#you've opened heavens gates

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution!!: EPISODE 8 & 6 SPOILERS. NOT PROOFREAD]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(right now this is considered a oneshot, unless there is a very high demand for a part 2 I'll happily make another one for funzies!)

(PART 2 IS OUT!!!)

(also apologies if alastor's last name isnt actually altruist LMAo I kinda just wrote it assuming so 😭 )

You made it to heaven, lucky you.

Heaven was surely a treat, you lived your days with the upmost happiness, the light of heaven shining on your skin with kisses as if praising you for your goodness and your sacrifices,

all your sacrifices.

You were currently taking the job over for St. Peter at the gates of heaven for just a few minutes to await for any wondering souls to appear, to help guide them while he came back from a lunch break. Normally they wouldn't allow a human soul like yourself with little experience in this kind of task to take charge of such an important job, but you were close to many of the high ranking angels and you have proved your proficiency in tasks that you set your mind to, so you were glad to help those in need.

You stood there reading through the millions of pages looking over all kinds of names, all seemed like names that you wouldn't normally hear back in your time when you died. Some you liked, others didn't exactly pique your interest much, but the advancement of names since the 1930s surely proved how much times have changed and how quickly time seems to pass in heaven.

You wonder if it is in hell too.

'Hell?..' you wondered as you shook your head and sighed, your mind has been on that place lately and you wondered if it was even worth the rent free space in your mind.

You were currently slouched over the book and decided to close it with a glum look on your face, your elbows now resting on the golden podium and your hands cupping your face.

Geez, and you've been thinking a lot about your old man.

What-- no wait-

You shouldn't call him your old man, let alone your dad, not even father, pops-- not even by his damn name.

Even so, as much as you hated it.. you couldn't help but still use his last name sometimes since it's what you were given when you were first taken in.

Your last name?.. why, you're forgetting already?

_____ Altruist is who you a---

"HELLO??"

You snapped out of your thoughts as your head slipped from under your palms, face planting onto the cover of the enormous book. In embarrassment you snapped your head back up and your wings followed suit, spreading open behind you in shock as your eyes searched for the voice that called out to you from below.

You finally darted down to see three oddly shaped figures, your panicked vision soon relaxing to see two girls and a man dressed in red from tip to toe.

How peculiar.

Your eyes only set on the girl at the moment since she was the one waving at you and basically begging for your attention.

"Hello hello! uh.. Down here!" The girl with long locks of pale yellow hair waved, her smile widening when seeing she's caught your attention.

"Ah- yes yes! Hello hello! Welcome to Heaven! May I.. uh-" you scrambled nervously to open the book in the middle of it, "May I have your name please?"

She nodded, also returning a bit of a shy attitude back "Yes of course! My names Charlie Morningstar!"

Just like that you flicked the pages to go to the names that sounded similar to the girl's, mumbling her name under your breath as your finger traced down each name on the list.. to your dismay you couldn't find it.

"You don't seem to be on the list ma'am.. how weird.. does this usually happen with St. Peter?.." you spoke in concern, mumbling the last part to yourself.

The girl then started to explain something about her dad getting her a meeting, your mind a little clouded still trying to find her name until you heard the forbidden name that no one inside the pearly gates ever attempted to say out loud.

"-- maybe try, Lucifer.. Morning...star-"

And just like that you slammed the book closed, no words coming out of your mouth but an exasperated look of shock freezing your face.

"Oh-hoho... that explains so much--" you gave her a small sheepish smile, awkwardly looking off to the side where your eyes couldn't help but drag themselves to the man dressed in red.

"Miss you don't think.. you could've..." your eyes at first looked at the man's waist, his coat lightly shredded at the ends and the stripes of the long suit guided your eyes upwards "-gotten..." up and up and your eyes met his. The red eyes, the ears, the small horns, the horrific aura, and..

Oh dear, you'd recognize that damned smile anywhere.

"--lost..?" the end of your sentence dragged on, taking a long while to finish since all you could think about is how this man is at the front door step of the place he shouldn't even be considered in being let to enter.

Alastor, your father from the living realm. Not connected by blood but by life and connection.

The man where you got your last name from by being taken in and called his daughter.

The red deer demon seemed to recognize you as well, a spark in his devilish eyes proved it so, but it was very brief since he more or less also seemed to relish the look on your face with his smile stretched further up.. however further up it could get.

Charlie seemed concerned at your reaction, waving her hand in front of your face gently as if to get you out of this trance. "Heyyy... are you okay?.." she asked with genuine worry until all of you were focused away from this bizarre moment when a set of three angels befell before you all. The two seraphims and finally-- St. Peter off from his break.

"_____. We can take it from here, we appreciate the help." The highest and oldest seraphim announced your name and her appreciation while gliding down a bit more earlier than the blonde angel you covered for, she and the younger seraphim's forms going from their true to more human-like appearances.

"_____! My dear friend thank you so much for covering for me, always a real helper you!" St. Peter popped beside you as he praised you while gently flying beside you, you looked up at him with a small nervous smile before opening your own wings to flap down from his podium and let him get back on the job.

"It's no problem at all, you know me! Always.. happy to help.." you spoke your last words to him before your wings gently took you down to set yourself beside another one of your friends, Emily! You never talked much to Sera that wasn't in a formal setting but Emily seemed so easy to get along with. She gave you a tight squeeze of a hug while saying hello which eased your nerves a bit more, of course they never fully disappeared with the man who ruined everything before you let out your last breath.. standing right in front of you.

The man that brought you up here in the first place.

The seraphims introduced themselves to the three residents of hell, the deer demon more quiet until finally finding a spot of silence to jump in and introduce himself as well.

"Why hello, a real pleasure meeting you two quite the pleasure! Never thought I'd ever get to see an angel up this close in my life HAHA! The names Alastor!"

The voice, the radio static over it, his name.

It was him, you recognized it as if you listened to him on the radio just yesterday, your own personal hell.

Whatever reaction or words the higher ranked angels said seemed to fizzle out of your brain as they were replaced with the memories of your last moments on earth.

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

"Father!" you screamed as you ran up to your childhood home, the home to which you were raised and kept in, your home in which you lived in with your father, Alastor Altruist.

For sometime you had suspected foul play when it came to your father's weird actions when the night came, the tone he spoke through his radio show when announcing several murders happening across and haunting New Orleans. You just didn't want to truly believe that the man that found you, a poor little orphaned baby, and raised you would do such disgusting and diabolical crimes.

You couldn't believe it.. until you finally saw it.

Your legs scrambled and fought each step to become faster, finally reaching the door of your home you slammed it open with a strong kick after jiggling the doorknob didn't work.

You knew the next murder he would commit would happen in your home.. you thanked whatever force that made you disobey him and look through his study since if you didn't you wouldn't know that right now there was blood to be shed.

The door opening and with your kick full of adrenaline and panic it made the door barley cling onto it's hinges. There your father was, on top of a wounded man that seemed to be gurgling and gasping to breathe as the victim attempted to claw at Alastor's grasp. Pieces of glass and wood broken across the entire floor, walls bloodied and worn out, pictures that hung neatly now cracked and lopsided or shattered on the floor.

Whatever happened in here, the victim was sure a fighter in the beginning.

You immediately without hesitation with full force pushed Alastor off the man, pulling the bloodied stranger by his wrist. The victim and you stared for a moment, him mostly realizing that he's being saved by a young girl like you. His lips parted to thank you but you could see Alastor raise his kitchen knife in the air and sprinted toward him to stab him on the back.

With no words left to share or spill you grabbed the stranger by the shoulders and with all your might pushed him and yourself away so that in the end Alastor ended up stabbing nothing but air.

Alastor grunted in frustration, his bloodied smile yet never faltering despite the challenge you now gave him.

The man snapped his head at you, eyes fixated at you before snapping back to his victim and raising his knife up once more, in a haunting motion his steps creeped and creaked towards the injured New Orleans citizen stricken with fear and terror.

Just like that, Alastor slams his knife down with no hesitation. The knife fully in his prey with no inch of the blade uncovered.

Oh-- wait.

That shriek, the sobs, the shaky breathing and the coughs of blood.. that wasn't his victim.

It was you.

His daughter, he stabbed his daughter.

For a moment you could see his crazed smile falter, the humane part of him uncovering itself for a moment, for you.

His little girl was covered in her blood because of him, the little baby he found on that cold rainy day is dying because of him, his bundle of joy that he took years to take care of is leaving him.. and it's all his fault.

He didn't know it was you-- he didn't know you'd be that stupid to sacrifice yourself for some random prick.

He didn't know that in the end, someone as evil as him could have raised someone as selfless as you.

"p..papa..?" you whimpered, your painful coughs of blood spilling out and going down your chin and your neck. "It hurts-- g.. it hurts so much papa.." you cried as the knife in your chest seemed to feel as if it was melting into your skin, becoming one with you. It obviously wasn't but the pain was just that painful.

Alastor's smile faltered and kept trying to stay up, his own set of tears falling down his face and onto your cheeks that were slowly losing life. Regret stabbing his own heart the way he did to yours. He let go of the knife and instead cradled you in his arms, just like how he used to when you would have nightmares as a little girl.

"Shh.. Shh.." he shush you softly as he gently patted your head, moving away any uneven strands of hair he could spot with his hands trembling in regret. "Little one.. don't worry about a thing, papa's here.. " he mumbled, the gentleness replacing what once was pure aggressiveness.

Your eyes slowly started to flutter closed, your pulse slowing down, breathing less profound, your limbs going limp, and your face.. contorting into a peaceful state of slumber.

Alastor watched as you passed in his arms, his faltering smile picking itself up once more to stretch itself across his face with tears pouring out his eyes. This wasn't a smile of joy, it was a smile to hide what he truly felt.. to lie to himself. "My little angel, forgive me please."

Those were his last words to you, words that in the end you couldn't hear.

And that man he tried to kill earlier? He escaped when he was given the chance, Alastor was sure the cops were to invade his home soon.. now there was just one thing left to do before he'd be found once again to pay the consequences.

He took your body to a beautiful forest filled with flower meadows. Alastor knew this was one of your favorite spots as a young girl, why not let you rest here.

Ah but as he was preparing to bury you in your final resting place... that darn deer hunter.

Well, you know the story. Mistaken for a deer, shot, that's the end of Alastor Altruist and his darling daughter, ______ Altruist.

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

As you stood there you were awoken from your thoughts with the high angels escorting the princess and her other female companion into the gates of heaven, St. Peter welcoming them humbly with one of heaven's popular songs.

You were frozen, in shock. A chill went down your spine as you felt a foreign energy come closer.

You felt long fingers grapple themselves onto your shoulder which made you dramatically turn towards the hand and away from it.

Your father wanted to talk to you.

Your contrasting colors and appearances made this reunitement even more uncomfortable for you, his demon form seeming to match his disgusting self that he hid from the human world before.

His face was hard to read, especially with that signature smile of his that even in death he would never get rid of.

"Little one, my darling daughter.." he spoke, his voice seemingly trying to seem genuine but the radio filter over it made it feel condescending to you.. as if mocking you.

The look on your face was evident, you missed him so much but hated him with your entire being because of that hidden side he kept for years.

He continued "My little ____... out of all places I never thought I'd see you here. Oh but it's definitely much better than down under my little dove.."

Geez what was he even saying?? What were his intentions..?? You couldn't tell.. after all this time, you couldn't forgive this man, this serial killer, this demon, this.. monster. You couldn't.. not this soon anyways.

You took a deep inhale and exhale before fixing your posture and stance, trying to seem more professional and confident. "Sir, your hosts and companions are ahead of you. You wouldn't want to miss your introduction to a place you'll never see again after this day." Your voice stern and professional, trying your best to be void of emotion.

"Darling.. is that truly a way to greet your dear ol' father?" He spoke, hand stretched out while the other held onto his staff.

"Your friends are waiting on you, don't be late Alastor."

Just like that you turned your heel and gave him the cold shoulder, your wings spread and started flapping. Taking you up and away further into your home.. Alastor watched you as you left him once again, this time by choice.

Ah but he knew, he'd have his darling daughter back soon. His little angel that he cared for will forgive him.. he knew you had to.

With his grin widening even further he walked to catch up to the Princess of hell and her partner into the pearly gates, to see what other thing could entertain him while his daughter snapped back to her senses.

(hello!! thank you so much for reading I had a blast with this. as you can tell. once again thank you so much for reading! hope to see you soon! mwa mwa!)

[lookingformoondrop]

Hiiii! Thanks for writing for tcoal! If you have time can I get a yandere Andrew x reader? Thanks :)

Sure thing~ Once again, it seems highly unlikely that Ashley would let this obsession slide, so for the sake of the story, she's been bliped. Happy (late) Halloween! <3

Yandere! Andrew GravesxReader

TW: Yandere themes, possession, obsession, murder, implied kidnapping, intimidation, stalking, Andrew has a foul mouth (Y/N too), not proofread

♡1,438 WORDS♡

Andrew Graves has a mask.

It's a very well crafted mask that's used to blend in with his peers, his friends, his girlfriends, his parents, and even himself.

It covers the dark parts of Andrew that even himself is too terrified to look at.

For if you look into the abyss, it looks back at you.

But when he met you, swinging back and forth at the playground swing, he could've sworn he heard something crack.

You were beautiful.

As he watched you, with the breeze blowing at your cute overalls and baggy shirt, god, so pretty.

Your smile could open the gates of the heavens. Your laugh could make rainbows last, your tears would be prettier than diamonds, and you in his cage would bring him closer to your hell.

He couldn't help but imagine you as some sort of art. Something valuable that wasn't ever to be touched by another person. Only seen by him, just him.

His mask cracked the more he looked at you.

That day started a life-long obsession.

He would venture to that park a few more times after that, until eventually introducing himself to you. Naive you, who believed him to be a kind and stoic person.

You weren't wrong, but it was your fault for thinking that's all it was.

Even if Andrew never admitted it to himself, the thought of you being his and ONLY his made his heart flutter.

How when you breathed, when you walked, when you spoke, when you laughed, it would all belong to him.

Those thoughts kept him awake at night, even if a light blush would always dust his cheeks.

As time went on, he learned that his dakmfk thoughts that he pushed to the back of his mind would only resurface when a man talked to you. Even a father-figure was enough to put him in a foul mood.

Andrew didn't say anything, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his blood boil.

"Andy? Are you okay? You've been glaring at the ground even since we walked past Mr. Mancho."

"Why do you even like him? He's so...weird," Mr. Mancho was an innocent looking math teacher, one that always smiled at the students. And yet, Andrew hated the fact he smiled at Y/N...he didn't like that very much.

"Weird? He's been pretty nice to me...," You scratched your chin in deep thought, "do you not like Mr. Mancho?"

Andrew looked up at your doe eyes and heard something crack again,

"...he keeps looking at my things."

Andrew justified his growing hatred.

Even as you shrugged away his weird moods whenever you talked to cousins, friends, and teachers, Andrew never lacked as your friend.

Through every obstacle, he'd be there to help you jump over them. Although he'd complain about jumping in the first place, he'd never leave you.

He'd care about your issues, he'd care for your wounds, and he'd listen to your problems.

Especially when you were bullied.

The keyword here is 'were'.

While in school, a boy had groped you. When confronting him about what happened, his friend group laughed at you, claiming that you were just making shit up for attention.

This had made you cry when you got home.

Something that Andrew instantly knew about...somehow.

"Jesus Y/N, what happened?"

"S- Some boy touched me, and- h-he then said I was just making it up for attention! My friends all believed him a-and I," you broke down in sobs as your day was retold to your best friend.

As you continued to share your day with Andrew, he remained completely silent.

Several times throughout the call, you'd check if he was even still on. Still, when you called out for him, he'd answer with praise for trying to stand up for yourself, no matter what they had said to you.

You didn't know it then, but Andrew was squeezing his pack of cigarettes so hard that by the time he had gotten off the phone with you, they were all broken.

The next week, when you came to school, authorities were there questioning all the students. When they came to you, it was explained that the boy who groped you was killed and stuffed into his parent's basement freezer. Along with his friends, who all mysterious died in the forest, with some sort of satanic pentagon painted beneath their bodies.

You told the police you knew nothing, and all your friends who had doubted you came to you in an instant with apologies.

When you had told Andrew everything that happened he had only said,

"How strange."

As the years went on and you grew older, your friendship with Andrew always stayed strong.

Andrew would never say it, but when he kissed your cheek or patted your head, he was screaming,'I love you.'

But his dark thoughts, the ones he kept far back in his mind, would only double.

"Andy! Guess what happened today?"

"Hah?" Andrew turned his head from his spot on the couch.

"This cute boy at my job said he would love to take me out to dinner sometime!" You smiled brightly at the sly possibility that your bad streak with love would finally be over.

Every guy that ever walked into your life promptly bolted for the door the moment you opened it.

Andrew always told you that those guys just didn't appreciate you enough and that someone who bolted just like that was a quitter. Ashley?

But even then, you never gave up. Despite the long list of guys who ghosted you randomly.

"Oh...you said no, right? "

"What?" You walked over to Andrew from the door of the apartment. "Why would I say no...?"

Andrew looked at you with a dark shadow over his face, "Y/N, there are millions of creeps and perverts that are going to ask you out. They're only leering at you for your body."

You frowned at this notion,

"When you go to your next shift, tell him you don't want to anymore." Andrew thought for a moment and then shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

Andrew looked at your confused eyes.

"Just realized I have to get up early tomorrow to take out the trash."

When you went back to work the next day, he had quit just as suddenly.

Sad and upset over the millionth guy that ghosted and dumped you, you'd sulk to Andrew. Who would always make you warm cup of tea.

"Dumbass, you just keep picking quitters. It's not because of you."

"But Andy, I haven't had a boyfriend in years! At this point I'll die alone, probably with you right there to bury me with my hundreds of cats."

Andrew laughed at that and reached his arm around your shoulder.

"Just wait a little longer Y/N, I'm sure there's some jackass out there waiting for you."

"Yeah, right." You smiled at Andrew, "You're the only jackass I know, though. "

You leaned your head on Andrew's shoulder and began to fall to sleep rather quickly.

"The only...jackass...in my life... Andy, I'm sleepy."

Andrew took a sip of his tea and placed the cup far away from your drink.

"Rest Y/N. When you wake up, you'll have me right there besides you."

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, you're my best friend."

Andrew patted your hair as you drifted off to a drug-induced slumber.

"Yes, I'm your best friend," Andrew stared off to the distance as he thought about it.

"Soon, your only friend," He nodded at that statement, "Yes, the only friend you'll ever need."

His mask, although long forgotten, had finally cracked open.

You were his. Like a forbidden piece of art, it belonged to him. He was your painter, and as the painter, he declared you to be covered up. Only his retinas were allowed to peer at you.

It's your fault he went through all this effort to keep you safe. He's obligated as the painter to keep his art safe from dirty influences.

He's mildly disappointed in you whenever you speak to another man, but it's okay. It's his job after all to stalk the said man and hack his tongue off for even going to speak to you.

No matter how many guys he has to threaten, no matter how many people he's had to hack at, no matter how many people he's had to kidnap, it wasn't his fault.

It's yours.

All the blame is on his sweet, naive, poor, Y/N.

Still as innocent the day he found you at the playground.

"Still mine..." He mumbled as he stared at your sleeping face.

"Only mine."

Thanks for the ask!<3

[amjustagirl]

chapter 4

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 5k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

When you blink open your eyes, you find yourself back in the Hoshina family estate. 

The garden is exactly as you remember it. Bonsai trees, neatly manicured. The white gravel ocean raked with ripple lines. Heat shimmers off the ground, harsh summer sun bearing down on the tiled roof. A young man with dark hair and sad, violet eyes sits across you. 

“Soshiro”, you cry, fumbling to your feet. 

He looks right through you even when you’re standing right before him. 

He’s wearing the navy hakama he reserves for formal occasions, the family crest embroidered in gold thread on the back, a ceremonial katana strapped to his hip. Something’s about to happen, you realise, the compound bustling with servants carrying paper lanterns. No one pays you any notice as you float behind him down the familiar corridors of the house, a ghost. 

His father approaches, severe lines running through his forehead. “You know your duty”, he claps his son’s shoulder with a heavy hand. 

Soshiro’s shoulders slump, an invisible weight bearing down on him. 

His duty awaits outside the estate’s gates. 

A young woman, clearly noble born, waits for them to greet her with her chin in the air, dolled up in matrimonial white, surrounded by a retinue of servants. She tilts her chin higher to assess her groom as he offers her his arm before bowing her head demurely, letting him help her up the stairs. 

The sun in your eyes forces you to turn away. Another woman catches your gaze, the profile of her face backlit in the blue-grey dusk. Rough hands, a cheap, cotton yukata, she hides in the shade. Her anguish is apparent in the defeated curve of her mouth. 

She’s you, you realise, with even sadder eyes. 

This is a dream, you tell yourself. A shitty, crappy excuse of a dream that you probably caused by drinking one too many cans of beer. You really should take better to maintain a healthy REM cycle, maybe pick up some meditation or exercise, because heaven knows your psyche will suffer if your subconsciousness decides to torture you in your sleep too.  

You close your eyes. 

You still don’t find yourself back in your bed. Instead, the stench of manure hits you, then the scratch of straw under your feet. That sad girl - you, in another life perhaps, kneels before the same dark haired boy, Soshiro, still as a statue.  

“The horse is saddled. We can ride somewhere, far away where no one knows either of our names, leave all of this behind. You don’t have to get married to a woman you don’t love -” 

He’s carved of marble in the moonlight, doesn’t move to meet her gaze, not even when she tugs at his sleeve. “I am but a second son, but even I know my duty to my clan.” 

“And what about love?” she asks. “What about me?” 

Neither of them notice you when you tumble out of the stable into the night. But there’s nothing but darkness looming before you, the moon nowhere to be seen, and when you turn back, the stable has disappeared. In its place, a familiar, wooden hut, where a fire grows. The heat of the forge stings your face, ash flying, the smell of burning steel in the air. 

This time, Soshiro’s in the lacquered leather of a samurai warrior from centuries past. “Is it ready?” he directs his question at the woman in the forge. 

Wordlessly, she hands him the sword in her hand, red hot from hammer and tongs. He weighs it in his hand, swings it once, twice, flashing quicksilver in the dim light of the blacksmith’s forge. You recognise the blade. You’ve seen it hung up in one of many sitting rooms in the Hoshina estate, captioned as belonging to a Hoshina ancestor who never returned home. 

You understand why her voice quivers when she calls out to him before he leaves. “My lord”, she says. “Will you ever lay down your sword?” 

“Perhaps in another life”, he replies. 

In the shadow of the forge, the violets in his eyes wither and die. 

You cannot bear to watch this play out before you again and again, a twisted loop you’re powerless to stop. There is nothing you can do to shock yourself awake, a ghost in every lifetime you freefall through, so bone weary, you stop running, sink to your knees. Wherever you are, the nightmares stop once you close your eyes. The damp grass is cool against your back, the darkness becomes soothing. It’s easy to lose yourself to a deep, undisturbed sleep. 

(wake up) 

The thrum of your heartbeat starts to still. You think you hear a faint echo. It sounds like Soshiro.

For the first time in your life, you hesitate to answer. 

(please, wake up)

“But it’s comfortable here”, you say to no one at all. “I’m so tired.” 

The neverending grind of work, of long hours spent hunched over glowering flames and complicated weapon blueprints. The dull ache of heartbreak, the painful lesson of learning to be okay alone. 

“Let me sleep”, you whisper. 

The darkness holds you close, blankets you. It’s too easy to let yourself just be, no one to disappoint, no one who disappoints. You let yourself be pulled beneath the tide, the endless ebb and flow lulling you into a dreamless slumber. 

Perhaps you could be content like this. 

Perhaps not. You think of the menagerie of plants you’ve gathered, they depend on you for food and water. There’s a pottery class on Sunday that you’ve been excited to attend, an abstract pot that you want to attempt. You’re supposed to meet your mother for tea, you’re looking forward to feasting on peaches, in season in the dying weeks of summer. 

Your eyelids are still heavy with the weight of sleep, but you force them open. A streak of pain that shoots through your right side, but you slowly sit up anyway. A sea of hydrangeas,  shimmering violet-blue in the early morning light stretches before you.

An achingly familiar voice calls your name. You lift your face to meet the rising sun, feeling its warmth flicker through you. 

Your heart begins to hum. 

You’re not in your own bed when you crack your eyes open. 

The room is too white, too pin-neat. There are clear tubes running from your arms, bandages restricting even your slightest movement, not that you really can do much other than shift about the too-narrow bed you’ve found yourself in, the sudden brightness disorienting you. 

“Oh!”, an unfamiliar voice exclaims. “Call the doctor, she’s awake!” 

Your head threatens to split open. It hurts too much to stay awake. 

You fall back into a dreamless sleep.

You drift in and out of consciousness after that, the pull of sleep still irresistible, but you stay awake for longer periods of time. Doctors poke and prod at you, nurses fuss over you. It’s hard to recall any conversations you have during this time, your memories melding almost into your dreams. 

People ask you questions about your name, your age, where you’re from. It feels as if you’re stuck underwater, it’s a struggle to gasp for enough air at times to answer them, but you think you find enough brain cells to rub together in the cotton wool jumble in your head, mumble the right answers so they go away. 

Your parents show up to visit you. 

‘’Llo”, you mutter. Your father looks strangely old, your mother tired. 

You’re pleased that your mother brings chopped peaches for you, less so when you realise you have no ability to swallow solid food just yet. They disappear for a hushed conversation with the doctors, leaving you with little distraction so you drop back off to sleep. 

The next time you wake, the room is dark. 

Even in the dim glow of machines beeping, you make out the faint outline of a boy you know too well, curled up uncomfortably in a plastic chair. “S‘ro”, you mumble, half asleep. 

A flurry of movement. He appears by your uninjured side, staring at you wide-eyed, as if he doesn’t believe you won’t disappear. You wonder if he’s another figment of your dreams because he stands so still drinking his fill of you, until he remembers to breathe again. 

“Hey”, he says hoarsely.

“Mmph”, you grunt. In your vague, rambling train of thoughts, you register surprise that he’s even here. “S’ work?”

His laugh is wet. “Are you seriously askin’ me ‘how’s work’ right now?” 

You frown. Why - why is Soshiro even here? 

“I’m here for you, silly”, a warm hand settles on your left arm. “Go back to sleep. I’ll seeya later.” 

You start to stay awake for longer stretches at a time. 

Your parents gently fill you in on your situation. You were touch and go for a while, your mother recounts tearfully, your head injury making the doctors doubt you’d ever wake. You had to be cut open to stop internal bleeding in your gut, fix a multitude of shattered bones in your right hip and leg. Burns, on your shoulder and arm which required skin grafts, extensive medication to keep infection at bay. 

Everyone treats you like you’re made out of glass even as your condition steadily improves, aided by the wonders of kaiju regenerative technology. Your parents fuss over you like a child, tucking you in too tight beneath starched hospital sheets. The nurses refuse to let you shower, only allowing you sponge baths which you detest. 

Soshiro’s the worst of the lot. 

At first it's endearing how protective and sweet he is. The doctors give him a wide berth, most of the nurses terrified of him, though he swears that he’s been utterly polite when you question him about it. He doesn’t allow you to do anything yourself, not even hold your own cup of water when you drink. Your bedside is overflowing with colourful greeting cards, half of them signed by him, and he brings you a fresh bouquet of flowers during each visit. 

“That boy is besotted with you”, one of the nurses who isn’t intimidated by Soshiro trills in with her unsolicited opinion. “It’s adorable.” 

He’s not”, you deny, frowning. “We’re just friends.”  

It’s a little too much. The only visitor who doesn’t smother you is Sochiro, who snaps back to his usual self the minute you show a little of your usual snark. “Did you break your head too?” you ask, when he arrives bearing a hamper of fruit. 

“Impertinent brat”, he snaps back. “I’ll have you know my father put me up to this.” 

You grin. “I suppose that’s where your brother got his manners from. Pity you don’t have any.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t storm out of the room. Instead, he brandishes a small, silver knife and starts peeling fruit. “I never wanted a younger sibling”, he grouses. “Should’ve dropped Soshiro in the drain the minute he was born, then I’d never have to deal with your smart mouth -.” 

“Aww”, you coo. “Hoshina Sochiro, Captain of the Sixth Division, getting soft in your old age.” 

“Shut it”, he snaps, while stuffing perfect wedges of fruit into your palm. 

It reminds you of the easy friendship you had with Soshiro, not the way he’s behaving, almost as if he feels anything more than friendship for you - which he’s confirmed to your face that he mostly does not. It confuses you, the tender way he treats you, the lingering stares when he thinks you’re asleep, and you much prefer him to go back to the way he was before. 

“Stop it!” you finally burst, when his smothering becomes too overwhelming. “Treat me like your friend - not like I’m some glass figurine you’re trying to keep safe.”

A plastic chair screeches back. He stares at you. “Do you even realise how close you were to dyin’?” 

“Sorta”, you reply, though some gaps remain empty in your memories, “but I’m okay now, and ‘sides, what happened was just bad luck -”

“No it wasn’t just luck”, he replies. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Something shutters behind his eyes. “It’s my fault you’re hurt.” He angles himself away from you. “I crashed into your building.” 

“The kaiju threw you into the building”, you correct. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He lunges forward to grip your bed rail, his sudden intensity scaring you. “I could’ve been the cause of you dyin’-”

“My head’s pretty hard”, you try to diffuse the building tension with a joke. “Would take more than a fallin’ building to kill me.”

He makes a strangled sound of outrage in his throat. “Don’t. Just - don’t.” 

His tone is devoid of its usual lightness. He’s - he’s angry, scared, face twisting into a scowl, body coiling, as if preparing for an attack. “You’re upset”, you murmur. “Don’t be.” 

“You could’ve died.”

“Hey”, you beckon him forward, lifting your uninjured hand off the bed to place it on top of his. He grasps at it, a drowning man clutching at a lifeline. 

“It’s okay”, you say gently. “I’m okay.” 

“Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“I’ll try my best”, you offer. 

An angry sound escapes through his clenched jaw, his face strained. You brush the skin of his wrist with your thumb until the too-quick staccato of his pulse steadies. 

“Go to sleep”, he finally says. “Just stay safe.” 

After that, something shifts. Soshiro resumes the mantle of his chaotic, goofy self. 

“I’m gonna yell at you when you’re better”, Soshiro huffs the next time he visits. “A daikaiju -it was a nine on the fortitude scale, y’know - decides to attack near you, and you not only choose to stay put, you run back into a collapsing building for whatever reason -” 

“I was trying to save some of the blades -” 

“How about you focus on savin’ your own damn skin -” 

You sniff, deliberately closing your eyes. “I’m going back to sleep.” 

“Oi”, he grounds out. “Stop pretendin’.” 

The reappearance of the playful banter you’re used to sharing with him puts you back at ease. “Don’t you need to sleep too?” you ask, staring pointedly at the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “In a bed, not a hospital chair that’s going to give you a crooked neck.” 

“S’fine”, he always replies. “Still way more comfortable than sleepin’ out in a forest durin’ kaiju hunts.” 

“Still”, you insist. “You don’t have to visit me so often. I know how busy you are with work.” 

He squints at you. “Do you not want me to be here?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it -”

“Sometimes work can take a backseat.” 

You beckon him forward, place a hand against his forehead. “No fever”, you pronounce. “That’s odd -  the Hoshina Soshiro I know would never say that unless his mind is addled by illness-” 

He pulls away with a splutter, cheeks a furious pink. 

But awkward moments like this remain, no matter how much you try to keep your conversations light, breezy. There’s a tension Soshiro carries, especially apparent in the broad lines of his shoulders. He’s nervy, jumpy almost, the unguarded hitch in his breath when he draws in just a little too close. There’s something he’s keeping in, deep inside his chest that keeps trying to explode out of him whenever he’s not careful. 

There’s a glimpse of that when you tell him of your plan to move back to Osaka to continue recuperating under your parents’ roof. You’ll miss your apartment where you navigated much of your young adult life, the routines you’ve built for yourself. But you’re tired of living in the hospital, sleeping on a too-hard bed, without much privacy from nurses who pop in and out of your room at odd hours at all times. Your parents agree to ferry you to check-ups and appointments, and they even got your brother to transport your plants to make you feel more at home. 

“You’re not leavin’ for good, surely”, he frowns. 

“I’m not sure”, you shrug. “Izumo Tech does have offices in Osaka, and there isn’t much tying me to Tokyo anymore. 

There’s a sudden lull in the conversation as Soshiro falls silent, face stricken. He opens his mouth as if to speak, once, twice, before shutting it deliberately,  Then his face slackens into a childish pout. 

“Don’t go”, he whines. “Who would I hang out with when I’m off-duty?” 

Caught off guard from this sudden change in mood, you refrain from pointing out that you’d each taken turns to studiously ignore the other before. “You’ll survive”, you pat his hand. “And, on the rare occasions you actually find the time away from work, you’re always welcome to visit me in Osaka.” 

“I will”, he replies, so seriously that your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“I doubt you’ll get enough time off work”, you brush him off lightly before changing the subject. 

You don’t expect him to visit, not when Osaka is two and a half hours away from Tokyo on the shinkansen, but he turns up at the doorstep of your parents’ apartment with roses, dusty pink like the flush up his neck. 

“Hoshina-kun”, your mother exclaims. “Come on in!”

Something is up. Your mother bustles around, ushers him into your room, lays out before him an offering of cut fruit. Surprised at the tableau before you, you blink, looking up from your book. 

“Don’t you have to work?” 

“I do have days off, y’know.” He says, easing you into your wheelchair. 

“Thought you said killing kaijus isn’t a nine to five job”, you remind him pertly. 

He tweaks your nose. “Don’t be smart”, his eyes crinkle as he laughs, rolling you out of the confines of your parent’s house to a nearby park to enjoy the crisp cool autumn breeze, settling you down in the shade beneath a sprawling gingko tree. 

“Well, how’s work?” 

He considers you with a sideways glance. “I refuse to answer”, he says primly. “If I do, you’ll make use of it to accuse me of being obsessed with my job.”

“Aren’t you?” 

“This is exactly what I mean”, he throws his hands out dramatically. “Shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here -” 

“Actually”, you tease. “Isn’t the train fare really expensive? Can you afford that on your pay?” 

“The Defense Force’s generous enough to give me food, clothing and a roof over my head”, he replies drolly. “So I think my bank account can take the occasional hit.” Then, he shoots another mock glare your way. “Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about work or anything related to work.” 

“Then I guess there’s nothing else to talk about”, you tap your chin thoughtfully. 

“Idiot”, he wrinkles his nose. “We haven’t even talked about how you’re doing.” 

“Me?” 

Exaggeratedly, he takes a look around. “I don’t see anyone else I could be askin’ about -” 

“You wanna hear about my boring doctor appointments?” 

His eyes are wide, earnest. “I wanna hear about everything.” 

The sudden seriousness of his demeanour catches you off-kilter. Haltingly you tell him about the long check-ups that take hours, the doctors being optimistic about your progress, the physiotherapy sessions you’ve started. You’re slowly starting to walk again, a few steps at a time, giving you hope that you’ll be on your own two feet by the time of your brother’s wedding at the end of fall, even if you have to rely a little on crutches. 

“I’m talking too much”, you say, looking down at your lap. 

“Don’t stop”, he urges. “Keep talkin’.” 

A snort. “You’re gonna get sick of the sound of my voice”, 

“What a silly thing to say”, his gaze holds yours, steady, sure. 

There’s something impossibly soft in his eyes, a tenderness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t dare to put a name to it yet, don’t even dare to look too closely at it lest you lose yourself to daydreams that can’t possibly be true. Yet, in the purpling dusk, even though the seasons dictate that there be no summer flowers this late in the fall, there’s a bud of hope in your heart that starts to unfurl, petal by petal, twining itself between the ribs of your chest. 

(i like you)

(i’m sorry)

You remind yourself that your heart is not quite healed. Stitches remain, fleshy scars pink and raised. Ventricles working overtime to compensate for the damage he’s wrought just months prior. Mercilessly, you prune those hopes like unwanted weeds, chopping away at errant stems and leaves. 

“I’m tired”, you break away from his gaze. “Shall we call it a day?” 

He makes it difficult for you to safeguard your heart. 

Once a week, he makes the trek from Tokyo to Osaka without fail, appearing at your parents’ door with a bouquet of flowers and a bag bursting with fruit, whatever is in season - peaches and peonies, apples and chrysanthemums. Picnics when it’s sunny, cafes or supermarkets when it rains. Your mother has a sudden change of heart regarding him, always asking you when he’s coming to take you out next.  

“Seriously, don’t you have work?” you demand. “You can’t keep coming down here, it’s ridiculous.” 

“Is it?” he asks quietly. 

“It is”, you reply. “It’s a waste of your time and money.” 

With careful, calloused fingers, he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. “What must I do to make you believe it’s really, really not.” 

You flinch, cramming your thrumming heart back into the confines of your chest. “You’re ridiculous”, you say as calmly as you can. If your leg weren’t still broken, you’d flee in the other direction, put as much distance as you can between you and Hoshina Soshiro, for fear of losing your heart again to him. 

He’s relentless, a quality that makes him an excellent swordsman and soldier, though it does not bode well for your heart. You spend the next few weeks keeping your conversations light, unsentimental, refusing to allow that unnamed emotion budding  in his eyes flourish any further, he remains undeterred. You catch him watching you sometimes, with something you don’t dare to name that bleeds into you, spreading the seeds of hope deep in your gut.  

“I’ll be back next week to see you”, he always says. “Stay safe.”

You should tell him to leave you alone, let you replant your heart in another pot, give it a chance to learn to stop looking towards him for his light. But the words choke in your throat, and it’s all you can do to look the other way. 

You don’t get any respite even at your own brother’s wedding. 

It’s too large, too crowded an occasion, your parents booking out a banquet hall in an upscale hotel to cram in their swarms of guests. As the younger sister of the groom, you’re expected to greet each and every guest, thank them for their attendance even if you’d much rather be at home, warm and snug in bed. Instead, your head threatens to split open, your hip’s on the verge of falling apart. You curse your stubbornness in insisting against bringing your wheelchair, the crutches you lean on cutting into the tender flesh of your underarms.  

“Did anyone tell you that you look beautiful tonight?” 

As it was in your dreams, he’s in a haori, deep blue with golden thread, but this time he looks right at you. Your mouth goes dry and you can’t seem to swallow your heart back down your throat. 

“Save your flirting for my cousins”, you retort, turning away. “They’re all aflutter at meeting you tonight.” 

He doesn’t let you flee. An arm loops around your waist, sears through the silk layers of your kimono and smoulders. “You’re cranky cos you’re tired, so let me help you.” 

You blame your capitulation on the absence of your wheelchair, not because you’re light headed from the sudden surge of helpless affection in your gut, as much as you refuse to allow yourself to believe his words. You let him steer you into your seat, palm flat against your back, heat suffusing into your skin. 

“I’ll be here if you need me”, he says simply. 

You don’t need him, you want to say, you can’t, but your mouth can’t seem to form the words when he leans in, tucks a stray strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, his touch feather light. 

“Vice Captain Hoshina!?” As you foresaw, a gaggle of younger cousins goggle at him, drag him away for selfies and autographs. You don’t get a chance to speak with him again once the wedding starts, the seating plan placing him with his parents and other business associates of your parents, a few tables away.  

The sheer scale and grandeur of your brother’s wedding isn’t what you’d have chosen for yourself, the cavernous ballroom feeling too large and impersonal, speeches dragging on for too long, but your brother and your new sister seem to radiate contentment, though you suspect the champagne toasts might have helped. 

As the sister of the groom, you’re the target of your older aunts’ inquiry as to ‘when it’s your turn next’, never mind that you burrow into your seat, trying to disappear from sight, and when that fails miserably, try to divert their attention to anything, anyone but yourself. If you had full use of your legs, you’d make a hasty retreat by now, but you’re so painfully slow on your crutches that you’re sure even the oldest grandma questioning you on your dating status (or lack thereof) would be able to catch up with you. 

“Ladies”, a smooth voice cuts in. “How are you all doin’ tonight?” 

A boyish smile with a cheeky snaggletooth works wonders on elderly ladies, you learn. It gives you the chance to slip away to the bathroom, splash water on your face, shackle your heart back in place. 

This brief reprieve doesn’t last long. Soshiro emerges from the shadows, pushing off the wall to pad quietly behind you. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand. “You should be back inside -” 

“I’m here to make sure you’re safe”, he replies. “Unless you don’t want me to make sure you don’t fall and crack your pretty head open?”  

“Stop it”, you say crossly, your crutches clacking loudly on the floor as you speed up, trying to put some distance between you two. “You’re giving everyone the wrong impression.” 

He follows right on your heels. “Perhaps I’m givin’ the right impression -” 

“Just  - just stop, Soshiro.” 

You burst through glass doors to push your way onto the open rooftop in the hope that the nighttime air will cool the heat rising in your cheeks, but you miss your step, crutches sliding on marble tiles and oof - 

Warm arms wrap tightly around you. You tell yourself it’s the shock of your almost-fall that makes you sag against a broad, lean chest, compliantly allowing Soshiro to tuck your face into his shoulders, settle an arm beneath your thighs, carrying you over onto a seat. A thick, rich fabric rests on your shoulders - his haori, you realise, the warmth from his body seeping into your skin. 

“Are you hurt?” he drops to one knee in front of you. 

The intensity of his gaze flays your chest open, exposing your beating heart, its stitches frayed. The spectre of the girl with sad eyes haunts you, leaving you terrified that you’ll suffer the same fate as her in this lifetime too. 

“I need you to stop”, you shove him back, a trapped animal brandishing its claws. “I want you to leave me alone. I don’t want your pity -” 

“Pity?!” he falls back on his haunches, gaping at you, incredulous. “Is that what you think it is?” 

“What else could it be?” you demand wetly, eyes stinging. “Nevermind, I changed my mind, I don’t want to know -” 

“Haven’t I made it obvious these past few months?” he asks, and you shake your head stubbornly, no. “What I feel for you - I’ve been goin’ crazy from the moment they told me a buildin’ fell on your head, so fuckin’ terrified I was goin’ to lose you just as I realised how stupid I’ve been -” 

Your head swims. “I don’t -” 

“I’ve loved you since I was eight. I just didn’t realise it til I nearly lost you.” 

You push aside the clouds of anger and fear blurring your vision. You see Hoshina Soshiro kneeling before you, slicing his chest open with your blade to reveal his heart, pressing it bloodied and beating into your waiting hands. 

In this lifetime, in this moment, he is yours and you are his.  

There is no guarantee that this will remain. Duty will always call upon him, and he will answer without fail. That is his destiny, as much as he is yours. Realisation crashes into you, relentless waves pulling you underwater. You will have to share him with the rest of Japan, possibly the world. This too shall end, be it tomorrow or years down the road if fate smiles down on you both. 

But even if his heart belongs to you for no more than a day, it’s enough. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

“You love me.” 

“Yeah”, he murmurs, moving so impossibly close that you see the violets in the depths of his eyes in full bloom. “And I kinda think you love me too.” 

Instead of answering, you tug him towards you, tangle your fingers in dark hair, let your lips press against the seam of his lips. He doesn’t give you the chance to breathe, arm curling around your waist, his hand cupping your face so he can tilt your chin up to pour himself into you. You drink him in, greedy to take what you can get, mouth open against his, lost to the raging current of want, of love that pulls you beneath the waves. 

“I think I do”, you say softly.  

Hoshina Soshiro smiles at you, wider and brighter than the moon. 

a/n: i hope this chapter soothes the anxiety from last week heh :>

squeal at me pls! muacks always <3

[seneon]

IN MEMORY, YOU LIVE ──── ghost¡touya × fem¡reader.

about. in which, the dead lives by the memories of the living, and you're here to remember his soul. touya is deceased soldier from WWII. reader is a christian who prays. this is a bittersweet romance with religious themes, japanese culture, and lots of dialogues. touya might be ooc in some parts. inspired by coco and a whisker away. wc of 3100+

notes. in commemoration of all souls day, in which i celebrate. honestly i wrote this after remembering a sunday school class i had about purgatory and prayers LMAO. so it's kinda self indulgent. i miss my grandfather dawg.

THE SUN KISSED YOUR SKIN as your eyes are shielded shut from the bright sunlight. with your palms pressed against each other and your thumbs making a small cross, prayers ran down your tongue in a quiet voice.

time isn't of essence. it never was, especially when you spend your time praying. forget about time whenever you pray, it was never important. they could drag out to minutes and to hours and you would forget all about time as if it never existed in the first place.

with your knee that started to numb after having kneeled on one cold pavement for so long, you finally moved to sit, your eyes slowly opening to land on the tomb laid out right in front of you.

it's an unknown tomb, belonging to a soul whose history or family you do not know of. there's only a name, dates, and a simple insignia of the military carved onto the stone of the tomb.

touya todoroki, the name bearer of this tomb.

this disheveled tomb is covered in nothing but mere grass and dirt that stains it dirty. you tried your best to clean it up. it seems it's been here for a few decades and no one in his lineage exists to care for it anymore.

what a bittersweet ending. a soldier of the military army decades ago is left to rot in his grave and to have his existence wiped off from the face of the earth. not even an image of him continues to live on in this world.

touya todoroki must be sad to be forgotten.

“. . . . all this i ask through Christ my Lord, amen,” you gave the grave a little bow before signing a cross to end the prayer. then for the rest of the morning up until the twelfth hour, you sit in silence to gaze upon the tomb of this forgotten man, soft strings of words flows out.

heaven knows why you are so attached to this specific tomb. you remembered it as clear as day— how you happen to be walking by in boredom after praying to your deceased ancestors for all souls day. your feet carried you to the path back home, but it felt as if your soul was being pulled by the strings of the tomb bearer.

curiousity strikes you in that moment, like a spear that was driven through your chest to keep you steady. this man— touya todoroki, his tomb and the area is so unkempt you knew it was untouched for decades. he must've lost all ties with his family.

it's the fourteenth hour now. you've eaten your fair share while absentmindedly staring at the grave of the unknown. to not come across as rude to the dead, you left a fresh box of soba noodles and a clean set of chopsticks beside the candles which had been melted over the course of a few hours.

“i bid you good-bye now, mr touya todoroki,” you softly said and stood up to brush the cemetery dirt off your clothes. with one last glance that promises the dead that you will return for the next visit, you turned your feet away.

yet you could not even blink. not even a second passed. it felt as if the speed of light did not exist at that moment. your footsteps walked into a world that did not exist before up until a few milliseconds ago.

your heart fell from a cliff into a pit of fear as you are now greeted with a rather mountainous view. fogs and mists veil the atmosphere, along with a single torii gate in sight as your eyes travel everywhere but behind you.

all because you felt a presence right where your blind spot is. a presence so heavy that you felt eyes burning into your clothes to carve your bare skin with piercing eyes underneath with its gaze.

“leaving so soon?” a deep voice echoes through your ears as you slowly turn your head at where you heard the voice coming from. your throat is dry as your sights are landed on a man sitting on the tomb of touya todoroki, the deceased soldier who has no more place in this world.

“g-get off there,” you choked out, fingers curling to compress any visible fear that might crawl up to twitch at your nerves.

the man simply tilts his head at your words. he's so attractive, handsome. your very first few thoughts about this mysterious man. white hair, scars that gnaws deep into his skin, that turquoise eyes.

if anything, this man is the epitome of magazine beauty. his choice of clothing is odd though, who still wears army clothing these days?

“and why should i get off?”

“because that grave belongs to somebody.”

a chuckle escapes from that man's lips as he leaned his arms on his knees, eyes digging his existence into your presence. “i am that somebody. this is my grave. don't you see that? you talk to me all the time when you come to this shitty graveyard.”

“you're ly—”

“you just prayed for my forgotten soul, sat down, and stared to me for at least two hours. what lie are you speaking of?”

your silence hugs you tight as his words slowly sinks into your mind, finding solace in your soul as you tilted your own head and let out a small “oh.”

“mr touya todoroki? why are you visible, and speaking to me now?”

curiousity clearly reeks in your question and tone as the said man stood up from his tomb, his figure enveloping you as if you are nothing but a mere rat when a cat is chasing your tail.

“because… sweet praying girl, you're either dead, or in the process of dying.”

where's the sun when you need it to give you a sweet, warm hug? where's the brightness of the day that kisses your skin so gently? where is the light of day in this foggy, misty area?

when you looked behind touya, only his grave seemed to exist in this cold, mountainous place. the same old grave that you always sit or squat in front of to offer up the humblest of prayers. you don't even know this soul, yet you still pray for his soul to be free and for God's mercy to be poured upon touya.

now the utter reality is slowly being punctured into your mind. it felt like rocks being thrown at your head, then boulders slowly falling down the top of the mountain to crush your skull as reality sets in.

“walk with me as i brief you about the land of the dead. well at least, this land of the dead belongs to the eastern asians. explains why it's all fogs and mists and mountains,” touya walked ahead of you, his hand moving to wear his military cap, covering his beautiful white hair.

you could recognise that cap anywhere. it's the pillar of a japanese soldier's uniform. the star in the middle is all you needed to know that this man is of honour. or at least, honourable in some ways.

“when you say i’m either dead or dying, how do i know of it? what does that even mean?” your feet carried you to walk beside touya.

“if you're dead, you'd know what impacted you at the last second before you wake up here. when you're dying, you're connected to the dead. heavily connected.”

the dead man walks through a forest. he seems to know so much of this place, having spent probably decades in this afterlife. his presence is quite strong, you can feel him as if he were a real, living being. touya seems to read your mind with your little analysis.

“your prayers have brought me back,” touya said and held up a falling tree branch, ushering you to walk ahead before he went after you and dropped his hands.

“how? also, i don't think i have been impacted. i simply took a step away from your grave and suddenly i’m met with this .. mysteriously new place.”

the man proceeds his journey ahead, leading you to wherever he desires as you follow behind, millions of questions swarming your mind.

“when you die, you live again in the afterlife with the memories of you back in the living world. if nobody remembers you, you disappear for some shitty reason. and why you are here? well i don't know. figure it out yourself as you spend the rest of your day here.”

touya's chin gestured towards the clearing of view from the forest. it's now set into a view of a busy village. it's still afternoon, you supposed, since the day is still bright and just a tad bit warmer now than the mountain.

as rural as it can get, everyone who exists in this moment seemed to wear clothing throughout history, some even foreign to you.

there's a descending staircase that seemed to stretch on forever. yet touya still walks down anyways, expecting you to trail behind him as he leads you into this village that has buildings and homes stacked up everywhere.

there's a tree, similar to yggdrasil of the norse, the tree of life. which is connected to the heavens and earth. this tree, however, seems to provide shelter for every soul wandering into the land of the dead.

“it's like… a super duper big treehouse…” you murmured under your breath, taking in the sight of this worldly view as you descended the staircase and slowly presented yourself to the afterlife.

“it's where the dead people live. unlike the mexican afterlife which has sprinting colours and music and all the cultural stuff, we have a rather calming afterlife. just like how every eastern asians prefers it.”

after what felt like over a decade of descending, your footsteps came to a halt. first step onto the ground, and the sky is all dark with warm lights that emitted the atmosphere. it was breathtaking. that was all it meant to you and all you could say in this moment. your eyes widened in awe, lips curving upwards in a huge smile.

at first, you expected to be greeted with the agonising pain of tiredness from descending, but there was only peace and tranquility. this scenery that brought you all kinds of warmth on the inside had sucked in any negativity you were feeling— both physically and mentally.

“dead people things,” touya reminded you as he marched forward to immediately blend into the crowd of dead souls and busy streets. “mr touya, wait!”

“catch up, praying girl. or i’ll lose you easily,” he glanced back, and his words went straight to your heart. they're meant to mean that he'll lose you easily in the crowd and this busy afterlife, but to you it sounded more personal. like when you were leaving his grave just a moment ago but ended up here.

you apologised and quickly went to his side to hold his sleeves so your distance wouldn't be separated again. touya's traditional, you assumed, since he's not the type to let girls hang on his sleeves.

he must be quite reserved and stoic back in history, considering the way he tugged you off his sleeves to hold your hands in a loose grip instead. “don't let go,” he said as you nodded in compliance, squeezing his hands a little tighter as touya led you through the bustling streets.

the two of you walked, walked, and walked for what seemed like forever in this solace of a giant tree until he stopped in front of the foot of the giant tree. you paused to admire the size for a moment, the roots spreading down into the earth and possibly even touching the opening of hell.

touya walked, and you followed, approaching the edge of a big lake that surrounded the tree as if to protect it. much to your displeasure, he unhooked his hands from you, leaning down to look at his reflection at the surface of the lake. you followed him, looking at your own reflection, before stealing a glance at his reflection.

such a reflection that speaks of sorrow and silent suffering. it tugs at your heartstrings how a soul could look so sad.

“sit down,” touya says, and you obey to sit with him on the grass, gazes still locked onto yourselves in the water.

“this is the lake of prayers. it's where every prayer ever said to a soul is stored,” he explains. “each soul has a colour assigned to you. it wraps around the prayers like a glowing ball of light.”

“what is your colour, then?”

touya leans forward to dip his fingers into the waters. very quickly, a small amount of ball-like glows of turquoise surfaced from the bottom to surround his fingers, gently dancing in the water. he then caught a glow and allowed the ball-like shape to melt in his palms.

words fell onto his palm, overflowing onto the grass as your voice filled both your ears, causing your eyes to slightly widen.

“it's my voice..” you trailed off and touched the grass where your prayers have spilled onto.

“yes. your voice. your prayers,” he allows the ball to fully melt before he reaches into the waters to take out a few more, all of them melting onto the grass. and all of them echo the faint sound of your voice. down until the last glow.

“they're all your prayers,” turquoise eyes attempt to seek comfort in your own eyes as you look at the todoroki. “you're the only living being that prayed for me,” touya's voice drops to a whisper and you frown at his words.

lonely soldier whom no other living being prayed for, touya todoroki. his existence is only relevant after so long where you randomly stumbled upon his disheveled grave.

“but that's— that's not fair,” your reply is soft, and touya finds that comforting. “why, mr touya? this is awfully sad.”

“it isn't when you serve in the military and die in war. all you get is a name on your tombstone. they won't even retrieve your body from the battlefield.”

you watched as the man closes his fist after all the words have melted and he dips his whole hand into the waters to wash off the words.

“as i said before, i was about to fade away in forgotten memories, but you, sweet praying girl. you brought me back here.”

there's an unexplainable feeling that starts to swell deep inside your heart at this man's words. he's a random soul you just happen to keep praying for when you pass by his grave. it looked like nobody prays for him, so you took up the simple act of doing so.

but to hear as he utters such words out from his mouth, it makes you want to clench at your heart and squeeze it until it explodes.

“this isn't heaven or hell, right?” your question makes touya nod. “this is purgatory. the waiting room that lies between heaven and hell. this is where all prayers are heard, and where all sins and judgements are accessed. this is the garden for sinners.”

“how long have you been here?”

“longer than i could count.”

his hands are retrieved from the waters as he flicks them dry, shifting just a bit so he sits next to you with his gaze on the tree. “its not very nice to be forgotten. especially if you're the last one standing on the battlefield before being betrayed by your own army.”

you glanced at him. “betrayed by your own army…?”

“i’m a colonel, serving as the leader of my regiment. touya todoroki, as you know. to lead my regiment onto the battlefield and to be the last man standing before the other colonels strikes you down is hell. these scars all over me will always be a painful memory. i hate them.”

just a few minutes with touya was all it took to know all about him and his life. what a truly sorrowful story his life has led him on. the more you listen, the more your heart twists with sympathy.

he was a soul you didn't even know existed, yet now as he speaks of this large tree of life that rests, you can't help but feel the desperate need to embrace him. so as he runs his mouth, you shift close to wrap your arms around him, cradling his head to your chest like he is a child of some sort.

to feel a hug in what felt like an eternity definitely has touya freezing in shock, eyes widening as he stops speaking.

“it's okay,” you whispered, and he crumbled beneath you, his body melting into your warm embrace and his eyes shutting to wrap his own arms around your figure.

“nobody deserves to be forgotten. that's for sure. even in life or death, no one should be left alone,” you softly said, words wrapping around touya like a comforting veil as he lets your voice bring him to his own peace and tranquility.

when your fingers weaved themselves into his soft and snowy white hair, he let out a contented hum. it's so overwhelming for him that he can do nothing but bask in your sweet comforting embrace. you feel like your prayers which have been uttered to him back in the world of the living.

touya feels as if he doesn't need to wait for another eternity in purgatory just to disintegrate into nothing anymore.

“what's your name? touya asks you as he stands across from you. it's hours later, you believe, and you're back at where you first stepped foot in.

“it's y/n,” you replied, and he nodded. his fingers slithered to curl around your fading ones, having spent so long on this other side has caused your existence to be comfortable as if you are one of the dead. his thumbs brushes against your knuckles before he steps closer to lean to your level.

“thank you, y/n. for everything,” he leans close to gently press his lips onto yours before pulling away, a smile forming onto his scarred face. his fingers uncurled and he gently pushes you towards the torii gate.

“go. the living awaits you.”

you looked at him one last time before smiling on your own. “i won't ever forget you, touya. it's a promise. i hope to see you again.”

“me too. farewell now, y/n. and thank you again.”

as you step through the torii gate, the scene of the misty mountain disappears into the living world where the graveyard still exists. your eyes immediately travelled back to touya's place of resting, feeling a small smile forming on your face.

your fingers which have gone back to normal gently touched his tomb, letting your touch linger for a moment before you leaned down to kiss his tombstone, saying your farewells before walking away.

the memories of touya todoroki lives on, along with the lingering kiss on your lips which makes your eyes grow glossy at those memories. it appears your soul is just very attached to his, granting you one visit before touya takes his next step in the afterlife.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[vikkirosko]

I saw that your request box is open and I've been wanting to ask

can I request platonic! Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Alastor and Lucifer coming across a child fem! reader after she bumped into them and falling onto the sidewalk and start profusely apologizing for accidentally into them while looking incredibly scared and frightened just then they realized that the child had black wings and seeing that they are wearing a white dress that only angels would wear and fairly realized the reader was a fallen angel soon when taken to the hotel and ask how did she ended up in hell, the reader first looked very hesitant to explain but slowly open up about how they were casted out of heaven for not following the strict rules properly and that the higher upside expected angels to be perfect and flawless that no mistakes should be made even minor ones and child fem! reader felt incredibly pressured and anxious about the needs to be perfect that when she accidentally fall out of line for making a minor mistake, she was unfairly casted out into hell and why her once white wings turned black no longer able to fly to heaven's gates and aimlessly wondering the streets of pentagram city lost and scared not knowing what to do or where to go now as well as avoiding sinners and overlords alike

Platonic headcanons Not perfect

🌈 Charlie Morningstar x child fem!Reader 🎶

After Charlie visited Heaven, she began to look at angels differently. She understood that not all of them were sinless and just. That's why she was surprised when she came across a child, a girl dressed in a white dress similar to those worn on Heaven and you had wings, but the feathers were not white but black. You immediately started apologizing to her, but Charlie hastened to calm you down. You looked tired, so she suggested that you go with her to her hotel, where you could relax and where you would be safe

At the hotel, you were able to eat properly and calm down. It was only after that that Charlie asked you about how you ended up in Hell. At first you didn't dare to start the story, but Charlie gently took your hands and told you that you had nothing to fear and that she just wanted to help you. You got a little bolder and told her that, despite the external ideality and happiness, there were many strict rules and requirements for angels like you in Heaven. You all had to follow these rules implicitly, as if you had no will of your own. For you, such a life has been one huge source of stress and anxiety

In the end, you made a mistake. One minor mistake cost you everything. You were banished from Heaven and your wings turned black and you couldn't come back. All this time you've been wandering the streets aimlessly, trying not to attract attention to yourself. Charlie couldn't believe that you could be treated so cruelly, but she remembered her father's story. She understood that your story was the real truth

Since you had nowhere to go, Charlie suggested that you stay at the hotel. You were an angel and now you could help sinners atone for their sins. Charlie hoped that then Emily could bring you back to Heaven, because you were sent to Hell unfairly. In the meantime, Charlie could give you a new home and a life where you didn't have to try your best to make no mistakes every day

❌ Vaggie x child fem!Reader 🎀

Vaggie didn't feel happy when she lived on Heaven. A huge number of rules, many of which were far from morally fair, and, as it turned out, severe punishments for what was considered a misdemeanor. She didn't know any other angels besides Lucifer and her who ended up in Hell until she ran into you on the street. You were a little girl in a white dress, with a scared expression on your face and black wings that clearly used to be white. You were an angel, a fallen angel

You started to apologize for bumping into her, but Vaggie tried to calm you down, saying that everything was fine. She asked how you got here, but you didn't say anything, just looked down. Your embarrassment only got worse when your stomach rumbled. Vaggie suggested that you go to the hotel where she lived, telling you that you could eat and relax there. She assured me that it would be safe there, so you went to the hotel with her

It was only back at the hotel, after you were able to eat properly, that you told her that you had been expelled from Heaven for a minor mistake. Vaggie remembered what the rules were there. She saw the sadness in your eyes, and told you that she, too, was, in a sense, banished. The fact that she was an angel made you happy, because now there was a chance that you wouldn't be alone anymore

You stayed at the hotel, under the care of Vaggie. She and Charlie took care of you and helped you start a new life. For you, Vaggie has become a living example of the fact that life does not end after exile. She was sure that you would be able to find your happiness, even though you were in Hell, and she would be there to keep you safe

🕷 Angel Dust x child fem!Reader 💖

Angel did not often see children in Hell, which is why when he ran into you on the street, he was surprised. You were a girl in a white dress and, strangely, with wings. The feathers of your wings were black, although according to Charlie, the angels had white wings, and there was a scared expression on your face. You immediately started apologizing to him. You were obviously afraid, and Angel hastened to calm you down. He wasn't mad at you and didn't know how to calm you down, so he offered to treat you to something delicious. It was so that you could eat that you went to the hotel

At the hotel, you were able to calm down and eat, after which Angel asked you how you ended up in Hell. He said that you didn't look like a sinner, but rather like an angel who happened to be in Hell. When you lowered your head, he realized that he was right. At first you were silent, but then quietly, uncertainly told him that you really were an angel, but life was hard for you in Heaven. The angels had to follow a huge number of rules. You were required to be perfect and set an example for souls to strive for the light. However, it has become a huge stress for you. Your whole life was full of worries, and in the end you made a small, insignificant mistake, for which you were severely punished

You were banished from Heaven, sent to Hell. Your wings turned black, and no matter how hard you tried to get back in, you couldn't do it. You just fell painfully, unable to return home. Angel listened to your story, feeling how sorry he was for you. You were just a child who was unfairly punished, especially so severely. He also understood that it would be difficult for you to survive in Hell, so he suggested that you stay at the hotel, telling you what kind of place it was and that he himself lived here

Angel has taken on the role of someone who will look out for you. Charlie was glad that Angel was getting better, and even more so she didn't mind you staying at the hotel. Angel may not have been the perfect person, but he was real, alive, and ready to help you stop trying to adjust to the ideal that was imposed on you, too. He wanted to help you start living freely

📻 Alastor x child fem!Reader 🎙

Alastor periodically strolled through the streets of the city. Many people were afraid of him and tried not to approach him, and so when a child crashed into him, Alastor was surprised by this. That child was you. You, dressed in a white dress and with black wings on your back, started hurriedly apologizing to him without raising your head. Alastor was in no hurry to say anything. He saw what was obvious. You were an angel, maybe a fallen angel, and it could have done him some good, so he asked if you were hungry, and then took you to the hotel

You were able to eat at the hotel, and only after that Alastor, who was looking at you carefully, asked how you ended up in Hell. At that moment, you froze, lowering your head and slowly starting to speak. It was only after a few minutes that you finally told me what happened. You told me that Heaven had a huge number of rules for angels. You were required to be perfect, but it was hard for you emotionally and eventually you made a mistake. A mistake that you paid very seriously for

You were banished to Hell and your wings turned black. You couldn't go back no matter how hard you tried. All you have to do is wander the streets of the city, hiding from sinners and demons. Alastor listened to you carefully and realized that it could benefit him. He did not voice his thoughts and offered to stay with you at the hotel. He introduced you to Charlie and soon you really became one of those who lived in the hotel

Alastor saw how pleased you were to meet Charlie and find yourself in a comfortable environment. The princess helped you and learned from you about what Heaven really was. Alastor understood that when you get stronger, your strength can help him gain freedom

🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x child fem!Reader 🐍

Lucifer rarely walked around the city, but after he started living in his daughter's hotel, he began to go out into the world more. It was during one of these walks that he met you. You were the kid who bumped into him. You immediately started apologizing and Lucifer tried to calm you down at first, but then realized that you weren't a sinner or a demon. He would have recognized the white dress and wings anywhere. You were an angel, but the feathers of your wings were black, which made it clear to him that you were a fallen angel, just like him. It caused him a lot of emotions. He couldn't leave you, knowing full well how you were feeling right now

He brought you to the hotel, realizing that you had nowhere to go. So that you wouldn't worry even more, he took you away from the others to his room and already there told you who he was. Lucifer saw how surprised you were, but it seemed to really calm you down. When he asked how you ended up in Hell, you briefly fell silent, lowering your head, but then hesitantly told him that after he was thrown into Hell, the requirements for angels became very strict. You, like other angels, were required to be perfect and follow what the seraphims said. It was hard for you to be perfect. Every day, within strict limits, almost drove you crazy

Due to severe stress, it was difficult for you to follow strict rules, and eventually you made a minor mistake, for which you were so severely punished by being banished to Hell. Your wings turned black and you couldn't fly to Heaven. It seemed that if you tried to do this, at some point your wings could burst into flames, causing you unbearable pain. You didn't have a home anymore. You didn't have anyone to help you. All you could do was wander aimlessly through the streets, doing your best to hide from sinners and demons

Lucifer listened attentively to your story and by the time it ended, he was sure that you had been unfairly sent to Hell. You didn't have the power that he had, and therefore you could easily get hurt. Lucifer didn't want you, a child who was so cruelly abandoned, to get hurt. He decided to take you under his care. He knew that you could become stronger and wanted to help you. Maybe in Hell, you can be happier than you were in Heaven

[edensxgarden]

Sitting on Carlos face…

This man would absolutely destroy you.

Once you finally let him convince you that you wouldn't suffocate him (although he wouldn't really mind if you did to be honest) an entire new world would open up for you.

Just imagine Carlos' fat tongue fucking deep into your pussy while his big nose nudged at your clit, giving you heavenly friction ugh.

The first time you agreed, you were just barely hovering over his face still terrified of murdering him but once he has his way with you, you find yourself pushing your pussy deeper onto him, grinding against his head with little to no regard for the Spaniard under you.

The first time you sat on his face, you made a comment about how his stubble tickled a little and he shaved it off so you'd be more comfortable <3.

But he physically couldn't hide the way he cock twitched when you were all fucked out and stupid on his tongue, whining about how you missed the way it scratched your thighs.

He'd make the prettiest sounds!! His tongue would be so deep in your pussy you could barely breathe and he'd just be growling and moaning cos "You just taste so good, mi cariño, I can't get enough of you."

You'd better get used to having your darling boyfriend being your long term seat because you quickly realize you've opened the gate to hell heaven.

Carlos could and would spend hours devouring your pussy until he is covered in your fluids, your legs shaking around his head while you grind yourself down onto his pretty face <3

[elllisaaa]

well now that i know you have a spit kink too i need to hear your thoughts about who in enha do you think has one? <3

spit kink is often talked about and i still feel like it’s an underrated kink 😞

this one of my biggest kinks but i feel like it's still not talked about enough you're right so here we go. i have no excuses for what i wrote, i'm just incredibly horny these days so take it or leave it i guess

SUNGHOON has the biggest spit kink ever. as already stated before, he just radiates the dom persona and this is just another way of overpowering you, of showing you that he's the one in control. so of course, he's gonna spit in your mouth, but you must work for it if you want it, because sunghoon is not going to give it to you like that. because if you like spit that much, you should remember that he loves it too, especially when you're drooling all over his dick from him fucking your throat. and only when you swallow his cum will he give in and grab you by your jaw to finally spit in your mouth, after you've begged for him a little (a lot)

"come on, doll, you know what to do if you want something. or are you already going dumb on me ?" you whine around his dick, pawing at his thighs to have some more attention. his condescending chuckles brought tears to your eyes, trying to fit all of him in your mouth in hopes it would grant you a reward. "that's not what a good girl would do." you didn't want to but you let go of his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips with his tip as you tried to breathe correctly again. "please hoon, please, please, spit in my mouth, i want it so bad." you were looking up at him with your pretty doe eyes, how cruel would it have been if he refused ? "that's better doll. open your mouth." and you listened to him right away, going as far as sticking your tongue out, patiently waiting for his spit to dribble down in your throat and swallow it with a pathetic whimper. "you're so nasty, you're gonna let me spit on your pretty face too, uh ?" and you nodded because you were just waiting for that, and that sunghoon loved it just as much.

JAKE is of course on the list because he loves it when sex is messy and filthy. so when you asked him to spit in your mouth for the first time, he didn't hesitate one bit before doing it. what really gets him going though is when you're the one spitting on him. whenever you're spitting in your hand before jerking him off, jake swore he could see the heaven's gate. you could even spit his cum and your saliva back in his mouth after you had blown him and he would only say thank you and swallow it all. anytime it involves you and your spit, jake loves it all.

"you're being too loud, baby. do you want everyone to hear you moan like a slut for me ?" jake tried to stifle another sound as you dropped down on his cock one more time, his hands digging into the flesh of your waist. "as if you've never screamed my name." - "you're talking too much." you stuffed your own fingers in your mouth, making a show of coating them with your saliva before you tapped on jake's lips. he obeyed and opened up, letting you slide your fingers inside. "maybe this is gonna shut you up a little. suck on them." he whined around your hand, but still doing exactly what you said and tasting your saliva with delight. maybe he was pathetic, maybe he was too desperate, but jake didn't care when you pulled your fingers out, spreading his own saliva against his skin when you grabbed his jaw. "are you gonna be good now ?" - "yes… need more of you, pretty, please." you smirked cockily as you spat into his open mouth, relishing in the way he tried to muffle his sounds by biting into your shoulder as he emptied inside of you.

JAY would use this as a punishment. whenever you're being a little brat and testing his patience, he has to call you names, to degrade you and to spit in your mouth and make you swallow it all because you need to understand how bad you've been. jay often spits on your pussy before eating you out or fingering you. it's degrading and humiliating, but you need to understand that you cannot break his rules without suffering any consequences. he's treating you like his perfect little princess most of the time, but sometimes, he needs to tame you and remind you of your place.

"'m sorry jay, i'm so-" you were interrupted by your own sobs as your boyfriend stopped the motion of his fingers inside of you. "that's not my name, princess. are you so dumb you can't even remember what you need to call me ?" - "i'm sorry sir, i'm sorry, fingers just feel so good sir." - "here you go love." jay had been edging you for so long you didn't even remember how many of your orgasms he had ruined. you knew that he wanted to teach you a lesson, knew that he wanted to see you get needy to the point you weren't thinking anymore. "open your mouth for me, princess." you didn't need to be asked twice to do it, impatiently waiting for him to spit in your mouth. and when he finally did and commanded you to swallow it all while he was spitting on your pussy too to add to the mess between your thighs, you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening. "is this enough, my love ? or do i need to make you even more of a slut for you to fucking do what i say and no touch yourself when i'm at work ?" - "i-i won't do it again, i promise ! please sir, let me cum, i've been good." - "that's right, my good little slut." the way you're cumming around his fingers has jay leaking precum into his pants. he loved it when you were so filthy, loved it when you let him corrupt you, when you let him make a mess of his pretty, innocent princess.

[msafterhours]

Two Hands

Male Reader x woo!ah! & EL7Z UP Nana (Nayeon)

~25k words

“We should do this more often,” Nayeon murmurs into your chest.

“I mean, sure, I’d be happy to come support your group any time I’m not—”

“No, not that!” she exclaims, giggling slightly as she pulls away just enough to look up at you.  “I mean this.”

And she pulls you in even tighter, leaving you short of breath in more ways than one.

Nights like this make you wish the world was a bit kinder to you.  You’re bundled under multitudes of layers of thick clothes, thin mask and scarf completing your near head to toe coverage, yet you still can’t seem to keep your teeth from chattering incessantly.  Your efforts manage to preserve some of your warmth, but another shiver reminds you of the urgent need to get inside and get some food inside of you.  It’s really, really cold outside.

Thus, you swear the gleaming gates of heaven themselves stand before you when you catch a glimpse of the bright lights of your favorite little ramen shop.  Fighting against the harsh winter air, you trudge through the icy slush, cursing the severity of the snowstorm and the stupidity of your decision to splurge on a new pair of casual shoes instead of investing in more functional footwear.  It’s really, really cold outside.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you open the door and feel the warm embrace of the heated air, but your solace is swiftly supplanted by dread as you look around and notice that the shop’s well over full capacity, with little if any seating room available.

"Whatever, let's just get in line and hope for the best," you think to yourself as you take your place in line behind a pair of old ladies.

“I swear, it was a rabbit that ran past us!” one exclaims.

“Absolutely not, I know a squirrel when I see one!” the other insists, stomping her foot in frustration.

tick...

tock...

After a few surprisingly entertaining minutes, you finally make it to the front of the line and the familiar face behind the counter.

"The same as the last hundred or so times?" the old lady asks with a wry smile.

"Hey hey hey, ninety-two times, thank you very much!" you answer with mock indignation.  "But yes, I’m well aware how much of my budget goes to your shop, Aunt Kim."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she fires back, tapping away at the screen as she yells your order to the kitchen.  "Would you?"

"Absolutely not," you answer without hesitation as you leave a generous tip.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna attempt the impossible and try to find somewhere to sit in your stupidly crowded shop."

"Good luck!" she calls out as you turn and walk away.  "You're going to need it!"

You sweep the room once, twice.  Neither survey produces anything but depressing results.  A third time, just in case.  Nothing’s changed.  A heavy, dramatic sigh escapes you as you ready yourself to accept your seemingly inevitable fate.  But before you can concede, a bright glint in the corner of your vision offers hope, causing you to turn and find what you've been desperately looking for.

A girl, seemingly around your age, with glowing golden hair that shines brilliantly, reflecting the warm yellow lights scattered around the shop, sits alone.  Your heart leaps for joy as you see, most importantly, an unutilized chair across from her.  You cling to that shred of hope, quickly making your way over before coming to a stop in front of her table.

A few moments more than you can endure pass as she continues to tap away her phone, either not noticing your presence or choosing to ignore it.  Eventually, you clear your throat and wave your hand in front of her, causing her to jump slightly and finally look up at you.  Your eyes meet, and you feel the words escape your mind in the moment you hold her gaze.  It takes a second, then another, but you finally remember your goal and cease your staring.

"Um, sorry to bother you, but … there are no other seats available, and I really, really, don't want to have to go outside again yet," you hurriedly explain, praying to whoever’s listening that this random, empyrean being you just met might miraculously take pity upon you.  "Would it be alright if I sat here with you?"

She regards you for many moments, each feeling like an eternity as you stand there awkwardly.  She stares, deep into your eyes then deeper still, hunting an ulterior motive.  Her eyes flash and dart, scanning the singular you as if you’re an entire crowd.  You know not what she searches for, but whatever test of virtue you’re subjected to, she seems satisfied with the result as she nods and gestures to the seat across from her.

You finally release the breath you hadn't realized you were holding, thanking her profusely as you join her at the table.

Your display finally earns a crack in the ice, shifting her skeptical expression to one of sick amusement as she comments, "If you’re this scared of the cold, why are you out so late?  Surely you didn’t forget to go shopping before the snowstorm … right?  Surely."

You feel your ears burning with a warmth from deep, deep within as your embarrassment flares up.  Your initial response tells truths, but her smug expression leads your words elsewhere.  "Would you believe I just really wanted ramen from my favorite shop and was willing to suffer the consequences to do so?"

Her sinister smile widens as she leans in and counters, "I just might … if you didn't sound like a guilty schoolboy who got caught trying to copy someone's test answers."

She holds your gaze once again, deep brown eyes delving into the depths of your soul, trapping you within a pocket of agonizing silence amongst the shop’s raucous atmosphere.

"Well?" she whispers breathlessly.  "Are you gonna use your words?  Or are you just gonna let those firetruck red ears do the talking?"

You exhale heavily, feeling your faux hubris exit your body as you confess, "Alright, fine.  You got me.  No more lies.  I might've sorta ruined up my planning for the week and ran out of food last night, alright?  Now, please, I beg you, stop looking at me like that."

Your response catches her off guard, but you’re quick to join her in shock as she bursts into a quiet fit of laughter.  Her mirth immediately entrances you; each note a part of the chorus that dances on your eardrums and seals itself deep into your heart.

You wrack your brain for a proper retort, hoping to turn the tides of this war of words, but your rebuttal is prevented by the arrival of Aunt Kim with your meal.  You thank her profusely as she sets it down, earning a smile before she turns to address your companion.

"Would you like me to take your bowl, Nayeon?" she asks, smiling at your companion in a way you’d believed was reserved for only you.

"Yes please, thank you, ma'am," Nayeon responds, picking up the bowl and handing it to her.

"Bah, you and your stubbornness," Aunt Kim grumbles.  "With how often you come here, the formality just feels stuffy.  Just call me Aunt Kim like this other addict does."

“I could probably do that.  You could also agree to call me Nana like all my other friends do,” Nayeon answers back, a genuine smile gracing her features for the first time you’ve seen.

Aunt Kim rolls her eyes dramatically as she pats your head affectionately in the way she knows you hate, then walks away with that same warm smile that you’d thought was saved exclusively for you, but now know is also shared with the girl sitting across from you.

"Oh, you’re a regular too?" you ask as you begin to enjoy your meal.  "I'm surprised I haven't seen you before."

"I'm usually here later," Nayeon responds as she idly taps away on her phone again.  "Not huge on coming here when it's so busy."

"I totally get that.  I'm usually here earlier, before the big rush, but this week has been crazy.  Add the storm on top of that, and I guess that leaves me here, forced to settle for getting swept up in the dinner surge."

"Oh, so you're settling for my company, huh?  I see how it is," Nayeon replies, feigning indignation as she crosses her arms and huffs in disbelief.  "I guess next time a popsicle wants to share a table, I'll make sure to send him back to the freezer."

"Hey hey hey, easy now," you reply, raising your hands in surrender.  "I'm not a huge fan of this chaos either, but I am eternally grateful for your company and your great sacrifice of existing in my vicinity."

"You're very welcome," Nayeon offhandedly remarks.  "Your expression mid-head pat was almost hilarious enough to justify my continued tolerance of your presence."

And just like that, you feel the conversation derail, coming to a screeching halt as hints of embarrassment creep up your neck and render your face even more flush.  With a grumble and a rather undignified pout, you let your eyes fall to the far warmer bowl of ramen that awaits you and begin enjoying your meal, causing Nayeon to hum in amused satisfaction at your surrender as she returns to her phone and resumes tapping away at what sounds like a game.

While you'd begrudgingly admit that you’ve enjoyed the conversation thus far, you’re pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to simply enjoy the serene feeling of sharing Nayeon's company.  In fact, the silence grants you a brief chance to study the countenance of your dining companion, and you’re more than happy to seize the opportunity.

It seems that the only thing sharper than her words is her jawline, which is itself a sharp contrast from her other, softer features.  As much as you wish you could stare back into her eyes once more, her downward gaze and focus on her phone makes doing so impossible, "forcing" you instead to focus on her lips, which she occasionally bites in frustration, causing your heart to swell in a way that feels unsafe yet anything but unnatural.

"Enjoying the view?"

Well shit.

Your eyes barely have to drift upwards to meet her gaze, where her eyes await you once more with a scrutinizing yet intrigued twinkle.  While only moments ago you were wishing you could stare into her eyes once more, the combination of the intensity of her stare and your embarrassment forces you to look down in shame as you meekly mutter a quiet apology.

"Nah, you're not getting off that easily," Nayeon says, setting aside her phone and leaning in.  "What'd you think?  And please do be honest.  You wouldn’t want to break your promise, would you?"

After only a moment's hesitation, you stare back into her eyes and open the floodgates.

"Well, it's only been a couple minutes, but I've decided that I love the way your hair glows like golden honey in this light, I'm pretty sure your jawline is sharp enough to cut through diamond, and I'm definitely sure that if you keep biting your lip the way you do whenever you're focused or frustrated or whatever that I'm going to be too dizzy to walk home."

“...”

“...”

tick...

“Oh.”

tock...

The raucous atmosphere of the shop seems to once again fade away as you intently hold the gaze of the girl you recently met but feel like you’ve known forever.  You can’t shake this odd sense of familiarity, like you had seen her before somewhere, but can’t quite put your finger on where.

Regardless, by this point, the silence between you has stretched to an uncomfortable length of time.  After bearing it a moment longer as you attempt to gather your resolve, you ask, "So, uh, what do you think?  I mean, I'd also prefer it if you were honest, but I don't have a promise to hold you to, so I guess I'll just have to settle for asking nicely and hoping for the best?"

Your follow-up seems to finally shock Nayeon out of her reverie, leading her to finally pick her jaw up off the floor and respond, "I mean, okay, good to know.  A little much, not gonna lie, but keep talking like that and I might have to let you keep doing what you're doing.  Can’t say I hate the attention."

She pauses for a moment, allowing her eyes to run across your upper body before meeting your gaze once more and adding, "And hey, you're not too rough on the eyes either."

tick...

Only a single serene second slips by as you hold each other's gaze before you see inspiration flash across her visage.  The glimmer in her eyes is quickly joined by a familiar smirk as she glances down to your lips before returning to look you in the eyes.

Then she steals your heart.

Again.

With that unreasonably sultry lip bite.

Again.

"And I thought the cold was going to be the reason I died tonight," you whisper, quietly enough that only she could hear.

Just in case she hadn't yet properly staked her claim on your heart, Nayeon responds with potentially the only thing more charming than her lip bites; her laughter, which once again resonates across the table directly through your eardrums, across your inner bridge, and into your heart.

You open your mouth, hoping to continue the conversation further, but find yourself abruptly cut off by a sudden series of discordant cacophonies as her phone vibrates harshly against the wooden table.  You watch on in poorly hidden dismay as she checks it and her mirthful expression transforms into a grimace at the messages' contents.

"Ugh, I need to get back to my place," she explains as she begins to gather her things.

"Oh, okay," you sigh.  "Thanks again for letting me sit with you and for the … mostly pleasant conversation."

Her frown fades, revealing hints of the smile hidden within.  "Sure, no problem.  I'm sure Ms. Kim would have wanted me dead if she heard I mistreated her other major source of income."

You can’t help but chuckle at her words, though the laughter feels cheerless in the face of more pressing concerns.  "Am I going to see you again?"

Her eyes stare into your own once more, piercing through to your core.  "Who knows?  We've been coming to this shop as frequently as we have for as long as we have for who knows how long and haven't run into each other until now.  Who's to say it won't take another couple of years until our paths cross again?"

And with that sobering perspective, the girl you’ve come to know as Nayeon stands, giving you only the slightest nod in farewell before stepping away from the table.  You watch her as she takes her first few steps, feeling your heart sink lower and lower as the distance between you grows larger and larger.

tock...

But suddenly, you almost swear you can see a lightbulb go off above her head, causing her to turn and walk back to the table.

"You know, I never did catch your name," Nayeon remarks casually.

Despite the exhilaration of your heart soaring at her return, you try to maintain a neutral expression as you reply, "Perfect, now we both have a reason to meet again."

While it might just be your imagination, you dare to hope that it’s your words that transform her sly smirk into a genuine smile that reaches her eyes.

"Oh yeah?  What's your reason?"

"Who said I only have one?"

With her curiosity sated and ego sufficiently inflated, Nayeon gives you a small smile as a farewell, then turns and walks out of the ramen shop.  And as the clock ticks ever onward and you sit alone at the table, pondering what impact this night might have on the rest of your life, you can only hope that she hasn’t walked away for the final time.

tick...

tock...

tick...

tock...

It really was bearable the first couple of days.

But the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months and the months began to feel like years.  And as time mercilessly continues to pass by, you unsurprisingly find yourself increasingly affected by the thought of her.

You realized something was seriously wrong when entire weeks began to blur together and each visit to the ramen shop left you feeling colder and lonelier than your previous visit.  It isn’t long before the intrusive thoughts remodel your mind and claim it as their own, leaving you wondering if you had lost your love for your favorite restaurant and your best chance at love in a single night.  Despite the depressing potential of those dramatic notions, you attempt to cast them aside, instead focusing your efforts on maintaining your previous routine and, more importantly, meeting Nayeon again.

Since you assume Aunt Kim will rat you out to Nayeon if you’re too desperate in your attempts, you choose a more subtle approach.  Instead of showing up every night, you alter your schedule to better fit hers.  The awkward “middle” shifts at your work are rarely prioritized, so you’re easily able to make the change and justify your abnormally late arrivals to the shop.

However, your efforts fall short, leaving you wanting, craving even a glimpse of the radiant smile that graces your dreams far more often than you’d readily admit.  And even though you desperately want to ask Aunt Kim if she’s even seen Nayeon, you’re well aware that outside assistance would break the unspoken rules of the game.  So, even as your heart yearns for her, you choose to continue playing.  Even in the face of defeat, you persevere.

All the while, a nagging feeling remains in the back of your mind.  Though you can’t figure out why, you’re sure you know her from somewhere.  The passage of time allows that nagging to fester, growing exponentially until it becomes all you can think about.

It’s not long before the pressure becomes unbearable, forcing you to cave.  Nayeon’s a fairly popular name, but luckily, you’re able to fall back on her nickname of “Nana”.  Thus, on a day that’s become your new norm, you dedicate part of your shift to searching through Naver pages, eventually finding what you’ve been looking for.  Kind of.

You find that she’s the main dancer and leader of a girl group named woo!ah!, one of the seemingly endless number of new K-Pop groups that’ve slipped under your radar.  As you scroll through the pages and watch video after video, you unsurprisingly enjoy their music, yet feel a sense of unease grow with each passing video.  You’d expected feelings of excitement and joy to burst forth with each of Nayeon’s appearances, but instead you’re met by dread, trepidation, and a plethora of other unpleasant emotions that you can’t identify amidst the maelstrom rampaging in your heart.

You finish their MV playlist depressingly quickly, finding far more questions than answers at the end of this rainbow.  Unfortunately, before you can reach a satisfying conclusion, the clock strikes twelve and begins to sing, signaling the end of your shift.  After packing up your things, you depart, and, following a short bus ride, you arrive at the intersection where you turn right to visit the noodle shop once again.

And an hour later, after you’ve stood in line, placed your order, found somewhere to sit, enjoyed your meal, and looked over every square millimeter of the room, you find yourself alone.

Once.

Again.

tick...

tock...

Seemingly a moment later, you’re surprised to find yourself at home.  You rationalize that your body must have moved on its own and your brain must not have cared to encode the memory of walking this familiar path, but even this explanation leaves you with serious concerns.  As you reach into your pocket and feel the warmth from your fingers being sapped by the key’s cold metal, you simply feel … tired.

What’s the point of changing your routine if your days are bound to end the same as always?

What’s the point of searching for warmth if you continue to be left alone in the cold?

What’s the point of listening to your heart if all it leads you to is the deafening silence of your empty apartment?

You can feel it in the air as you turn the key, open the door, and enter the suffocating silence of your apartment.  The air’s cold.  Heavy.  The room’s dark.  Empty.  And you’re sure.  Ready.  As much as your heart yearns to chase Nayeon, your mind is telling you that it’s time.  Time to return to the routine you’ve relied on for so, so long.  You begin by sending a quick email to your supervisor, requesting a change back to your previous schedule.  Then, after a few more hours that won’t be worth remembering, you willingly wade into the darkness.

You mourn the loss of what could have been.  You allow the clouds to roll in, allow the falling rain to drown out the sounds of your heart beating against its cage and its cries for freedom.  You pray that the storm will wash away the memories of that night.  You hope, as desperately as ever, that you’ll find her.  But if your heart can’t have what it wants, you’ll ask your mind to forget her.

tick…..

tock.

tick…..

tock.

Is it eight days later?  Nine days?  Ten?  Your memory might have failed you again, but routine provides you necessary stability once more, helping you through the motions of working the once familiar morning shift before guiding you through the short bus ride to your stop and the subsequent walk to an always familiar intersection and a newly unwelcome decision.

If you simply continue forwards, you’ll arrive at your apartment, where you know that leftovers and loneliness amidst the silence of solitude awaits.  However, if routine truly is still in the driver’s seat, you’ll turn to your right, towards Aunt Kim’s, where you know that ramen and loneliness amidst the voices of others awaits.

Thus, despite the clear blue sky and the bright sun that signaled the early signs of winter’s departure, decision paralysis sets in.  The light flashes yellow, yet you need to decide, now.  Then, it flashes red, yet you know you need to go.  Finally, the indicator flashes green, yet you remain motionless as the crowd begins to surge past you.

It’s there, in that moment, where you stop fighting anxiety’s powerful pull, allowing it to drag you under, away from your routine.  It’s there, in that moment, where you give up, instead electing to return home.  Yet, it’s there, in that moment, where you feel a gentle tug on your arm and see a flash of warm golden light in your periphery.

"Come on, you gotta get there before it gets busy," Nayeon whispers, mock urgency masking her features and veiling her words.  "Otherwise, you might have to ask some weirdo if you can share a table with them."

You’re all too eager to allow yourself to be dragged along, heart nearly bursting out of your chest as you loudly exclaim, “Nayeon!  I—”

Your words are a jumbled mess, bouncing around the inside of your skull, desperately trying to escape all at once, but you hold them all back as the other pedestrians turn, glaring at you as they judge your sudden outburst.  Once you finish offering meek smiles and apologetic waves, you whisper back, “You’re right, that sounds terrible!  Let’s go!”

As she continues to drag you along, you take the opportunity to study the beaming visage of your guide once more.  The passage of time allows you to view the literal girl of your dreams in a new light, and you find Nayeon’s just as radiant in today’s pleasant sunshine as she was so many weeks ago, hidden away from the harsh snowfalls of the early Korean winter.

"What should I say?" you wonder to yourself as you allow her to lead you down the busy sidewalk.  "Would it be too forward to say I missed her after only meeting her once before?"

A familiar cadence, the ringing of a very particular bell, cuts your internal musings short, shunting you back into reality as Nayeon opens the door to Aunt Kim's ramen shop.  Nayeon finally detaches from your arm, leaving you feeling cold and empty.  Not unlike your freezer that fateful night, so many months ago.

After shaking off the last remnants of your reverie, you step forward and join her in line.  Despite being a fair bit taller than her, you can’t seem to make out what exactly she’s doing on her phone as you both wait to place your order.

It only takes a few moments of snooping before a wave of guilt washes over you as you realize your invasion of her privacy, causing you to shift your gaze elsewhere, to other areas of the shop.  Areas such as the table where you had sat the previous time, which currently sits unoccupied.

"Another missed opportunity," you think to yourself as you grieve the lost potential and come to another realization.  "Not to mention the fact that she held the door for me because I was so lost in thought!  Ugh, you're blowing it!  Stop overthinking everything."

After a few short minutes idly spent looking anywhere except towards Nayeon, all of the customers in line in front of you finish placing their orders and go to find a seat.  You aren’t surprised as Nayeon needs mere moments to recite her clearly well-practiced offer, but you are caught off guard when Aunt Kim leans close to Nayeon, whispering something you can’t make out amidst the low murmur of the crowd inhabiting your second home.

The rational part of your brain informs you that, at most, a few seconds pass.  Your emotions tell a far different story, flooding your overwrought mind with a deluge of disquieting dangers and forcing you to consider each of the painful possibilities and worst-case scenarios that comprise the tsunami attempting to drag you into the depths of self-doubt.  Eventually, the two part, and as Nayeon turns to face you, her mischievous expression and gleaming smile ignites a flame in you, burning away any frost that’s formed since you left her embrace.

Her eyes flick over towards Aunt Kim, seemingly challenging you to approach the elderly woman who stands behind the counter with crossed arms and a dangerously amused expression.  This time, however, Nayeon doesn’t even give your words enough time to get caught in your throat, instead simply walking past you and allowing the silky strands of her hair to brush your shoulder and convey all the intent she needs to.

As you gather what little cognitive function remains, you’re especially grateful for the familiarity of this place as Aunt Kim enters your order with well-practiced quickness.  You’re uncharacteristically afraid of meeting her eyes as you sign your name and begin to enter the same generous tip you’ve always given, but her scoff of indignation as you meekly hold out your hand for your order number forces you to do so.

"So." she says bluntly, withholding the plastic indicator as she awaits your response.

"Yes ma’am?” you ask, voice laced with saccharine innocence.

“Oh gods, don’t tell me that that girl’s stubbornness has infected you too,” Aunt Kim responds exasperatedly.  “You finally managed to meet up with her again, eh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you respond as you delete your previous number, instead entering an extra-large tip before braving Aunt Kim’s gaze once more, silently conveying your plea for mercy as you literally attempt to buy her silence.

Aunt Kim’s eyes flash down briefly, widening for a moment before a deep, jovial laugh echoes out from her, reverberating throughout the room as she holds your gaze once more.

“All right, act sly all you like.  I'm just tired of seeing someone come in alone fifty times in a row just to spend their time here hoping and searching for a certain someone.”

The banter is unique, odd, and comfortably routine as you ease into its familiar warmth.  Your brow arches dramatically as you declare, “Why Aunt Kim, I can’t stand these accusations!  It’s only been forty-six times since then!”

You watch as Aunt Kim’s smile fades, shifting from a display of mirth to a thin obfuscation of sadness as she responds, “You’re not the only one who’s been sitting alone at a table for two.  Now go!”

And as she pushes your number into your hands and sends your mind into a tailspin, you’re left with no other option but to turn and allow the next customer to set up.  Your body’s autopilot takes over, turning you further until you face the table where this all started, only to find it occupied.

By none other than Nayeon herself.

You lock eyes for the briefest of moments before she avoids your gaze, poorly pretending to be enthralled by the black screen of her phone.  As the slightest hints of confidence begin to emerge from within, you walk up to the table, acting as casually as you can, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from her.

After offering up a prayer to whoever’s listening, desperately hoping that you wouldn’t blow this chance, you look straight at her and ask, “So, how have you been?”

“Oh, so we’re just getting right into it, huh?” Nayeon asks, already crafting the thin veneer of the haughtiness she’d used to shield herself before.  “Not even going to thank me for saving you a seat?  I know you’ve had issues finding them before.”

You raise your hands up in mock surrender as you admit, “Alright, fair enough.  I am very grateful for your act of charity once again, and I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” she declares, obvious satisfaction in her smirk as she nods in approval.  “To answer your question, I’ve been fortunate enough to be busy, so that’s always good.  Aside from work, I guess it’s mostly just been working out, spending time with those I’m closest to, and coming here.  What about you?”

“I’ve …” your voice trails off for a moment, granting you silence as you meticulously craft your next line.  “I’ve had better months, but I honestly can’t complain too much.  Work’s been consistent, so like you said, that’s always good.  Plus, I always have this place to come back to, so that’s a big plus.”

“So, you come here often?” Nayeon asks, waggling her eyebrows in the most tropey, dramatic way possible.  It’s clearly meant to be humorous, and you’re all too eager to reward her efforts with a smile.  You just also hope it buys you time to reclaim the breath she steals so easily.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," you say, chuckling slightly as you struggle against all the unwelcome thoughts and emotions that continuously threaten to boil over.  "Especially the past couple of months, I'm fairly sure I've made a sizeable contribution to the 'Kim Family College Fund'.  What about you, have you also been a generous donor?"

And there it is.  For the first time since that night a lifetime ago, your words strike a chord, and your just reward is the melodious laughter that bursts free from the alluring lips of Nayeon before gently drifting across the table and imprinting itself once again upon your soul.  And all you can wonder is why you’d ever choose to stop chasing her.

After the briefest of stanzas, her mirthful song quiets and her words shift to a whisper.  "Listen, if my friends ever find out just how often I've been coming here and how much I've spent, it’ll be the last day I see the sun!  So shhh!"

The quiet laugh that resonates out straight from your heart may not be planned or voluntary, but anyone paying a modicum of attention can easily tell it’s genuine.  You feel free, weightless even, to an extent you haven’t felt since a certain night so many weeks ago.  And as you savor this moment of warmth, of dethawing even, you’re glad to see that same joy mirrored in the eyes and smile of Nayeon too.

"Alright, fair enough.  Not a word to your friends, and you won't rat me out to mine?  Deal?"

"Deal!" she responds eagerly, extending her hand out to shake yours.

Without hesitation, you reach out and seal the pact, cherishing the influx of warmth generated by even the swiftest second of your fingertips grazing the soft skin of her palm.

But then, just like that, it’s gone.  The briefest moment of contact ends all too soon, and you find yourself in silence once more.

Fortunately, this time it doesn’t last, as Nayeon speaks up once more.

"So … any particular reason you've been around more often recently?" she asks as she looks around in a familiar pattern, seemingly fascinated by the decorations of the place she must have visited hundreds of times.

"I might have a reason," you respond suavely as you lean back in your chair.  "Maybe even a couple."

"Oh yeah?" she asks, ending her search as she reaches her destination: your eyes.  "Pardon my vanity, but is there any chance … I’m one of those reasons?"

In this moment, this secular moment of confession, this seductress needs no lip bites nor any promises of sweet nothings to ensnare your heart even further.  All you need is to look into her eyes, where you see the same earnest anticipation mirrored within your own soul.

So, in this moment, you give yourself no time to second guess yourself, acting on pure instinct as you take out your heart, affix it to your sleeve in full view of everyone within the restaurant, and admit, "Yeah, I mean, you’re the only reason that mattered.  I guess … I was scared of the thought of never seeing you again.  I really missed you."

tick...

Another moment passes.  But this stretch of silence is far shorter than the last and her response is far quicker than last time you’d shared a confession.  This time, it’s her words that shock you.

"Thanks, I … uh, really missed you too," she whispers softly, perhaps trying to preserve the serenity of this moment between the two of you.

tock...

Milliseconds begin to feel like minutes as you desperately rack your brain, searching for an adequate continuation to the conversation.  Fortunately, just as desperation tips over into despair, none other than Aunt Kim comes to your rescue, carrying a pair of bowls in her hands and a complicated collection of emotions across her countenance.

First, she offers Nayeon her warm bowl with an even warmer smile, which Nayeon is happy to return in kind.  Then, just as you recover from being blinded by Nayeon’s radiance, Aunt Kim turns to you, deliberately holding back your bowl as she offers nothing but a quirked eyebrow and an expectant expression.

You raise your hands in surrender once more, internally cursing the developing trend as you ask, “What, Miss Aunt Kim, could you possibly be expecting from me?  Ma’am.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your sheepish expression or Aunt Kim’s sigh of exasperation that sparks it, but whatever semblance of a train of thought you’d begun crafting is sent careening off the rails by the return of that same singsong laughter that’s lifted your spirits up from the depths they’d plummeted to.

While Nayeon continues her chorus of joy, you watch as Aunt Kim’s frosty exterior thaws, causing her to gently place the bowl in your hands before pulling away just the slightest bit.

“I’m just glad things finally lined up,” Aunt Kim says with a knowing smile and another ruffling of your hair that earns another round of laughter from Nayeon.

Finally, that last embarrassment inflicted, Aunt Kim elects to leave you in peace.

After months of waiting, the culmination of all your fantasies is … a conversation.  About nothing.  About everything.  About your job as an editor at a K-Pop news / blog site and how the recent schedule change left you saddled with a writer who’d recently gotten in trouble for “not including all the members when describing a group’s latest comeback” or something.  About her job as an idol and the years of struggle and the stress of debuting and her relationships with her members and fan interactions and on and on and on.

It’s the most mundane human experience you’ve ever had, but it’s warm.  It lasts from your usual arrival time until Nayeon’s usual time of departure, yet time seems to pass by in an instant.  It’s nothing you would have expected yet everything you could possibly ask for, like a waking dream.  It’s almost unfathomable how much you enjoy yourself.

It also has to end.

“Hey,” Nayeon says suddenly, allowing her voice to soften.  “The shop’s closing soon.”

“Oh, right,” you say, feeling your smile fade for the first time in hours.

“We should, uh …”

“Yeah, let’s—”

“Yeah.”

The dusty old chairs creak against the stained floorboards of the shop as you both slowly slide them back, hoping that your sluggish movements will elongate this experience.  Each of you bids farewell to Aunt Kim in your own special way, then turn to depart.  And as you open the door for her and the brisk evening wind leaves you scrambling for the right words, it’s Nayeon who finds her courage first.

“We’ll be performing next Saturday,” she begins, speaking just loud enough for her words to reach your ears before the cruel winds can whisk them away.  “I understand if you’re busy, but—”

“I’ll be there.”

And just as the door closes and you put forth your promise, the jingle of the bells and Nayeon’s relieved laughter join in harmony, creating a melody that wraps itself around you and promises to protect you from the cold.

“I haven’t even told you where it is yet!” she exclaims, meeting your eyes once more.

“Then I should probably give you my number, no?” you counter, holding her gaze as she looks back with the softest eyes and warmest smile.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Nayeon says, eagerly pulling out her phone and handing it to you.

You quickly punch in the digits and hand it back to her, earning a frown in response.

“What is it?”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

So, you tell her.  And she repeats it back to you.  And it’s no surprise that the sound of your name in her mouth is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.  And you’re still reeling from that when she texts you, “Hi it’s me!🐇”.  And when you finally manage to tear your eyes from the screen, you’re met with the sight of her meekly looking down at the sidewalk below.

“Hey,” you say softly, giving her a moment to meet your eyes before opening your arms.  “You—”

Your words don’t even have a chance to be whisked away by the cruel winds before Nayeon darts over and crashes into your chest, driving the air from your lungs as she wraps her arms around you.  Instinctually, you wrap your own arms around her, holding her close and refusing to let go.

“Stay warm, okay?” you whisper, only for her ears.

“I think I’ll be just fine,” she whispers back, just as softly.

And it’s hard when you two untangle yourselves.  And it’s harder to say goodbye.  And it’s nearly impossible to turn away.  But it’s easy to turn back and look at her.  And you see Nayeon walking, no, almost skipping away down the sidewalk.  And you know that the months-long wait was worth it.  And the next ten days will feel like a decade.

But that’ll be worth the wait too.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

This time, you know exactly how long it’s been.  You’ve checked the clock every hour of the past ten days, desperately awaiting the chance to see her again.  Absolutely dreading the thought of seeing her again.

Your anxiety certainly isn’t helped by the sea of lightsticks and legions of chanting fans wielding them.  Amidst this squall of rabid passion, you can’t help but feel underprepared.  You can’t help but feel nervous.  You can’t help but feel insignificant.

Fortunately, by the time you’re able to make your way up closer to the front, the performances have started and begun to wash away some of that negativity.  You lose yourself in the stages, showing support to these young adults, these kids, who’re giving everything they have to try and achieve their dreams.  It really is an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.

Yet your throat still dries up when you hear them announce who’s performing next.  All of a sudden, the room floods, dragging you under; the blood rushes in, waves deafening you.

tick…

They come out on stage.

tock…

Your eyes can’t look anywhere else.

tick… tock…

“Nana” says something that you can’t hear.

tick…tock…

They get in position. tick..tock..tick.. They begin. ticktockticktockticktocktick

And then, just like that, it’s over.  The performance ends and the group bids the crowd farewell, leaving you with far fewer thoughts than you anticipated but far more emotions than you’re prepared for.  At the forefront of your mind, a singular idea, the catalyst of the storm, reverberates incessantly with a single realization.

Nayeon’s eyes didn't meet yours a single time throughout the whole performance, yet she spent the entire time smiling brighter than you’ve ever seen.

You somehow manage to stumble through the crowd, moving towards an exit as they roar in excitement at the announcement of the next performers, a group you’ve followed since debut and one you like quite a lot.  A group that doesn’t matter.

It’s only once you get outside, once you’re able to take a moment amidst the early evening air, that your breathing begins to slow.  It’s there that the blood pumping in your ears begins to settle.  It’s there that the vibration on your leg nearly makes you jump out of your skin.  But once you nail the three-point landing, you pull out your phone and read the new message:

Nayeon 🐇 (6:02pm):  Hey, were you able to make it?  I just peeked my head out but couldn’t find you anywhere.

You (6:03pm):  I did!  Sorry, I just stepped outside after watching your performance, needed some air

You (6:03pm):  You guys were great!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm):  Awww, thanks so much!!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm):  You should come around the back, I wanna introduce you to everyone!

Nayeon🐇 (6:04pm):  Meet me at door E35, I’ll let you in

You (6:06pm):  Sure, I’m on my way

You hit send, finally responding after needing a minute to calm the upswell of sanguine tides that continue to thrash within.  Your steps are heavy, echoing loudly throughout the packed parking lot and even louder in your mind as you begin discerning which feelings surround this storm’s catalyst.  

The unfamiliar feeling doesn’t remind you of the anxiety you’ve faced before, nor does it remind you of the self-doubt you’ve suffered in your past.  No, when you round the corner to see Nayeon’s head poking out the door, looking for you, and you hear the crowd’s thunderous applause, you know exactly which ugly emotion torments you.  And despite having no right to feel the way you do, you know that jealousy gnaws at your core.

So, when Nayeon turns and locks eyes with you, you hope your smile shows delight, not despair.  And while you don’t quite match the radiance of her reaction, you’re inviting enough for her to throw open the door and begin dashing towards you.  Fortunately, your limbs seem to have higher priorities than jealousy, as you too begin closing the distance and opening your arms, meeting her halfway and tightly wrapping your arms around her as she does the same to you.

Your ability to string together sentences escapes you as you hold her close, feeling her heartbeat hammer against your chest at as rapid a pace as your own.

“We should do this more often,” Nayeon murmurs into your chest.

“I mean, sure, I’d be happy to come support your group any time I’m not—”

“No, not that!” she exclaims, giggling slightly as she pulls away just enough to look up at you.  “I mean this.”

And she pulls you in even tighter, leaving you short of breath in more ways than one.

“But also, thank you for coming to see us perform.  You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you say, heart penning your words before your brain can intervene.  “Anything for you.”

“Anything?” Nayeon asks incredulously, finally breaking the hug as the mischievous glint in her eye returns.  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I stand by my word,” you respond, acting far more confidently than you truly feel.  “Besides, how dangerous could you possibly be?”

“Are you looking to find out?” she asks, smiling deviously as you see the turning gears in her head shift into overdrive.

“Maybe one day,” you say with a shrug.  “Must admit, it’s not high on my list of priorities though.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s number one?”

“Why spoil the surprise?  Gotta keep you coming back somehow.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Nayeon scoffs in response.  “Yeah, like that’s a concern.”

“I, uh, thanks?” you sputter, unable to do anything further as the mechanisms of your mind malfunction.

“Oh!” she exclaims, face alight with merriment and mischief alike.  “You are in danger.”

All you can do is shrug.  Why try to hide what you both know to be true?  Why not join her in laughter instead?

“Hey,” you say a few seconds later as you catch a brief glimpse of your breath in the air.  “We should get you inside, it's too cold for you to be out here in a sleeveless top and those ‘shorts’.”

“What do you mean?” Nayeon asks incredulously.  “I think my stylist absolutely nailed it today.”

“Yeah, like anything you wear could look bad,” you scoff.  “I'm just worried about you turning into a popsicle.”

“Oh?  I guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me warm,” she drawls as she walks back to the door.  “You wouldn't mind, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not,” she repeats, flashing the smallest of smirks your way before turning back and stepping up to the door.  “Anything for me, right?”

“I mean …” you begin to say.  Unfortunately, your train of thought is brought to a screeching halt by the rather rude sound of the unmoving door handle within Nayeon’s grasp.

“Wonderful,” Nayeon says, exasperation coating her words as she runs her fingers through her hair.  “And on the one day I forgot to charge my phone too.”

“You can borrow mine,” you offer, reaching into your pocket and holding it out to her.  “Can you call someone inside who can open it?”

“Yes, I can!” she says, eagerly accepting your offer and taking your phone.  “Give me a second, I'll see if Wooyeon's willing to help.”

A few moments later, after she's punched in the numbers and the phone's begun to ring, she looks up with that same cheeky smile she wears so frequently around you.

“Guess you're stuck with me a bit longer,” she dramatically declares.

“Woe is me,” you respond in kind, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead like you're about to faint.

Nayeon opens her mouth to fire back, but her reply is superseded by a muffled, vaguely familiar voice emanating out from the speaker.

“Hey, it's me,” she remarks casually, as if calling someone from a random number is a totally normal thing to do.  “I need—”

She stops mid-sentence, seemingly allowing the person on the other end to voice their apparently substantial list of frustrations at Nayeon. 

“Yeah, I, uh, sorry about slipping away like that,” Nayeon replies sheepishly as her cheeks flare in an entirely new way.  “It's a very long story that I very much don't want to get into tonight, but can you please come open door E35?  I might have locked myself out.”

It's a tense few moments of silence before Nayeon gets a response.  What you assume to merely be a few words at most still manages to shock Nayeon, leaving her wide eyed as she responds, “That's a lot to ask for just—”

Her words are suddenly cut off by what you assume to be Wooyeon's response, causing Nayeon to roll her eyes in resignation before responding, “Okay!  Sure, fine.  Both rooms, before the performance on Wednesday.  Got it.”

“Alright, see you soon,” she continues.  “And Wooyeon?  Thank you.”

“Here, thanks for letting me borrow that,” Nayeon says, handing you back your phone.

“Of course,” you respond.  “What were you two arguing about?”

“Honestly it was more bargaining than arguing,” Nayeon groans, throwing her head back in frustration.  “A trade I horribly lost, mind you.   Apparently in her mind, a three-minute walk is worth me having to clean both bedrooms at the dorms.”

“That seems … harsh,” you say, earning a shrug in response.

The silence goes unbroken for a minute.  Then another.  But when it's finally broken, it's not by words, but the chattering of teeth.  Hers.

Fortunately, your movements are so instinctual that by the time your brain has even begun to consider overthinking things, you've already taken off your jacket and wrapped it around her.  Nayeon’s shivering swiftly slows, but you leave your arm wrapped around her.  Just in case.

tick…

tock…

It ends up being ten minutes, not three, that you share in silence.  Not that either of you notice or care.

As soon as you hear the handle begin to turn, you immediately pull away, earning the smallest of whines from Nayeon before she too hears the door opening and turns towards it.

“There you are!” both girls exclaim as you see one of the other members from the earlier performance poke her head out.

“What took you so long?” Nayeon asks.  “I thought it'd take four minutes max to find us.”

“Listen, we can discuss whether or not I got lost once you get inside,” Wooyeon huffs in response.  “Come on, it's freezing out here!”

“You're telling me,” you mutter, causing Nayeon to quietly chuckle as she looks up at you with wide, apology-filled eyes.

You both follow Wooyeon inside, where Nayeon introduces you to one another and informs Wooyeon that she had invited you.  After an exchange of slightly awkward bows, Wooyeon speaks up.

“Okay, so this story involves you and a guy, alone, in the middle of a parking lot on a dark and stormy evening?  I don't care how long it is, you're telling me everything.”

“I … fine.  We can talk on the drive back,” Nayeon begrudgingly accepts.

“Good.  Speaking of, we should head back.  Now, preferably.  They're probably waiting on us,” Wooyeon says, shooting you a sympathetic glance.

“Hey, it's alright,” you tell Nayeon as she turns to look at you.  “I'm just glad I got to see you.  The performance and everything else were just icing on the cake.”

“Everything else, huh?” Wooyeon asks, seemingly more invested suddenly.  “How late is this story going to keep me up?”

“Oh relax,” Nayeon scoffs, shaking her head at Wooyeon's instigation attempts.

“But seriously,” she says to you.  “Thanks for being understanding.”

“Also, thanks for this,” Nayeon continues, smirking at you as she points to your jacket.

“Of course,” you immediately respond.  “Anything for you.”

You watch as Nayeon’s cheeky expression morphs into confusion, like your response was outside the rules of the game you’re both playing.

“I, uh, thanks?” she sputters.  But that confusion doesn't last, and a warm smile is quick to replace it.

“Here then,” she murmurs, closing the distance between you two quicker than you're able to respond.  “This is for you.”

And there's a lot of small details that you'll forget in hindsight.  Like the way Nayeon stands up on her tiptoes, or how she tilts her head just the slightest bit, or even the glittery eyeshadow that gleams in the light.  But there's one detail you'll remember.  Because you'll never forget the feeling of her soft lips against your cheek.

You can't help but hate the moment she pulls away.  But when she locks eyes with you, you're brave enough to hope that you'll feel that sensation again.

“Bye,” she whispers.

“Bye.”

“...”

“...”

“Bye?” Wooyeon says, offering you a slightly awkward wave as you turn to face her.

You look back to Nayeon, and neither of you can help but laugh at Wooyeon's shell-shocked expression.  One theatrical sigh and an eye roll later, Wooyeon turns and begins to walk away.

“Bye Wooyeon!” you call out at the retreating form.  “Hopefully next time we meet, it'll be a little more normal!”

“Hard not to be!” she calls back, earning another duet of laughter from you and Nayeon.

“I should probably follow her,” Nayeon says.  “We're performing Wednesday night, so I guess I'll see you at the shop on Thursday?  Unless you—”

“I'll be there,” you say, fighting back the jealous feelings that surge up at the thought of her performing again.

“You're the best,” she says, throwing her arms around you for the briefest of moments before turning and hurriedly following Wooyeon.  “I'll text you the location!”

“Sounds good, see you there!” you call out in response.  You can't help but feel glued to the floor as you watch her walk away, remaining motionless until she rounds a corner and leaves you alone in the hallway.

An odd mix of emotions twirls around your mind as you depart the building.  Many of them, the vast majority even, are undeniably positive.  But voices, ones eerily similar to those found in the fanchants from earlier, echo in the back of your mind and entrench those unshakable feelings of jealousy.

But even as the bus takes you away and you pray to reach home before the rain begins to fall, you know that this inner storm isn't one you can outrun.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

You hope that you’re as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are.  Because the way you feel when you’re with Nayeon, your friend, when you’re both excitedly talking a little louder than you should be and occasionally have to pause the conversation to apologize to the other customers nearby, it’s euphoric.  It’s exhilarating.  It’s everything you could have ever dreamed of and more.

And it could not be more different than the way you feel when you’re with “Nana”, the idol.  Because you should still feel that euphoria, that elation.  You have no reason not to, especially since Nayeon acts the same way, even going so far as to find time somewhere in her crazy schedule when you two can meet.  The joy you find in those moments should be enough.  But your jealousy proves gluttonous, leaving you with an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that grows harder to ignore.  It’s inescapable.  It’s everything you can’t control threatening to take away everything you hold dear.

And you haven’t the slightest fucking clue what to do.

Unfortunately, the tempest doesn’t give you much time to find a solution before boiling over.  It’s only a couple of weeks and a handful of performances later when Nayeon pulls you into a small alcove hidden amongst the towers of sound equipment and piles of wires.  Almost immediately, she begins sharing a story about a fan interaction, further fanning the flames of the ugly side of your emotions.

It’s not long before you’re overwhelmed by the turbulent emotions within.  Nayeon’s in the middle of a sentence when you lean in, cupping her cheek in one hand as you press your lips against hers.  You kiss her gently at first, but after her initial shock, she begins to kiss you back.  Firmly.  Insistently.  You let the sounds of the nearby stage abate, allowing yourself to instead lose yourself in the only senses that matter right now.

Like how the smell of her conditioner reminds you of coconuts and cherry blossoms.  Or how she tastes sweeter than honey.  Or how her lips are somehow softer than clouds.

You pull away only once oxygen deprivation forces you to, leaving you both staring at each other as you desperately attempt to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as soon as you’re able to.  “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Nayeon interjects.  “Shut up and kiss me again.”

This time, she catches you off-guard as she leans in, pulling your head down slightly as she kisses you with as much intensity as before, if not more.  You’re more than willing to match her zeal, eliciting murmurs of satisfaction and small gasps for air from her as you battle back and forth.

It’s intense.  It’s electrifying.  It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and—

“There you are—oh!”

You and Nayeon hastily separate and turn to face the unexpected spectator, finding none other than poor Wooyeon and her shell-shocked expression awaiting you once again.

“Wooyeon?!  I, you, we, uh …” Nana says, trailing off mid-sentence as she steps away from you and attempts the futile task of trying to return her hair to some semblance of normalcy.

“We have to figure out a better way for you to introduce me to your friends,” you tell Nana, earning a stare of disbelief from her and an unexpected bit of melodious laughter from Wooyeon.

“You seriously do!” Wooyeon exclaims, fanning her face in an attempt to disperse the crimson flooding her cheeks.  “Honestly, I hate that they keep sending me to find you two, why can't it be Sora getting traumatized for once?”

“Because they know you're way too good at finding things for your own good, especially us apparently,” Nayeon says, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Oh, don't worry!  I won't tell …” Wooyeon trails off for a moment, looking at Nayeon slyly.  “Too many people.”

“Hey!” Nayeon exclaims.  “Be careful what you wish for, I'm sure plenty of people would be interested in my stories about you.”

“That wasn't what I'd hoped to hear, but you can write me an apology later,” Wooyeon fires back, turning her head away from Nayeon to hide the red that refuses to leave her cheeks.  “I hate to do this again, but we really do need to get going.”

Nayeon's indignation seems to flare even further as she steps closer to Wooyeon, but you can't help but chuckle at the image of the shorter Nayeon attempting to intimidate the much taller Wooyeon.  Nayeon spares a moment to glare at you before turning back to Wooyeon and saying, “Listen, I'm sure we can—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you interject.  “I’m sure we’ll have time to talk later, right Nayeon?”

“Oh sure, I’m positive that she’ll have plenty of time for a lovely conversation later,” Wooyeon comments, earning a glare from Nayeon that’d likely be scathing if not for the obvious embarrassment coloring her countenance.

“Hey, not so loud!” you jest, smiling just as wide as Wooyeon.  “Seriously though, I really am sorry Wooyeon.   I’ll make it up to you sometime, hopefully next time I see you.  Surely next time we meet it’ll be more normal, right?  Surely?”

“Suuurrrelyyyy,” Wooyeon responds, stringing out the single word just long enough to fit every emotion other than sincerity into its delivery.  She takes the opportunity to step away from Nayeon, who seems temporarily frozen between states of frustration, embarrassment, and something else entirely.

“Hey, no worries,” you gently tell Nayeon, taking her hands in your own and turning her to face you.  “Your members need you.”

“Besides, you should probably go willingly before Wooyeon drags you back, kicking and screaming the whole way,” you joke, smiling as Wooyeon grins and hums in agreement.

“Surely you wouldn't do that to me, right Wooyeon?” Nayeon asks, turning and pouting at her in an exaggeratedly cute manner.

“The option's never been more tempting,” Wooyeon replies, sticking out her tongue in response.

“Okay okay fine, I surrender,” Nayeon tells her, raising her hands in a manner all too familiar to you before turning back to you.  “I'll see you Saturday?”

“Wouldn't miss it for anything,” you tell Nayeon, pulling her into a tight hug that finally dispels the vast amount of tension she'd built up in such a short time.

“Neither would I,” Nayeon murmurs back before pulling away just enough to capture your lips one final time.

“Alright, let's go,” Nayeon tells Wooyeon, interlocking arms with her as they begin to walk away.

“So, for the first part of my apology, I want …” Wooyeon's voice trails off as they walk out of earshot.  But you remain in place, watching their retreating forms until they leave your field of view.  And then perhaps a minute longer, just in case.

But eventually, you also turn away and begin your departure.  The only topic on your mind as you walk, ride the bus, and then walk again on your journey to reach your home is the storm of emotions within.  On the one hand, it gave you the confidence to act in a way you wouldn't have been willing to normally, leading to an amazing and memorable moment.  But on the other hand, you can't shake the feeling that this upswell wasn't the final manifestation of these detrimental feelings.  All you can do is hope that if they do flare again, that night won’t be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

tick…

tock…

As you walk alongside Nayeon, you can’t help but marvel at how normal this new norm feels.  Even just a few weeks ago, you would have desperately lunged at the chance to see Nayeon a single time, but now, seeing her multiple times a week feels routine.  Normal.  Unremarkable?

Definitely not unremarkable, as the memory of your arms wrapped around her waist and her lips pressed against your own is just as vivid as it felt in that moment a few nights ago.  Even the restlessness of flaking on the group’s performance for the first time last night feels insignificant in comparison to the contentment you feel right now.

Which is why it’s so jarring when you’re met by a “CLOSED” sign on the shop’s door for the first time ever.

“‘Apologies for the sudden closure’,” you read aloud.  “‘We’re visiting family this weekend and will be closed for the next couple of days.’”

“‘We’ll be open once again on Monday.  We hope to see you then!’” Nana concludes.  “I mean, I hope she has a nice time, but what do we do now?”

“I mean, I’m sure we can find somewhere else that sounds good.  There are a couple places nearby that I usually order delivery from,” you offer.

“Wait, isn’t your place nearby?” she asks, earning a nod in response.  “Why don’t we just pick something up on the way and eat there?  We could watch a movie too, it’ll be fun!”

“Wait wait wait,” you say, mind reeling at the implications.  “Did you just invite yourself into my apartment?”

“Yep!” Nayeon announces, shame nowhere to be found within that radiant smile.  “Now figure out which chicken place you want to order from and let’s go!”

All you can do is laugh at the absurdity of the situation as you pull out your phone and do as she asks.  After a few minutes of walking and a quick stop to pick up food, you arrive at your apartment.  Your one-bedroom apartment might pale in comparison to some of the more upscale living areas in Seoul, but you genuinely appreciate the place you call your home, and you show it to Nayeon with pride.  After a brief tour, you both unpack the large assortment of dishes that usually accompany any Korean meal and begin your dinner.

“How was your performance last night?” you ask her, forcing yourself to smile even as the initial hints of your jealousy begin to stir.

“It went well, thank you!” Nayeon responds, smiling softly at you.  “The fan turnout was amazing, so it was super easy to enjoy performing for them.  What about you, how was your night?”

“Pretty good, thank you for asking,” you say, attempting to match the warmth of her smile but unable to due to the ice in your heart.  “It was a pretty unremarkable evening in general, but I did appreciate the chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep.”

“That’s good to hear!  I missed having you there, but I’m glad you were able to rest.”

“Thank you.  I’m sorry for not being there to support you, but at least Wooyeon got to enjoy a night where she didn’t have to hunt us down.”

“She actually told me that she was sad you weren’t there!  She said on the ride over that she was sure last night was going to be your guys’ first ‘normal’ conversation.”

“Really?  That’s unfortunate, hopefully it’ll happen next time I see her.”

“Hopefully!” Nayeon agrees, and you both go back to enjoying your dinner.  

A few minutes later, once you’ve both finished and cleared away the table, you pull out your favorite oversized blanket and lounge on the couch, inviting Nayeon to join you.  She’s more than happy to oblige, taking the remote from you and immediately pulling up some recently released horror sequel.  You can’t help but voice your surprise, but your concerns are swiftly and eagerly shut down as she gets up and begins messing with the light switches, trying different combinations in an attempt to properly set the mood.  Once she finally achieves her desired lighting, she hops back onto the couch, pulling the blanket over herself and laying against your side.

As she snuggles in closer, you do your best to relax and simply enjoy the experience.  And, if nothing else, the experience is certainly entertaining, as Nayeon seems to be terrified of the jump scares that seem to occur every couple of minutes.  Yet despite her screams, she refuses every time you ask if she wants to watch something else, insisting that she’s having a great time.  Well, for the first hour at least.

“Can I ask you something?” Nayeon says suddenly as she pauses the movie.

“Of course,” you say, your mind flooding with concerns and thoughts of worst-case outcomes.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, sitting up and turning to face you.

“Like, right now?  Couldn’t be better,” you respond, fighting through your concern as you offer a strained smile.

“Mostly just in general, but you don’t seem relaxed even now, despite the fact that we’re under this stupidly soft blanket on this insanely comfy couch,” Nayeon says, smiling for a moment before her expression shifts back to seriousness.  “But honestly, you’ve seemed kinda off for a while.  It's not all the time, but often enough for me to be concerned.  Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No, it’s okay, I—” You stop yourself, searching through the dark and finding nothing but obvious care and trust in her eyes.  So, knowing you can do better, you start over.

“I’m not going to lie to you.  I promise I won’t.  So, yeah, there’s something that’s bothering me, but it’s … hard to explain.  I don’t want to hide anything from you—and I promise I will tell you, but I don’t know the words to tell you what I want to say right now.  Can I ask you to be patient with me, just for a little bit?”

“Okay,” she says, visible concern on her face as she nods.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you say, awkwardly turning back to the TV.

You’re unable to focus on the rest of the movie, deafened by the silence between you two and shivering from a coldness unrelated to the setting sun.  Even once it’s over and Nayeon gets ready to leave, neither of you are able to put on a convincing enough performance to hide your emotions.  You exchange awkward goodbyes, waving farewell instead of hugging like you’ve always done as she walks away.

Thus, it’s anything but surprising when, mere hours later, the girl of your dreams becomes the subject of your nightmares.  Spectral visions of her pained expression haunt you as the thoughts of causing her stress, pain, and suffering bind and isolate you.  You swear you can hear the haunted cackling of the manifestations of anxiety and jealousy in your mind as they cast a spotlight on your inability to quell the storm.  And as the nightmare begins to fade and you feel yourself being dragged away from her, you finally get it.

As soon as you awaken, unsurprisingly covered in sweat, you immediately grab your phone and begin composing a series of messages.  Because you refuse to let your selfishness hurt someone else, especially Nayeon.

You (5:01am): Hey, I’m so, so sorry about last night, especially how it ended

You (5:01am):  There’s somewhere I’d love to show you, it’s a private place where we should be able to spend some time together and talk

You (5:01am):  If you have an afternoon free sometime soon, please let me know

You (5:02am):  Thanks so much

Between the restless night and the anxiety of hoping for a response, the miserable day you end up having is anything but a surprise.  You check your phone at every available opportunity, but the response you're hoping for never arrives.

It isn't until after you return home, when you're sitting alone in the stale air of your frigid, empty apartment that Nayeon answers.

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Hey, I'm so sorry for taking so long to respond, there were a lot of things I ended up needing to take care of today

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Does tomorrow work?  I'm sorry if it's sooner than you were expecting …

You (5:02pm): No, that would actually be perfect!  Thank you so much, I'll send you the address

You press send, feeling a great weight lifted off your shoulders as you confirm the location and time with her.  Unfortunately, just as you feel yourself begin to relax, your mind begins compiling a list of the things you’ll need for tomorrow.

So, once again, you bundle up and step outside to face the harsh winds.  But this time, as the grocery store comes into view, you're eager to brave the storm.  Because you know what's waiting for you on the other side.

tick…

tock…

Noon.  The brightest point of the day.  A time of warmth.  An important part of any day for a multitude of reasons.  Specifically, the most important part of today because it's when you plan to meet Nayeon.

You scramble onto the bus just in time, sighing in relief as you check the clock and see that you’re scheduled to arrive a bit early, just as you’d hoped.  So, with a bit of free time during the thirty-eight-minute journey awaiting you, you first check all your belongings, happily confirming that nothing's been lost in transit.  You look out the window, frowning slightly at the clouds slowly rolling across the sky, blocking out the clear sky you'd hoped would be the backdrop to this crucial day.  You cast that aside, choosing instead to focus on what you can control.  Like what exactly you want to say to her.  How you want to convey your feelings to her.

Is this a confession?  A request?  An invitation?  A farewell?  No, you know it's definitely not a farewell.  But you still don't know what exactly you want to tell her.

Actually, that's not entirely true either, because when you’re with her, you can't help but want to talk to her about anything and everything.  But just for today, you hope that you can be greedy.  You hope that you'll somehow find the exact words you need to convey how you feel.  The exact words she needs to hear.  The exact words that'll help you solve this problem.  The exact words she wants to hear.  The exact words that'll steal her heart.

A familiar little robotic voice echoes throughout the bus, informing you that you’ve arrived.  You gather up your blanket, basket, and jacket, then exit the bus and turn to walk towards your destination.

As you slip your sunglasses on, you look around, smiling slightly at the memories resurfacing at the sight of so many familiar shops from your past.  You see the pet store where you cried because your mom wouldn't buy you a chinchilla for your fifth birthday.  You see the small ice cream shop where you celebrated your first soccer tournament victory with your friends.  You see the hair salon where the stylist always teased you for growing out your hair over your ears as a teenager.

And when you turn the corner, you see the bridge where you had your first kiss.  There, standing alone, a familiar flash of gold hides beneath a cap and scarf, and the sight of her finally makes you see the truth.  Waiting for you atop that bridge, you see your first love.

“Of course.”

Your knuckles whiten as they tightly grip the wooden handle of the basket.  You feel your legs attempt to lock up, but you force yourself to break free of anxiety's cold grip and begin to close the distance.  You barely make it onto the small bridge before she perks up at the sound of your footsteps and turns to face you.

“Hey, I'm so sorry for making you wait, I tried to be here as soon as—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Nayeon says, lips upturned in a hint of a smile.  “I’m used to being the first one to arrive and I only got here a couple minutes ago.”

You both pause for a moment, an uncharacteristically awkward silence filling the air between you two as you both search for the right thing to say.

“Thanks for inviting me here,” Nayeon says after a few moments.  “I've never been to this neighborhood before.”

“No, thank you for being willing to come, especially so soon!” you quickly respond.  “I’m sorry for being vague about it earlier, but this is actually where I grew up.”

“Oh really?” Nayeon asks, looking around with a renewed interest.  “I'm sure you have so many stories to tell about this place!”

“Something like that,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk.  Where you remember standing as you kissed your first crush so many years ago.  Where you remember standing as your tears hit the pavement when that same girl said goodbye for the last time.  Where you stand now, hoping that you can convince the best thing that's ever happened to you to stay.

“Well then, where are we going?” Nayeon asks.  “Don't tell me you're going to ask me to cheat on Aunt Kim by going to another noodle shop!”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, feeling your vigor return as you laugh with her.

“That's probably for the best.  I don't suppose it's that ice cream store either?” Nayeon asks excitedly.

“Maybe after,” you say, chuckling at her dramatic pout.

“I did come with a plan for lunch,” you continue, holding up the basket and showing it to her.

“Oh, that's amazing!” Nayeon exclaims, finally closing the distance between you two and hugging you tightly.  “You're the cutest!”

You're initially baffled by Nayeon, who's so much shorter than you, calling you cute, but you're more than willing to bite back your response and simply hold her close.  After a minute or so, you force yourself to pull away.

“Alright, so where are we going?” Nayeon asks as her eyes eagerly explore the area.

“It's about a fifteen-minute walk from here, maybe twenty if you want me to act as a tour guide.”

“I'm in no rush when I'm with you,” Nayeon immediately responds.  “Tell me everything.”

After taking a second to make sure your heart hasn’t overloaded, you extend your hand to her.  “Alright, but only because it's you.  Follow me.”

Nayeon happily obliges, and with her hand in yours, you begin the journey upstream through the sands of time.  You spend the first few minutes of the walk pointing out the local stores and restaurants that you fondly remember, initially avoiding any mention of places associated with less flattering memories.  But as you continue on and grow more comfortable, you begin to share all of the most memorable pieces of your past, much to the delight of Nayeon, who's happy to laugh with and at you as you tell her about the defining moments of your childhood.

After roughly ten minutes, you come to a stop, staring up at one tall, gray building in particular amongst the half-dozen duplicates in the area.

“What about this place?” Nayeon asks, noticing your hesitation.

“This is … the place I grew up,” you explain.  “My parents and I lived in this apartment building until I graduated high school and went off to college.”

“Oh, so this was your home?”

“You could say that, but I don't think of it that way.  This is the place where I lived, but it isn't the place where I made the most memories.”

“Hmm, I think I understand.  Did you have a place you'd call your home instead?”

“I did,” you confirm, gripping her hand tighter.  “We're going there now.”

You continue on, allowing the air to grow quiet as you walk under the canopy of trees hanging over the path between two streets.  After a few minutes of this comfortable contemplation, you speak up.

“I know this is gonna sound weird but hear me out.”

“That's certainly one way to start a conversation,” Nayeon jokes, squeezing your hand slightly.  “But sure, I'm listening.”

“I really appreciate how easy it is to just … enjoy being with you,” you explain.  “How you make me feel comfortable even when we're being quiet, because just being together is enough.”

“Uh huh.  And you wanted to convey this to me by breaking the silence to do so?”

“Listen, I … yeah, I guess so.  I just wanted to let you know how you make me feel.  I'm far from the best with words, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

“I might have,” she jokes, pulling herself closer against your side.  “But I don't think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Oh?  Why do you say that?”

“Because I already knew you felt that way,” Nayeon says, looking up at you with bright eyes and a brighter smile.  “And because I feel the same way too.”

You share a few more minutes of soft silence as you walk along the road, traveling under the canopy until it parts and you see the clouds above.  A couple of streets and turns later, you arrive at your destination.

“This is the park where I used to play soccer,” you explain.  “To your right is where I scored a goal to win a tournament match, and if you look wayyy in the back left, you can see where I made an opponent so angry, he shoved me to the ground and nearly broke my wrist.”

“Oh wow!” Nayeon exclaims, covering her mouth as a snippet of laughter threatens to escape.  “You must have a lot of fond memories of this place.”

“Yeah …” you say, trailing off as you cast your mind back to those times ten, fifteen years ago.  “I made a lot of friends—and enemies—on these fields.”

“Do you still keep in touch with many of them?  Your friends, not your enemies,” she clarifies.

“No, almost none of either group actually,” you admit.  “It gets hard when people move away and college or work takes over your life.  I make sure to stay in contact with one, my best friend from those times, but even that’s a bit of a struggle.  I haven’t seen him in who knows how many years, just talked with him online.”

“I—wow…” Nayeon says, eyes sweeping the empty grass that you’ll always remember as full of life.  “I can’t even imagine being separated from Wooyeon.”

“Well, it’s probably different when you see each other, what, 350 days out of the year?” you point out.

“That’s fair,” she admits, finally releasing that pent-up chuckle.  “Thank you for showing me this, I’m sure it means a lot to you.”

“Of course,” you say, offering her a smile.  “Now I want to show you the place that became my home.”

“Then let’s go!” Nayeon announces, returning your smile and allowing you to lead her across the expanse that seemed endless when you were younger.

Eventually, you reach a small chain link fence, which you follow until you’re met with the familiar sight of a rusted gate with a faded combination lock.

“Let’s hope they haven’t changed this,” you say, mostly to yourself, as you input the code: 090301.

To your great joy—and mild surprise—it unlatches, allowing you to open the gate and lead Nayeon inside.  Within, you easily navigate through the branches and brush, memories coming back in a rush as you delve deeper and deeper.  After about a minute, you arrive, pulling back a branch and allowing Nayeon to pass by you into the small clearing.  Surrounded on all sides by trees, a pair of smooth, plateau-like rocks sit a couple meters from a softly flowing creek, granting you both the solitude that this private sanctum had always blessed you with.

“This is it,” you explain, nearly whispering the words as Nayeon takes in the scene.  “This was … everything, really.  This is where I came when I needed to think, needed to decompress, or … needed to know what I needed, I guess.”

“This is incredible!” Nayeon says, eyes wide as she frenetically scours every centimeter of the area, committing it to memory.  “How did you even find this place?”

“Everyone I’ve ever brought here has asked me that exact question,” you say, a sentimental smile spreading across your face.  “But I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other two; I feel like it honestly found me.  I just … went out looking for a sign of something on a night where I needed direction and found myself here.”

“This is actually the first time I’ve come here since moving away for college,” you continue.  “It’s crazy how as much as things change, they stay the same.”

“I guess so …” Nayeon says, trailing off before turning and meeting your eyes.  “Thank you for bringing me here.  I can tell this place holds a special place in your heart and I deeply appreciate you sharing it with me.”

“Of course,” you say after a moment, struggling to formulate words under the intensity of her gaze.  “You hold a special place in my heart too, so I appreciate you trusting me and coming here with me.”

Nayeon is content to let her smile be her response, so you lay out the blanket across the smooth rocks and take a seat on one, gesturing towards the other.  “Come on, let’s talk.”

“Talk?” she asks, implication obvious in her voice as her eyes harden.

“Talk,” you confirm with a nod.

“Okay,” Nayeon whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear above your pounding heartbeat as she takes a seat beside you.  She shakes her hands like they’ve gone numb, then continues, “Please, tell me what’s going on.  Everything that’s going on.”

“Nayeon, I want to make sure you know something, something very important,” you tell her, earning a nod in response.  “I care about you.  So much.  Maybe too much.  I know I haven’t been returning the warmth that you’ve shared with me, and for that, I am so sorry.”

You pause, release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and deeply inhale before continuing, “It’s just—sometimes when I’m with you, negative emotions start building up inside me that feel like a storm threatening to pull me under.  Sometimes, I can’t help but feel jealous when I see you on stage or when you talk about your fans, because it feels like there’s so many of them and I’m just … me.  I feel like they’ve known you longer, seen more of you, and that you can’t help but prioritize them because your job depends on it.  I know I shouldn’t feel this way, and I know that it’s selfish.”

You force yourself to stop and look at her.  She sits patiently, listening attentively as she nods once again, waiting for you to continue.  So, you do.  “I want you to know, more than anything else, that none of this is your fault.  And I am so, so sorry for putting you in this position.  But after you asked me if everything was alright, I knew that I couldn’t hide it from you any longer.  I knew that if I kept this inside, it would boil over and end up hurting you in the process.  And I can’t allow that to happen—I can’t let you get hurt because of how I feel—but I can’t walk away without telling you the truth.  And I know I have no right to do this to you and I understand if you’re upset and if you want me to leave I—”

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Nayeon says softly, cupping your face in her ever so delicate hands.  “Thank you, so much, for telling me this.  I don’t and won’t ever blame you for feeling those kinds of feelings. I wish I could tell you that I understand and that everything will be alright, but I can't.  Honestly, I probably won’t ever truly be able to.”

“But I need you to trust me when I tell you that you mean everything to me,” she continues.  “And I need you to trust me when I tell you I’m willing to face this problem as long as it’s by your side.  And when I say that we can get through this, together, I mean it with every fiber of my being and all of my heart.  All I can ask is that you put your faith in me, in yourself, and most importantly, in us.  Can you do that for me?”

“Just like that?” you ask, dumbfounded.  “I’m being completely unfair, presenting you with this problem, and you’re somehow still willing to give me more support?”

“For you?  Absolutely,” she responds resolutely.  “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to piece my heart back together if you broke it by leaving.”

“Then yes, I—Yes,” you declare, placing your hands on hers and holding them tightly.  “Absolutely, I can.  I will.  I promise.”

She beams with joy, immediately responding, “Anything for me, right?”

You gently pull her hands away from your face, interweaving your fingers with hers as you tell her, “Of course Nana, it’s always been you.  You’ve been the only thing that matters to me since the moment I saw you.  It’s always been you and always will be.”

You watch as her eyes go wide.  “You’ve never called me that before.”

“I guess so …” you say, trailing off as the realization hits you too.  “I’m sorry if you’d—“

You stop yourself as Nana untangles her fingers from yours in an instant, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing you so tightly that it’s nearly impossible to continue.

“Please say something,” you manage to get out, chuckling awkwardly.  “I kinda just poured my heart and soul out to you and I’d really appreciate you sharing your thoughts.”

“My arms are getting tired from how tightly I’m hugging you and you still need me to tell you what I’m thinking?” Nana scoffs, nuzzling into your chest and refusing to let go.

“Fair point,” you admit, contentedly wrapping your arms around her, though nowhere near as tightly as she’s hugging you.  “Thank you, Nana.”

“For what?  The hug?” she asks, somehow squeezing you even tighter.

“I mean, yes, the hug is amazing, but that isn’t what I meant,” you choke out.  “For being so good to me.  From that first day we met all the way until today, I feel like I’ve been the one with the problem and you’ve been the one with the solution.”

“Maybe, but that won’t always be the case,” Nana responds, loosening her hold on you just enough to allow you to breathe again.  “And if a storm comes and attempts to drag me under, I like to believe you’ll be there, holding on for dear life and refusing to let go.”

You don’t even try to respond verbally, instead releasing your hold on her and using your newly free hand to cup her chin.  As your thumb slowly traces patterns across the soft skin of her cheek, the rest of your body closes what little distance remains between you, allowing you to brush the faintest of kisses onto her lips.  You kiss her gently, tenderly, barely making any contact as your lips land on hers and then depart before she can kiss you back.  You repeat these featherlight flits over and over again, attempting to convey all the feelings you’ve left unsaid.  And finally, when she tightens her hold on you and mewls in frustration, you fervently capture her lips and refuse to be the one who pulls away.

Your conviction ends up just barely lasting long enough for Nana to pull away first, but the light-headedness and dizziness that blocks your view of the only thing you want to be seeing right now is a powerful reminder that oxygen is, in fact, important.  For a short while, the sound of both of you panting is the only sensation that keeps you tethered to consciousness.  But eventually, when you manage to part the darkness and open your eyes, you’re met with the sight of Nana, her chest expanding and contracting just as rapidly as yours as you both amend your oxygen deficits.  And if her smudged lipstick, flushed face, and wild, wide eyes staring into yours are any indication, you’re fairly confident she’s satisfied with your response.

“So … lunch?”

“Just like that?” she asks, dumbfounded.  “You literally take my breath away and that’s all you have to say?”

“Oh, I did have something else!” you remark, acting far more nonchalantly than you feel.  “I love you, Nana.”

It can’t be instantaneous.  But you don’t quite know how it happens either.  Your heart skips a beat when you see a blur of motion in your periphery, then you blink and you’re on the ground with Nana holding you down.  Somewhere around the second or third second of Nana kissing you, it finally connects in your mind.  She actually just tackled you off the rock.

“I—love—you—too,” Nana tells you, whispering each word into your ear in the moments between her own featherlight kisses.  Your heart soars at her reciprocation of your feelings, and as soon as she decides the time for words is over, you’re more than happy to oblige.  She melts into you as you wrap your arms around her back and return her kiss, matching her fervor and maybe even exceeding it.  You both know to pull away much sooner than you did last time, respecting the harsh lesson your bodies had given you.

“You know, a little warning would be nice,” you tease, smiling up at her.

“You’re one to talk!” Nana exclaims, hitting your chest with one small hand as she fans her crimson visage with the other.  “Don’t you know that it’s downright irresponsible to just drop something on me like that?”

“To be fair, I was under the impression that we both expected you to be the responsible one here,” you say, bringing out your puppy eyes and painting faux innocence across every centimeter of your face.

“I … you … ugh!” she grumbles, a rainbow of emotions flashing across her face before she finally leans away from you.  “Yes dear, lunch sounds wonderful.”

It’s right then when you realize another thing that makes Nana special.  She makes your cheeks hurt with how much you smile around her.  And even minutes later, after you’ve both gotten up, unpacked the basket, and you’ve both begun to eat the home cooked meals out of the little plastic containers they’re stored in, the smile she so easily coaxes out of you hasn’t left your face.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier after you blindsided me, but thank you too,” Nana says midway through your meal.

“Blindsided is a bit rich coming from you, the only person here who literally tackled the other, but I digress,” you respond, smiling warmly at her amused smirk.  “What for?”

“For being my friend,” she says, turning away from you and staring into the woods.  “It’s … hard to make friends as an idol.  There are so many expectations for how we’re meant to behave and we’re often too busy to really spend time with others.  I really appreciate your willingness to be flexible and even come to our performances, especially now that I know how it was affecting you …”

“Of course, I’m always happy to be flexible, it’s for you,” you tell her, taking her hand in yours.  “Even if you’re only able to spare a few minutes after each performance, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“But it doesn’t have to only be then, that’s not fair to either of us,” she says, squeezing your hand back.  “Days like this are worth clearing my schedule for.”

“Wait, you cleared your schedule for today?  To see me?  Yesterday?  Before you even knew if I was available?” you ask, receiving a quartet of nods in response.

“That’s why I took so long to respond yesterday, I was running around taking care of all my responsibilities in the dorm and doing the choreography practice I’d planned to do today,” Nana explains.  “I trusted that you’d make it work.  When I saw your text that early in the morning, I figured that you hadn’t been able to sleep either.”

“Wow … I … didn’t even realize … thank you for doing so much for me,” you say, idly tracing circles against the back of her hand.  “But truly, I am always happy to see you, regardless of time or circumstance.  I’m really looking forward to seeing you perform in the future; it’ll be nice to be able to really enjoy you doing what you love without jealousy blinding me.”

“That’s great to hear!” she responds, turning back and smiling at you.  “You taking the time to come see us means so much to me … the first thing I do whenever I get on stage is find you in the crowd.”

“Oh, I—oh.  Thank you,” you say, grateful that you manage to reply before those words join the rest in vacating your mind.

“Of course!” Nana responds, smiling warmly at you before you both return to your lunch.  After you both finish your meals, you look up to the sky, grimacing as you see the consolidation of the clouds as they blot out the sun.

“Hey, Nana,” you say, pointing up to the sky as she turns to you.  “We should definitely get going before we end up stuck in the rain.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding resolutely.  “Let’s get packed up and go.”

You both work together in harmony, loading the containers back into the basket in a fraction of the time it took to unload them.  You take her hand once more, hastily leading her along the trails and roads you've traversed alone countless times.

“We might have to skip the ice cream today,” you tell Nana as you both quickly walk down the streets that house so many memories.

“Oh no!  I guess you'll just have to make it up to me later …” Nana responds, smiling in understanding.

A minute or so later, just as the first few drops of rain begin to fall like your tears that night on the bridge, you arrive at the bus stop.

“This is where I need to get on the bus,” you say to Nana.  “Where are you going, can I call you a taxi?  Were you intending on someone picking you up?  What's the plan?”

Nana smiles in a very particular way, the same way she always seems to smile whenever she realizes that she knows something you don't.  “I'm going wherever you're going.  That's been my plan for a long, long time now.”

You're grateful for the rain, as the sounds of its fall are the only sounds to be found in the seconds that pass before you're able to respond.  You wrap your jacket around her shoulders, sheltering her from the cold as you stare directly into her eyes and tell her, “I … I don't know what I did to deserve the trust you put in me, but I'm incredibly grateful for it.  I promise you that I will never take it for granted.  I promise you, with every fiber of my being and all of my heart, that I will never break that trust.”

“I know,” Nana responds, her whispered words bouncing between the raindrops before barely reaching your ears.  “You showed me your heart today, the least I can do is give you mine.”

You pull Nana close and gently rest your forehead against hers.  Each falling raindrop and each flowing teardrop helps you paint the picture, telling her the thousands of words you can’t verbalize but need her to know.  In this shared moment, as echoes of your past remind you of those sorrowful tears shed so many years ago, your joyful ones return you to the present and the gift in your arms.  So, at least in this moment, you hold Nana tight, vowing to never let her go.

You pull away only when the bus arrives a few minutes later but remain hand in hand as you walk forward.  After stepping on, paying for both of your fares, and finding a pair of seats, you pull out a pair of earbuds and offer Nana one.  She's more than happy to accept, and as she rests her head on your shoulder and you queue up a series of serene love songs from your favorite artists, you hope their words can do a better job of telling Nana how much you love her.

tick…

tock…

“We're here,” you whisper to Nana, gently shaking her awake.  “Just take my hand, I'll lead you home.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, interweaving her fingers with yours and following you through the bus, down the steps, and into the monsoon that immediately jolts her back into consciousness.

“Oookaaayyyy, I'm up!” Nana declares, pulling your jacket tight against her small frame.  “Lead the way, I don't think these pants are gonna do much against a storm like this!”

You take off immediately, leading her as quickly as you can down the sidewalks before eventually stopping at an interaction where you ask her, “But really, why does it always seem like your outfits are in no way at all suited to the weather?”

“Because my outfit looks cute!” Nana exclaims indignantly.  “And you of all people should be glad that’s my priority!”

“Of course, you're right,” you respond, kissing her on the nose in apology.  “Then again, I'm convinced you'd make anything look good, but I do genuinely appreciate that you care and that you put thought into your outfits.  It makes me feel special.”

The crosswalk finally flashes green, and you take off once again, leading Nana towards your apartment as she scolds you.  “Seriously, you can't just keep saying things like that so casually!  There are at least four heartwarming things in that statement that make me want to kiss you, but your question was so stupid that I still kinda want to slap you!  And this stupid rain isn’t helping anything at all!  And I’m cold!  Ugh!”

You're grateful that you're ahead of Nana, because you know that if she sees the goofy smile on your face, you'll be in big trouble.  “Okay dear, I'm sorry I made you feel that way,”  you respond, speaking in the most soothing tone possible.  “We’re almost to my apartment, where it’ll be n-nice and warm, and w-we’ll make everything better.  I p-promise.”

Neither of you speak another word for the remainder of your mad dash, too busy fighting off the shivers to do so.  After a few more minutes, you arrive back at your home, where you tear the key from your pocket, hurriedly unlock the door, and shepherd her inside.

“O-Okay, I’m g-going to start the sh-shower f-for you and g-grab a dry set of clothes for y-you to change into, please f-feel free to d-discard that j-jacket l-literally anywhere,” you manage to tell Nana, taking off as she begins to do as you request.

You fight off the shivers as you quickly dash around your apartment, flipping the shower on and grabbing yourself a towel before darting into your bedroom and grabbing some dry clothes for both of you, then returning to Nana.

“Okay, t-the shower should b-b-be nice and h-hot, and there’s a c-clean towel in t-t-there y-you can u-use,” you stammer as you round the corner.  “H-Here’s something t-to … change … into …”

Your voice escapes you as you see her, back turned as she watches the rain mercilessly paint the cobblestone.  You first see the soaked cotton of her top and how it shakes as her small figure shivers in the cold.  But that isn’t what catches your eye and leaves you dizzy.  It’s the way her pants have tightened, showcasing the sculpted definition of her thighs and how they flow upwards to display the perfectly round curve of her ass.

As she turns, you force yourself to pull your gaze upwards, feeling your face flush as your pulse continues to quicken.  You drag your eyes up her body, past her toned stomach that hides beneath the sopping garments, past her pert breasts and stiff nipples that strain against the soaked fabric, past her shaking shoulders and kissable neck and diamond jawline and roseate lips and adorable nose until finally you meet those chocolate eyes that stare back at you.

“T-Thank you s-s-soooo m-much,” Nana responds, fighting off her own shivers as she takes the clothes from you, then darts off towards the warmth awaiting her, leaving you frozen in more ways than one.

You do your best to ignore how difficult it is to remove your soaked pants, especially as they cling to your skin and especially because of your hardening erection that’s impossible to miss.  After removing all of your drenched attire and placing the dripping bundle alongside the jacket you loaned Nana, you attempt to dry yourself off, saturating the towel with frigid water far quicker than you’d hoped you would.  Once you’re sure that you’ve gotten your money’s worth, you add the towel to the pile in the sink, then put on the pajamas you’d grabbed and turn up the thermostat to its highest setting.

Once you're confident that you’ve done all you can, you collapse, couch creaking in protest at the impact.  In this moment to breathe, the events of the day begin to hit you, flashing across your mind in sync with the droplets of rain against your window.  You think of all the places that defined your childhood.  You think of faces long forgotten.  You think of faces you’ll never forget.  You think of echoes.  You think of her atop that bridge.  You think of her atop that bridge.  You think of all the words that escaped your lips.  You think of Nana’s small hands lifting the weight of the world off your shoulders.  You think of her body on top of yours as she pinned you down with kisses.  You think of her body.  You think of the cold.  You think of heat.  You think of your soaked clothes clinging to your skin.  You think of Nana’s soaked clothes clinging to her skin.  You think of Nana, dripping wet.  You think of Nana, dripping wet.

As you stare out the window, your mind vaguely registers the sound of a hair dryer.  But soon even that sense joins the others, consumed with the thoughts of Nana.  One storm for another.  You’re not even sure if the words escape your lips.

The door opens, and you get up to face Nana.  She’s radiant, each strand of gold and each centimeter of porcelain glowing in the dim light of your apartment.  She’s wearing glasses.  She’s wearing your favorite shirt.  She’s wearing nothing else.

“Hey,” she whispers, somehow slotting seventy emotions into that single syllable as it floats over to you.

You've always viewed Nana as pretty.  She's always been cute.  She'll never not be beautiful.  But as you fight off the arctic chill that permeates your bones, you realize you've never looked at her this way.  You can't help but notice how hot she is.  You see Nana as sexy for the first time.

“Hey,” she calls again, tilting her head and leaning to the side.  It’s unfair, the way she sinks against the doorframe.  It’s immoral, the way she makes herself look even smaller as she hides in the folds of your shirt.  It’s incomprehensible, the way the wide rims of her glasses make her pleading eyes look even bigger.  It’s criminal, the way she hides her intent behind that innocent smile.

“Are you just gonna sit there with your jaw on the floor for the rest of the night, or are you going to say something?”

“N-Nana, if you could s-see what I see, y-you’d be speechless t-too,” you manage to get out, unable to suppress the shivers as you respond.

“Well, you could walk into the bathroom that I might have sorta turned into a sauna,” Nana offers, the smallest of smiles beginning to show.

“Or …” she continues, taking her time as she closes the distance between you two.  “I could warm you up …”

Your arms wrap around her instinctually as she presses her body against you.  You can feel the sculpted frame hidden beneath the oversized shirt.  You can feel the tension.  You can feel the heat.  And as your eyes drift down to her lips, you can feel your reservations flying out the window to join the falling rain.

You kiss her.  Gently.  Delicately.  And she shoves you backwards onto the couch.

“Absolutely not,” Nana declares, climbing into your lap.  She wraps her arms around your neck, licking her lips hungrily before pulling you close.  Within a second of her claiming your lips with her own and beginning to grind against your lower half, any questions you might have had join your reservations on the pavement outside.  You match her intensity, running your tongue along her lips patiently, then expectantly, and claim her mouth as soon as she lets you in.  Your hands roam, dragging your fingers like ice cubes across her hips and down her thighs as she hisses into your mouth.

You work your way up her body, past her waistline and under your her shirt.  You travel further, past the lean abs she’s worked so hard to sculpt, across the ridges and valleys of her expanding and contracting rib cage, all the way until the tips of your fingers brush the sensitive underside of her breasts.  The whimper that escapes her mouth into yours is immediate.  It’s needy.  It’s pathetic.  It’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard.

The soft, malleable skin becomes a pair of perfect handfuls as you explore the fringes of Nana’s breasts, sending sparks through her synapses and shockwaves down her spine.  You break away from her kiss, just for a moment, just long enough to watch her collapse onto you as you finally knead her swollen nipples between your fingers.  You take the opportunity to access the curve of her neck, mentally noting where earns the loudest moans as you suck, kiss, and nip the sensitive skin.

“Look at you, so desperate,” you whisper into her ear, grinding your hips against hers and forcing her to moan.  “I’ve barely even touched you, but somehow you’re even more drenched than earlier.”

“And you know what’s the worst part?” you murmur, stretching a single second across the tension before continuing.  “That’s nothing compared to what you’re doing to me.  I’ve never been so hard in my fucking life.”

“You—you’re—OH!!!”

You know what you’re doing when you latch onto that particular spot on the base of her neck; that her response is going to be lost, lost in the sound of her moan echoing against your walls.  But you also know what she wanted to verbalize, what her body has been telling you as it tenses up even further.  So, when you feel her shaking, on the precipice, you’re more than willing to lend a hand.  You’re happy to detach from her breast, brushing against her sensitive folds with the back of your hand.  And so, when you’re kind enough to simply graze her clit with an icy fingernail, you also make sure to hold her as she comes undone.

The first orgasm you give Nana is a cinematic experience, with a soundtrack of the most ungodly of moans alongside her quivering limbs and the deathly grip on your shoulders as if you’re the only thing keeping her afloat.  You gently trace circles along her back, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and holding her as she rides out the high.  You wait, long after the quivering has ceased and she’s unclenched her hands, long enough for her to meet your eyes and show you that the fog has lifted.

“Hey,” you murmur, goofy grin growing wider as you see her eyes flash with outrage.

“You can’t keep doing this!” Nana exclaims, huffing in frustration when all you have to offer is your gleaming smile.  “You can’t just blow my mind and change my life and end it with a ‘Hey’!”

“Who said that was the end?” you ask, humor discarded as your tone drops.  “You did what you said you would, now we’re both hot and bothered.”  You look into her eyes, see the recognition and excitement.  Then, you see the desire reignite as you thrust upwards, teasing her sex with only a bit of friction.  “What are you going to do about it?”

Nana meets the challenge with equal passion, whispering into your ear, “I’m going to show you a side of me that no one has ever seen before.”

Having adequately spiked your blood pressure, Nana climbs off you, moving with idol-like grace as she sashays towards your bedroom door.  Having reached the end of the runway, she turns, throwing off her shirt and modeling her pristine form for you.  She’s divine.  You somehow tear your eyes away from her flawless figure, staring instead into her molten eyes.  She captures her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly dragging them across the soft, pink skin before twisting her innocuous expression into one of sinister glee.  She’s sin incarnate.

Then, she’s gone, retreated back into your bedroom.  You’re off the couch in a blur, flinging off your shirt and pajama bottoms, discarding the soaked pieces of clothing as they join the rest.  You round the corner, entering your bedroom, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

You’ve seen Nana dozens of times at this point, seen her in outfits ranging from luxury goods to school uniforms to casual attire to athletic wear.  You’ve seen her when doted on by professional stylists, just after a dance practice, and everywhere in-between.  But when you see her here, in your bed, wearing nothing but a smile and absolutely glistening in anticipation, you swear your heart stops.

You climb onto the bed; you climb on top of her.  You kiss her.  Not lightly, not lustfully, but lovingly.  And when she kisses you back, you feel that exact same longing.  Despite the sincerity in the kiss, you don’t feel the heat in the room diminish at all.  No, you just realize it’s everburning.

You pull away.  Barely.  Just enough room for words.  Just far enough to see her eyes.

“No interruptions this time, it's just you and me,” you murmur, causing her to shudder in anticipation right up until a thunderclap echoes throughout the apartment and makes you both jump.

“We really need to work on our timing, don’t we?” Nana jokes, harmonious laughter escaping her as you see her anticipation, affection, and arousal merge, forming the euphoric expression she wears earnestly.

“Yeah, so maybe one interruption,” you say, laughing along with her until her mess of giggles comes to an end.  

“But you are mine, Nana,” you whisper, your hot breath inflaming her senses as each syllable reaches her ears.  “I am yours, and tonight belongs to no one else.  Just us.  Tonight is ours.”

“Perfect,” she whispers back, that single word a lit match she drops directly into your heart.  “What now?”

“Show me,” you say, rolling you both and flipping your positions so she’s atop you.  You give her control.  Earnestly.  You give her your trust.  Easily.  You give her your all.  You give her everything.

When she takes your length in her hand, giving you your first hints of pleasure, you groan in relief.  When she lines you up with her entrance and drips arousal onto your tip, you inhale through your teeth, hissing as if you’d been burned.  And when she lowers herself onto you and takes you inside her, it literally takes your breath away.

“Fuuuck…” Nana hisses, sending your heart rate into the stratosphere.  “It feels … so … fucking … amazing …”

“You’re incredible Nana,” you growl through gritted teeth, hands latching onto her hips and gripping tighter than you probably should.  But any expectation of you being perfectly in control of yourself is entirely unreasonable when she’s moving like this, taking you deeper and deeper into her warmth at an agonizingly slow pace.  You can’t help it; her face, her body, the way she quivers - you can’t tear your eyes away, not when you see the beads of sweat splattered across her furrowed brow.  Not when you can practically hear the grinding of her tensed jaw.  And certainly not when her closed eyelids hide those rich chocolate eyes.

“Take your time,” you whisper soothingly.  “No need to rush, I’ll stay here forever as long as it’s with you.”  You see some of the tension evaporate from her shoulders, but that does nothing for the vice grip she still has around your cock.  Her progress accelerates slightly, taking on more and more of you with each passing moment before finally, finally your hips collide.

“There we go,” Nana mumbles, reopening her eyes and regaining a bit of that hubris you’ve come to know and … like.  Having finally reached her destination, you can see the gears turning in Nana’s head as she starts to experiment, rolling her hips against yours and exploring all the possible sensations she can experience.  One particular angle catches you off guard, causes you to moan even louder than before.  You see it in her eyes, see how they immediately ignite.  She repeats the motion, ripping another of those moans from deep within your chest as you see that gleefully sinister smile return.

The image of Nana bouncing up and down on your cock is obscene yet puts all other art to shame with its beauty.  You simultaneously appreciate and despise her dancing background as she moves with unyielding precision.  She places her hands on your shoulders as she continues exploring, utilizing her flexibility and strength to adjust her position and flex her muscles in ways you’d never thought possible, much less experienced.

“Oh my god Nana …” Your words trail off, lost to the pleasures of her latest findings, but they fan the flames all the same.

“Tell me how good that feels,” Nana purrs, punctuating her point by sliding herself back down onto the base of your cock.  Then again.  And again.  And again.

“It feels so—FUCK!—ing good,” you manage to choke out, throwing your head back in pleasure.  Almost instantly, Nana grabs you by the chin, pulling you forward and making it impossible to look anywhere else.

“Don’t you dare look anywhere else,” she growls, sending a new sensation down your spine as her ceaseless riding continues to chip away at your sanity.  “Tell me how I make you feel.”

“You—ugh!” Words escape you, your mind unable to comprehend things other than pleasure and pain and Nana.  Your grip tightens, tight enough to bruise, as you desperately try to cling to something, anything.  “You feel amazing.”

“What else?” Nana asks, picking up the pace.

“You drive me insane,” you tell her, sparing her hips further punishment as you focus on her breasts once again.

“Tell me more,” she demands, riding you even faster.

“You’re unbelievable!” you yell, mustering what little oxygen remains as you match her volume.

“More.”  Even faster.

“You’re perfect,” you say, voice dropping as her pitch rises.

“More!”  Faster.

“I love how you make me feel.”  Even quieter.

“More, more!!” she demands greedily, hips bouncing at a delirious pace as her face tenses once more.

“I love you Nana,” you whisper sweetly.  But you refuse to let the sentiment disrupt the moment, following her hips up as you thrust into her and throw off her rhythm.  “Cum for me.”

“FUCK—”

Nana somehow manages the impossible, staring through you with misty eyes as she succumbs to pleasure, drenching your lower half and the sheets below in her nectar as her orgasm violently overtakes her.  It takes everything you have to remain motionless, cock painfully throbbing as you try not to overwhelm her.  Each of you experiences the seconds as if they were lifetimes, you on the verge of pleasure and her well over the edge of it.

“You didn’t cum?” Nana asks, shifting slightly in your lap and forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from exploding inside her right then.  She raises herself off of you, maintaining eye contact the entire time she moves away and positions herself between your legs.  As she leans forward, opening her mouth and letting her warm breaths torment your torturously erect shaft further, she has the audacity to wink at you.

“Time to change that.”

The sight of her fucking tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your cock all the way from base to head is ungodly, and you know immediately, no camera flash required, that this image will be burned into your mind for all eternity.  It’s almost demeaning how casually she destroys you, idly wrapping her fingers around your shaft as her tongue begins to swirl around the head of your cock.  “Fucking hell Nana …”

If your words affect her, she’s doing a damned good job hiding it, drooling unapologetically all over the fingers that twist and pump your shaft, priming it as her mouth continues to work its way further and further down.  And all the while, the entire time she molds you to her desires like putty in her hands, she holds your eyes.  Lovingly.  Expectantly.  Enticingly.  

“I’m close …” You try to warn her, but her hum in response sends an all-new type of shock all the way down your shaft, cutting off any further waste of oxygen.  Your hands tangle into your sheets, threatening to shred them in your grip as you fight to keep the desire to let loose and absolutely defile her throat.  “I’m gonna—”

Nana ignores your words, listening to the signs of your body as she delicately unwraps her small hand from around your shaft.  The faintest flicker of disappointment flashes in the back of your mind, but it’s immediately eradicated as Nana forces herself downwards, catching you completely off-guard as she takes you into her throat, consuming you entirely.

“NANA!!”  She rips her name out from deep within you, sending you soaring over the edge of orgasm as you are unmade by pleasure.  Your body tenses and contracts, overwhelming pleasure pulsating from head to toe and every centimeter in between.  Wave after wave after wave after wave of your cum fires into her mouth, but you’re unable to bear witness as your eyelids shield you from the unholy sight.  It’s so much, so fast, that it drives you to the perfect intersection of pain and pleasure, leaving you unable to do anything but feel.

Eventually, your orgasm comes to an end, as all things must.  The first thing you do is open your eyes to see Nana, mouth still snugly around your cock as she swallows the last of drops of your deluge.  The second thing you do is remember to breathe.  You watch as she detaches herself from your cock, then joins you, for the second time today, in an agonizing minute of shaking shoulders and heaving chests as you both attempt to force enough oxygen into your lungs to be able to speak.  Fortunately, you’re both able to.  You just happen to do so first.

“So … dinner?  Or are you good … after …”

“I’m actually going to murder you,” she mutters, and you don’t even try to stop the laughter that forces its way out.

“You know, I was going to be upset at you for the whole ‘not maintaining eye contact’ thing,” Nana says with a smile of her own, climbing up the bed to lay against your side.  “But considering I’m the one that made you nearly black out, I’ll give you a pass this time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you offer, smiling sheepishly as you wrap an arm around her.  “But you were—”

“Yeah, uh …” she interjects, trailing off as her rapid pulse quickly delivers a crimson flush to her cheeks.  “I don’t know … it was just really nice—and really hot—to hear you say those things about me.”

“Any time,” you say as you lean in, gently kissing her on the crown of her head.  “By the way, did you … I didn’t really see …”

“Oh, this?” Nana asks, opening her mouth wide to show you the tongue and walls, unbesmirched by white.  “I’m sure you agree that was pretty hot, but I guess that means you don’t wanna—”

You roll over slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows as you climb over her once more, leaning down and cutting her sentence short as you capture her lips.  A small squeak of surprise escapes before she matches your passion, wrapping her arms around your neck as your tongues begin to dance.  As the intensity rises your heartbeat follows suit, sending blood all throughout your body and especially one place in particular.

“Not done, huh?” Nana murmurs, capturing your bottom lip between her teeth and gently sucking on it as she looks at you with her seductress’ gaze.

“For you?  Never,” you murmur back, intent and invitation clear in your eyes.

“We’ll have to test that sometime …” Nana responds, mirth and mischief manifesting in her smile as she releases your lip.  “For now though … show me.”

The kiss you leave on her lips is fleeting, acting more as a palate cleanser than any declaration or escalation.  You grab a pillow with one hand, lifting Nana up with the other and placing it under the small of her back as you set the stage.  With a bit of additional leverage gained and anticipation built, you line yourself up with her entrance, looking to Nana who nods in confirmation as you enter her once again.

You push further into her slowly, eager to reach the previous round’s intensity but mindful of her pleasure as her tightness suffocates your shaft.  Ravenous for more, you lean in, greeted by the mixed scents of coconuts and cherry blossoms and sweat and everything else about her that makes your head spin.  You’re quick to attack her neck again, latching onto one of the many spots you noted earlier and sucking relentlessly.

“Wait wait wait, no marks!” Nana exclaims, placing her hands on your shoulders and pushing you away from your target.

“I’m so sorry, I should have—” Your apology grinds to a halt as Nana, sinful gaze meeting your own, delicately lays a single finger against your lips.

“No … visible marks,” she clarifies, smirking seductively as she lowers her arms and offers you free reign once more.

You’re more than happy to seize the opportunity, capturing one of her nipples between your teeth and beginning your oral assault as you suck, swirl, and tease her with your tongue.  One hand begins exploring her body, creating only the tiniest bit of contact as it glides over each area of her flawless skin, searching for unexpected pleasure points anywhere you can reach.

“Be vocal,” you murmur, breath rolling like fog over her breast.  “I want nothing more than to know every single spot on your body that drives you wild.”

You see out of the corner of your eyes Nana opening her mouth, as if to respond, but as your hips collide once more and you fully bury your length inside of her, a deep, heady moan bulldozes through her best laid plans and tears free instead.  As you begin to thrust faster, deeper, you sink your other hand below her waistline, searching only a moment before finding the sensitive bud of her clit and adding it to your list of ministrations.

“Tell me Nana, tell me what feels good,” you say, soothing voice a stark contrast to the frenetic pace at which you chase her pleasure.

“Your fucking mouth, I love how you suck on my—ugh!” Another day, you’d feel cruel for cutting her off so rudely, but honestly, who could blame you for doing what she asks?  “And the way you feel inside me, thrusting in so deep …”  This time, it’s a sharp intake of air, but you’re happy to earn another moan as you thrust deep inside her again.  Then again, for good measure.  One more time.  “And I love the way you … with your hand … on my thigh … yesssss …”  You’ll have to make a special note for that one, apparently figure eights are the best pattern to trace along the inside of her thighs.  Who knew?

You get lost in the perfection that is Nana, thrusting wildly as you ride the high all the way up to the summit.  You mar her flawless skin with marks of desire, leave little reminders of pleasure where no one else will see them.  You feast on her skin, attempting to satiate a hunger you both know will never be sated.  Your hands roam as well, acting with a mind of their own as one roams every uncharted inch of her skin while the other stays glued between her thighs, toying mercilessly with her most sensitive area.  It’s plenty for you to keep track of, but if Nana’s reactions are anything to go by, it’s bordering on too much for her to handle.

Time’s a relative thing in general, but here, in the bedroom with Nana, there’s no eternity better spent.  You chase your pleasures together, call and response, back and forth, her and you, united as one.  You cherish the opportunity to care for Nana for once, bringing her pleasure in as many ways as possible.  “Fuck!”  You seek those profanities.  “Oh god—”  You crave those indecencies.  “You’re gonna make me …”  You hunt her peaks, and as she thrashes, shakes, quivers, and cries in your arms, you’re there to hold her the whole way down.

“Nana, I’m getting close,” you tell her, growing delirious as pleasure begins to overwhelm you.  “Where—”

“I swear to god if you cum anywhere other than inside of me …” Nana threatens, though her glassy eyes and lolled tongue diminish the impact a bit.

You feel Nana’s legs wrap around your waist, pulling you in as her arms do the same.  Her lips claim yours, capturing any senses that weren’t already completely overwhelmed by her and her alone.  As you lean into her, tongues dancing as your body disconnects from your mind, pleasure shoots through your veins like a shot or seventy of adrenaline.  If you were any more coherent, you might’ve been able to enjoy the details, like the way your cock’s twitching or the way Nana shudders slightly each time you fire another shot into her or the way you keep pumping, refusing to let any of your cum go anywhere but as deep as you can fuck it inside her.  Unfortunately, all you experience is the taste of Nana on your lips and the red, foggy haze of rapture that permeates your fucking soul.  Unlucky, really.

Your orgasm ends, eventually.  You force yourself to pull away, force yourself to focus so that you can see the elated expression of a well-fucked Nana.  There’s the faintest hint of tears in the corners of her eyes, each one earned at her own apex of pleasure.  You withdraw further, pulling out of her fully, then lay beside her and pull her into your arms.

“Hey there beautiful, you alright?”

“Not the word I would use,” Nana murmurs into your chest.  “We should get caught in the rain more often …”

Once again, quiet laughter escapes you, as it always seems to when you’re with Nana.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promise.  “In the meantime, we should probably get cleaned up and showered.”

“Not yet …” Nana groans, lightly smacking you like you’re an alarm clock disrupting her beauty sleep.

“Okay okay, no rush,” you respond, pulling her close and allowing the sounds of the gentle rain to fill the room.  You treasure the tranquility, basking in the simple sensations of her hands in yours and her soft breaths against your chest.  Many stanzas later, the storm’s song softens, then slowly comes to a close, but you stay there together, finding solace in each other’s embrace.  Eventually, once Nana’s fully recovered, you get up to turn the shower on and begin grabbing things, giving her everything she needs: tissues, wipes, water, hugs, kisses, and your undivided attention.

“I know this is an incredibly egotistical question, but can you walk?” you ask, smiling sheepishly as she rolls her eyes.  “Or do you want me to carry you?”

“Yes, I can, but carry me anyways,” Nana declares, throwing open her arms and waiting expectantly.

“As you wish,” you declare with a flourish, bowing deeply before scooping Nana into your arms and carrying her bridal style into the bathroom.

“Showering together?” she asks suggestively and shamelessly.

“Showering together,” you reply warmly, setting her down and testing the water.  “Let me spoil you for a bit, no need to rush.”

“Very well,” she accepts, stepping into the shower.  “Now hurry and get in here so I don’t have to warm you up all over again.”

“Yes ma’am,” you respond, climbing in after her.  You’ve never been more grateful for your replacement shower head and its absurd water pressure, though you make sure to get close to Nana just in case.

Even as you two rinse yourselves off, you can’t help but be mesmerized by the water flowing down Nana’s perfect figure.  You watch as the many drops coat each long strand of her flowing golden locks, run down each beautiful feature that comprises her face, then finally succumbs to gravity after tracing every last millimeter of her jawline.  From there, you follow their journey as they land on her collarbone and continue on into sacred territory.  Thousands of individual droplets gently caress the curvature of her breasts as they pass by, while thousands more race down the soft skin of the arms and hands that inspire so many fans to dream of their embrace.  For those droplets lucky enough to remain attached after traveling past her abs and below her waist, a pair of gently toned legs defined by years upon years of dance await.  Finally, between the pale skin of her inner thighs, the perfectly shaven holy place of indecent desires and fantasies awaits a lucky few.  Lucky you.

“You’re staring again,” Nana says, breaking you out of your reverie as she smiles shyly.

“Nana, I absolutely am,” you admit freely, shamelessly.  “You’re right here in front of me and I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“Oh, um … thanks,” Nana mumbles, turning away from you just as you see a familiar splash of crimson.

“You’re welcome, now hold still,” you tell her, grabbing a bottle of conditioner and squeezing some into your hand.  “Let me wash your hair.”

“Oh!  I mean, okay …”

You spread the viscous liquid across your hands, then begin massaging it into the many, many strands of gold that flow together and form her hair.  “This conditioner worked wonderfully back when I had lighter highlights, so hopefully it should be fine for you too.”

You trail off, focusing on the task at hand and the silk between your fingertips, but you can’t help but add, “But I wouldn’t mind buying some of whatever you normally use and keeping it here … just in case.”

Nana turns back, glaring at you for a moment before allowing you to continue.  “That’s a sentence with a whole lot of implications, but you’re cute so I’ll let you get away with it.”

“Good to know!  I promise to not use that information responsibly,” you jest, grinning uncontrollably as Nana huffs in indignation.  “Okay, let that sit for a couple minutes before rinsing it out.”

Nana turns, stepping closer to you and keeping her hair out of the waterflow as she does so.  “Can I wash yours?”

“Of course,” you tell her, handing her the bottle before closing your eyes and leaning down to allow her easier access.

“Thank you …” she murmurs.  After a few anticipatory moments in the dark, you feel her hands start working their way across your head, massaging you and coating your own strands in that same liquid that you apply on a daily basis, but have never experienced like this.

A whine slips past your lips as she finishes and pulls away, causing a score of giggles to emerge as you open your eyes to see the adorable, joyous expression of Nana’s smiling face.  “So, what’s next?”

“I’m going to wash my body with this,” you tell her, holding up a bottle of body wash as you hand her a different one.  “And you can wash yourself with that, because if I end up putting my hands all over your body, we’re never getting out of here.”

“You’re probably right,” Nana admits, mischief taking over her smile.  “However …”

“You’re not the one paying the water bill, shush!” you exclaim, turning away and beginning to lather yourself up.  Nana’s laughter rings out once more, reverberating off the tight walls of your shower as she too begins to wash herself of the improprieties that cover every centimeter of each of your bodies.

Somehow, you both manage to behave, rinsing yourselves off before getting out and toweling yourselves dry.  Nana sits as you brush her hair like Rapunzel, blow drying it slowly as you meticulously work your way through her golden mane.  It isn’t easy to find a comfortable set of clothes for her to wear, but with a pair of rolled pant legs and a hair-tied shirt, you’re able to make do.  Together, you eagerly order delivery from your favorite chicken restaurant, and while you’re waiting, begin the process of cleaning up.

Nana helps you strip your sheets, the most traumatized victims of your shared endeavors, off your bed, then assists you in wrangling a new set onto the mattress.  Your heart glows with warmth at how right it feels to perform such a mundane household activity with her, even as the fitted sheet snaps up once again and nearly hits you in the face.  Nana’s laughter rings out first, but yours is close behind, warding off any frustration as you enjoy the little simplicities of spending time with her.  You both clean up your kitchen, sending your soaked clothes to join your laundry as hers go into the wash, cleansing them of the rain’s influence as you both settle on the couch.

“I think that’s everything we needed to take care of,” you say, just as a thought crosses your mind.  “Do we need to get you some—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been taking precautions for a bit.  You know, just in case,” Nana tells you, tone relaxed but eyes alight with mischief.

“You—what—just in case?!” you sputter.  “Since when?!”

“That night Wooyeon walked in on us,” Nana remarks casually.  “I wasn’t gonna let you kiss me like that without finishing the job.”

You’re frozen in silence, unsure whether to follow-up with confusion, accusations, questions, gratitude, or something else entirely, but the familiar cadence of the delivery man’s knocks on the door saves you from needing an answer.  After enjoying your meals and making some light conversation, you both end up on your insanely comfy couch, curled up together under your stupidly soft blanket as Nana selects another movie, this time opting for a cheesy romance flick that she swears is different from the rest.  Ultimately, she’s not wrong, as any experience shared with Nana ends up being far more enjoyable than the alternatives, and you end up enjoying yourself quite a bit.  You lay with her, laugh with her, and hold her close as you wipe away her tears.

Enthralled by Nana and her investment in the movie, you barely even notice as the hours pass, the clouds dissipate, and the sun shines bright for a fleeting flash before disappearing below the skyline.  It’s not until the movie finishes, fading to black for the final time, that you note the darkness that’s overtaken the world outside your little corner of paradise.  After confirming with her other members that she’s free tomorrow, Nana joins you getting ready for bed.

“Here, this has barely been used,” you tell her, handing her a toothbrush and smiling as a thought enters your mind.  “I guess I’ll just have to get you one of those too.”

“You just might have to,” Nana says, wide grin mirroring your own as you both begin your nightly routines.

A short while later, after locking up and killing all the lights, you join Nana in bed.  It’s an odd sensation as you turn off your alarm clock, something you haven’t done in months, maybe even years, but when you see the weary eyes Nana’s fighting to keep open, you decide it’s for the best.  You turn to her, exchanging good night’s and I love you’s before she closes in, kissing you tenderly before turning away and snuggling close against your body.  You two form a perfect fit as you hold her, refusing to let go even as sleep overtakes you.  Tonight, you have neither prayers nor requests, simply gratitude for the blessing in your arms.  Tonight, you dream of neither girl nor ghost, simply a warm silence that wraps itself around you in a familiar embrace.

tick…

tock…

For once, for the first time in a long, long while, your awakening is not sudden, but serene.  Your eyes slowly open, witnessing the twin golden glows that illuminate the tranquil space in their soft, mellow light.  You’re forced to squint slightly at the brightness of the rays of light filtering through the window, but even the rising sun pales in comparison to the radiance resting within your embrace.  Nana’s resting expression is one of bliss, subtle curves of a smile hidden at the edges of her lips even as she leisurely draws breath.

Somehow, sometime in the middle of the night, she seems to have interwoven your hand with hers, clutching it tightly against her breast as she lies dormant.  You can’t help but feel, in this moment, it seems almost too perfect to be a dream.  Like your mind wouldn’t even entertain this as achievable in a best-case scenario.  Yet here you are, blessed beyond imagination.

You get an idea, hoping to surprise her with breakfast.  You slowly, delicately attempt to remove your hand from hers, but are stopped suddenly as her grip tightens.  “Stopppp …”

“You’re awake?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course, since before you woke up,” Nana murmurs, pulling you closer.  “I just wanted you to hold me longer.”

“Nana, I …”  Your words trail off, your mind unable to even form words as you try to comprehend how you could possibly deserve something this perfect.  “Thank you … Are you hungry?  I was going to go make breakfast—”

“Breakfast can wait,” Nana interjects, flipping over to face you as she snuggles in even closer.  “Just stay with me, like this.  Please.”

This time, at least, you know exactly what to say.  “Of course, Nana.  Anything for you.”

She remains silent, but the pounding of her heart tells you everything you’d ever need to know.  You do as she asks, pulling the covers back over you as you wrap your arm around Nana, pulling her closer as you plant a gentle kiss atop her head.  Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you know that the clock ticks ever onwards.  But as you look down and see the little smile that only you seem to bring out of Nana, you realize there’s no better way to spend an eternity than moments like this with the one you love.  You’ll stay.  Forever, if she wants.  And with the way she clings to you, like you’re the only thing keeping her on Earth instead of up with the other angels, you trust that she’ll stay too.  Maybe even forever.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

“So, is hugging a common thing with you?  Like, do you greet everyone you meet by trying to break their ribs?”

“Are you complaining about my hugs?!” Nana gasps, unwrapping her arms from around you and pulling away.

“No, absolutely not!” you exclaim, nearly tripping over your words as they leave your mouth at the speed of light.  “I’m just curious, okay?  It seems like a big thing with you.”

“Fine, I’ll answer your ridiculous question,” Nana says, retaking your arm.  “I occasionally give hugs to people I’m close to.  I often hug those I care about most.  I always hug you.”

“Oh,” you manage to say.  Your curiosity sated; you allow the comfortable silence to return.  As you two walk together, you marvel at the vibrant streets, delighted in the changing of the seasons as spring brings its warmth to what was a desolate Korean winter wasteland.

Unfortunately, a single dark shop stands out amongst the rows of brightly lit stores that litter both sides of the street.  Your destination, Aunt Kim’s noodle shop, seems empty.

“Oh no, it’s closed!  If only someone had an apartment nearby where we could spend the evening instead,” Nana announces dramatically, looking up at you and waggling her eyebrows shamelessly.

“If only,” you say, tugging her along.  “Let’s go see if she left a note saying when she’ll be back.”

“‘Closed this evening for a special occasion’,” Nana reads aloud.  “‘Will return to normal business tomorrow.’  That’s strange, I wonder what’s so important that she was willing to close the shop.”

“Strange indeed,” you agree, searching around in your pocket for a moment before pulling out a key.  “Wanna find out?”

Before she even has the chance to respond, you unlock the door, pushing it open and holding it for her as you invite her in.

“Give me a sec!” you call out, venturing into the darkness as she follows you inside.

“What?  How did you …” Nana trails off, covering her eyes as you flip the switch and restore light to the establishment.  Within, two steaming bowls wait upon a small table near the left corner of the store; upon “your” table, the one where you two have always sat over the past couple of months, the one with the edge broken off, the one that’s imperfect, but that’s okay, because nothing is.  Well, except Nana.

���No but really, what is going on?” Nana asks, walking as if in a daze as she joins you at the table.

“I wanted to do something nice for you for your birthday,” you explain, pulling out the chair for her.  “I thought it’d be nice to have the place to ourselves for once, and Aunt Kim was kind enough to agree.  She seemed more than willing to help out, probably because of our … ahem, ‘generous contributions’ to the store.”

“Ah, I see,” Nana chuckles, smiling brightly.  “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to do all this …”

“Maybe,” you admit with a shrug.  “But for you, I’d do anything.  This is the first time I’ve gotten to do something sweet for you, just let me spoil you for one night.”

“Alright, fine,” Nana says, huffing in mock exasperation.  “Then let’s eat!”

You both eagerly dig in, savoring the familiar tastes of your favorite meals.  Unsurprisingly, even as the flavors dance along your tastebuds, the sight of Nana in front of you is all that matters.  Even with her golden color replaced by a dark chocolate brown, her radiant visage shines under the warm amber glow of the Edison bulbs above.  You lose yourself in the sight of her, food long forgotten until her voice brings you back to reality.

“This is soooooooooo good, did you make this?”

“Oh, gods no,” you exclaim, earning a laugh from each of you.  “Aunt Kim was kind enough to make it just before we arrived.”

“Okay good,” Nana replies, wry smirk locked and loaded as she continues to fire shots.  “I don’t think I would have ever been able to forgive you if you brought me here just to subject me to your cooking.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, rolling your eyes and turning away to hide the smile you can’t contain.  “You know you love me.”

“Obviously.”

That single word has no right to hit as hard as it does, but you can’t help but whip back around to face her.  You pause, allowing the smile to slip as your voice drops.  “I love you.”

“Believe it or not, even more obvious,” she responds, still attempting to hide behind levity.  But you see it in the faint glimmer of her eyes, in the way her lips part slightly, in the way she leans in just the slightest bit closer.

You don’t have to move far to close the distance, leaning in and gently pressing your lips against hers.  The combination of the dishes’ flavors explodes across your senses, adding a new type of spice to one of your favorite activities.  Even more than usual, it drives you crazy, amplifying your hunger as you greedily up the intensity, wrapping your hand around the back of her neck and—

“Honestly, at this point, I’m not even surprised.”

Nana immediately breaks away from the kiss, turning to see Wooyeon walking in, a box in one hand and her forehead in the other.

“Seriously, we just keep having the worst timing,” you say, laughing warmly as you stand to greet her.  “Thanks again for picking this up, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome,” Wooyeon responds, taking a seat next to Nana.  “Your place is nice by the way.”

“Wait, you’re telling me Wooyeon got a key to your place before I did?” Nana asks indignantly.  “Unbelievable, really.”

Your laughter follows you as you retreat to the kitchen, where you grab Wooyeon’s meal and return to the table.  “That is a good point, I should be careful who I give those out to.”

“Indeed,” Wooyeon says, smirking sinisterly.  “I might just invite myself in some time.”

“Alright alright, enough,” Nana declares as you burst into a quiet fit of laughter.  “Please, can we try to have a normal dinner?  It’d be nice to have an interaction between my two closest friends that isn’t awkward or cut short for once.”

The two of you agree and all three of you dive back into your dinners, casually conversing about your days, how good the food is, and basically anything at all.  You happily join in, enjoying the chance to get to know Wooyeon better and seeing a new side of Nana that only her friend and fellow idol can bring out.  A month ago, you never could have imagined seamlessly going from conversations about your work to stories about their backstage adventures to what movies they’d watched recently.  Yet, on this especially significant day, you’re happy to join Nana at the intersection between her personal and professional life.  You’re happy to make a joke and be blessed by the harmonization of Nana and Wooyeon laughing together.  It’s musical, it’s magical, it’s meant to be.

“Now, will you tell me what’s in the box?” Nana eventually asks.

Wooyeon looks to you for confirmation, then reaches down and opens it, revealing an overly frosted, downright cartoonish-looking piece of cake that looks like it was taken right out of a Kirby game.

“Oh my god it’s perfect!” Nana exclaims, eagerly grabbing for her phone as you take a finger and run it through the icing.  “Hey!  I was gonna take a picture of that!!”

A devious smile creeps across your face as you lean forward, booping Nana on the nose and getting frosting everywhere.  “HEY!”

You immediately lean away, desperately attempting her wild assault as Nana attempts to return the favor.  Within a minute, you’re out of breath from laughing so hard, and from the corner of your eye you can see Wooyeon not faring much better.  Nana catches you, of course, and you’re forced to suffer the consequences of your actions as bits of frosting are smeared all across your face.

Eventually, the commotion settles and you’re all able to enjoy the piece in peace, savoring the wonderful flavors as you share it together.  Well after the sun sets, well after the streets outside go dark and the clock ticks past the shop’s normal closing time, the three of you remain, sharing stories, telling tales, and enjoying each other’s company.  As always, a small part of you rues the passage of time, knowing that this too must come to an end.  But for as long as you possibly can, you preserve this moment, refusing to take it for granted as you treasure the memory being made.  Because you know that you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life.  Because nights like this make you realize you’ve been gifted everything you could have ever wished for.

(My sincerest gratitude to @braaan and @majorblinks for reviewing this fic, I can’t thank you enough for how much your insights improved it and how much your love & support meant to me.  This fic is dedicated to @capslocked, a known believer, and @okaylikesmomo, the newest member of the cult.  I hope you enjoyed reading this story about hugs that happened to feature smut; the next story idea I intend to finish features far more snark and smut, with no hugs in sight.  Anticipate it at your own risk.)

[keilanana]

𝑻𝒐 𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒚 𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒆

ᴏ. ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ, ᴀᴘᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ

You find out reincarnation actually exists the hard way and sort of maybe go through the five stages of grief?

Your death comes to you in the most embarrassing way on your thirteenth birthday.

On your way home from school, you had decided to take the long route and found yourself walking across the edge of a bridge, arms held out to help you keep balance and your mind somewhere far away.

Unfortunately for you, though, your far away thoughts cost you your focus, so you failed to remember that it had rained last night, and the bridge was still wet from the storm's assault in result.

All in all, your realization came too late in the form of you slipping and falling into dark, deep, rushing water that sung with triumph when your form fell into its embrace and sunk into its depths.

Death didn't last long, luckily enough, but that was only because you somehow opened your eyes just after closing them in acceptance of your inevitable end.

Needless to say, when you woke up—expecting either the gates of Heaven, the fiery pits of Hell, or perhaps nothing—to find yourself staring up into the eyes of two women you had never seen before in your life, you were pretty confused.

One of the women, who just so happened to be holding you, for some reason, had [S/t] skin, long, [H/c] hair, and fox-like [E/c] eyes that stared down at you with such pure adoration, you nearly did a double take to see if maybe your eyes weren't working as well as they used to due to, you know ... dying.

The other woman was quick to take your focus from the other one, though, and that was probably because of the fact that she had horns and goat ears??

Maybe you were right about your eye sight, after all. It clearly must've had something wrong with it now, if you were starting to see people with horns and goat ears.

"[Y/n] ..." The whisper of your name makes you return your attention to the woman holding you, and she smiles down at you, emitting a sort of warmth that had you snuggling closer to her before you could even think of stopping yourself. The action seems to please her, because her smile grows and she pulls you closer, placing a kiss atop your head.

You hear the other woman chuckle, the noise fond and just as warm as the presence of the one holding you, and then watch her from the corner of your eye as she draws closer and slips her arm beneath you, wanting to cradle you as well.

"Welcome to our world, little one," you hear her say, and with their combined warmth, you can only keep your eyes open for so long before exhaustion consumes you once again.

(In the back of your mind, the horned woman's words echo; "Welcome to our world"—something meant only to be a greeting to the new being they've brought to life, yet despite this, you can't help but feel as though it also alludes to something deeper.

But for now, sleep comes first, and you promise yourself that you'll only feel semi-disappointed when you wake up and learn this was all only a dream.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You're going to lose your shit.

It was not a dream. This is not a dream.

You end up balling your eyes out for hours. The two women you had thought to be mere figments of your imagination (your new parents, apparently) panic throughout the entire ordeal and do everything they can to get you to stop, but for as bad as you feel for making them worry, you just can't stop because you were dead you were supposed to be dead how is this even possible—

The only peace they get is when you're asleep, but even then, those moments can only last for so long before the nightmares—the memories have your eyes shooting open to fill with tears in seconds, and then the cycle starts all over again.

Your parents (no they're not they can't be yours and you can't be theirs oh god do they even know what's happened to you back home what happened to your body) are, understandably, very concerned. Since coming home, you've done nothing but cry and cry and cry, and nothing they do can get you to stop. They've already tried taking you to the doctor, believing for a horrifying moment that you must have been painfully ill, but the appointment only ended with the man—eyes filled with sympathy for the couple—telling them that you're actually perfectly healthy.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that there isn't anything that I can do to help you," he'd said, your cries just as loud as ever and making the [E/c]-eyed woman holding you—Penelope Ophelia—gather you up from where you were sitting on her lap to rock you gently in her arms in a desperate attempt to soothe you.

"Really?" Penelope's lover, the woman the horns (that the doctor doesn't seem to notice, mind you), sent the doctor a pained, frustrated look. "Nothing at all?" she asked.

He only shook his and apologized again.

You don't know how long it's been, nor do you care. All you know is that you were dead, and then you weren't, and now all you've ever known most likely doesn't matter, because who knows if you'll ever see it again?

But then one day, as if your world couldn't be turned upside down anymore than it already has, you manage to catch Penelope's loud gasp above your crying, and then—

"Willow! I think I know why [Y/n]'s been crying!" she says, suddenly rushing over to you and lifting you up for a closer look at your head. "They have horns coming in!"

You hear someone—Willow, obviously—spit their drink out from the other room, and the shock you feel at Penelope's words turns out to be all it takes for you to finally stop crying.

'Horns'? Did you hear that right?

Clearly taking your stunned silence as a sign for whatever reason, Penelope begins to coo at you and bring you close to caress your head and kiss it, and—Oh. Oh.

You can feel them: the horns, small bumps on your head (for now), everytime Penelope's delicate hands brush over them. The movements are gentle and careful, obviously out of fear of accidentally hurting you and setting your constant crying off once more, and your mind is so caught up trying to piece together an explanation for—for all of this—that you don't even notice Willow coming into the room, a bright grin on her face as she takes in the small nubs growing from your crown and says:

"Would you look at that?" She laughs and takes you from Penelop's grasp to hold you up in the air like that monkey from The Lion King did. "Looks like I win the bet after all! Ay, little satyr?"

Willow laughs again when she sees her wife playfully roll her eyes, and you—for the first time since you've been brought to their home—remain silent while your entire world crumbles around you.

Satyr?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Percy Jackson series was a gift to you from your grandparents on your eleventh birthday, and you've been obsessed with it ever since.

When you found yourself sighing over the boring, mundane life you lived, you would open the books and get lost in the world of Camp Half-Blood: imagining yourself as a camper, wondering who your Godly parent would be, and grinning at the idea of getting to befriend the main cast and join them on their adventures. While you were stuck inside doing homework, Percy and his friends were out fighting monsters and meeting Gods, and a part of you—the part that always longed for something more—would wish you could reach out and join them.

And now here you were, in a world clearly not like your own, and one of your new mother's is apparently a satyr.

(You are, too, but you're not really ready to process that just yet.)

It wasn't possible—it couldn't be possible. It's not like satyrs were only relevant in Percy Jackson, after all; there are plenty of stories out there that included the mythological race! You couldn't have possibly just so happened to get reborn into the world of the book series you've adored for two years! It just—it wouldn't make sense! Clearly, one of your new guardians being a satyr was a mere coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Chiron wrote to me, recently," sighs Willow as she plops down onto the couch Penelope had decided to read a book to you on. "Looks like the camp's satyr situation is a lot more serious than I thought, if he's sending me letters and asking me to help out again."

You choke on your own spit and have Penelope frantically patting your back before the woman can even respond to what her wife just revealed.

Then, when that whole ordeal's finished, Penelope lays you down in your crib after her and Willow take turns kissing your forehead, and now you're left alone to stare up at the canopy painted to the ceiling, losing yourself to your thoughts.

This ... isn't a dream. Yeah, that's been pretty obvious for a while now, but the assurance made your shoulders feel a little lighter. This isn't a dream and ... it's a lot.

You ... What should you do? You don't know how you got here, and you honestly doubt that there's a way out, so ... Again, what should you do?

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and decide, for now, to just go over what you do know:

1. You've been reborn (no duh, but sometimes you just have to repeat that to yourself to properly get it through your head).

2. Your 'parents' are two women by the name of Penelope and Willow Ophelia. Willow is a satyr, and Penelope (as far as you know) is a human.

3. Again, you've been reborn, and into the world of Percy Jackson of all places.

The bigger, more logical part of you kind of wants to start crying again. Out of literally anyone in the world—your world—why was this happening to you? Everyone you've ever known, all you've ever known, are suddenly gone, and all because you decided you wanted to walk along the edge of a stupid, slippery bridge.

It's just ... so frustrating. You were never perfect, you never wanted to be perfect, but you liked to think you were a good person, at least. What could you have done to deserve this? Who could have thought you deserved this?!

Yet, still, for as badly as you want to freak out (to cry, scream, break something) you can't deny that there's a small part of you—the part of you that always knew, even if you didn't want to fully admit it to yourself, that you could never conform to what society expected from you, that wanted nothing more than to just jump into the pages of your beloved books and live out the rest of your days in Camp Half-Blood, fighting monsters and challenging Gods—that feels just a little bit ... giddy about this. Because for as much your old family tried, for as much as they loved you, they just couldn't understand why you were the way you were; couldn't make you feel seen in the way Percy, Annabeth, Nico, and all of the other demigods did.

And, Gods, that was just the biggest part of it, wasn't it?

Even after everything they'd gone through—the ignorance of adults not willing to understand, the apathy of other kids who thought lesser of those not like them, the loneliness and confusion because you didn't know what was wrong with you—they had still found a place to belong. Found people to belong to. And ... and ...

And you wanted that. More than anything in the world, back then.

But this was not your world anymore. This was theirs.

And now that you've thought about it, you realize that there's one more thing you can add to the list of 'Things I Know':

4. You've been reborn into the world of Percy Jackson, and you've already read a step-by-step guide on how to live in it.

(That morning, when Willow comes into your room to bring you down for breakfast, her forest green eyes swell with tears.

Your smile was just as beautiful as her and Penelope knew it'd be.)

Next Chapter ->

[peachesofteal]

Mother Peaches you. You are BLESSING us with content. And I am an ungrateful heathen stepping into your home to throw out a thought that if you by chance were stumped on something to write or wanted to throw a scrap out into the void as a warm up writing piece or cool down or whatever the writer equivalent is. May I propose the idea of Simon and Johnny boy taking care of darling when she has a cold? The sniffles, if you will. For I fear that I am on deaths doorstep and this cold will actually take me out. My dying wish, if you please, dear peach. May those two beefy boys take me to the gates of heaven.

Here is some comfort and fluff for everyone before Chapter 11 goes up. Consider it a gift. Hope you recovered well, dear anon! Ghost/Soap/female reader - Dead Disco verse Warnings-tags: sickfic, loss of consciousness, hospitals.

"Ye're sleepy this morning." Johnny hums, palm smoothing over your forehead. "Ye feelin' okay?" A yawn stretches your lips wide, and you shrug.

"Yeah, just tired." Your head hurts a little, an ache reverberating behind your skull, spreading out from your eyes to your ears, so you bury your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of his skin. "Don't wanna get up."

"Well, ye dinnae have to. But I thought we could have breakfast while we wait for Si." He murmurs. You blink up at him, sight a little bleary, and he frowns, brow wrinkled in concern. "Darling?"

"Yeah, breakfast is fine. Good." your lips smack, dry. Crusted. You snuggle closer, chilled, and Johnny wraps his arms around you, rubbing a palm down your back.

"Are ye sure ye're feeling alright?"

"Mhmm."

"Breakfast in bed, then?" The proposal carries weight, memories, of past meals in bed, ones that ended with you being the meal instead of whatever Johnny whipped up, but instead of it exciting you, you relent to your weariness, sinking back into the sheets with a sigh. Johnny kisses you, sweet lips on your brow. "Go back to sleep, love. I'll bring you something in a bit." And well, who can say no to that?

You wake some time later to the bed shifting, blankets being moved. The air is heavy, thick with heat even though you're freezing, the throbbing in your skull much worse than it was before.

"Darling?" It's Simon. He's in bed beside you, trying to peel you free from the pile of blankets. You open your mouth to respond, but instead of words, a dry heave wells in your chest, rough, sputtering cough wracking your body. "Fuck, okay. I've got you, c'mon. Up we go." He heaves you into his arms, supporting your weight, back to his chest, your breathing labored.

"She's gotten worse." Johnny grimaces, thumb stroking your temple. "Didnae have a cough this morning." This morning?

"What time is it?" You croak.

"It's nearly twelve." Twelve? You've slept the whole morning. You fidget, trying to shift off the bed, but Simon stills you with an arm across your chest, palm flat over your heart.

"Jus' take it easy. You're not going anywhere."

"I slept the whole morning." You protest, but let them lay you back, settling you against the pillows.

"You're sick, darling. You're running a fever, and I don't like the sound of that cough." You shake your head, trying to protest, but when you take a breath, it gets stuck in your chest, and your eyes widen when your lungs heave. "Alright, you're alright." Simon soothes, voice low in your ear. "Just breathe, that's it." Once the bout finishes, he resettles you, and then trades places with Johnny, tucking him in alongside your body, working the blankets in around you both.

"Simon's goin' get ye some tea, and I'm goin' hold ye for a while."

"We had plans today." You moan, and he clucks.

"We can reschedule. Ye're what's important." Blue eyes full of worry watch you, and his brow crumples. "Ach, poor darling girl. I'm sorry ye're feeling so bad." He's so sweet, so kind. So loving, even when you're sick as death, it still makes you feel so warm and tingly, all through your body.

"Love you." You whisper, and he holds you close, nose in your hair.

"Love ye too."

Everything is dark. You feel like you're swimming in a murky pool, blackened, sticky tar that weighs you down, your arms and legs trying to fight to propel you up to the surface for air, working to break through so you can breathe.

In the water, in the deep, someone calls your name. Someone yells it, shouts it, and you try opening your eyes in response, to no avail. I'm here, you want to scream. I'm right here. Your body shakes, like you're being dragged, tossed around like a doll, and you try to speak, use your voice again. Nothing comes, and the dark swallows you whole, filling your mouth and nose with it's pitch black water, pushing you beneath it's swell once more.

The next time you wake, you're not in the bedroom. The ceiling is white, world too bright. There's something on your face, in your arm, and you whine at the feeling, skin pulling taut beneath tape.

"Hey, hey. You're alright." It's Simon, Simon's voice around you, pulling you closer, and your vision focuses, to see the two very concerned, very frantic faces of your boyfriends hovering over you.

"There she is." Johnny breathes.

"What..." You look around. This is a hospital. Why are you in the hospital? "What happened?" Just being in a place like this makes you anxious, sends your pulse rate higher, and they both glance up at the sound of the hurried beeping coming from the monitor.

"Ye're okay. It's alright, darling. Take a deep breath."

"We couldn't wake you up." Simon explains from your right, sitting back in a chair that's been pulled to the side of the bed. He clutches your hand, kissing your knuckles. "You were wheezing and it-" He stops abruptly, swallowing. He looks scared, you realize, and when you look at Johnny's face, you see it too. The fear. The worry.

"Ye sounded like ye were in pain." Johnny says. "We called for an ambulance and brought ye here."

"Am... am I okay?" You whisper, and they both smile, gently. Sweetly.

"You're okay, darling. You're going to be fine. You're on a strong course of antibiotics and we're going to take you home tomorrow." Simon assures, still holding onto your hand. Johnny perches on the bed by your hip, leaning over to kiss you, lips on your cheek for a lingering second.

"They said we can stay with ye tonight." He gestures to the little pull out bed by the window, and a recliner that has a pillow and blankets stacked on it. "Hospital sleepover. We're all goin' eat jello." He thumbs your cheek, and you both smile, eyes wandering to where Simon sits like stone, severe expression on his face. "She's alright, Si. See?" Johnny murmurs, and he nods.

"I know." He clears his throat. "I know she is." You squeeze his hand.

"Everything's goin' be alright." Johnny continues, and Simon's eyes shudder for a second, slipping shut when he takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he looks calmer, more steadfast, and you smile at him.

"How about that jello, then?"

[vilebird]

FUNERAL AFTER A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE

a painting of a pale sky and bright blue sea crashing onto dark rocks and foaming. it's oriented the right way. - Day, by Frederick Judd Waugh

"and the man looks me in the eyes and he points to the blue-orange vault over heaven's gates and he says the face of everyone you miss is up there and i know i know i can't see them but i know" - And What Good Will Your Vanity Be When The Rapture Comes, by Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib

"i've cut myself off. i can feel the place / where i used to be attached. it's raw, as when you grate / your finger. it's a shredded mess / of images. it hurts." The Door, by Margaret Atwood

"i found you / i found the door / but when i stepped through / there was no floor" I want you, by Mitski

a still from a video of a bright setting sun against a dark orange sky and dark blue sea, with the caption "don't cry" - The Green Ray (1986)

"i feel dead. / i feel as if i were the residue of a stranger's life" - The Lost Pilot, by James Tate

"the shuddering moan of blood, a song to calm the sacrificial, the loss across the river. the way a dying animal will look at you is seared into me. we tie together and all over again." - i cant remember what this one is sorru

"i am feeling numb. it's a curious feeling, and i get it all the time. my attention to the world around me disappears, and something starts to hum inside my head. far off, voices try to bump up against me, but i repel them. my ears fill up with water and i focus on the humming inside my head. / i am inside my skull. it is a little cave, and i curl up inside it. below it, my body hovers, unattached." - Madness: A Bipolar Life, by Marya Hornbacher.

"-though we're dry and waiting. part of me died here so another could go on. the body i raised-" - When They Say you Can't Go Home Again What They Mean is You Where Never There, by Marty McConnell

text: "there'll always be a few things / maybe several things/ that you're gonna find / really difficult to forgive" image: a black silhouette of a minotaur sitting on top of a pale pillar rising out of a pale maze, looking out at an orange sunset over an empty desert beyond the walls of its maze. the text is black letters on white pasted in strips over top. - Up the Wolves by the Mountain Goats and Minotauro by Jordi Garriga Mora. collage put together by @scatterghosts

"i know there are things i haven't survived." - Lord of the Butterflies, by Andrea Gibson

"it seems to me that the dead only return for love or for revenge. who did you come back for?" - White is for Witching, by Helen Oyeyemi

a painting of a bright white bird on a background split between dark blue and black - Promised Land (2013), by Michael Creese

"and with or without your support, i will continue / what im trying to say is you never know what you've been through / til you pause and cough it out" - Cough It Out by The Frontbottoms

"painting all the mirrors black / i won't see you staring back / i'm getting lost forever / searching in the broken glass / trying to ignore the past / and put myself together" - Mirrors by 8 Graves

"saint calvin told me not to worry about you / but he's got his own things to deal with / there's really just one thing we have in common: / neither of us will be missed" - Saint Bernard by Lincoln

"so many bright lights to cast a shadow / but can i speak? / well, is it hard understanding / that i'm incomplete?" - Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance

"being in a completely normal nonthreatening scenario & environment and thinking 'i have GOT to get the fuck out of here' with the intensity of some trapped neurotic prey animal" - tumblr post by user @greelin

"but you know me / what can't i conjure into hysteria / and longing? / any place is a funeral as soon as i get there. / of course i'm the disaster / but you're the one foolish enough / to learn my name." - The Next Time We Talk on Facebook, by Clementine von Radics

"if your wounds are still open, trust / they are the doors to an answer, / and walk through." - You Better Be Lightning, by Andrea Gibson

text: "what a tremendous thing to learn from" image: black text on white strips across a blue-orange gradient - i forgot this one too sory

"when the body remembers, it bucks wildly / when we try to heal, the phantom smell returns / while in the shower, you break down / while you wash your body you realise it is not your body / and at the same time, it is the only body you have" - Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head, by Warsan Shire

"that was the thing. you never got used to it, the idea of somebody being gone. just when you think it's reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking." - The Truth About Forever, by Sarah Dessen

"the spirit is so hurt / it don't know the / body / it / looks in / the mirror / and asks, who is it?" - On/My/Aging, by Carolyn Marie Rodgers

"could we sit together in new bodies, shoulder to tender / shoulder, / the lovely and the thorned, the bitter and the failed, / the grave to the left of us, the sea to the right?" - 8, Always a Rose, by Li-Young Lee

"the fact of the matter is / you survived, / it's what you do. / death and you / walk side by side / all sigh and scythe / you stay alive. / and you have the right / but struggle to believe. / you're still allowed / to be alive. / it feels inappropriate." - It's What You Do, by Lena Oleanderson @lena-oleanderson

a painting of a bright orange sky at sunset, sun nowhere to be seen, over a pale sea crashing onto dark rocks and foaming. it's oriented upside down. - Night, by by Frederick Judd Waugh

[toomuchracket]

and this is how it starts (flatmate!matty x reader smut)

this is quite literally day 1 of the relationship. like, condom-gate was mere hours ago lmao. also, someone said just thinking about flatmate matty and girlie literally just after condom gate and they're sitting on the couch and she's just kissing his neck and making out and he gets all flustered n floaty cos he's waited for this for so long 😕 maybe she teases him for getting hard so quickly and it's just sweet, i love them <3 so it's a bit of that too. enjoy <3

matty's not totally sold on the idea of there being a heaven, but his reasoning against it is weakening with every passing second. after all, what else could the situation he's in right now be, sprawled on the living room sofa with you on his lap and your lips connected? there's no other way of describing it.

he doesn't give a shit about description right now, though. or responsibility, or even time itself. all matty cares about is kissing you, softly moving his hands to rest in previously uncharted places on your body, and getting you to make those little whimpers that draw all the blood from his brain and redirect it to his dick. your hands weave into each other's hair, and an instinctive tug from matty has you pulling back and whining his name. he goes to pout at the removal of your lips from his own, but then you grind down harder onto him and drop your head into the crook of his neck; your lips meet the soft skin of matty's neck, and he can't stop the gasp that rips from his throat (or the hardening in his sweatpants).

holy fuck. in the many (many) dreams matty’s had about your lips, not once has he ever dreamt about them in this location. 

what a twat he is.

another choked noise leaves his mouth as your tongue joins the party, and yet another follows when you moan into his skin at the way he clutches desperately at your hips. before he knows it, you're kissing him again, licking into his mouth with such intensity he's half-convinced you're trying to eat him. and he'd let you - his brain and heart have already been consumed by you, after all. why not let you devour him completely?

your teeth sink into matty's lower lip as if you might, and he whines; you giggle against him, and switch your lips back to his neck before repeating the bite, albeit softer on the delicate skin, pulling another wanton moan from him. the pain turns to pleasure in his nerves and ricochets throughout his body so hard that he feels his dick jump, despite the haze of pleasure clouding his senses and brain capacity.

judging by the way you gasp and grind down impossibly further onto your boyfriend, you feel it too. he's aware of your lips peeling from him, and then suddenly your beautiful face appears in his eyeline - your eyes and hair are wild, your lips are swollen from, well, use, and you've never looked more enticing than now. then you smile, and matty has to retract his previous statement. “i didn't know you were so into neck kissing, matthew.”

he's not sure if it's the use of his full name (chiding, teasing, patronising) or the glint in your eye (seldom seen, slightly manic, so fucking flirty) that does it, but matty feels his cheeks flood with colour and heat. you lightly run your thumb across one with a satisfied hum, and matty momentarily forgets how to breathe; when the palm of your hand brushes his throat on its way down to rest on his chest, he almost shuts down completely. but he quickly recovers enough to speak shyly. “isn’t everyone?”

“yeah, but, baby,” you roll your hips slowly against his, groaning quietly as you do, and whisper directly in his ear. “it just got you so fucking hard.”

christ.

matty says as much as he throws his head back against the sofa, and you giggle. he cracks one eye open to look at you, all happiness-glowy and dishevelled in his t-shirt, and he can't help but smile bashfully. “don’t take the piss, sweetheart.”

“i'm not!” you laugh, then smirk. “well, maybe a little bit.”

“fucking knew it,” matty lightly smacks your ass, grabbing the soft flesh and using it as leverage to rock your hips against his. “mocking me for a normal reaction to a kiss in an erogenous zone, you minx.”

“ooh, big word.”

“i’ll smack you again, i mean it.”

“do your worst,” you grin, circling your hips. “although i'll be surprised if you can focus with that - oh, fuck,” your voice trails off into a moan as matty grins and latches his lips onto your neck, sucking a bruise into the lightly-perfumed skin and soothing it with his tongue.

he smirks as he pulls back to admire his work; for all he's dreamed about marking you up as his like this, nothing comes even remotely close to the real thing. “seems to me like someone can't take it as well as she can give it,” matty coos, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your pouty lips. “that right, baby?”

without breaking eye contact, you flick your tongue against the pad of his thumb - when you hear matty's breath hitch, you slowly slide your lips onto the digit, down to the knuckle, tongue still flicking around it. he swears under his breath, dick harder than he thinks it's ever been, other hand clutching so hard at your ass that he wouldn't be surprised if it bruised. somewhere deep in matty’s mind, there's a little part of him wracked with guilt at the thought of hurting you, sweet, beautiful you, but that part is far overshadowed by just how badly he wants to be inside you right now.

thankfully, you seem to want that too; you release his thumb with a pop and a connecting string of spit, and look doe-eyed at him. he’s not sure if he's ever seen anything so erotic on his life.“no. i can take it, matty.”

something shifts in the air when you say that - it's as if the molecules have gotten heavier, dropping a delicious tension into the atmosphere and knocking all flirty banter to the ground. you're so close he can see himself reflected amidst the desire in your eyes. so close that your breath mingles with his own, hot in the crisp autumn air. so close, and, for the first time, so available for him to touch.

and, god, does he want to touch you.

“you can take it?” matty asks, caressing your cheek and smiling when you nod. “now?”

“please.”

matty groans. “you'll kill me, sweetheart,” he quickly kisses you, smiling into your lips when you moan. “let me take you to bed and you can show me how well you take it, yeah?”

you pout. “wanna stay here.”

“so do i. but we need to go and get a condom, darlin.”

“don't worry,” you lean back slightly and pull the t-shirt over your head in a way matty can only liken to unwrapping a present; he swears when he sees the lacy black bra you're wearing, your tits threatening to spill over its scalloped trim. when you see him looking at your chest, you grin. “like my bra?”

“very much.”

“good. been saving it for you - you know, in case we ever… got to this stage in our relationship.”

matty blinks as the realisation settles in his mind and body. he's so turned on it's almost painful. “really? fuck, baby, that's so hot.”

you shrug bashfully. “got a whole drawer full of pretty underwear i only want you to see. been thinking about this for a while. which reminds me,” you reach into your bra and pull out a small foil square, and hold it up triumphantly. “no need to go to bed!”

matty laughs slightly deliriously. “you had a condom down your bra the whole time? fuck, you really want me, don't you?”

“on this couch, specifically,” you lean in to softly kiss his neck again, then drag your tongue up to whisper in his ear. “dreamt about riding you on it since the day i moved in.”

shit.

his hips buck up at the mere thought, eliciting whines from both of you. “wanna make your dream come true - need it, darlin, need you.”

“fuck,” your hands scramble to pull matty's t-shirt over his head, then pull his face to your own for a searing kiss. it doesn't last long, though, with you soon pulling back to guide matty's hands to the clasp of your bra; he catches on to your ideas quickly, undoing the thing with ease and sliding the bra from your body, while you clumsily balance on one knee at a time to get your panties off. matty huffs out a laugh when you roll your eyes and leave the underwear to dangle on your left calf, and you smile and wrap your arms around his neck. “what?”

“nothing, you're just cute - sit up for me, darlin, so i can lift my hips, thanks,” he replies, shimmying his sweatpants down with a shit-eating grin. “so impatient to fuck me that you can't even properly take your underwear off.”

you raise your eyebrows and tear the condom packet open with your teeth. matty feels his eyes roll back into his head when you finally touch him, pumping his dick three times before rolling the condom onto him - you hum happily at the weight of him in your soft hand. “i don't think i'm the impatient one here, babe.”

you're not wrong. still, disagreeing gives him a perfect excuse to rile you up with a touch, too. “no?” matty tilts his head, sliding a hand across your thigh and between your legs; before you can react, he slides a finger along your slit, catching the sticky arousal and dipping into your dripping cunt. your reaction - a shaky whimper - is incredible, almost as incredible as matty's realisation that it’s him who got you into this state. “oh, baby.”

he smiles when you whine his name, but it drops in favour of a gasp when you replace his finger in your folds with the head of his dick. without breaking eye contact, you gasp too. “matty, can i…?”

“please, angel,” matty moans, hands trailing up to squeeze your tits before returning home to your hips. “put me inside.”

“okay,” you all but whisper. a beautiful smile crosses your face, the sun breaking through clouds. “i love you.”

the way you say that, so giddy… matty thinks his heart could honestly burst. he gently cups your jaw with both hands. “i love you too.”

you giggle, and matty feels your cheeks heat up. “i'm glad i get to love you openly now.”

“me too, darlin,” matty kisses you slowly, passionately, but so sweetly; he wants you to be able to feel how much he loves you through his lips. he pulls back just enough to speak clearly, foreheads still touching. “wanna be even closer to you.”

“hold my hips, then, please,” you murmur against him, smiling and kissing him again when he obliges. shuffling around on your knees for a second, you line matty up with yourself, and slowly begin to sink down onto him. the feeling is mind-blowing for both of you, it seems - matty makes a choked groan at how tight you are, and you whimper as he stretches you further with every bit of him you slowly take. “matty.”

he responds with a moan of your name, rubbing soothing circles into your hips while you take him to the hilt with a series of dazed blinks. despite the pleasure already clouding his brain, matty touches your face in concern. “you feeling alright, darlin?”

“yeah. just full.”

“need a second?”

you nod. “sorry, baby.”

“no, not at all. feels amazing like this, anyway,” he strokes your cheek, relishing the way you melt into his touch. “knew you'd look fucking gorgeous on top.”

at that, you clench around him - he's not even sure you're aware of it, but he has to focus very hard on keeping himself from moving inside you - and speak again. “have you thought about this a lot?”

matty nods, trailing his hand down to your chest. “oh yeah.”

“so have i,” you smile, humming contentedly when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger - when he leans forward to take the bud into his mouth, you whine. “fuck, can i move now?”

“yeah,” matty moans around your tit, before pulling away and leaning back against the sofa. “ride me, angel.”

the sentence hasn't even fully left his mouth before you're obliging; the words trail into a raspy groan as you slowly pull yourself up and sink back down. his eyes want to close from the overwhelming pleasure of you fucking him, but he keeps them open because the sight of you like this is too incredible to miss even a second of. matty has no idea how many times he's dreamt of you doing exactly this to him, alone in his bedroom or hotel or tour bus bathroom, but every single fantasy pales in comparison to the real thing. after all, he couldn't have imagined the way your jaw trembles and your eyelids flutter every time he bottoms out inside you, sending an accomplishment high through his body that makes him feel better than any substance he's ever tried.

he has imagined the way your tits would bounce as you speed up your own bouncing on him. again, though, reality is so much better - not once in his dreams did you whine a plea while he tentatively touched them, or cry his name and clench around him in response to him pinching your nipples. the slight pain spurs you on, makes your hips move faster and wilder and matty's contract in pleasure, and he makes a mental note to remember the effect it has on you for future reference. 

like he'd ever forget any of this. matty’s never felt so good in his fucking life.

when he tells you as much, you beam, and speed up yet again. oh. matty smirks as best he can through the intense pleasure. “you like it when i tell you how good you are, darlin?”

“mhmm,” you nod shyly, adorably incongruous with the way you're slamming your hips down to meet matty's. “wanna be perfect for you.”

fuck. “you are, sweetheart. my perfect girl,” matty sits up to kiss you, and you whimper into his mouth at the slight change in angle of him inside you. he smiles, switching his lips to your neck. “what else do you want, gorgeous?”

“want - oh, fuck - want you to touch me,” before matty even has the chance to respond, you suck his right thumb into your mouth again and lead it to your clit. “wanna cum.”

and who the fuck is he to deny you what you want, especially after seven years of also wanting to make you do just that?

“alright, darlin,” matty smiles, jaw dropping at the way you tighten impossibly further around him as he starts working little circles into your clit. “shit, that feels good.”

“yeah?”

he nods. “keep going, angel. actually, just use me to get yourself off. whatever you need to do.”

your eyes widen. “really?”

“really. wanna see you cum for me,” matty lightly bites the inside of your tit. “used to make myself cum thinking about you falling apart on top of me like this.”

a glint of something flickers in your eyes, something matty can't quite name. “so, if i cum,” you breathily begin, still rocking your hips. “you'll cum too?”

“pretty much, yeah.”

you smirk. “alright.”

with that, you brace your arms behind you on matty's thighs, using them as leverage to fuck him as hard as you possibly can. he gasps, nerves beginning to tingle with the orgasm he's been both holding off and craving for a while now, climax creeping closer with every bounce of your hips and tits; he's mesmerised by you, your beautiful body practically shaking above him as you ride your way to ecstasy, and whines of his name and various swear words and “don't stop touching me, please” pouring from your perfect lips.

matty does as he's told, thumb staying put on the bundle of nerves between your thighs. remembering his mental note from earlier, he brings his free hand down on your ass and kisses away the cry you let out on impact. “come on, sweetheart,” he coos against your mouth. “give in. cum for me, my love, let go for me. make me feel good.”

he leans back to look at you - you look utterly fucked, eyes heavy and teary, jaw slack and lips swollen, but you're so beautiful. when you look at him (probably just as fucked-looking, to be honest), you smile sweetly, but it soon drops off your face as you rush ever closer to the precipice of orgasm. “matty,” you whimper, voice cracking from overuse. “i'm gonna cum.”

no four words have ever sounded better to him. matty holds your face with his free hand; you nuzzle into it, and a wave of love washes over him. “do it, angel.”

your head drops onto his shoulder as your hips fall out of rhythm, and you cry into his neck as your body jerks in ecstasy. matty cries, grabbing your ass and leaning back so he can fuck up into your pulsing cunt as his own orgasm hits. he holds you flush against him as he cums into the condom, then lets you gently flop down as you both recover with panting breaths.

matty's so hazy from pleasure that it takes him a minute to register the chaste kisses you're planting on his neck - you lift your head when he giggles breathily, smiling so widely he's sure your face must hurt. “hi matty.”

“hi, baby,” he kisses your nose. “i love you.”

“love you too,” you give him a little smooch. “loved that.”

“fuck, so did i,” matty sighs, grinning at you. “you're really fucking good at that.”

“only cos it's you i was fucking,” you giggle. “my need to make you feel good outweighed the burning in my thighs. would've tapped out, otherwise.”

matty rubs the offending body part. “will you let me take care of you in return, then? after you've endured the pain and climbed off me so i can get rid of the condom, that is.”

you nod, hissing as you pull yourself off matty's dick and flop onto the couch beside him. he kisses you quickly before he stands, slightly shakily, and removes and ties off the condom; you protest when he places it on the coffee table. “matthew!”

“what? i put it on a coaster. and i'm not leaving it there!”

“still! i don't want used condoms on my good coffee table, even if it's us that's used them,” you stare at him for a second, and then collapse into giggles. “new flat rule?”

matty cackles. “all condoms put in the bin immediately after use. right, hold it for a second, then - and don't give me that face, it was inside you!” he sighs as he bends down and scoops you - holding the condom between your thumb and index finger, mildly disgusted - up bridal-style into his arms. your face softens when he kisses your head as he carries you down the hall. “fancy a bath? it'll help your legs.”

“only if you come in with me.”

he hums, nudging the bathroom door open and setting you down on your shaky legs; you chuck the condom in the bin. “i like the sound of that.”

“good,” you lean up to kiss him. “now please leave the room.”

“what? why?”

“because,” you say, turning the bath's hot tap on. “i need to piss. in peace.”

matty pouts overdramatically. “but i don't want to leave you.”

“out, healy,” you point at the door as matty giggles; you kiss his cheek as he leaves, though. “bring a bottle of wine in when you come back?”

“glasses, too? or just share the bottle?”

you scoff. “you were just inside me, and now you're worried i have germs?”

he laughs. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

[queenie-avenue]

Sent from Below, Fell from Above. [pt.1]

—> an angel meets the demon who killed her all those years ago.

⤻ reader is a female, reader is a bunny-type angel(?), canon-typical cursing, very bad use of 1920s slang, reader takes part in the 'welcome to heaven' song, i even wrote an extra verse, heavily inspired by @jazjelspen 's angel baby fic, death, betrayal, angst, spoilers for all of hazbin hotel season one, alastor went up with vaggie and charlie to heaven in this fic, will be a series

The pearly gates of hell shone brightly as you stood there, waiting to welcome in any winners that may have unfortunately just died. Saint Peter had been out for hours by now and looked like he might just have collapsed from how exhausted he was. Like the angel that you were, you let him go take a break while you manned the podium. After all, you had done so multiple times already in the hundred years you've been in heaven!

Just then, you watched as a portal opened up, seemingly out of nowhere. You put on your best smile and waited to greet them.

"Look at this place, Vaggie, Alastor! It's so clean!" Your smile faltered for a moment. Not because of the familliar name — you had long since gotten rid of your fear regarding that name — but because people who just died wouldn't act that way.

"Yeah, super cool." The girl beside her mumbled as she dragged her feet over towards the stand.

As for the man at the back, all dressed in red, he hummed as he walked towards the glowing gates of heaven.

"Hello there!" You greeted, making sure your halo was glowing as bright as possible. "Welcome to heaven, darlings. Could I get your name, please?" You asked politely, pulling out the book of names Saint Peter had entrusted you with.

You stared at the trio ahead of you. A tall gal dressed in a suit with rosy red cheeks that almost made her look like a doll, another doll by her side that had ashen-grey skin and a giant x over her eye, poor thing she must have lost it when she died. And the man that accompanied the two ladies, standing at the back in a dapper looking suit.

"Charlie... Morningstar." The girl in the red suit said.

You nodded your head. "Charlie Morningstar." You drawled out the name, opening up the book and scanning your eyes through the book as your bunny ears flapped about, wondering where you had heard that name before. You frowned when you could not find Charlie's name anywhere in the roster. "Charlie... Morningstar. I'm really sorry, dearie, but you really aren't on my list. A-are you in the wrong place?" You questioned.

"Um, my dad got me this meeting so maybe you could try Lucifer Morningstar?" She mumbled, but the name was loud enough for you to hear.

"Oh dear lord in heaven!" You gasped.

The three of them looked at you. You noted that the man in the suit and deer antlers gazed at you the most intensely, tilting his head over as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Darling, I really think all of you shouldn't be here-" you frantically said as you flapped your wings out, flying down towards them. Your skirt flapping in the wind alongside your feathery wings.

"Oh lord, here we go." The girl at her side muttered.

"No, uh, we're here for a meeting."

"[y/n], we can take it from here." A mature voice from above said as you looked up to see Sera and Emily — the Seraphim sisters — descend down to you, along with Saint Peter who was holding a milkshake in his hand.

You nodded your head, understanding your place, before stepping aside. Though, you felt the burning gaze of that man boring holes into your head. You turned towards him, a frown present on your face as you stared at him, confused. Noticing that you had noticed him, he turned away, his sharp-toothed grin faced towards Charlie now. That smile... you had seen that smile before. Even the way he dressed, it screamed that he died during your time period.

You continued staring at him, even as he avoided your gaze.

"Dearly beloved, it is my pleasure to say onto thee," Saint Peter suddenly started singing, and you realised that you had lost track of the conversation. "Welcome to Heaven, oh!" He sang as the pearly gates slammed open. You flew up alongside Saint Peter, your wings flapping as your bunny ears twitched. "Where the virtuous reside, 24/7, oh-oh! People are happy that they died," Well, that was certainly an exaggeration considering you didn't exactly... like the way that you died.

As he sang, you flew through the streets, rallying the rest of the winners to join in song. As you flew back, you landed back onto the floor with Saint Peter just as he finished his verse.

"Welcome to Heaven, where everyone hopes to go! Oh-oh! Where angels always glow! Oh!"

You sang as you ran towards all your winner friends as they danced in the streets for the envoys from Hell. Just as you finished singing, you felt those dark eyes on you once again, and you stopped dancing in the street to stare back at him.

Your head hurt as radio static filled your brain, and you struggled to keep yourself upright. You almost toppled over. You grabbed your head, attempting to get the static out of your brain. "Wha-"

"'Cause every single day in Heaven, is a happy day!" Both Emily and Saint Peter belted out as they flew in the air, causing you to break your gaze from the man and focus on the soaring duo in the air.

"Welcome to Heaven!"

The song ended, and you immediately fell to the ground. You had been dead for so many years, so it had been decades since you felt breathless, of all things.

"My, what is a dame like you doing on the floor!" There that static was again, but this time it was accompanied by an eerily familliar voice. You wanted to call out to Emily, or Sera, but they had already run off. Charlie and the girl by her side with Emily, and Sera to God knows where, leaving you alone with this shady man.

"I-" you began.

Without even extending his hand, this strange deer- whatever he was, pulled your hand up abruptly, holding onto it so tight you felt your blood stop pumping through the veins of your hand.

"What is your name, Sweetheart? I have to say, you and those little angels put on quite a show! All you little Oliver Twists are so adorable." The demon chuckled as he pulled you uncomfortably close.

"Please let me go." You said to the man, attempting to push him off but he only held you tighter.

"Aren't I quite the rude chap, I should have introduced myself before asking for your name." He grinned wider, spinning you around in a painfully familliar way.

"Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you!" He said, grabbing your hand and kissing it.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Alastor grabbed your hand, bowing down as he looked up at you, that sweet grin on his face. "Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you." He said, before sealing your fate with a kiss on your hand. "I hope that we can get along well." You gazed at him with wide eyes, your eyes raking over his bronzed skin and brown — almost red — hair. Glasses lined his gleaming eyes.

Those eyes were the same words that echoed in your mind in your worst nightmares.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

And now here you were, reliving that nightmare.

"What the fuck!" You yelled out, which caused some angels to look over at you. Sure, cursing was normal, but it was typically somewhat taboo on cloud nine and this was one of the only times you had ever cursed. You reeled your hand back, your eyes widened as you stumbled back. "I-it's you." You commented, holding your hand close to the pearl-white blouse that you wore.

"Yes, my darling, it is!" Alastor laughed once again, that sinister shit-eating grin still present on his face. "I'm surprised it took you so long to realise it." He commented, grabbing your hands in his, causing you to freeze up. "I had my suspicions the moment I saw you, but when you sang... oh..." He murmured. His face was filled with ecstasy, his claws going up to his face as he grinned deviously.

"I need to get out of here." You muttered as you turned on your heel and snatched your hands away, preparing to leave.

Alastor just grabbed you back into a tight embrace, his face propped against your shoulder. "I knew it was you, little bunny." The nickname only made you more uncomfortable than ever as you remembered the intimate moment when he first gave you that nickname.

"What's wrong, little bunny?"

The moment he spoke, your wings shot up, pushing him away from you and slapping his body aside. You flew up as he stumbled onto the pristine roads of heaven.

Don't come near me again, you wanted to say, but you couldn't find the courage to spit in the face of your murderer, not even now.

So, this time, you ran away.

You should have done that years ago. Maybe you would have lived longer then.

[pt.2]

[reticent-writer]

Following the ask where adam kid sees him die and decides to become general when they're older can I request years later when they're more older they act like Adam with a dash of invader zim? (They're annoying to everyone around them in Heaven and Hell, but for heaven they have high respect for Sera...but they unknowingly annoy her like Zim annoys the tallests)

Part 1

Taglist: @sugerplumig, @yukicandlewolf, @valerie-36, @kira-lovejoy

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

"Y/n!"

"Oh uh, what happened?" Sera snapped you out of your thoughts.

"You were telling me what you were going to do about the extermination."

"Oh yeah!" You got excited, "As I was saying, I'm gonna finish what my dad started, We failed because we thought we couldn't be harmed but thanks to MY great leadership skills and battle strats we can win."

"It isn't about winning, Y/n. The sinners are uprising we kill as many of them to stop it."

"Okay so kill as many of them gotcha... starting with Charlies hotel." You muttered the last bit.

"What was that?"

"Nothing ma'am. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." You were about to dismiss yourself when Emily stopped you.

"NO! Why does the extermination have to continue? We know that sinners can be redemed and-"

"Who says sinners want to be redeemed."

"Sir Pentious-"

"Was a coincidence. He was selfless and sacrificed himself. Do you really think everyone down there is the same? I'm not trying to be rude but grow up, not everyone is as nice as you. The sinners down there will kill you without a second thought."

Sera sighed before standing in-between the both of you.

"Y/n you are dismissed."

.

.

.

"Hiiii Lute." You ran up behind her and jumped on her back while she was minding her own business. She flipped you over her head and you landed you your back.

*cough cough* Damn Lute *cough cough HAAAAACCK*

"I told you to stop doing that."

"Sorry not sorry." You wheezed.

"What is it now, Y/n?"

"Extermination time." You hopped to your feet and before Lute could react you pulled her into the air and flew to the golden gates. The other exorcists were waiting for you.

"THIS IS FOR ADAM, CHARLIE AND VAGGIE WILL GET WHAT'S COMING FOR THEM!" You riled up, "KILL EVERY CRACK SMOKING COCKSUCKER THAT YOU SEE!"

You opened a portal for them to fly down. The massacre begins.

Your first and only stop was the hotel. You flew straight through the ceiling and landed in the atrium with Lute right behind you.

You heard a collective gasp and chuckled, "Wow... I like what you've done with the place." You spun around as you looked at the place, it really did look a lot better since the last time you've been there. Too bad you were gonna ruin it.

You looked back at the crew and made eye contact with Lucifer.

"Who's too young now bitch." You said through gritted teeth before getting yourself ready to attack.

"Still you." He joked.

Without a second thought, you went straight for him.

Spoiler alert: You lost

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

[scekrex]

Adam Masterlist

Consider chasing dick instead of pussy {SFW}

Fuck him, flip him, bend him backwards, baby, put your back into it {NSFW}

Bitches want me 'cuz they know that I can rock {NSFW}

Heavenly {NSFW}

Till death do us part, but we're already past that phase {SFW}

Heaven's gates won't open up for us again {SFW}

What it takes to be a man {SFW}

Going viral {SFW, crack fic}

Hidden in the sheets {SFW}

Lost and Found {SFW}

Any way you want me, baby, that's the way you got me {NSFW}

Night Terrors {SFW}

I'm liking it better with you {SFW, crack fic}

Drunk 'n' Nasty {SFW, crack fic}

Constant Headache {SFW}

Baby we could be Bonnie & Clyde {SFW}

Do you even {SFW, crack fic}

For you I'd bleed myself dry {SFW}

Pretty baby with the sun in his eyes {SFW}

Figure you out {SFW}

Cuffed Up {SFW}

Got Me Obsessed {NSFW}

Forbidden fruits cause damage {SFW}

Born to Lose {SFW}

Chaotically Chaotic {SFW}

Let me live/Let me die {SFW}

Lonely Eyes {SFW}

Flying and Falling are pretty close to each other {SFW, crack fic}

I'll shelter and adore you more than anything {SFW}

Stick It To The (Wo)Man {SFW}

With broken wings we're fallin' {SFW}

The Plan (Fuck Parents) {SFW}

Pretty Boy Swag {SFW}

Goodbyes that feel like you're still in my city {SFW}

In Desire We Trust {NSFW}

People Pleasing doesn't rock {SFW}

And I dream to be your fantasy {SFW}

Chains on my lips just add flames to the fire {SFW}

Love me like you mean it, a little bit harder now {NSFW}

Never wanna stop 'cause your taste is so divine {NSFW}

Let the sun set on your life and I'll make, oh I'll make you mine {SFW}

When you meet my eyes, we both know that you're mine {SFW}

But I still want more, don't know what I'm after {NSFW}

I hate everyone, it's so easy, I wouldn't do it if I didn't really care {NSFW}

It's 'cause of these things {SFW}

He can fix it {SFW}

If God's watching then we're both sinners {SFW}

Love at first sight, I still believe {SFW}

Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone {SFW}

I bring the ribs, I bring the drama {SFW}

Everything I love, I guess it makes me damned {NSFW}

Smother me with loving hands {SFW}

We're eating good tonight, darlin' {NSFW}

Reach out and touch faith {NSFW}

Birthday boy {SFW}

All the violence makes a statement {SFW}

If I'm so wonderful then why am I so misunderstood {SFW}

This hurts me like Heaven {NSFW}

Is this the life, the one from your dreams? {NSFW}

I got myself a fuckin' life dressed up in evening wear {SFW}

Little soldier {SFW}

About bragging and loving {SFW}

The deeper you go, the better you feel {NSFW}

Never wanted to dance with nobody, but you {SFW}

I'm a jester and I'm yours, call me your fool {SFW}

Burning, I feel it too {SFW}

There's a darkness at the heart of my love, that runs cold, runs deep {SFW}

I promise you that I'll be good to you if you promise that you'll try to love me too {SFW}

Make me cum {NSFW}

You're dead to me, stop saying my name like beetlejuice {SFW}

Spin round quick rock yo body {NSFW}

I got all twisted up, you helped straighten me out {SFW}

Suck it up, big boy {NSFW}

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be {SFW}

Take me down, a little bit harder now {NSFW}

I'm not likely to kick a head in, but I'll curb stomp a bitch if she objects at our wedding {SFW}

Kill anyone for you {SFW}

Out for Blood {SFW}

Lover come hold me {SFW}

I'll meet you in hell {SFW}

I don't want you to hate me, no, I want you to wanna hate me {SFW}

I wave goodbye to the end of beginning {SFW}

Let's make a mess and cross the line, you and me a masterpiece {NSFW}

Call me daddy {SFW}

I love it - you son of a bitch {SFW}

The king's demand of golden birds {SFW}

Rocking your world {NSFW}

I'm gonna fuck you up without further ado {SFW}

Can't take back all the things we said {SFW}

Slow Dance with You {SFW}

Gold is a divine color, luckily you're the most divine person to exist {SFW}

You're always so lovely {SFW}

All I want is all you've got {SFW}

'Cause a sinner needs a saint to tell him what's at the end {SFW}

Drunken Truths {SFW}

A bloody nose and two bleeding hearts {SFW}

'Cause no one saw me the way you did and no one's seen me that way since {SFW}

And I know the weight of the world can't crush my chest {SFW}

I could treat you so much better I've known you forever figured you out {SFW}

Masterlist 2

[vikkirosko]

Hello! I saw your requests are open ^^

Can you please do a scenario with Vox and his S/O who went to heaven and when he’s finally redeemed she’s waiting for him at the gates smiling and says “welcome home”? I love Vox so much 😭

I hope you have a beautiful day! ^^

🖥 Vox x Reader Oneshot Welcome home📱

Vox had a lot going on in Hell. He built his empire, he literally riveted the attention of everyone in Hell to himself. And it was in Hell that he met you. You were the one who won his heart. You've been together for years and he was ready to lay all Hell at your feet. You've been with the Vees so often that you could well be considered a part of them. You didn't agree with them on everything. You were kind, sincere and caring. Vox hoped that you would be together for as long as possible, but something happened that no one could have predicted. You're dead. During the extermination, you stood up for sinners. You fought, even though you knew you had little chance. You sacrificed your life to protect others, and the result was your death. This was a serious blow for Vox. He couldn't forget you and didn't want to. You were in his heart, although over time many people forgot that you existed at all, but not Vox. He, like Valentino and Velvette, remembered you. Vox sometimes thought that if rebirth existed, then you had to be reborn and live the most wonderful life you definitely deserved. At that time, he did not even think that he would be able to atone for his sins. It seemed like something impossible, not something that was possible for him. And so when he was really able to atone for his sins and end up at the Pearly Gates, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe his own eyes. But he didn't expect to see you even more. The person he missed the most. You were standing in light clothes and with a gentle smile on your lips, waiting for him. When he was in front of you, he couldn't say a word. You smiled gently at him.

"Welcome home, darling"

"It's really you... I thought I'd lost you forever... I... I missed you so much..."

He felt that a little more and he would cry. Vox leaned forward, squeezing you in his arms. He felt your palms gently stroking his back.

"I've missed you too, and I'm so glad we're finally back together"

Vox felt more alive than ever. He was finally happy. Really happy.