ME SO MUCH THAT I STARTED WRITING RANDOMLY #if i end up posting on my ao3 in the next week it will be your fault and i will come find you OP #let it be known that on the 20th of november 2023 carols officially lost her shit and all her composure #this might be my fave fanart of them im not even joking this is so good #i want to print it out and force my entire family to watch it for 63 uninterrupted hours #the real little nightmares lore is actually just this single post from tumblr user silusvesuius #i ran out of braincells my fingers are just typing on their own this is how much you've done to me #ngh #tomorroq morning i will not rmemember this but i will still mean it i promise you #my heart beats for this post. i lived my entire life to witness these three drawings on a sunday night #i love this. i love you. i love being alive #thank you

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yuusishi · 1 year ago

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Could I request headcanons of Ace, Malleus and Jamil with reader who enjoys drawing , giving the boys a portrait of them that they painted themselves? And when I say portrait, I mean a life-sized portrait.

. . . MY MUSE

pairings : Ace Trappola , Malleus Draconia , Jamil Viper x gn!reader

genre : fluff

cws/tws : none

Ace Trappola !!

Bro is so ?? Confused ??

He likes it, of course, but a life-sized portrait of him completely out if the blue surprised the hell out of him.

“[Name], where did you even find the time and money for this??” “Shhh and relish in my creation just this once”.

He wants to hang it up somewhere, but since he shares the dorm room with Deuce he can’t really find the space to put it. So the painting is just awkwardly leaning on the wall until graduation.

Bragging about it to his other friends honestly sounds funny, “Yeah, my s/o painted me a life-sized portrait of me” “they WHAT”.

Makes a lot of “Paint me like one of your French girls” jokes or the equivalent of it in Twisted Wonderland.

He gets teased a lot by other Heartslabyul students for having a portrait of himself in his dorm room, and especially when they spot you giving him another, smaller, painting.

More of a “big picture” guy, so half the time he’s standing a little far from the painting to get a good look at the entire thing.

Honestly, he doesn’t know how to react with the way you just casually created an entire portrait of him, he isn’t used to someone doing such big acts of affection. But he isn’t complaining, he loves it.

Malleus Draconia !!

He was so happy because wow you actually took your time to paint him, on such a big canvas no less.

It’s not that obvious but he’s trying very hard to contain his excitement from seeing it.

He’d probably take some time simply observing the painting down to what type of canvas you use to admiring every brushstroke and color.

Another one that’s not used to big acts of affection, he can’t even begin to explain how happy this made him and how happy he is that you love him.

He’d love to put it next to his portrait in his dorm room but the painting’s life-sized. 6”7. I don’t think he has the wall and room space for a painting that big.

So, sadly, he had to bring it to Briar Valley and hang it up there in his room. He probably took a weekend to go back to his hometown to do it, if you went with him he probably took you sightseeing too :)

Jamil Viper !!

???!!!?!?!!?!?! [Live Jamil Reaction]

You know that sprite he has where his arms are outspread a bit and he has a look of pure terror on his face? Yeah that’s his reaction.

He’s probably seen the Asim family have those fancy family portraits painted of them, but it’s not like he’s part of their family so he’s simply been an observer of that tradition.

So having something similar to that done with him, wow!! he’s really not used to it!!

Okay but seriously though, he loves it 100%. He’d take it home and very not discreetly hang it up in his room if he had the time to.

He also likes to just observe the painting for a few seconds a day, catching little details about him every time that even he didn't realize but somehow you caught onto.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x y/n #twst x reader #twst x y/n #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader

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himbo-in-limbo · 1 year ago

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[a random head canon thingy idk cuz my I pad is charging n I can't draw rn 😞] Glamrock Bonnie/Glamrock Freddy

_____________________

I like to think Bonnie often goes off on his guitar during live performances (leaning towards it sounding like heavy metal) n often forgets he's playing for children LMAO

The kids love it regardless but the gangs like "dude again?" His longest solo was like a good 3 minutes...

He craves to have artistic freedom, I'm assuming the rest do as well tbh

Imagine hearing Freddy practicing his vocals, since we see chica shredding her guitar in her spare time I wonder if he dose the same?

I bet Freddy also likes to help whichever staff member is doing heavy lifting n he sees them struggling with the cargo n just goes "Oh please it's the least I can do! You all do so much for us, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourselves."

Also likes to help because Freddy has trouble just doing nothing...he needs to be doing something!

Or else he gets a bit antsy

Which is why he loves conversing n little tasks!

Bonnie calls the people closest to him "Carrot cake" bc he loves it sm and he loves them sm

In terms of the OG Trio I see chica being the one they protect the most like that's their baby sister to them 🥺♥️

Side note that it's a shame we don't have enough interactions between chica n Freddy in the game...

Like I wanna know if their just as close to each other as Freddy and Bonnie were

Bonnie gets excited hearing stories that the staff members tell him (if he's friends with em) about the outside world...

He LOVE'S it when they share their favorite music with him! He likes to analyze the guitar solos n usually that sneaks into the next concert hehe

He wants to go outside so bad...he often looks outside any windows and wishes he could just step outside for a bit...

This is also something I think the rest have in common.

They are happy working with the kids! They love their job! They would just like to feel the sun n quite literally touch grass...at least once!

Going back to Bonnie loving carrot cake he dose actually have a slight problem with it similar to chica...just don't leave your slice unattended with him, like a magic trick it'll disappear ✨

I like to think Bonnie originally didn't have eye liner but he saw one of the staff members have some on and he just told them "I want that! Can you put that on me?!" And ever since then it's been a part of his iconic look

Freddy laughs to hard at simple jokes like dad jokes kill him, which is why when he tells them sometimes he can't finish the joke 💀

His laugh is so cute n contagious 😭♥️

Everyone groans but they laugh at Freddy's reaction anyways

Bonnie's laugh is dorky, he snorts on occasion and the others call him out n he gets embarrassed

All in good fun of course!

If Bonnie were to blush I like to imagine that his whole face goes red like you can always tell when he's flustered hehe

Honestly I believe Freddy has that classy rizz, like he's such a gentleman, he'd court you properly is all I'm saying

As for Bonnie he's flirty, if he likes you he'll be teasing you a lot

He likes to bully his crush a tiny bit by making em all flustered, and yes he challenges you to bowling quite often!

It's his favorite bonding activity what can you do

He's such a good teacher for bowling too! Has to be for the kiddos of course!

All in all these boys have a heart of gold

They'll inspire you in some way n leave you feeling happy! And you do the same for them! Their still learning how to modify their hugging power tho!

It's strong! 🧡💙

#glamrock bonnie #glamrock freddy #glamrock fronnie #idk #limbo writes #drabble #fnaf sb #security breach #headcanon #im still waiting for my ipad to finish charging...

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scolbert22 · 2 years ago

Photo

My sink was broken, AGAIN. And my landlord Dwight was still too cheap to call a real plumber, so he was back once again to do another half-assed repair job.

“Listen buddy, I’m gonna take care of it for real this time, quit your bitchin’” He drawled in his light southern accent as he scratched at his cheesy moustache.

Luckily, his unwelcome presence in my home meant I could play a little target practice with my new invention. I called it the “slut ray”. It was a little gun I’d made from spare parts I’d “borrowed” from work. It warps a man’s libido, brain, and body to make them sexier and more open to “fun”. At least, that was what it was meant to do, I had never actually tried it out before. But seeing my landlord’s ass waving in the air obliviously, I knew this was the perfect chance to work out any kinks on a live subject.

I snuck up behind him in my socks, careful not to make any noise. I pointed the gun right at his plumber’s crack, closed my eyes, and squeezed the trigger. I heard a slam and my landlord grunt loudly.

I opened my eyes excitedly, and then realized with disappointment that the jackass had just smacked his head on the underside of the sink. Otherwise there was no change. Maybe I missed? I held my breath and lifted the gun again, this time keeping my eyes open. I fired at him again. This time, I watched as he arched his back and moaned softly. And then....

No further change. Dammit, it’s clearly way too weak. I shot at him again out of frustration. This time he didn’t even seem phased. I walked back to my room, defeated. I knew that invention is a lot of trial and error, but I’d had really high hopes for this one.

I was poring over my notes, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong when I felt a presence over my shoulder. I slammed by notebook closed as I whirled around. What I saw made my jaw drop.

It was Dwight, but barely. My slob of a landlord now looked like a hot college student wearing a “Sexy Dwight” costume for Halloween. He looked fitter, curvier, handsomer. Even his moustache and plumber’s crack were sexy now. But I could see in his face that it was still him, however improved that face may be.

“Golly Mister Masters, I didn’t mean tah surprise ya!” his light drawl seemed to have morphed into a goofy impression of itself, and now he sounded like a sexy Gomer Pyle. “You don’t haff to worry none about me spyin’ on ya though, I ain’t too good a reader.” He scratched the back oh his head, flashing a hairy pit.

The three blasts I gave him must have built on each other, and the delayed reaction sent him past slut and turned him into a lewd pinup drawing come to life. Oh my gosh, I realized. This isn’t a slut ray, it’s a porn ray! I’ll have to up the power for the next trial.

“I jist swung by to say I was in yer kitchen and I couldn’t figure out why, fer the life o’ me! I guess I musta jist plum fergot!” To be honest, the accent was growing on me.

I reached in my mind for something to say to this impossible version of my landlord. Then I had the most perfect idea.

“Well Dwight, we were just going to talk about how I don’t think I’m gonna be able to pay next month’s rent, and I was wondering if we could come to some other kind of arrangement...?”

A dim spark flashed behind Dwight’s vacant eyes and he smiled idiotically. “Well Mister Masters, yer in luck! I’m always willin’ to barter.” He wiggled his ass at me bawdily. It was clear this new invention was going to make my life a whole lot easier.

#male tf #dumber #redneck #straight to gay #oblivious

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its-actually-minicika · 2 years ago

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The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 3;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them tbh, it's Harshest Winters we're talking about;

Word Count: 10k+

Author's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE!! I'm honestly overwhelmed by the love this fic got in the span of so little time 😭 I hope you guys enjoy this part as well! Thank you so much for being so patient with me <3

Also, this chapter is FILTHY. I'm talking actual smut for the first time in my life, which makes me both nervous and embarrassed to be posting this lol

I know that the people who read this particular series are already used to the graphic content ahead, but consider this your fair warning :"))

PART 4 IS OUT NOW <3

As night swallows the world of Westeros, four beating hearts must get through the challenges that arise in the absence of sunlight.

Desire is the death of duty - fear pushes against the voice of reason.

Dreams really are the window to the soul sometimes.

One… Two… Three… Four.

Aemond’s breathing came and went in slow and labored pants. Whatever the man was dreaming about must have had quite the effect on him, and the lady scoffed to herself, while pushing down a disdainful huff.

Slowly, yet surely, her head rolled to the side. She could still see him in her periphery - the deep creases that adorned his forehead, a permanent reminder of his relentless character; the way his chest heaved each exhale, as if constantly pained by an unknown affliction.

Good, she thought to herself, At least his dreams should torment him, if his psyche won't allow it.

In… And out. In… Out.

Three weeks had passed since her brazen attempt to escape with Cain. Three weeks, since she left the wounded knight in the cave: to rot or to crawl back by himself.

Back.

Back to where?

Back home? That much was impossible.

Back to the Saltpans? And from there on… what?

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed to account for her life back in Harrenhal. Three weeks of sleeping in the same bed as him, three weeks in which her only waking thought was to grab a pillow and smother him with it as he slept soundly by her side.

Goosebumps crawled over her skin, leaving the lady restless and aggravated. She’d twist and turn more times than she could count - she’d curse herself and her current situation: her weakness, her inability to kill Aemond then and there.

She had to live. She had promised Jace that much, and she would honor her word.

There would be a time for Aemond to meet his end. And it would be by her hand.

Jace.

If he were here, he’d know what to do.

Her thoughts turned sporadic. For a few moments, the girl clenched her fists so hard that her knuckles turned white - squeezing harder as her anger built up. Each of her fingernails bit into the softness of her palm, and she could feel herself draw harsher breaths, in and out: all in a desperate attempt to calm herself down.

Her heart beat loudly, and her body trembled in unquenched rage.

She could still kill him now; Gods, how she wished nothing more adherently than that. And why not kill him - for his death would avenge Jacaerys, Luke… Cain.

Indeed, here she was, laying down next to the Kinslayer, one step away from wrapping her small fingers against his throat and pushing down with an unrivaled force and fury.

Before she could fully process her own actions, (Y/N) slowly rose from her resting place. The wide bed made a deep creaking sound, which echoed throughout the room for a couple of moments.

One, two, three seconds she allowed herself to wait.

The girl remained unmoving, as she took in a sharp breath, and held it in the back of her throat.

Her weary eyes skimmed over Aemond’s sleeping form, and her whole body stiffened in anticipation. When she noticed his lack of a reaction, a soft sigh parted from her rosy lips, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

Reason fought with ire and, eventually, the former succeeded in its quiet assertion.

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, and the lady of Riverrun shut them tightly; it was Jacaerys’ voice that then rang in her ears.

‘You know what your only fault is?’ He let out a roaring laugh while engulfing her back with his stronger arms. She turned around to face him, abruptly so, and her hands came to rest over his broad and shaking chest. 'I remember a boy who once said I had no faults.' The lady laughed with him, whilst rubbing small circles in the cuff of his sparring vest.

He kissed the top of her head with a wistful smile, and glanced at her with a boyish glimmer in his hawk-like eyes. 'Please accept my humblest apologies, my darling love. I merely meant: do you know what the only thing that’s too good about you is?’

(Y/N) let out a soft giggle, mirroring Jace’s look of full, unadulterated love. She furrowed her brows comically, before tracing his jaw with her free hand. ‘Enlighten me, then, My Prince…’

Upon hearing his title cascade from her plump lips, the Prince of Dragonstone dived in to press his forehead onto hers. He took in a shaky breath, and gently cupped her cheek to kiss her. ‘You are far too loyal for your own good. You care too much for the people you let in. It makes you angry and brash - it makes you take too many risks.’

The threat of a sob was forming on her wobbly lip. (Y/N) bit it harshly, and sucked in another breath. Her tight hold replaced the tender meat of her inner palm, with the silky sheets of their shared bedding. A lone tear parted from her shut eye, rolling over her face, and staining her cotton nightdress.

‘It makes me quite jealous - your fearlessness and devotion.’ Jacaerys muttered against her ear, whilst pampering her with chaste, soft kisses. ‘When I make you my Queen, I might just make it so that you can only see and take care of me.’ He jested lightly, eliciting a chuckle from the laying girl.

Her hand reached for his soft, curly locks, and she twirled each strand against her slim fingers. ‘Should you make me your wife, Jace, I don’t think I’d ever part from you again.’

His eyes held a fire in them; the Velaryon prince reached for her tangled hand, and took it in his own, pressing it against his waiting mouth. ‘You will be my wife. My Princess.’ His voice was laced with naught but determination and love. ‘One day, we’ll both be crowned before the masses: and you will be the most beloved Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘When we marry, you will be mine, as I already am yours.’ He pledged with a final, delicate caress.

With each palpable reminder of him, her jaw clenched tighter and tighter. The suffering that erupted from deep within her chest both fueled and exhausted the lady and, soon enough, the girl found herself laying down again, wetting her pillow with endless rivers of tears.

The chastising fires of sleep licked at her conscious mind, and, although strained by her lover’s swift reminder, the woman fell into a deep sleep.

Oh, and how beautiful the dream was.

Although it wasn’t an exact replica of the way they first met, it more than made up for it with its stilling beauty.

***

He held his hand out to her, a polite smile plastered across his face. Her older brothers gave her a knowing look - there would be no higher honor for a Tully than to be singled out during the banquet of the Crown Prince's sixteenth name day.

Together, they danced not one, not two, not three… but seven dances during that blessed evening.

Her feet were aching and, with the redness of his cheeks and the lightness on his handsome face, the girl guessed she had at least had the same effect on the Prince, as he had on her.

They talked all throughout the night, sharing fond stares and quiet giggles that echoed and bounced off the hard stone walls.

“Why haven’t we met before, My Lady?” Jacaerys questioned with an upward quirk of his brow and a charming smile upon his lips.

“I’m afraid such questions will have to be taken up with my Grandfather, Your Grace.” As she mirrored his contagious grin, the young girl carried on, “I’ve… been at court while I was younger, and remained in the Red Keep for a couple of years, but the quiet of the Riverlands always suited me better.”

“We’re very similar, you and I, Lady Tully.” Jace let out in a long huff, straightening his back against the cold patio of the Royal Gardens. “I… I know that it is my duty, to confer with the other Lords and Ladies and make idle talk, but… I must admit that it can be quite…”

“Straining?” (Y/N) suggested with a quizzical quirk of her brow.

Jacaerys’ face broke into a beaming smile, and the Heir to the Iron Throne nodded affirmatively. “Exactly that, My Lady. I’m afraid, sometimes, that it shows on my face.” He joked half heartedly as he scrunched up his nose - though his posture remained upright and fair.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and the girl shook her head definitively. “I assure you, Your Grace, it couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Jace.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“Friends and family just call me Jace.”

A knowing look was shared between them, and (Y/N) allowed her eyes to trail downwards, resting on the velvet flowers that adorned the well-kept garden. Her cheeks felt as though they caught on fire, and the lady was sure that her face held a comical rouge to it, thanks to Jacaerys’ insistent staring.

She knew well what came after that - she remembered how she hurried to allow Jace the same courtesy, of calling her by her given name, and how they both laughed at the other’s awkwardness.

And yet…

The Velaryon’s laughter turned into a painful cry. As if possessed, he started shaking his head. Then his limbs. Then his body.

“But dead men do not need names, do they, (Y/N)?”

Her head shot up - blood began pumping in her ears, and her heartbeat hammered against her chest.

“W-What?”

“I am dead, I am dead, I am dead,” He wailed continuously, “Can’t you see it, my love? Can you not see?”

Strong arms came to hold her from behind - wrapped up in algae, with flesh half eaten by the haunting sea.

The air in her lungs filled with a putrid smell.

“Do you see me? Do you? Do you see me, (Y/N)? My face, my eyes, how do they look? Oh, (Y/N), I cannot see down here! It’s so dark!”

Wet and cold rivers of liquid ran down her spine, coming from his parted mouth - water or blood, she couldn’t distinguish. And she was far too scared to turn her head to look.

“I cannot breathe - help me! Why did you let me die?”

A violent shriek escaped her lips. The girl tried to spin and turn - escape his hold, and take him in her arms all the same.

Jacaerys was faster in his attempts; he took her face with his pruney fingers, and twisted her head around.

But instead of brown eyes, she was met with greying hues.

“Why did you let me die?” Cain’s voice echoed Jace’s sentence. “Why did you let me die, My Lady? How could you let me die?”

Blood was raining down on them: it filled her lungs, and painted her blue dress in a sickly purple. It stuck on her eyes and closed shut. It made her limbs impossible to move.

"No… no, no… this is not how it's supposed to go…!"

“(Y/N)! It's all your fault, all your fault…!”

***

A blood-curdling scream regurgitated from her dry throat.

Neither her drenched nightgown, nor the clogged air of the wide chambers managed to calm her down. While still in the limbo between dream and reality, (Y/N) brought a hand to her souring throat, and clawed at her collar for more stability.

Almost immediately after her first shaky sob, Aemond’s body bolted upright, and the One-Eyed Prince brushed off any remaining fragments of his torturous sleep.

With his right arm, he reached for her in an outstretched caress, eyes wide with wonder over her violent reaction - whilst his left instantly grabbed the dagger on the drawer closest to him.

One look about the room confirmed his pending suspicion: she had gone through a nightmare, and a very unpleasant one at that.

Not all our dreams get to turn into nightmares - The dead of night can provide solace for some, as well as great agony for others.

Scattered desires, idle wants, and needs: all met under the velvety silence and gratifying darkness that eats one whole, and mends his subconscious to the most profane of fantasies.

In his dream, Aemond was engaging in a much kinder resolve than the lady next to him.

***

The echo of swift, hurried footsteps allowed a comforting sigh to wash over his parted lips.

The tedious company of his brother and father was long forgotten, the moment her familiar silhouette caught his eye, urging him to turn his head around.

There she stood, ever the vile temptress, wearing an emerald green dress that draped lowly over her shoulders, trailing over her tender bosom, and barely covering the perky mounds of flesh.

She was smiling at him, despite being attached to Jace's arm, and a soft bite over her lower lip was all it took for the young Prince to feel that familiar tightness form in his leather braies.

He couldn't tell who strutted towards who, or how they got to that point. But a tentative hand rose to his face, taking off his eye patch.

A hitch of pleasure escaped from her crimson lips. She took both his hands in hers and, before the masses, placed them right above her clothed, throbbing clit.

"Please…" She pleaded with him, writhing into his reluctant touch, "Kostilus. Kostilus, Aemond."

His hesitation and lack of movement caused a loud whimper to contort from deep within her throat. She gave him a sly smirk, and brought her own hands under her skirts, to lift them and show him her glistening cunt. The evidence of his arousal was obvious, what with his cock brushing against her thigh as they kissed. He took her by the neck with one hand, while resting the other on her cheek.

He let out a low groan, and pushed her hand away to cup her dripping sex. His calloused thumb flicked over her reddened pearl, and a long, slim finger went inside her tight hole.

Aemond clenched his jaw - almost painfully so - and his hips rutted into the air so desperately, that the man was sure her wanton gasps held some amused glimmer in them.

His lilac orb watched her face contort in pleasure. They were all alone now, hidden in the shadows of the Great Hall, belonging to the Red Keep.

… And there he was, seated on the Iron Throne, moving his hips lazily as his intended was bouncing up and down his clothed shaft, rubbing their bodies together with a renowned fever.

His name fell from her lips in a sickeningly sweet way - Aemond could feel his hardness twitch into the hot material, and the Targaryen Prince bit back a guttural moan.

"Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, that's it. Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos." He hissed through gritted teeth.

She was finally his.

His to love, his to cherish, his to fuck and to make love to.

The thought of possessing her fully, unapologetically, wildly, sent a deep shiver down to his unyielding loins.

Aemond was close. Oh so close to reaching his high. But he wanted to make her feel good.

Wordlessly, the One-Eyed Prince stopped her desperate bucking with one hand over her hip and the other, holding down onto the nape of her neck.

The girl was sobbing and shaking. Her voice came out as a meek whisper, and her glassy eyes met with his dilated pupil.

"No, no… please… kostilus, Aemond, don't stop…" She writhed inside his arms, bringing her hand out to caress his scarred cheek.

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his bemused lips. Aemond hummed at her admission, and tenderly licked her lips.

"Shh," He soothed her gently, "Be still, byka hontes. Issa dōna, byka jorrāelagon."

While speaking, the Targaryen Prince pushed her dress to the side, sliding off her small clothes with an able hand and placing her flush onto the Iron Throne.

He bit the inside of her thigh, and rubbed small circles on the back of her hands.

Like the perfect lover, he entwined her palms with his, entangling their fingers together as he hushed her sweetly.

"Spread your legs for me, issa jorrāelagon. Let me see how wet you are."

The echo of a "Please" got caught in his throat. It was taking everything inside of him not to kneel before his lady and beg her to let him touch her.

Her wild blush and plush, swollen lips made Aemond let out a low curse. He gripped her fingers tighter, and took them in his mouth, to coat them with adorning kisses, one by one.

"You can do it for me, my sweet, pretty girl." He encouraged her through a shallow pant. "Don't you want me to make you feel good?"

A shy 'yes' bounced off the cold walls of the secluded Keep. Aemond hummed in approval, and lowered his head over her sensitive mound, sucking lightly.

With each new whimper, his strokes became more and more sporadic. The Prince aligned his nose over her throbbing clit, and eased his tongue into her sacred depths.

His eye shut tightly at the feeling of her sweet nectar - one of his hands came free from her tight grasp, and he parted her thighs even further apart.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl…" He chanted while latched onto her scorching heat, and, with one final push of his tongue inside her, he took the girl over the edge.

Her cries of bliss shook the very building to the core. Her wild pants brought Aemond close to orgasm, and the male had to bring down a hand to his aching bulge, and clench it tightly, in order to stop himself from spilling in his pants.

It wouldn't take long for his love to wiggle her hips again.

His mouth and chin gleamed with the evidence of her spilled arousal. Aemond let out a rumbled laugh and licked himself clean with the help of two nimble fingers.

"I won't waste a single drop. Not one, single drop of you."

His words made her eyes roll back, and her throat inch with a loud moan. His Lady kneeled before him, and rubbed her cheek over his clothed cock, kissing at its outlines faintly.

Insatiable little mynx.

His eye fluttered shut, groaning in agony at her sensual touch. Aemond swallowed thickly, and he let out a hurting whimper, as the kneeling woman dipped her hand in the tightness of his pants.

Slowly, teasingly, she tested the waters.

The woman brought her hand up to her lover, and parted his swollen lips with the slow stroke of her thumb. Silently, she urged him to coat her skin with the wet of his saliva. Aemond smirked, and licked one long stripe over her spreading palm.

Humming in approval, and never once breaking eye contact, she eased her way down his leather trousers, and freed his cock from the tightness of its cage.

Several beads of sweat streamed down his pleasured face. Droplets of precum rolled down his reddened tip, and Aemond hissed at the contact they made with the base of his shaft.

His lady looked at him with soft, doe-like eyes;

"Syz taoba." She praised him with a mischievous smile. Before he could register the whole of her movements, the woman's tongue darted out, and she licked a slow strip over his twitching manhood.

She laughed at his dazed expression, and began touching him with her silky palm.

"Yes…" He moaned into her hold, bucking his hips to meet her hand halfway. "Tighter. Grip it tighter…" He instructed her through labored breaths, and a harsh groan etched its way from his bitten lips. "Ah, ābrazyrys!"

With each palpable thrust, Aemond moaned louder and louder, until the licks of relief washed over him in a sudden wave of pleasure.

At once, his hips stilled their violent bucking, and he felt the first streaks of cum shoot over his heaving abdomen.

Aemond gasped at her unwavering touch, and a single tear of pure delight rolled down his pale cheek.

She smiled at him. A pure, innocent smile, as if what she'd just done did naught to shake her untouched innocence.

(Y/N) moaned at the sight of him, so ravished and spent by her hand - she licked her lips tentatively, and trailed her fingers over his lower stomach, coating each digit with his warm release.

The cum pooled on the base of her tongue, and she showed him the fullness in her mouth, before swallowing him whole.

Thinking him fully drained, the girl made haste to get up on her feet and press her forehead against his. She giggled excitedly, and kissed over his jaw and neck.

A primal glint swirled deep within him, and Aemond's eye darkened.

He wasn't done with her just yet.

His arms flipped her over, and the pair found themselves in the peace and quiet of his old Quarters. Her body was pushed against the silk bedding, laid in below Aemond's insistent licks and kisses.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, until the only thing you can think of is me."

His voice was shaking with lust and need, and the curve of her waist and breasts did nothing to help his aggravated heart.

His love let out a stimulated groan. Her lips churned into a small pout, and she brought his hand out to her scorching heat, pressing down on it insistently.

His mouth lulled open - he could feel the heat emanating from her maidenhood, and the very scent that made his head swirl with need.

He gritted his teeth and lowered his body to press against hers. He could feel himself grow harder and harder by the second, twitching against her exposed thigh.

The girl let out a burst of snorting laughter, and her legs came to grip him over the bulk of his waist.

Effortlessly, she pushed him into the wide goose pillows, towering over him as she snapped her hips into his.

"I always wanted to mount a dragon. Tonight, I'm going to ride you as you ride Vhagar."

***

The intensity of her scream made the man bolt up in an instant. His thoughts surged with a singular instinct: to protect her.

A hand reached for his dagger. The other, for her shaking form.

"What happened?" His throaty groan echoed through the silent room.

At the sound of his smothering voice, the girl let out a startled scream. She would have fallen from the unmade bed, were it not for Aemond's hands, which caught her beforehand. … His face contorted in pain at her recoiling, at her lack of trust in him. His very presence was unnerving her.

Her numerous shrieks alerted the new guards, who, warned in advance of their master's disposition to anger, hastily opened the door to his chambers - swords unsheathed and shoulders tense.

But, upon glancing at the erratic woman, and the way her hands were pushing Aemond's chest away from her flush form, they assumed this was just another way of coupling, and the oldest of the two bowed his head in embarrassment, before grabbing his brethren by the cape and exiting the room.

Fucking assholes…! The Lady thought to herself. Upkeeping the realm and instigating order only when they see fit.

The pang of embarrassment took a hold of her jaded face. It didn't matter what they thought. But all the same, Cain's words echoed into her ears, slithering into her heart.

' - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories about how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night.'

Disgust painted its way over her distressed expression. A deep frown creased her forehead, and she clicked her tongue in irritation at Aemond's attempt to soothe her.

"N-Nothing happened." She strained herself to answer. "It doesn't matter. Now let me go."

But his hold didn't falter. His iron grip reigned over her, and (Y/N) could feel how her wrist started to ache from numbness.

Her eyes shot up in pure horror.

"Please, Prince Aemond." She tried once more, though this time sweeter. Her eyes trailed from his face to his clenched fists, and she tried to relax in his hold - at least slightly. Dread settled into the pits of her stomach, as she awaited his answer.

The One-Eyed Prince felt his heart hammer against his chest. A stinging pain ruled over any other voice of reason, and he felt lethal, succumbed to the endless lust and frenzy that he felt for the shaking girl.

And, although he didn’t let go of her bruising arm, he sat down the dagger in his left hand, in favor of touching her lax cheek with his rough fingertips.

Gods, he was still so painfully hard.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, as his grip over her body relaxed with each passing minute. The taste of abhorance was getting harder and harder to ignore - as did his raging hard-on, so adamantly pressed against her covered leg.

The woman darted her tongue out to wet her chapped lips; an action that wasn’t easily ignored by Aemond. His brows furrowed in lust and anger, and the coil in his lower stomach grew tighter by the second.

His hand ghosted over her twisted features, and he held his hand against her, with a fear akin to getting burnt. She scrunched her nose up as he scooted closer: her eye trailed downwards to his huge erection. Fear mixed with the knowledge of her situation, and her free hand came to grip the edge of the mirkwood bed.

“Hey,” She began to say, but took a pause to clench and unclench her jaw. “I think we should go back to sleep.”

Her eyes closed, if only for a second. Aemond’s deep breaths echoed through the quiet room, over her face, and the girl chastised herself for being so idiotic.

Some reply she gave him.

… But there is still a way to get a hold of that damned dagger.

Thoughts laced with uncertainty whirled inside her head. This wasn’t the first time Aemond had stared with hunger at her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was simply the way their 'relationship' worked. Simply the way he did.

Before she could muster up to add anything else, the Kinslayer broke the silence. His voice was soft and hitched; His broad arms snaked around her again, and his single eye loomed over her, adorning an emotion that menged perfectly with caution and lust.

“Why do you have this effect on me?” He questioned no one but himself. “You have ruined me.” He uttered, as if her presence and innocence were the strongest of poisons.

“Nyke istan nykeā vala hen gaomilaksir se rigo gō nyke mazilībagon laesi va ao. Se ao… ao… ao mazverdagon issa aylik hae lo nyke daor…”

The last of his words came out strained and angry, the desire to possess her coming out in the roughness of his sentence in High Valyrian.

(Y/N) squinted at him, unsure of what to do and say, except to stay awfully quiet. His cock twitched in his pants at her confused expression, and the woman sat her eyes on the dagger before her.

May his Gods so help him if he tries to do anything to me, she dryly thought to herself.

“I never tried to hurt you in any way.” She spoke decidedly, trying her best to keep a level of strength in her hoarse voice. Her body tensed under his aggravating touch, and the Lady quietly cursed herself for her inability to move further away from him.

Aemond’s face broke into a tight smile, and the Targaryen Prince huffed out in a low breath.

“Quit playing your game with me. You know exactly what you did. Women like you have quite the breeding for it.”

At that moment, anger blinded her. Swift as an arrow, she rose her head up high, and attempted to slap him - hard. But the older man caught her hand within his skilled fingers, and lowered it to his aching heart, keeping it there.

“Ao taenor issa. Aōha elēni, aōha laesi, aōha relgos, aōha maelki - aōha olvie perhas iksos surokvis issa. Issi ao biare? Hmm? Issi ao biare rūsīr skoros ao gōntan naejot issa?”

He could see the tears in her eyes. He could feel the flesh of her skin burn with the roughness of his touch. He could feel her anger and building disdain, and all of it pushed him over the edge all the same.

Aemond grabbed her face with his free hand, and clasped her jaw tightly. He breathed in her warmth, and he cursed himself for it - for the weakness that she caused him, for how easy it was for her to calm him down. “Ao issi nykeā quptenka ābra qilōni insalvak nykeā dārys hen ānogar.” He hissed desperately, lowering himself closer and closer to her face. “I treat you with kindness, and this is how you think to repay me? Vile, spoiled cunt. Gevie līve, ny dōna byka rene.”

To his mind, he was but an animal, caught helplessly in a siren’s grasp - she had lured him in with her beauty, her heart, and he was drowning in her, in her essence, in her being.

All of the things he felt towards her welled up inside of him: the love, the longing, the obsession, the lust, the need, the want. It was all too much.

He breathed heavily into her ear, while stroking at her bottom lip, “Gaomagon ao ūndegon sepār skorkydoso kraj ao issi, issa jorrāelagon? Aemond Mēre-Laes, se kipagīros hen Vhagar sen se Dārys mīsio hen Westeros… aōhon. Isse prūmia, haevisis, se maelki."

His raining assault in High Valyrian aggravated her to no end. Although Jacaerys' knowledge on the language wasn't perfect, either, he had taught the girl enough to get by.

And enough it was, at the very least, to make out the hissed out "beautiful"s, "love"s, and "heart"s that Aemond spewed at her.

The Tully girl spat in his face, biting on the index finger, that was trying to pry open her mouth. “You promised me,” She asserted as she pried herself free of his sickly embrace, “You promised me you wouldn’t touch me until I expressively asked you to.”

Her (y/e/c) eyes clashed with his lone, lilac orb. The woman swallowed thickly, and a droplet of sweat fell over her pounding temple. “So back. Off.”

Half a second goes by - half a heartbeat and half a breath -, until Aemond finally lets go of her, and settles back down onto the cold side of his bed.

For a while, (Y/N) is stuck. She sees how the man she loathes turns his back around, how his shoulders fall back as he’s trying to relax. She focuses on his breathing, and how his erratic breaths quiet down.

“Go to sleep.” He commands her bitterly, “Before I give you a reason to be tired out.”

The ferocity of a thousand curses almost falls from her tightened lips. The woman takes in a deep breath, and lowers herself back onto the drenched sheets.

He had donned the dagger to his fucking waist.

For almost two weeks, Cain had been falling in and out of consciousness.

His clash with Aemond left him weak and crippled - most of all, it left him ashamed.

Ashamed of his lack of diligence. Ashamed for having been unable to protect his Lady.

Finally, ashamed of his weakness and lack of thought, of reason.

If he were awake right now, he'd curse the Old Gods and the New for making him so - for giving him the wound that would incapacitate him forever. He'd have to fight the shivers that came with the rotting of his flesh, he'd have to clench his remaining fist in agony at the notion of the pools of blood he lost: the notion of his wound still going through the process healing, and all that came with it.

His once handsome face was still stained with his blood - dirt and sweat clung to it, like flies on dead meat.

His golden locks looked almost black, covered by the mold and mud that he'd crawled through once he reached outside the cave.

***

"You need to be swifter on your foot, lass!" Ser Allyn Swann instructed him, hitting the boy over the legs once, in taciturn aggression. "You're to be our Lady's sworn protector, are you not? You'll need to do better than that."

"I already am her sworn protector!" Cain yelled after the knight, rubbing a hand over his sweaty forehead. He took in a sharp breath, exhaustion seeping in his bones. Without waiting for an answer, he retook his wide stance and bowed down to his professor. "Again." He urged Ser Swann with a determined look.

The rains of spring had softened the ground, and both the knight and aspiring shield had to be mindful of their footsteps, so as to not land on their tired backs.

Allyn smiled, and shook his head. "Are you now, boy?" He obliged with a reply, "I think you're a seventeen-year-old blighter, who's bitten off more than he can chew."

His able taunting seemed to have worked.

No longer was Cain swinging his sword in circles, measuring his adversary with an aware look. Exactly like a dire wolf would after getting a whiff of fresh prey, the Waters bastard jumped into the leveling field, slashing his wooden blade directly at his opponent's head.

Allyn hummed in disapproval, and back-tracked to the right, faking a swing to his left side, before wiping Cain's feet off the ground with a wonky, but effective swipe.

"Again, Waters?" The knight asked with a click of his tongue. "This is the fifth time you fell for this exact same move. You may be as simple-minded as the Gods allow - but even a fool would learn from his mistakes once he swallowed mud once or twice."

As the boy lowered his gaze in undoubted guilt, his teacher offered him his hand, hoisting him off the field with a low grunt.

"Your mind is elsewhere, Cain. What is it that's bothering you?"

Eyes of the colour of steel clashed with Allyn's brilliant blues. A hoarse sigh left his parted lips, and Cain looked to the sky above them.

"I… I'm not ready." He admitted through gritted teeth. "Lady (Y/N) believes in me, but I'm not ready."

His simple sentence, his raw honesty, moved the greying knight.

He smiled tightly at the boy, resting a hand atop his heaving shoulder, and squeezed strongly.

"You are ready. You haven't the slightest idea of what you can do, should the situation call for it."

"Aye, I can fall straight on my ass. Maybe that'll distract my real opponents!"

"Cain." His professor interrupted him, "Long has it been since I last faced that eight-year-old boy who wanted nothing more than to prove himself."

Ser Swann's words brought a twisted smile to his lips, and (Y/N)'s protector mirrored his tired expression, as he huffed out a breath in disdain.

"I'm afraid I'll fail her." He muttered under his breath, looking in the general direction of his Lady's Quarters. "She believes in me, yes. But what if she's wrong?" A deep frown splits his forehead in three, wide creases. "Sometimes it feels like she must be."

"Only a real knight would ever admit to his weaknesses and less than stellar moments." Allyn encouraged him shortly. His eyes never once left Cain's, and the old Lord nodded his head briskly. "Lady Tully is not the only one who believes in you. Before her, Lord Hunter Redwyne believed in you."

A small chuckle broke Cain's reserved silence.

"If I remember correctly, he made you his steward exactly because he believed in you. After him, of course, went his sons and daughters. When the siege over Arbourtown took place, who was it that fought 100 men all by himself?"

"Hardly 100. It was 66 at best."

"Honesty. Another rare quality to find in a knight."

Cain's frustration welled in his eyes. "It's not honesty - it's a well-known truth!"

"Let me tell you something, Cain. It could have been a hundred men. Or it could have been thirty, or it could have been just one. The unrivaled truth remains: when everyone abandoned their post, you were the only one left standing in the West Wing of that castle."

A hefty silence settled off between the two.

"Plenty of people believed in you: plenty still do. And all of them were right to do so."

Cain's aching fists turned lax once Ser Allyn put an end to his trail of thought. "I…" He bit his cheek in an attempt to talk.

'Thank you.'

"I still have a lot to learn."

"That you do, boy. That you do." Allyn confirmed with a convinced jerk of his head. His eyes glimmered with pride, however, and, as he picked his sword back up, the man smiled at his driven apprentice.

"But I believe in you, and in the fact that you will make her proud."

"... It's nice to talk again like this."

Allyn's expression saddened for a moment, before it regained its familiar vigor.

"As I told you, lass. No matter how far you are, I'll always be somewhere with you. I'll be right here, at the tip of your sword, in your armor."

Ser Cain felt a tear run down his cheek, and the knight rose a hand to wipe it away from his face.

"I don't think I'll ever hold a sword again." He hummed painfully, but the older knight only shook his head.

"You haven't the slightest idea of what you can do, should the situation call for it." He repeated his words again. "Trust me, son. You will hold Faithkeeper again. … But now it's time for you to wake up."

Wake up.

***

"-- Are you waking up?!" The worried voice of a woman rang through the open field.

Cain felt his head jolting with pain - his limbs of a calming numbness, and his lips dried up.

He swallowed thickly, before opening his mouth to say, "Water… I need… water."

"Right on it, soldier." She amusedly said, bringing down her own flask to his waiting mouth.

He drank to his heart’s content, and only when the last droplets of the blessed liquid touched his throat, did Cain Waters stop to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing he said, as the unknown woman checked her poach for any remains of the water. “I didn’t think about the practicality of leaving some for later. … Or about you needing a sip.”

The last of his words greatly perplexed the brown-haired woman - she let out a mirthled laugh, and gently shook her head to the side. “At ease, Commander. We have more where that came from. Drink as much as you need to.”

Her amber eyes trailed over his bandaged hand, and, as he followed her stare with his own, Cain sighed in wallowing dread. His gaze turned curious, however, as he glanced at his shoulder, and wasn’t immediately greeted with the ghastly sight of a chopped-off arm.

A shocked look adorned his features, and the knight brought his left hand to feel the borders of his forming scar.

A painful sting stopped him in his tracks.

“I’d be careful with touching that arm so soon,” She tutted over his brash enthusiasm, “Your stitches are far from being healed. … And it’s not all that good and grand.”

Her sharp eyes softened slightly, and she let out a hardened breath.

“I’m very sorry. But we still had to cut off some of the infected fingers. With time, though, I’m sure you’ll hold your sword again.”

‘You will hold Faithkeeper again.’

Cain hummed in a lowly tone, as his eyes traveled back to the strange woman before him. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, until he finally settled on the least invasive sentence.

“I’m very grateful for your help,” He began carefully, while nibbling at his lower lip. “But who are you? And why would you save me?”

The girl’s eyebrows raised in beguilement, and she jokingly brought her hand to her chest, bowing deeply.

“My name is Mira Florent, of Brightwater Keep. I was a ward not long ago, under the esteemed tutelage of Lady Caswell. For eleven years, I served in Bitterbridge.” Taking in his every reaction with a curious look, Mira quirked her head to the side, and offered the knight a half-earnest smile. “And who might you be?”

“You didn’t answer my other question.” Cain tensed visibly, and the woman raised her hands out in false surrender.

“Indeed, I have not. I’d like to know who it is I’m talking to, as well, before I should waste all my breath away.”

The knight’s deep gaze settled on her downturned nose and inviting smile. He took in a deep breath, and propped his body on his healthy elbow. “I asked my questions first, my Lady.”

“And I demanded for answers, second.” Her voice rang out with a beaming laugh, and the older woman showed him her portrait-perfect grin. “No one here is in any position to make demands. … But please. I am not a Lady. There’s no need for you to address me as such”

Her easy-going attitude and fun behavior were almost enough reason for Cain to return her gracious smiles - still, the royal knight remained impassive, while nodding his head in quiet agreement.

“My name is Cain Waters, m’lady.” A short pause ensued, during which both healer and patient exchanged a diverted look, “Until recently, I served in Riverrun; I answer to the Tullies, the lords of the Riverlands.”

“I knew it!” Mira’s gleeful exclamation set Ser Cain back on his back. “It was fairly obvious by the crest in your armor. The trout lost its head, but the house colors are still as clear as day.”

“Is that why you decided to save me?” The man asked her tentatively.

“Well, that’s why we kept carrying you with us after patching you up, I suppose. But we would have tried to heal you either way.”

“We?” The Waters bastard questioned once again. “There’s more than just you around?”

“You don’t think I carried you all the way here by myself, right?” Her sarcastic question jabbed at his intellect, but her placid smile told the knight to relax, and put an end to his sporadic trail of thought. “It’s just me and my travel partner - he’s the one that wanted us to leave you at a crossroads end, by the way.”

A bemused smirk tugged at the corners of Cain’s chapped lips. “Then you have my full gratitude, m’lady - I have to say, I appreciate you not letting me die. Pray tell, does your companion have a name?”

An arch of her bushy eyebrows was the only telltale sign of Mira’s pending curiosity over Cain's meddlesome nature. She jerked her head to point at a silhouette near the fireplace, and she leaned over on a tree’s bark end.

“He does.” The woman said simply, and her expression turned somber for just a moment. “You take your profiling seriously, Cain Waters - his name is Albar. Albar of nothing, who serves under no one. Albar Stone.”

Cain’s face brightened slowly, as if he’d just been reminded of an old joke.

‘Us bastards always find a way to help one another.’

A rumbling laughter shook him in his laying spot, and the man gingerly shook his head after a passing while. “Another brother. I’ve a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”

Mira’s only reply was to shrug her shoulders, keeping quiet for the first time since they’d met. Her auburn eyes went over Cain’s shoulder, and she took in a deep breath. “You fought the Kinslayer, haven’t you?” She asked whilst playing with a silver pendant.

“You’re wearing the Tully crest - a house that openly pledged for the Blacks. Despite your heavy armor, your wound was of a clean cut. Too clean for a normal blade.” The Florent Lady awaited no confirmation from the laying man, as she went on, “I’ve been well acquainted with the deadly swords forged from Valyrian Steel. And there are only two people who wield such feats of war. Of course, only one of them who terrorizes our home.”

“Aye, that is true.” Cain let out after a low curse. “I regret not being swifter on my foot that day. It would’ve saved us a lot of trouble to slay him then and there.”

“Opportunities arise. And I’ve a feeling there will be another time for you to face him again.”

Cain’s forehead puckered at the last of her words, and his able hand pointed at the empty flask that now rested on her lower hip. “Oh, I would drink to that.” He bitterly laughed in earnest.

Mira’s posture ambled away, and she edged closer to the man’s plodded body. Silently, she got a hold of the bridles of the nearest horse, and offered Cain a lackluster smile. “I’ll hoist you up this saddle and we’ll keep walking towards the Vale.”

The muscles in Cain’s face tightened. His immediate thought went to (Y/N), his Lady, no doubt still stuck with Aemond in Harrenhal - that Gods' forsaken place.

His fist brandished in a tight hold, his head aligned to Mira’s working hands, and the knight tried to stop her musings with a firm palm over her waist.

“Wait -” He tried to reason, “I cannot go there. My Lady is still waiting for me, I cannot just abandon her.”

"Abandon your Lady?" Mira's eyes widened once more. She jumped up from the ground, and straightened her back in disbelief. "You're Lady Tully's personal knight? Is that why you fought the Kinslayer? You're telling me she's still alive?!"

Through an exhale, the male nodded. He cleared his throat with a loud cough, and scrunched his nose up in frustration.

"Indeed, m'lady. So you must understand me - I cannot forsake her. Not when she's still in the jaws of that one-eyed fucker."

Mira wiped the dust off her cotton pants, and grunted in agreement. She let out a tired breath, and clicked her tongue at his persistence.

"Well… you could have returned to Harrenhall, limping on your feet and all, if only you awoken a week ago. But we're less than an hour away from the Eyrie, Ser Cain." His crushed expression and gritted teeth softened the lady's resolve. "I warmly recommend you stick with us. Our road leads to the Arryns: we can drop you off to your Lord and you can take a while to recover."

"You slept for a very long time, Ser Cain. Everything you knew has changed in these last couple of weeks. Getting acquainted to your new situation will do you well."

Alys never dreamt. At least, she never once recalled what her dreams were about.

Such was the way of things for her, and she didn’t mind it - that was, until tonight.

Stilling images of her in his arms, of his soft lips upon the Tully's face made her shake with anger and betrayal well into the first callings of dawn.

Morning came and went, and the afternoon spent itself with her clasping her hands together, in the comfort of her room, thinking on what to do.

Her rattling worry wasn’t as much about her love for him, as it was for the frightening thought that if the Crown Prince didn’t want her anymore, she'd find her death by the sharp end of his sword.

The Rivers witch gulped thickly, and brought her hands over her neck and bump.

Aemond was capable of many things. But he wouldn't risk killing his child. Right?

The Tully girl had to go. The conclusion was a natural reach, and an expected one, at that: it was the only solution to her ticking problem.

A slight arch of her brow sent her thoughts adrift. How would she take care of it all? She gave the haughty Lady the chance to escape, and she failed - miserably. Now, she had no more allies left in Harrenhal, and no access to any amount of privacy.

The memory of Aemond's rage sent a cold shiver down her spine. Not once during her long life, did she witness a sight more fearful to behold, than the one of the One-Eyed Prince when angered. Hundreds died the day of her escape, and thousands more would keep on suffering, if ever she should break free again.

The Tully girl had to go. And then Aemond would be hers again.

Her prayers were answered when, sometime along the laid-in dusk, his footsteps echoed through the long hallway of her keep.

She waited for him in her small framed bed, eagerly aligning her hips to the side, to strike a more seductive pose.

… But when Aemond reached her doorstep, his eye carried a solemn, and resigned expression.

"The maids tell me she won't eat." He told her worriedly, opting for that instead of his usual greeting. He reached her bedside with two wide steps, and wordlessly took a seat while rubbing his temples. "She's punishing me."

Alys staggered a frustrated breath, and tried to calm herself back down. Her left leg moved to tease Aemond's crotch, and she chuckled appealingly.

"Must we worry about her all the time…? She'll eat when she gets really hungry." Alys dismissed his inquiry with a small caress, "In the meantime, I'm sure I could take your mind off things…"

Within a second, Aemond's hand was wrapped softly on her neck. "Stop that." He chastised her cruelly, "I'm not in the mood."

"You never are, as of late." She muttered dryly, but regretted her words instantly, when she felt his long fingers squeeze over her larynx tentatively. "I-I only meant to say that I missed you." She quickly intervened, while entangling her hand with his in a forlorn attempt to redeem herself.

Aemond hummed tiredly, and, as if he finally registered what he was doing, the man let go of her dainty neck.

Quietness washed over them, and Alys' eyes welled with the threat of tears, until Aemond spoke up.

"I want you to keep an eye on her. Become her friend, if you must."

The detachment with which he spoke wounded Alys' pride, but, as she massaged her neck, the woman only sighed. "Befriend her, Aemond?"

"Do whatever you think is right." He uttered once again. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be her maid - you'll make sure she eats when I'm not here; you'll make sure she doesn't think of a way to escape."

Her ears reddened from the deep wound laid upon her enlarged ego. Alys huffed in disbelief, and promptly shook her head. "What…?" She asked her lover. "So you want me to feed her and empty her chamber pot?"

"Don't act as if this work would be beneath you, love." Aemond tutted as he raised up from his taken seat. "I've already made up my mind: you will take care of her while I'm not around. And you will make her like it here."

The urgency in his words muffled out any other attempted protest. Alys' fists were clenched at her sides, and the older woman was biting down on her lower lip. "As you wish, Your Grace." She hissed past her tightened lips, while looking at him desperately.

As she noticed him turn around to leave, the Rivers witch shot up straight. "You won't stay?" She asked Aemond in a strangled tone.

"I have some business to attend to."

Aemond prayed before his dinners. As if that would make them any better.

As if that would help him swallow his guilt, or scatter it over the ghosts that he himself created.

As if that would deter the Gods to forgive him for his sins.

The pair stood quietly at the polished oak table, surrounded by naught but fermented wine and copious amounts of meat. For a while, all seemed well.

The cutlery broke a sound every once in a while, and Aemond's deep breaths turned the room's atmosphere heavy.

Eventually, it all built up to be too much.

"Is the food not to your liking?" His velvety smooth voice asked the girl before his eye.

With her hands still in her lap, now gripping her fingers painfully, Lady Tully replied, "... It's nothing of the sort. I'm just not hungry right now."

Aemond stared blankly into her eyes, until his scorching orb settled on her lips instead. Lustful thoughts of what he dreamt the night before plagued his mind, but the Prince merely shook his head, whilst taking a sip of the wine.

"You haven't eaten anything today." He muttered through a raised eyebrow, and a ghost of a forced smile. "Surely you must be famished."

The muscles on (Y/N)'s face twitched in annoyance. She jerked her foot from under the table, and turned her eyes back to her untouched plate.

"... As I said, I'm not feeling very hungry." She leaned further away, and the firelight of the wide, lit room, danced across her face with glorious shades of red and amber.

"Very well." Aemond asserted quietly, after letting out a hoarse curse in High Valyrian. Soon, the Prince turned his attention back to the illuminated room, without sparing the girl another glance.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and coughed in the back of his hand a couple of times.

Each time she heard his attempts to clear his throat, the girl clenched her jaw tighter and tighter.

Neither spoke anymore, until Aemond sighed deeply.

"Does…" He began, but closed his mouth once again. His face turned into a sour scowl, his pale cheeks reddened, and the man forced himself to keep going, despite the hardness with which such a question came to him. "Does your wrist hurt you at all?"

A quick reminder to the other night.

The lady's eyes snapped forward, unsure of whether or not she'd heard him correctly. Were she not in this unpleasant situation herself, the woman would have laughed at the Prince's awkwardness; no less his stupid question.

Instead of laughing, she took in a shaky breath, which she exhaled almost immediately, before replying curtly. "It doesn't hurt." Her eyes closed and her brows furrowed in concentration.

Distaste for him, for what she was about to say, filled her weary heart and mouth.

"... Thank you for the inquiry, My Prince, that was very kind of you."

She wanted to scream and shout the moment his daft fingers gripped her own, and the Kinslayer tried to caress her, despite his hand's deep callouses. Still, she remained poised.

She was all alone now, and she had to play it smart.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat, and her shoulders tensed visibly from under her green dress. Slowly, yet surely, she wiggled her hand free from under his palm, and placed it above her thigh once more.

If her movement displeased Aemond, then the Prince didn’t show it. His hand twitched atop the table, and he clenched it momentarily. But just as soon as his action was executed, it was covered by the Targaryen's mellow voice.

"Try to eat something tonight. And whatever it is that you'd like on the morrow, you can tell your maid to bring you."

Maid…?

Confusion made its way across her face. And, not even waiting for her to ask that eager question, Aemond dipped his head lowly and replied.

"The days are hard and long - prisoner or not, My Lady. While in Harrenhal, you are still a royal, and will be treated as such."

(Y/N) felt as if she could do nothing else but laugh. She envisioned her life in Harrenhal drift in a lot of different ways - though no thought of hers deterred her to believe she'd be taken care of by Aemond's older lover.

Of course, she jested lightly to herself. In the end, I am but a prisoner. And Aemond only has one eye.

Her hands were tied. And so were Alys Rivers', who looked none the happier to be rooted at her bedside table, judging by her tight expression.

"We don't have to play his game, you know." The girl hushed in her direction, as she kneeled down to help her change the ruined bed sheets.

Green eyes washed over her smaller form, holding an icy glimmer in them. But, despite her obvious discontent at her words, Alys remained quiet.

"You've known Aemond for longer than I," She kept going in the afternoon. "But we can both agree he has a dangerous character." Her lack of cooperation irked the lady to no end.

She dreaded the silence she was greeted with.

Hopelessly, she watched Alys wipe the last corner of the room - the girl observed how she turned on her heel, bowing at her without sparing her a second glance, and made her way toward the doors of her chambers.

"What do you think will happen once I tell Aemond that you helped Cain plan my escape?" She asked in a neutral tone.

For the first time that day, the Rivers bastard whipped her head around, and kneeled to the floor to gather up the dropped cloth. Despite her neutral smile, her voice was shaking. "You're trying to blackmail me?"

"I'm trying to help myself. ... And help you."

The woman let out a roaring laugh. "I am carrying the child of the dragon, girl. He wouldn't dare hurt me."

"Are you that sure?" The hardened look on (Y/N)'s face let no emotion stand out. Still, her eyes remained honest, truthful in her questions, and the wood witch let out an ample sigh.

"I know you don't want me here." The Lady raised her head in bold admission, "Believe me, I am the last person to be happy with this arrangement. This is your home. This is supposed to be your room and your rightful bed. On that, you'll hear no argument from me."

As her speech came to an abrupt end, Alys furrowed her brows in unexpected shock. She was quick to collect herself, and shield her shaking body by crossing her arms.

"We're more similar than we'd allow ourselves to think, Alys. We both want me gone and far, far away from here."

With a tentative look in her eyes, the Lady of Riverrun approached Alys' heaving body. She took her hands in hers and squeezed them reassuringly.

A strained chuckle parted from the elder's lips. She jerked her hands away and shot her an unfeeling look. "What would you have me do?" She interfered with a cutting voice. "You forget yourself - and I. I'm just a woman in this Keep, the same as you. If you think I hold any power over anyone here, you'd be sorely mistaken."

(Y/N) shook her head, and allowed a crooked smile to grace her tired features. She quirked her eyebrow at the woman's words, and only hummed disprovingly.

"I may not know you, Alys Rivers. But I know you are a smart and conniving woman. You lived all your life in Harrenhal, or so I heard."

Her harsh tone cut through the deadly silence of the room.

"I'm sure you kept at least a secret passage to yourself, and away from Aemond. It's not like us to keep all our eggs in the same basket... So, I want you to teach me all you know about this castle.”

A jocund expression seeped into Alys' pores. She clicked her tongue at (Y/N)'s words, and huffed out a wired breath. “Foolish girl. If anything should go wrong, Aemond will kill us both.”

A small pause, followed by a muttered curse ensued after Alys’ warning. Once her eyes locked on the Lady again, she frowned as she nodded her head.

"You have yourself a deal."

Taglist:

@bellameshipper @ohitsthemaster @kravitzwhore @virginslut08 @hiatuswhore @somemydayy

Translations:

"Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos" = That's my good little girl;

"Byka hontes" = Little dove;

"Issa jorrāelagon" = My love;

“Issa dōna, byka jorrāelagon” = My sweet, little love;

"Ābrazyrys" = Wife;

“Nyke istan nykeā vala hen gaomilaksir se rigo gō nyke mazilībagon laesi va ao. Se ao… ao… ao mazverdagon issa aylik hae lo nyke daor…” = I was a man of duty and honor before I set eyes on you. And you… You… You make me feel as if I am no longer…;

“Ao issi nykeā quptenka ābra qilōni insalvak nykeā dārys hen ānogar.” = You are a common woman who enslaved a prince of the blood;

“Ao taenor issa. Aōha elēni, aōha laesi, aōha relgos, aōha maelki - aōha olvie perhas iksos surokvis issa. Issi ao biare? Issi ao biare rūsīr skoros ao gōntan naejot issa?” = You tempted me. Your voice, your eyes, your lips, your soul - your very presence is seducing me. Are you happy? Are you happy with what you did to me?

"Gaomagon ao ūndegon sepār skorkydoso kraj ao issi, issa jorrāelagon? Aemond Mēre-Laes, se kipagīros hen Vhagar sen se Dārys mīsio hen Westeros… aōhon. Isse prūmia, haevisis, se maelki." = Do you see just how powerful you are, my love? Aemond One-Eye, the Rider of Vhagar and the Prince Protector of the Realm… yours. In heart, body, and soul.

"Gevie līve, ny dōna byka rene" = Beautiful witchling, my sweet little slut;

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #the harshest winters #dark aemond #jacaerys valaryon #jacaerys x reader #jace x reader #jacaerys strong #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #Spotify

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empressgeekt · 3 months ago

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I'm curious now, if someone made a reaction fic with canon watching your stories (not me because I suck at those), how do you think they would react? Especially if Branch was still gray?

Oh I play out this fic plot in my head on almost a daily basis.

If I were to put, Grey Branch, Poppy, Viva the snackpack, and Brozone into a room to watch my aus, both fics would probably start the same. Shock on both sides (brozone to Branch's state, and The Snackpack to Branch's alter ego as Bitty B), but eventually they'd all settle and start watching. Though, Brozone would definitely not that Creek at first glance. Viva would cling to her sister and the Snackpack would welcome her, but they would be very confused when she starts acting paranoid about the bergens like Branch, and Creek would..be Creek...getting on her bad side. Bruce would have to step in explaining that Trauma doesn't work the way Creek is trying to simplify it (he read a lot of the vacationer's psychology books before his kids were born). Needless to say, by the time that everyone has sat down the room is tense.

For Burning Branches it's pretty clear that this is an alternate universe so, they kind of just sit back and enjoy.

The Snackpack would get to witness the abuse a tiny grey branch would get in the tree, while Brozone gets to see Branch follow in there footsteps and escaping on his own. Branch himself remembers a few of these events but doesn't remember leaving so he interested in seeing where he counterpart went. Practically everyone panics when they see the head injury on screen, Floyd even starts crying at the sight. Once the rock trolls get involved it draws a lot of surprise from the whole group. Floyd and JD aren't too surprised they've been around the block before, and have a basic gest of the other tribes. Bruce is in the same boat as a few Techno trolls have washed up on Vacay island. However none of them had seen rock trolls in person and their dulled nature are a little disturbing, considering what dulled means for Pop trolls. Clay and Viva are paying rapid attention to the rock trolls on screen, because considering the environment their people live in these guys know how to survive and protect themselves. The Snackpack has mixed reactions, Cooper wonders if theirs another tribe that looks like him, Poppy just wants to help these guys find happiness cause they are way to serious in her opinion, Creek calls them brutes (impressing no one), while the rest of the pack are either confused/fearful/curious. Branch is just awed, this troll, the rock king no less, on screen took his other version and saved him. Not only pull him from the water but take this trolling stranger into his home and raised on-screen Branch as his own. It's made veery clear that the pop and rock tribes do not get along, and yet this king was willing to risk his power and reputation to care for Char, King Peppy never kept Branch for more then two days until shipping him off to the next foster family. He even seemed mad on Char's behalf, something Branch had never thought anyone would do. The amnesia is something that hurts Brozone, learning that in one world there brother forgot about them. Branch is a little envious of Char, after all losing his memories was pretty starting a new life with a clean slate. Sure he watches Char struggle, but he also watches Char thrive, regaining his color, learning to love music again, making friends, having a family behind him, heck even getting Poppy for a love interest. Sure, it's an arranged marriage between the tribes, and makes the theater very awkward, but there's a clear connection between the two of them. By the end of the whole first movie all the snackpack (minus Creek) and Bruce are shipping Poppy/Char (Choppy? We should call them Choppy), and they get pissed when John Dory on screen interrupts their wedding.

For FOF, it's more of confusing reaction since this could still be their actual future.

Branch makes notes to look out for Keith, cause just in case there might be a trolling who's a little weird ending up in the foster system after losing his dad and he doesn't want that to happen. Kid seems sweet and not that judging. As the au goes on, Branch feels all sort of embarrassment, from them witnessing his panic attacks and how they called him cute for the more wholesome reactions when it comes to Keith. When the whole wolf incident comes on screen, Poppy ask Branch if he would really do that for the village, and everyone is shocked when he nods. Creek tries to say the the forest is over dramatizes in this and that the critters aren't that cruel in real life, Branch just rolls his eyes only to hear John Dory come to his defense, as a survivalist himself he had to deal with predators, and everything on screen is necessary. FOF Branch is a lot harsher on his brothers and the interactions on screen are a lot more charged. Branch isn't sure how he feels about this counterpart. There's a feeling of justice at watchin his brothers get what's coming to them, but it also hurts that he's hurting them. He doesn't hold the same anger that FOF feels. Smidge kind of wants to meet her FOF counterpart, someone who uses her strength to save others, she's down for it. And Asks Branch if he could set up something like that in there world or at least train her, to help him in the forest. Branch is confused by that. Creek completely denies that he would betray everyone, but strangely Branch doesn't believe him. FOF Branch's wounds are scary to think about for everyone but Branch forces himself not to react. Broppy makes once more everyone uncomfortable, Branch feeling awkward, Bruce teasing, Poppy blushing, Creek giving the grey troll the stick eye. It's harder to different Canon from AU with FOF since Char is less Branch like.

There's just so much that could happen that i can't fit it into one post, but if anyone wants to make one to these they have my full permission. Though that might want to wait until the final product is finished.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #canon divergent au #field of forgetmenots au #branch x poppy #burning branches au #trolls branch #trolls keith #brozone #snack pack #fanfic #thank you for the question!#questions and answers

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tornrose24 · 7 months ago

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Rewatching ‘the many lives of Scratch’ TGAMM is…. Ah, quite an experience after the series finale and knowing what I know.

-first off, there’s the whole ‘I don’t remember my death day, but I’d rather forget this moment’ line is…. Uh… well… Ouch.

-Also the irony of Scratch never remembering his death day because he never really had one.

-And apparently his reaction to hearing about Geoff’s death day involved hiding in the doll house and shut himself off from the others…. which parallels how he reacted to certain things as a human.

-side note: I love how Dana delivers Scratch’s ‘Oh…. No,’ line when he first sees the death day party everyone throws him.

-When the McGees and friends sing that one song, there’s a line where they want to know how Scratch left his body and became a ghost. And I’m all ‘Oh… yeah… that’s actually true. But it’s not a happy tale.’

-Just the fact that everyone’s guesses were so wildly incorrect. I’m sure we all had our theories and guesses and yet the truth ended up being so average sounding (as well as sad).

-Geoff’s story kind of hurts now. Though I like that he also imagines Libby to be the president and Darryl is her body guard.

-As Libby told her story, I’m thinking ‘why does the cow remind me of Todd? It almost has the same hair and eyes.’ Also I think it’s sweet that she imagines Molly being like a little sister to Scratch, though I bet that detail would have been altered if she knew how old Scratch actually was.

-Also, I can’t get over the fact that Libby had Scratch AND Molly both die in her story. It’s a bit morbid, but I’m guessing she couldn’t imagine them being separated. That or she wanted to create an insane ending.

-I liked that Libby imagined Scratch to be someone who’d be willing to be brave enough to take on danger for someone close to him, which is what he is now… but actually wasn’t when he was human.

-Scratch kept insisting on having an appealing body type in the stories. The poor guy has no clue what he looked like as a human and is desperate for a more idealized version of himself. And yet the truth is… his real appearance isn’t that bad looking, and it actually IS a perfect match to what his personality is like, but it’s not one he’d be thrilled about going back to, even without the memories of what happened. (And this fuels a belief of mine that Scratch was more than likely insecure about his appearance before he lost his soul.)

-Scratch complaining about nobody making him human is now an interesting line. I think none of them ever imagined it because they are so used to Scratch looking like a ghost. Molly was the only one who had a hint of what he looked like as a child and yet… when she makes her guess, we don’t see her imagining anything. Was it because what she imagined would be too accurate/close to the truth since she knows Scratch so well?

And it’s also ironic because by that point he and Molly have actually seen his true appearance and didn’t even realize it at the time. And then coincidentally come the very next episode, we actually see his human form once more in two specific moments. One of which draws specific attention to him. As if to remind us about someone….

#the ghost and molly mcgee #scratch the ghost #molly mcgee #yeah I recommend rewatching this after you see the final episode #The irony in this episode is too strong

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dalchiid · 1 year ago

Text

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 46

A story of obsession, fear, and lust. You're a maid whose Masters forbid you in meeting their guests for the night but your luck runs dry when you run into them and catch the attention of Lord Hoseok himself. He's smitten from the beginning and thus, your fate has been decided.

Pairing: Yandere Vampire Hoseok x Fem/AFAB Reader

Word Count: 6,076

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Possessive, Angst, Fear, Blood, Biting, Dub-Con, Eventual smut

Will add or remove warnings based on what's in each chapter.

I do not condone the behavior being exhibited in my work. This is solely for entertainment purposes and I hope if any of you are ever in a situation like this that you have the chance and ability to run away from it. Take care out there.

DO NOT copy, edit, or repost my work anywhere.

Chapter 46 Warnings: Yandere, Possessive, Obsession, Self-deprecation, Mentions of feeling violated, Angst

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Your eyes hurt from crying so much. Just the reminder of why you're here talking to Yoongi makes your chest ache but you needed to talk. Maybe it was stupid of you because the vampire before you has his head cradled in his hands after he heard what you had to say but it's too late to take it back now.

Yoongi stays silent with his fingers halfway through his hair. He grips the strands tightly and loosens them after a second. The way he goes without answering makes you freak out a little making you rub your hands between each other.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I shouldn't-"

He cuts you off with a finger raised in your direction effectively silencing you. You swallow deeply and wait for him to sit up with a deep sigh. Licking his lips he looks towards the ceiling and just stares until he can finally find the right words to tell you.

"You know if Hoseok finds out about this that's it. You're never leaving his room ever again."

You ball up your hands into fists to stop the way they shake. "I know."

Yoongi turns to look at you. "And you're not joking, right? You actually did this?"

He won't say exactly what you told him. How you and Namjoon have been sneaking behind Hoseok's back to hook up. How just a couple of minutes ago you did just that. Right before Namjoon told you the truth. The way he took your heart and broke it apart so ruthlessly. The sound of his laughter still rings in your head.

You nod before looking down at your lap.

Yoongi releases another sigh but this time he sounds absolutely exhausted. As if hearing what you said is draining him dry. A thought strikes you then causing you to nervously look his way.

"Do you think he'll tell Hoseok?"

Yoongi shakes his head. "Namjoon is stupid but he's not that stupid. He knows that if he does say something Hoseok will never let him live it down. They may be brothers but that's a grudge I don't think Hoseok will ever let go of." He scratches his face. "Why though?"

Your brows draw together in confusion. He sees your reaction and elaborates further.

"Why did you tell me all of this?"

You shrug. "I hate being here but after what just happened it's also come to hurt. I don't want to be here anymore and if not Minjeong you can help me get out."

He purses his lips as he looks off towards the side.

You know you really hit him hard with bad news that's making him question your sanity you're sure. And you also know you put him in a precarious situation between two brothers with their own issues. You can't imagine how this is making him feel right now but you hope this plea of yours will be heard.

Turning his attention back towards you he hums. "I'm going to need some time. You know that, right? We need a time where some if not all my brothers are gone from the house and it cant be obvious that it's me who helped you escape. I was the only one home when Minjeong left. If the same happens with you people will start asking questions. And Seokjin's lapdogs are already hot on your heels. I'm actually surprised no one caught you and Namjoon while knowing that."

You hate it but you know he's right.

Yoongi sighs again and crosses his arms. "And you need money and a place to stay."

"I have money," you say.

"From where?"

"From my old job. I saved up a lot."

He quirks a brow up in interest. "Did you open the account yourself or did the Baeks do it?"

You frown a little. "They did it for me."

He sucks his teeth. "You need to take that money out if the account is still open. They could close it whenever they want. I'm actually surprised you still have access to it... You do, right?"

You nod your head but then you send a questioning look his way. "When would be the best time to take it all out? As you know I'm stuck with Hoseok most of the time."

Yoongi purses his lips while he thinks. "It's not your first time leaving the house without him. I can take you out in guise of just wanting to spend time with you. We'll take all your money out then."

"Okay," you softly say.

"All that's left is to find you a place."

"Maybe Minjeong can help with that?"

"I don't have her number."

"I do."

Both his eyebrows raise in interest but before he can ask you answer.

"The day at the mall when we ran into her, she managed to pass me a note with her number on it. I have her listed under a different name so that if Hoseok finds it he won't know it's her."

Yoongi slowly nods his head. "Alright. Maybe we can work something out with her." He continues to nod until something hits him then. "Wait."

You hum questioningly. "What?"

He sends a look your way you don't like.

"What are you going to do without my brother's saliva?"

Realization dawns upon you then. Fuck. He's right.

This always seems to be the topic of conversation when it comes to these vampires and the option to go to a rehab looms over you.

As if he knows where your mind is going Yoongi speaks up.

"If you go to a rehab it'll have to be far from here. Hoseok wouldn't hesitate to find you the minute he knows you're gone and I don't doubt one of the first places he'll look into are rehab centers."

You don't want to go to a rehab. You didn't want to back when you were with your former Masters and you don't want to now either, but you're left with little options.

"I doubt Minjeong would be willing to help with that," you say but Yoongi shakes his head.

"I don't know if Minjeong's saliva is anything like ours but even then don't think about it. I'd prefer you make it out of here with me knowing you'll get some help."

Your form visibly deflates but you know he's just trying to do things right. The high is the only good thing about Hoseok and you're going to miss that. Tremendously.

Yoongi takes a deep breath in and gives another sigh with it. "Talk to Minjeong when you can and whatever she says relay it back to me. I want us to be on the same page. For now though we'll have to act like nothing is up. You can't leave just yet."

You nod before you're hit with a thought. "What about Namjoon?"

Yoongi hums. "Hoseok can't know anything."

"I know but I really don't want to be in a room alone with him... Not after today."

He sees the way a wave of sadness falls over you and hesitantly places a hand on your shoulder.

"Stick with Hoseok as much as possible. If he offers for you to stay with Namjoon let him know you'd rather be with him. Don't be too obvious about wanting to avoid our brother though because he'll suspect something is up."

You nod along to his words.

"And if for some reason you end up alone with Namjoon ignore him. I know that's easier said than done by don't take whatever bait he throws your way. Even if he says he wants to apologize don't fall for it. It'll just be another lie of many more to come."

It hurts knowing that this is how things are going to be between you and Namjoon. You enjoyed being with him. Fell for his affection that you now know to be fake. You wonder maybe if you wouldn't have confessed to him would he still have pretended to be yours?

You don't want to think about it. The wound is too fresh right now.

"Hey."

You look at Yoongi who gives you a soft look. He squeezes your shoulder gently before releasing you.

"It'll be okay. You'll see."

You can only hum in response.

He stands up from his bed and walks over to his nightstand where his phone lies. Picking it up he checks for the time and looks at you.

"It's going to be a while before Hoseok comes back. You're welcome to stay here until he does."

You look down at your bare feet and the shoes that lie by your side. You could stay here but right now you feel gross. After having done what you did with Namjoon - back before now you would have glowed but now you just feel dirty and used.

"I want to wash up first." The words leave you softly.

Yoongi grabs the remote that was next to his phone and turns on the TV. "Well when you're done you know where to find me."

You give him one last look before you grab your shoes and stand.

To be honest you don't want to be alone and you're thankful Yoongi is giving you a place to stay until Hoseok gets back. For now though you need to hide and lick your wounds so you can begin to heal. Even if you never fully do you need to at least try.

When you leave his room you look around you. Two maids are heading down towards the stairs and don't notice you coming out. You look off towards the direction of Namjoon's room but you don't see him. You wonder if he's still in there or if he left but you're not about to stick around and find out.

You hurriedly make your way to Hoseok's room and slip in. Once the door is closed silence is all that joins you. It's deafening after everything and you can't stand it.

Sighing you make your way over to the closet and drop your shoes off where Hoseok keeps them. You find fresh new pajamas and toss the ones from before and the clothes you wear now into the hamper. More than anything you want Namjoon's scent off of you and you actually feel bad knowing Hoseok will be able to smell him if he passes by the hamper. Not because you feel for Hoseok but because it'll serve as a reminder that you were with his brother. It makes you remove them and pull out some of the clothes that way you can bury them deep within the basket. With that done you head towards the shower.

You turn the water on and set it for something warm. Warmer than usual. As that settles you look into the mirror and see how puffy your face looks from all the crying. The sight of it makes your brows draw together as you frown.

The urge to cry is still there. When you have your heart broken that will happen to you. You feel stupid and embarrassed. Were there any signs you should have looked out for? Maybe there were you were just too absorbed in your emotions to care.

Namjoon's laughter still rings in your ears and the sound of it makes another wave of embarrassment to come over you.

Gods you're so stupid. When will you learn not to trust people so easily?

Fresh tears pool out of your eyes. You can't bring yourself to continue staring at your reflection so you turn around and head to the shower.

When the water touches your skin you welcome the slight burn. You need to wash yourself off of Namjoon. You feel violated in so many ways.

"I should have gotten you to jerk me off before breaking the news."

A broken sob leaves you and you find yourself full on crying now. You have to sit on the seating in the shower and cover your face as you cry.

It hurts. So much. Why did things have to be this way? Why do you have to be in so much pain and all because Namjoon saw you as fresh game? You were nothing but entertainment for him. Entertainment that willingly gave themself up. How could you be so stupid? There's no other answer to that other than that's just how you are. Stupid. It honestly makes you laugh a little but in a self-deprecating manner.

After a while of crying you stand up to shower. You want him off of you and you use the somewhat hot water to do that. Use your soap to do that. Scrub away at your skin to do that. You even wash your hair. All to be rid of Namjoon.

When you're done you feel raw but clean. Physically speaking because inside your soul you're far from it. After doing your skincare routine you get dressed in your pajamas and take the time to dry your hair. You want to take care of yourself after the blow you took so you take your time. You don't know how long it's been since everything that happened so you check the time and see that it's late into the day. Only the gods know how long it's going to take before Hoseok comes back. You could stay in his room until then despite Yoongi's offer. You feel embarrassed but you decide that yeah, staying with Yoongi might be better. Staying alone with your thoughts doesn't sound appealing to you. At all. So you put on your slippers with phone in hand and make your way back over to the thoughtful vampire. You're sure to check the halls though as you head over. You really don't want to bump into Namjoon. No one is in sight though and so you quickly make your way back to Yoongi.

You knock on the door and hear a soft "Come in" from inside. When you open the door you see Yoongi sat on his chair with a keyboard sat before him and on a foldable table something with many colorful squares on it and a laptop. His headphones are resting around his neck as he takes the chance to look at you.

"Better," he asks.

You nod your head.

He brings up the left part of his headphones up to cup his ear and presses the keyboard. It's silent so you suspect he can hear it through the headphones.

"You're welcome to watch TV while I work here."

"Are you sure?" You frown. "I don't want to bother you."

"You won't be bothering me. I wouldn't have invited you to stay if I thought you would be a bother."

You give him a barely there smile but it's enough for him to see and smile back.

You look at the TV he's left on for you and see it's showing a movie. It's one you've seen before and liked so you leave it on to watch.

Sitting on his bed you're afraid to do more than just that. You sit on the edge of his bed and just stare at the TV.

"You can lay in bed, Y/N."

Your brows shoot up as you look at Yoongi. He isn't even looking at you as he continues to mess with his things. You don't question him though as you slip off your slippers and settle into the middle of his bed. It's unmade and so you take the chance to slip beneath the silky smooth sheets and settle them up to your waist as you sit up against the pillows.

Your time spent here is finishing the movie that was on when you came here and getting a little over the halfway mark of the second one when your brain tries to remind you about what happened. It dampens your mood causing you to sigh. You pick up your phone to check out the games you have on it - anything to keep you distracted. It's when you unlock it do you realize something. You can text Minjeong. You access your contacts and find the pseudonym you have for her. Yoongi said to contact her and tell him everything she had to say. You wonder if she's available now but you'll give it a shot and see.

You: Minjeong?

You purse your lips and place the phone down to watch the movie again. You're giving Minjeong time to get back to you but you have to admit you're a little nervous. What if everything falls through? You don't even have a plan yet but you're expecting the worse.

You should have a little more faith in Yoongi, you think. He's really going to go out of his way to try and help you. And you don't know Minjeong that well but it seems like she truly wants to help too. After everything she's been through with Hoseok she came all this way to see you to try and help anyway. Would you have gone that far for a stranger? You honestly don't know.

Your phone vibrates after a moment and you're quick to pick it up but when you check you frown when you see it's from Hoseok instead.

Hoseok: I'm sorry I'm not home yet baby but this stuff takes a while. We'll more than likely do some today and the rest another time but for now just hold on.

Hoseok: I hope Namjoon isn't boring you or anything lol

Your frown grows deeper at the mention of his brother.

What should you type back?

You: It's okay.

But is it? You quickly type out a response to follow your two words.

You: Things are fine.

They are because you're with Yoongi but you won't mention that. You don't want Hoseok asking questions right now so you keep quiet about it.

Immediately afterwards Hoseok sends two emojis your way. A ☺️ and 😘 stare back at you but you make no effort to write back.

You place the phone back down and after a minute it buzzes again and you pick it up with clenched teeth thinking it's Hoseok but you're surprised to see it's Minjeong instead.

Dawn: Who is this?

You're quick to type back in hopes of getting a positive response.

You: It's Y/N. This is Minjeong right?

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth as you stare at the screen.

Minjeong wouldn't have given you a fake number you're sure but you just needed to make sure it was her you were texting.

Dawn: Y/N! Yes it's me. How are you?

Distraught and embarrassed for starters but you won't say that - instead something else.

You: I'm okay I guess...

You: You were right. About Namjoon. He isn't who I thought he was.

When you press send you have to bite your lip harder to prevent the urge to cry.

The answer comes after a few seconds.

Dawn: I'm sorry Y/N. I don't know who you thought he was to you but now you see the truth. None of the brothers can be trusted. Only Yoongi.

You: I see that now..

You pause with a sniffle. No. You're not going to cry over Namjoon again. You won't let him have that power over you.

Minjeong doesn't text you back but you don't want to end it here. You have to start making a plan.

You: Yoongi admitted that he saved you. He's willing to help me get out too. Money isn't an issue but I need a place to stay.

You: He said I should go to a rehab but not near here. Do you maybe know any around you? How far do you live if that's okay to know?

It takes a while for a response. So much so that you figure she's either busy or hesitant to tell you where she lives. You wouldn't blame her then if that's the case. How can she trust that you won't say anything to Hoseok? She doesn't know you like that. But when you least expect it she answers you.

Dawn: I live around 7-8 hours away which is enough distance needed between you and Hoseok. I can look into rehab centers for you and I'll let you know what I find.

Dawn: How much money do you have? Unless you have health insurance you'll need to pay for your stay and once you're better we'll need to find you a home.

You know she's right. You don't know how much they'll charge you at the rehab and you don't plan on overstaying more than you need to. You saved enough money you believe so you tell her.

You: Trust me it's enough. I've been saving since I first started working and that's when I was 13.

Dawn: That sounds good. Even then I'll be willing to help with any expenses you might need so don't think you'll be alone in this.

That's kind of her. To be honest the whole idea of escaping has you nervous because of the what-ifs but having both Minjeong and Yoongi by your side makes you feel a little better.

You: Thank you. Honestly.

Dawn: It's no problem.

Dawn: After everything, if you feel comfortable to, we can set up a restraining order against Hoseok for you. I want to make sure he's out of your life for good.

She's making sure to let you know she'll go through thick and thin for you. It sounds almost too good to be true but she proved to you how far she'll go when she came all this way to see you at the mall.

7-8 hours. That's how far away she lives and yet she came anyway. Would you have ever gone that far for someone you don't know? Especially when it meant you'll run into your kidnapper again? Minjeong is selfless unlike you you believe because you don't think you ever could.

You: Thank you.

Dawn: Of course.

Dawn: I'll start looking into rehab centers nearby. I'll let you know what I find and what the best options are.

You: Okay. I'll let Yoongi know what's up. He wants to be informed as much as possible before any attempts to leave are made.

Dawn: That sounds good.

Dawn: He's a really good guy. Let's be thankful for him.

You are thankful for Yoongi. The only "normal" brother you've come to truly realize. Namjoon didn't lie about that at least.

You don't know what else to say so you leave it at that. Looking over to Yoongi you see that he's still working on his music. He's been very quiet as you watch TV and even now after your talk with Minjeong. You wonder when would be the best time to tell him about the texts but you don't want to bother him. He's so focused on his work. The more you stare at him the more your thoughts on Minjeong cloud your mind. You wonder how the chance to help her escape came about. We're they already talking about it between each other or was it a spontaneous decision on Yoongi's part? Minjeong was being drugged by Hoseok and so you wonder how he managed to get her out undetected by staff. You would ask Minjeong but would she remember correctly because of the drugs? What was Hoseok using on her anyway?

"You're staring at me."

You jump at the sound of Yoongi's voice.

He raises his head up to look at you before moving his headphones down around his neck. "Something on your mind?"

"Oh." You blink a few times. You weren't expecting to get caught. "Um I talked to Minjeong."

His brows raise a little. "What did she say?"

You cross your legs beneath the sheets as you sit up a little. "She said she's going to look up rehab centers for me around where she lives and that she'll help me out moneywise if need be."

Yoongi nods his head. "That's good. Anything else?"

"Just that if I'm comfortable with it that she'll help me get a restraining order on Hoseok."

His expression is carefully neutral but you can't imagine how he must feel.

"I'm sorry," you say. "This must be tough with Hoseok being your brother and all."

He shrugs. "I want the best for my brother but I can't help him when he's wrong."

Still but you won't push the subject.

Yoongi stretches in his seat with his arms reaching up above. You swear you hear his shoulders pop and it's only then does he sigh in relief.

"Are you hungry," he asks.

To be honest, after what you've been through no you're not but you know you need to eat.

You shrug in response but it's enough for Yoongi to pull out his phone and start searching for something.

"Is there anything you'd like to order?"

You shrug again but realize he can't see you as he continues to go through his phone.

"I'm fine with anything."

Yoongi hums. "Thai it is."

You can't help but to huff a laugh. Yoongi is oftentimes entertaining without meaning to be.

Taking off his headphones Yoongi lies them beside his laptop before standing up from his seat to head into his bathroom without a word. The man is so quiet but it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable. You have a lot of trust in him and for a moment you wonder if you really should. All of his brothers turned out to be problematic in their own ways. What made Yoongi any different from them? It's because of Minjeong why you believe in the best of him and you're holding on to hope that he won't turn his back on you. So far so good, right?

You nod to yourself before looking towards the TV. You'll continue to trust him until for whatever the reason may be you can't anymore.

Yoongi finishes up in the bathroom and comes out with a sigh. "Here," he says. He hands you his phone. "Get what you want. I'll handle the rest."

You grab his phone and check through the menu. He's nice enough to order food for you and you feel like you can't deny his want to help you out. He's done enough so far: listening to you when you needed to be heard, comforting you, letting you stay with him until Hoseok comes back. You appreciate him. Truly you do.

Once you find something you hand him back his phone and he's quick to order what he wants as well.

"It won't be long," he says. "The Thai place is close by."

You hum. "Thank you."

Yoongi looks at you with a brow raised.

"For everything. You don't have to do any of the things that you're doing but you are and I appreciate it."

He shrugs. "It's nothing."

"No really." Your fingers play with the edge of the blanket. "I know I'm asking for a lot - wanting to escape and all of that but you're being very selfless."

He comes over to sit next to you on the bed. "Continue. You're doing wonders for my ego."

You can't help but laugh and it makes him smile. A smile that shows his gums and looks absolutely endearing on him.

He grows a little serious then as he speaks. "I don't mind helping. I feel like I have to make up for my brothers' faults in some way."

"It's not your responsibility though," you say.

"I know but someone has to do something and we both know it's not going to be Hoseok or any of the others."

Before you thought it would have been Namjoon but now you know that's a lie. It's just you, Yoongi, and Minjeong now. You don't know if you should feel sad or not about that.

Yoongi seems to notice your thoughts are straying from something positive because he questions you on it.

"What are you thinking about?"

Your eyes drift over to him for a moment. "Do you honestly want to know?"

He nods.

Sighing you sit up a little straighter. When did you hunch over so much? Like the weight of your thoughts are too heavy to bare.

"Namjoon."

Yoongi purses his lips as he takes a slow and even breath in before releasing it with his words.

"It's going to be hard getting over it but over time you will."

Your shoulders sag. "I wish things would have been different between us."

"In what way?"

"I wish I never fell for him. That we should have stayed as friends. Maybe then his lies wouldn't have hurt as much as they did."

"Either way you shouldn't let those type of thoughts consume you." He leans his weight onto his hand. "The more you let the what-ifs and "I shouldn't have/I should haves" bother you you'll never be able to heal. All it's going to do is ruin you and let Namjoon win."

Let Namjoon win... You don't want that to happen of course but a part of you just wants to wallow in self-pity even though you know you shouldn't.

"Have you ever had your heart broken?"

Yoongi continues to stare at you. "No but I imagine it doesn't feel good."

"It doesn't." You sigh. "I know you're right I'm just - it hurts is all."

He hums. "We should find a distraction then. For now at least until it hurts a little less."

Your brow raises in interest. "What kind of distraction?"

He stands up from his bed and walks over to the area where his equipment is set up. "I normally don't let anyone listen to my unfinished work but I think I can make one exception. For now at least."

He unplugs his headphones to bring his laptop over to the bed. On the screen are a series of things you can't bring yourself to understand but you know they must be related to music. You watch as Yoongi brings up a window filled with files labeled by numbers and he clicks on one of them. When it opens music begins to play.

It starts of with a slow beat accompanied by a rap that picks up speed a few seconds in. The lyrics talk about the extreme choices between what are truth and lies and you find yourself bopping your head along to it.

Yoongi doesn't say a word as you listen to it until the beat continues without the rap. Here he brings the music to a stop and looks at you.

"I don't have the rest of the rap written so it just stops there. Once I figure out what else I want I'll take the time to finish it."

"It's really really good," you say. "And I'm not just saying that because you're in front of me."

A small smile dances on the edge of his lips as a warm blush coats his cheeks. "There are other stuff too."

He clicks on another one and lets it play. One after another. Finished ones as well as incomplete ones.

You learn that Yoongi can both rap and sing even Jungkook who helps his older brother fill in as samples for his incompleted work. That way when he hands off his song to someone else they know what is expected of them. You also learn that DJing is just a small portion of what he can do. He enjoys making music for others to listen to and has done a variety of genres since he was teenager. Whatever genre there is Yoongi has done already and he has a discography made up of many of them from almost all the years of his life. You're heavily impressed and express that to him to which his cheeks grow pinker and the more he talks.

You realize Yoongi loves to talk about the things that make him happy. His voice level raises a bit as he talks more. It's endearing to watch and hear him grow happier by the second because he's talking about his first love: music. You wish there was something in your life that made you this excited to talk about. Maybe someday but for now you'll live vicariously through Yoongi.

"I'm amazed honestly," you say. "You sing, you rap, you play the piano and the guitar. You're a skilled producer that learned everything on his own. That's really impressive, Yoongi."

He gives a shy laugh as he closes the container from the food he ordered you two earlier. While you guys listened to his music you ate happily.

"I'm being serious. I really like your work."

"Thank you," he says with a smile.

He looks so shy but he's glowing with your praise. It makes you smile.

Yoongi gathers his flash drives with his music on them. They're there not because you went through every song on them but because he would grab one here and there to have you listen to specific songs. You're glad the two of you could bond this way as he was the only brother you haven't spent some time with. He showed you a side to himself you've never seen and it warms your heart to know he felt comfortable enough with you to show this side. He even admitted that he doesn't like showing his unfinished work but he did with you. You know it was to distract you from your glaring problem with Namjoon but you appreciate he did that nonetheless.

"I have more work in my study but that can be for another time."

Another time. Yeah, you'd like that.

"Thank you, Yoongi."

He hums in question with both brows raised.

"Thank you for keeping me distracted and for sharing your music with me. You didn't have to but you did and I appreciate it."

A small smile graces his lips as he shrugs. "It's no problem."

You mimic his smile with one of your own.

You enjoyed your time with him and not just because of your issue with Namjoon. For being the most sweetest of the brothers the two of you haven't really gotten to know each other. While he showed you his music he asked for your favorites. The topic then went to movies as you both talked about movie soundtracks. His passion for music made you feel inspired and you expressed that to which he gave you one of his endearing smiles. You talked on and on about music until it felt like there was nothing left about it to talk about.

Your time together was fun and you hope to end this nightmare of a day/night on a positive note because of him.

As he puts his things away you gather your trash from the food you ate and place them into the bag it came in.

"You don't have to do that." Yoongi says. "I can handle it."

"No no it's fine. I made a mess just as much as you did so let me help out."

He doesn't fight you on it and so you continue to clean up.

The sound from the TV accompanies you as you two work around each other. You don't even know what movie is playing right now but it doesn't really have your attention. Your conversation with Yoongi was your main form of entertainment.

Speaking of who, he turns to you after a minute and stares at you with an unreadable expression. You look up at him and raise your brows in question.

"Everything okay," you ask.

He licks his lips and nods. "I just... I'm going to try my best to get you out of here."

Your features soften at his words and something akin to warmth floods your chest. Happiness you think it is. Peace. Gratefulness.

You smile. "Thank you."

He gives you that half smile he oftentimes gives and it makes your own stretch until you show your teeth.

You know you have to give him time. You don't want to wait anymore than what you truly have to but these things take time. You have to wait for Minjeong to get back to you with the list of rehabs around her area and then formulate a plan to get out of here and how to head to her. Things Iike this don't happen overnight and so you'll wait. At least you have Yoongi on your side in this house. He's the breath of fresh air you've been needing to survive here. Hopefully until the very end.

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