vignettes: five senses (snsd, hyoyeon-centric)
title: five senses
pairings: hyoyeon/seohyun | hyoyeon/jessica | hyoyeon/taeyeon | hyoyeon/sooyoung | hyoyeon/tiffany
fandom: so nyuh shi dae
rating: g to pg-13
summary: someone engages her senses... every one of them.
SIGHTThe way she sits silently in her chair intrigues me. The book that was in her hands is now closed and sitting in her lap. Her attention is captured by the scene unraveling in front of us: Yuri, when will you stop bullying poor Tiffany? I should probably help Taeyeon settle those two, but I end up looking back at her. She is so quiet despite the loud shrieks, laughter and yelling filling the entire dorm. I guess that maybe this is her way of trying not to be caught in something she doesn’t want to be in.
Except, when I really look at her, I notice something about her eyes and the way they look at the chaos. Those eyes aren’t watching the scene dismissively, instead they are watching observantly. Is it bad that I’ve only paid attention now? It makes me wonder what goes through her mind whenever she sees something worth observing. She’s looking at me and suddenly it makes me wonder what goes through her mind when she sees me.
TOUCHI miss the way she feels in my arms. We were roommates back then. Our beds were pushed together so whenever I woke up, I would find her snuggling against me sleeping soundly. I would always wake up before her and whenever she was in my arms I reveled in the feeling of her soft skin against mine. I would trace her bare arms with my fingertips and she would stir, but she would never wake up. I don’t know if she really stayed asleep when I did that, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Things changed and I’m only left with what I consider the remnants of her touch.
Here we are watching our sunbaes perform and I use whatever opportunity I have just to touch her. My hand reaches for hers, but I only manage to capture her wrist. I watch her laugh as I play with her arm, raising it with the music. I can feel her quick pulse against my fingertips and it makes me grin for an entirely different reason.
That reason being…
Whenever she woke up pressed tightly against me, I could feel her heart race.
Times have changed, but my touch still affects her.
SMELLI love to cook. None of the girls will debate that. The different aromas each dish I create pleasantly fills my nose, but I can smell another pleasant scent apart from the food. The wooden spoon in my hand stops stirring whatever is in the pot and I look around the kitchen just to figure out where that scent is coming from. That fruity scent is making me heady which only adds to my need to find it. I can smell something sweet being cooked and by the time I turn around, all I can smell is the last of that fruity scent.
My curiosity remains high; I need to find the source. I reach for the wooden spoon, and sigh when I see that I may have burnt whatever is cooking. I barely stir the pot when I smell that scent again. I swiftly turn around and stare dumbly at the person who is wearing the heavenly scent. She reaches for my hand that is numbly holding onto the wooden spoon and holds it in her own. The scent is even stronger as she stands beside me and I feel weak. She comes even closer and somehow I feel like I’m drowning in her.
TASTEMint. I can taste the mint that was part of her ice cream. My tongue slides against hers and I can even taste the bitter dark chocolate as well. Her tongue grazes the roof of my mouth and she can probably taste the last of the vanilla ice cream I had. My tongue continues to run along the inside of her mouth and suddenly I can faintly taste the sugar of the sprinkles that were on my ice cream. We pull away and I can still taste the lingering ice cream flavours in my mouth. She presses her lips against mine once again, but this time I taste the strawberry of her lip gloss. The sweetness is something I will never get enough of.
HEARShe’s crying again. Sometimes, she tries hard to keep it in, but when it’s late at night and everyone is asleep I can hear the quiet sobs outside my door. I crawl out of bed and make my way to her room; my footsteps silent as the sleeping dorm. I slip into her room and sit on the edge of her bed. The suppressed sobs are hard to hear, but she needs to let all of her tension out somehow. I reach for her and she suddenly sits up finally realizing my presence since all she could hear was herself and no one else.
She forces herself to stop crying, but I move closer to her and cup her face in my hands. Words just leave her mouth sounding dry, raspy, and broken, but I stay silent. One of my fingers rest on her lips and the room is immediately dead of any sound save for our breathing. I pull her into my arms and she lets herself go. Tears are rushing down her face, her cries are uninhibited, and she puts herself out in the open. The more she lets herself go, the more I can hear her calling out for help.
Help that she desperately needs.
pairings: hyoyeon/seohyun | hyoyeon/jessica | hyoyeon/taeyeon | hyoyeon/sooyoung | hyoyeon/tiffany
fandom: so nyuh shi dae
rating: g to pg-13
summary: someone engages her senses... every one of them.
SIGHTThe way she sits silently in her chair intrigues me. The book that was in her hands is now closed and sitting in her lap. Her attention is captured by the scene unraveling in front of us: Yuri, when will you stop bullying poor Tiffany? I should probably help Taeyeon settle those two, but I end up looking back at her. She is so quiet despite the loud shrieks, laughter and yelling filling the entire dorm. I guess that maybe this is her way of trying not to be caught in something she doesn’t want to be in.
Except, when I really look at her, I notice something about her eyes and the way they look at the chaos. Those eyes aren’t watching the scene dismissively, instead they are watching observantly. Is it bad that I’ve only paid attention now? It makes me wonder what goes through her mind whenever she sees something worth observing. She’s looking at me and suddenly it makes me wonder what goes through her mind when she sees me.
TOUCHI miss the way she feels in my arms. We were roommates back then. Our beds were pushed together so whenever I woke up, I would find her snuggling against me sleeping soundly. I would always wake up before her and whenever she was in my arms I reveled in the feeling of her soft skin against mine. I would trace her bare arms with my fingertips and she would stir, but she would never wake up. I don’t know if she really stayed asleep when I did that, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Things changed and I’m only left with what I consider the remnants of her touch.
Here we are watching our sunbaes perform and I use whatever opportunity I have just to touch her. My hand reaches for hers, but I only manage to capture her wrist. I watch her laugh as I play with her arm, raising it with the music. I can feel her quick pulse against my fingertips and it makes me grin for an entirely different reason.
That reason being…
Whenever she woke up pressed tightly against me, I could feel her heart race.
Times have changed, but my touch still affects her.
SMELLI love to cook. None of the girls will debate that. The different aromas each dish I create pleasantly fills my nose, but I can smell another pleasant scent apart from the food. The wooden spoon in my hand stops stirring whatever is in the pot and I look around the kitchen just to figure out where that scent is coming from. That fruity scent is making me heady which only adds to my need to find it. I can smell something sweet being cooked and by the time I turn around, all I can smell is the last of that fruity scent.
My curiosity remains high; I need to find the source. I reach for the wooden spoon, and sigh when I see that I may have burnt whatever is cooking. I barely stir the pot when I smell that scent again. I swiftly turn around and stare dumbly at the person who is wearing the heavenly scent. She reaches for my hand that is numbly holding onto the wooden spoon and holds it in her own. The scent is even stronger as she stands beside me and I feel weak. She comes even closer and somehow I feel like I’m drowning in her.
TASTEMint. I can taste the mint that was part of her ice cream. My tongue slides against hers and I can even taste the bitter dark chocolate as well. Her tongue grazes the roof of my mouth and she can probably taste the last of the vanilla ice cream I had. My tongue continues to run along the inside of her mouth and suddenly I can faintly taste the sugar of the sprinkles that were on my ice cream. We pull away and I can still taste the lingering ice cream flavours in my mouth. She presses her lips against mine once again, but this time I taste the strawberry of her lip gloss. The sweetness is something I will never get enough of.
HEARShe’s crying again. Sometimes, she tries hard to keep it in, but when it’s late at night and everyone is asleep I can hear the quiet sobs outside my door. I crawl out of bed and make my way to her room; my footsteps silent as the sleeping dorm. I slip into her room and sit on the edge of her bed. The suppressed sobs are hard to hear, but she needs to let all of her tension out somehow. I reach for her and she suddenly sits up finally realizing my presence since all she could hear was herself and no one else.
She forces herself to stop crying, but I move closer to her and cup her face in my hands. Words just leave her mouth sounding dry, raspy, and broken, but I stay silent. One of my fingers rest on her lips and the room is immediately dead of any sound save for our breathing. I pull her into my arms and she lets herself go. Tears are rushing down her face, her cries are uninhibited, and she puts herself out in the open. The more she lets herself go, the more I can hear her calling out for help.
Help that she desperately needs.