#and that that can carry me into a more productive year next year

[ramabear]

a oneshot has been clawing at the inside of my brain for the last 24 hrs. i hope it continues to do so until this weekend, when i will finally have the time to put pen to paper and write the damn thing

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting the audiobook of The Lost Cause, my novel of environmental hope

Tonight (October 2), I'm in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab. On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

The Lost Cause is my next novel. It's about the climate emergency. It's hopeful. Library Journal called it "a message hope in a near-future that looks increasingly bleak." As with every other one of my books Amazon refuses to sell the audiobook, so I made my own, and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-lost-cause-a-novel-of-climate-and-hope

That's a lot to unpack, I know. So many questions! Including this one: "How is it that I have another book out in 2023?" Because this is my third book this year. Short answer: I write when I'm anxious, so I came out of lockdown with nine books. Nine!

Hope and writing are closely related activities. Hope (the belief that you can make things better) is nothing so cheap and fatalistic as optimism (the belief that things will improve no matter what you do). The Lost Cause is full of people who are full of hope.

The action begins a full generation after the Hail Mary passage of the Green New Deal, and the people who grew up fighting the climate emergency (rather than sitting hopelessly by while the powers that be insisted that nothing could or should be done) have a name for themselves: they call themselves "the first generation in a century that doesn't fear the future."

I fear the future. Unchecked corporate power has us barreling over a cliff's edge and all the one-percent has to say is, "Well, it's too late to swerve now, what if the bus rolls and someone breaks a leg? Don't worry, we'll just keep speeding up and leap the gorge":

https://locusmag.com/2022/07/cory-doctorow-the-swerve/

That unchecked corporate power has no better avatar than Amazon, one of the tech monopolies that has converted the old, good internet into "five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four":

https://twitter.com/tveastman/status/1069674780826071040

Amazon maintains a near-total grip over print and ebooks, but when it comes to audiobooks, that control is total. The company's Audible division has captured more than 90% of the market, and it abuses that dominance to cram Digital Rights Management onto every book it sells, even if the author doesn't want it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

I wrote a whole-ass book about this and it came out less than a month ago; it's called The Internet Con and it lays out an audacious plan to halt the internet's enshittification and throw it into reverse:

http://www.seizethemeansofcomputation.org/

The tldr is this: when an audiobook is wrapped in Amazon's DRM, only Amazon can legally remove it. That means that every book I sell you on Audible is a book you have to throw away if you ever break up with Amazon, and Amazon can use the fact that it's hold you hostage to screw me – and every other author – over.

As I said last time this came up:

Fuck that sideways.

With a brick.

My books are sold without DRM, so you can play them in any app and do anything copyright permits, and that means Amazon won't carry them, and that means my publishers don't want to pay to produce them, and that means I produce them myself, and then I make the (significant) costs back by selling them on Kickstarter.

And you know what? It works. Readers don't want DRM. I mean, duh. No one woke up this morning and said, "Dammit, why won't someone sell me a product that lets me do less with my books?" I sell boatloads" of books through these crowdfunding campaigns. I sold so many copies of my last book, *The Internet Con, that they sold out the initial print run in two weeks (don't worry, they held back stock for my upcoming events).

But beyond that, I think there's another reason my readers keep coming back, even though I wrote a genuinely stupid number of books while working through lockdown anxiety while the wildfires raged and ashes sifted down out of the sky and settled on my laptop as I lay in my backyard hammock, pounding my keyboard.

(I went through two keyboards during lockdown. Thankfully, I bought a user-serviceable laptop from Framework and fixed it myself both times, in a matter of minutes. No, no one pays me to mention this, but hot damn is it cool.)

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/13/graceful-failure/#frame

The reason readers come back to my books is that they're full of hope. In the same way that writing lets me feel like I'm not a passenger in life, but rather, someone with a say in my destination, the books that I write are full of practical ways and dramatic scenes in which other people seize the means of computation, the reins of power or their own destinies.

The protagonist of The Lost Cause is Brooks Palazzo, a high-school senior in Burbank whose parents were part of the original cohort of volunteers who kicked off the global transformation, and left him an orphan when they succumbed to one of the zoonotic plagues that arise every time another habitat is destroyed.

Brooks grew up knowing what his life would be: the work of repair and care, which millions of young people are doing. Relocating entire cities off endangered coastlines and floodplains, or out of fire-zones. Fighting floods and fires. Caring for tens of millions of refugees for whom the change came too late.

But with every revolution comes a counter-revolution. The losers of a just war don't dig holes, climb inside and pull the dirt down on top of themselves. Two groups of reactionaries – seagoing anarcho-capitalist billionaire wreckers and seething white nationalist militias – have formed an alliance.

They've already gotten their champion into the White House. Next up: dismantling every cause for hope Brooks and his friends have, and bringing back the fear.

That's the setup for a novel about solidarity, care, library socialism, and snatching victory from defeat's jaws. Writing it help keep me sane during the lockdown, and when it came time to record the audiobook, I spent a lot of time thinking about who could read it. I've had some great narrators: Wil Wheaton, @neil-gaiman, Amber Benson, Bronson Pinchot, and more.

I record my audiobooks with Skyboat Media, a brilliant studio near my place in LA. Back in August, I spent a week in their recording booth – "The Tardis" – doing something I'd never tried before: I recorded a whole audiobook, with directorial supervision: The Internet Con:

https://transactions.sendowl.com/products/78992826/DEA0CE12/purchase

When it was done, the director – audiobook legend Gabrielle de Cuir – sat me down and said, "Look, I've never said this to an author before, but I think you should read The Lost Cause. I don't direct anyone anymore except for Wil Wheaton and LeVar Burton, but I would direct you on this one."

I was immensely flattered – and very nervous. Reading The Internet Con was one thing – the book is built around the speeches I've been giving for 20 years and I knew I could sell those lines – but The Lost Cause is a novel, with a whole cast of characters. Could I do it?

Reader, I did it. I just listened to the proofs last week and:

It.

Came.

Out.

Great.

The Lost Cause goes on sale on November 14th, and I'll be selling this audiobook I made everywhere audiobooks are sold – except for the stores that require DRM, nonconsensually shackling readers and writers to their platforms. So you'll be able to get it on Libro.fm, downpour.com, even Google Play – but not Audible, Apple Books, or Audiobooks.com.

But in addition to those worthy retailers, I will be sending out thousands – and thousands! – of audiobook to my Kickstarter backers on the on-sale date, either as a folder of DRM-free MP3s, or as a download code for Libro.fm, to make things easy for people who don't want to have to figure out how to sideload an audiobook into a standalone app.

And, of course, the mobile duopoly have made this kind of sideloading exponentially harder over the past decade, though far be it from me to connect this with their policy of charging 30% commissions on everything sold through an app, a commission they don't receive if you get your files on the web and load 'em yourself:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

As with my previous Kickstarters, I'm also selling ebooks and hardcovers – signed or unsigned, and this time I've found a great partner to fulfill EU orders from within the EU, so backers won't have to pay VAT and customs charges. The wonderful Otherland – who have hosted me on my last two trips to Berlin – are going to manage that shipping for me:

https://www.otherland-berlin.de/en/home.html

Kim Stanley Robinson read the book and said, "Along with the rush of adrenaline I felt a solid surge of hope. May it go like this." That's just about the perfect quote, because the book is a ride. It's not just a kumbaya tale of a better world that is possible: it's a post-cyberpunk novel of high-tech guerrilla and meme warfare, climate tech and bad climate tech, wildcat prefab urban infill, and far-right militamen who adapt to a ban on assault-rifles by switching to super-soakers full of hydrochloric acid.

It's a book about struggle, hope in the darkness, and a way through this rotten moment. It's a book that dares to imagine that things might get worse but also better. This is a curious emotional melange, but it's one that I'm increasingly feeling these days.

Like, Amazon, that giant bully, whose blockade on DRM-free audiobooks cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through university (according to my agent)? The incredible Lina Khan brought a long-overdue antitrust case against Amazon while her rockstar DoJ counterpart, Jonathan Kanter, is dragging Google through the courts.

The EU is taking on Apple, and French cops are kicking down Nvidia's doors and grabbing their files, looking to build another antitrust case for monopolizing GPUs. The writers won their strike and Joe Biden walked the picket-line with the UAW, the first president in history to join striking workers:

https://doctorow.medium.com/joe-biden-is-headed-to-a-uaw-picket-line-in-detroit-f80bd0b372ab?sk=f3abdfd3f26d2f615ad9d2f1839bcc07

Solar is now our cheapest energy source, which is wild, because if we could only capture 0.4% of the solar energy that makes it through the atmosphere, we could give everyone alive the same energy budget as Canadians (who have American lifestyles but higher heating bills). As Deb Chachra writes in her forthcoming How Infrastructure Works (my review pending): we get a fresh supply of energy every time the sun rises and we only get new materials when a comet survives atmospheric entry, but we treat energy as scarce and throw away our materials after a single use:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/612711/how-infrastructure-works-by-deb-chachra/

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. We have shot past many of our planetary boundaries and there are waves of climate crises in our future, but they don't have to be climate disasters. That's up to us – it'll depend on whether we come together to save ourselves and each other, or tear ourselves apart.

The Lost Cause dares to imagine what it might be like if we do the former. We don't live in a post-enshittification world yet, but we could. With these indie audiobooks, I've found a way to treat the terminal enshittification of the Amazon monopoly as damage and route around it. I hope you'll back the Kickstarter, fight enshittification, inject some hope into your reading, and enjoy a kickass adventure novel in the process:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-lost-cause-a-novel-of-climate-and-hope

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/02/the-lost-cause/#the-first-generation-that-doesnt-fear-the-future

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 2]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

With an iced tea in hand, you unlocked the glass doors of your shop and entered. You turned on the lights, placing your tea on the counter and your bag in your locker. Since you were the only worker here, there was no one else to use the lockers but you.

"Roses, tulips, carnations..." You grabbed your notepad to check the incoming deliveries today. The first thing you did was check on your plants and water them.

"You're growing well." You smiled softly, seeing the plant that you sprout, moving the pot away from the direct sunlight.

"(y/n)?" You heard the familiar voice of your supplier at the back door and went over.

"Good morning, Mr Lee. Do you have any surprises for me?" You giggled. You had a good relationship with all your suppliers, they always helped you bring in quality products.

"Well, besides your usual orders, I have some hydrangeas if you would like." He climbed into his truck.

"Here." He pushed the bucket to show you.

"Oh, they're absolutely beautiful. I'll take them." You smiled. He nodded and helped you bring everything in, he usually knew where everything went.

"Sunflowers aren't selling too well." You shook your head in disappointment, seeing your sunflowers there.

"Sunflowers aren't trendy anymore. Have you seen what's on the internet? My daughter told me that girls are content with just bouquets of baby's breaths now. How times have truly changed, right?" He chuckled with a click of his tongue. You nodded and moved the roses into the refrigerated area.

"It's a minimalist thing, no? Bigger isn't better anymore. No one comes in for traditional bouquets anymore." You sighed, going to the cash register to get the money.

"Tell me about it... And this should be everything." Mr Lee said, glancing over the flowers that he brought in.

"Thank you, this is the payment." You handed the money to him. He nodded and placed it in his pouch.

"Also, Mr Lee. I remember you mentioning that Mrs Lee keep getting her hands burnt when she's working at her restaurant. I made her an aloe balm. This should help soothe the burns." You held the tin out.

"Oh, you're too kind, (y/n). Thank you so much for making this." He patted your shoulder.

"Have a nice day. See you next week." You walked him out.

"See you." The both of you bowed to each other and he jumped into his van before driving off. You returned to your counter and began your work for the day.

"Let's see..." You checked the online orders that you had and printed it out for reference.

Moving to your work bench, you began to prepare the flower preparations for each other. You trimmed the stems, removed the excess leaves and cut thorns away before wrapping them up with either cellophane or tissue paper.

"Hello? Are you open?" The bell above the door jingled. A girl walked into store, carrying a pot with her. You cleaned your hands and walked out to the front.

"Yes, we're open. How can I help you?" You smiled.

"My fern seems to be wilting and I can't seem to revive it. Can you help?" She asked.

"Let's see what's the issue." You escorted in. She placed the pot on your work table and you inspected it. The girl patiently waited, watching you as you checked it.

"From what I see, the soil isn't draining water properly. It's retaining too much water and suffocating the roots of the plant." You said.

"What? Can that happen?" She blinked.

"Yes, so that suffocation prevents the roots from absorbing the vitamins and minerals. You should mix a well drainage soil of this ratio and move your fern in." You wrote the ingredients down.

"And I can find this at the plant store?" She asked, reading through what you wrote down.

"You should be able to find the components. But if you don't mind waiting, I can mix some for you to take home." You offered. Hearing that, she let out a sigh of relief and nodded her head excitedly. You went to your storage area to grab the different soil components that you need.

"Peat moss, sand and potting soil." You mixed the components into a bag, adding some fertiliser as well since the fern currently lacked essential nutrients.

"For two weeks, put two drops of this plant reviver into the soil even if you are not watering it." You handed her a small vial.

"Thank you. Actually, do you mind repotting it into the new soil for me? I'll pay you." She requested.

"Alright." You took the fern out and got rid of the old soil. You poured the new soil in, creating a well to put the fern in. After that, you loosely covered the roots with the soil.

"Done." You smiled, removing your gloves.

"Thank you. This is actually my mum's plant and I'm helping her take care of it. I know nothing about plants." She said in embarrassment.

"No worries, the plant should be fine from here. If there are anymore issues, you can come back." You chuckled and rang up her bill. She nodded and paid.

"Thanks again." She bowed and walked out of the shop. After that, you went back to preparing your orders. There were some pick ups today so you wanted to make sure that everything was in order for a smoother pick up.

"Hi, I'm here for a pick up?" A guy walked into the store.

"Sure, can I see your order number?" You asked. He showed you the confirmation email and went to retrieve his order. It was a flower box instead of a bouquet.

"Just make sure everything is okay for you before paying." You said, rounding the counter to the cashier.

"Do you mind changing the ribbons to pink too? She really likes pink." He requested.

"Of course." You grabbed the ribbon. With pink flowers, you wanted to add contrast with a different coloured bow but since he wants it to be pink, there was no issue with changing it.

"That's better. Thanks." He handed you his card.

"I wrote the congratulatory message as you stated in request email but if you'd like to write your own message. This is a spare card, on the house." You handed him the blank card.

"Thank you, I don't know what else to write but if I come up with something I'll add it." He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. You hummed and rang up his bill, writing the invoice and handing him a copy, along with his credit card. With a grateful bow of his head, he left the shop.

Before you knew it, the clock hit 1pm, with customers coming in to buy, place advance orders or collect orders they've placed.

'Closed for lunch.'

You sat behind the counter with a tired sigh, taking out your lunch box. Your meals usually consisted of sandwiches or leftovers from dinner the night before.

Which was why Mrs Kim would usually come with food for you, always disapproving of how your eating habits.

RING!

"Sorry, we're closed at the moment." You said from behind the counter, not looking at the door. But you didn't hear the second ring of the door opening again so you stood up.

"Oh!" Your eyes widened in surprised as Hongjoong stood there, looking around the shop.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You blinked, maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your guilt was too much that the male was appearing in your dreams.

"Good afternoon, (y/n) sshi. Is this a bad time? Should I come back at another time?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head, fingers resting on the buttons of his blazer. You shook your head, reaching to get a tissue to wipe your mouth.

"It's fine. What can I help you with?" You came out from behind the counter to properly greet him. He patiently waited as you pulled a chair for him to sit.

"Please, would you like something to drink?" You offered.

"No, I'm fine. Actually, (y/n) sshi, I came to apologise for my reaction during my mother's funeral." He stood back up.

"What? There's nothing for you to apologise for, Hongjoong sshi. I should be the one apologising, I overstepped and said too much. It wasn't appropriate of me." You bowed deeply.

"You didn't overstep at all. Your intentions were good, I reacted poorly." He bowed back.

"No, you're grieving, it's normal." You smiled softly.

"Thank you for understanding." Hongjoong held his hand out but remembered that it was bandaged and cursed under his breath, hiding it and putting his other hand out for you to shake. If you were phased by his injury, you didn't show it. You smiled and slipped your hand into his to shake.

"I should go and let you carry on with your meal." He said once you both let go.

"No, it's fine. You can stay if you'd like." You smiled softly. He let out a small hum and continued to look around your shop, observing all the plants around.

"So, this is where my mother hung out?" He asked, picking up a stalk of rose from your work bench and twirling it.

"Sometimes... She would come for lunch or tea. We would just chat over food." You replied awkwardly.

How much were you supposed to say about Mrs Kim to her own son? You didn't want to sound like you were boasting about your time with her either, that wouldn't do any good.

"I see." He said, placing the flower back down.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You rubbed your arm, unsure of how to continue this conversation.

"Sorry for making you uncomfortable. Just... The truth is, you know a lot about my mother that I don't. You've spent time with her while I didn't so I can't help but feel curious. My relationship with her wasn't as good as she made it out of be." He informed.

"Oh. Hongjoong sshi, it's not my place to judge you or your relationship with Mrs Kim. Whatever relationship I had with her is vastly different from your own." You said.

"You're very kind, (y/n) sshi." He complimented. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

"I should go." He stood up.

"Wait before you go. Your bandage, do you want me to help you replace it?" You pointed. Hongjoong looked down and saw the blood beginning to seep through.

"It's fine, I shouldn't take up more of your time." He shook his head.

"Not at all. I can help if you'd like." You offered. With a soft sigh, Hongjoong sat back down.

"I'll go get my medical kit. Be right back." You told him and went to the back room to get what you needed. You also took a salve that you usually used for wound care.

"I'm not a doctor but I am first aid certified and I study medical plants in botany so you don't have to worry." You smiled and took a pair of cutters to cut away the bandages that Yeosang had wrapped around Hongjoong's hand. Hongjoong quietly observed you, not saying anything else while you focussed.

"I made this salve for wounds. It should help with soothing the wounds and healing." You explained, cleaning the blood.

"Do you always make your own medicine?" He asked.

"No, I just make simple stuff. I'm still learning." You giggled, tucking your hair behind your ear before applying a thin layer of the salve over the cuts and wounds.

"Does it hurt?" You looked up at him. He shook his head and you sighed in relief.

"You can bring that home with you to apply when you change bandages. I have some more." You explained.

"You do a better job than my brother." Hongjoong said after observing how you properly wrapped a new bandage around his hand and secured it in place.

"You should remove the bandage after 3 days to let the wounds breathe and dry." You said.

The entire time, you never once asked Hongjoong about how he got injured or acted differently. You treated it like any other scrapped knee and healed him. Usually, people would be scared or ask him how he got injured like that.

"Thanks." He looked at his newly bandaged hand.

"You're very welcome. If you see signs of infection or get a fever, go to a doctor." You advised. He nodded and took the small pot of salve, putting it into his pocket.

Will he use it? Probably not. But he saw how dedicated you were and for some reason, didn't want to disappoint you by not taking it.

"Bye, Hongjoong sshi. I'll see you around?" You blinked at your own words, uncertainty in your voice.

"Have a nice day, (y/n) sshi." He didn't address it, merely bowing his head and leaving your shop. You let out a long exhale, feeling like you've been holding your breath the entire time.

"Ah!" You suddenly remembered the silk handkerchief that you had washed and in your bag.

"Too distracted." You scratched your head and went to the counter to eat a few more bites of your lunch before you had to reopen.

You were not too bothered that you hadn't returned the handkerchief to Hongjoong. Even if you did feel guilty, you had an inkling that you would be seeing Hongjoong again soon. What ate at you more was how foreign Hongjoong spoke about his mother, like she was a stranger that he didn't know.

"Hongjoong, where are you?"

"I went out to run an errand, Seonghwa. Don't worry, I didn't drive. I got the driver." Hongjoong sighed, sinking into the backseat of the Rolls Royce he was in.

"I'm not worried about that. I just wanted to make sure you didn't do something dumb like blow up a building."

"Geez that happened ONCE, let it go... And I'm going to work, I have to go to my club." Hongjoong said, looking at his bandaged hand.

"You don't have to go back to work right away, Hongjoong. The boys and I can take over while you take a few days. You've needed to take a break for a while."

"I'm the leader of Ateez, Seonghwa. I don't need all of you to take over my work." Hongjoong replied.

"But..."

"Yes, my mother died. But sitting around isn't going to bring her back to life. I still have roles to fulfill, I'm not going to let anyone strike us just because I'm down. There are people counting on us, relying on us." He continued.

"Alright. Stay safe then, Hongjoong. I'll see you at the docks meeting at 5pm?"

"Yeah, thanks Seonghwa. I'll see you later." Hongjoong hummed and hung up. The car stopped before Hongjoong's club and the manager came out, opening the door for him.

"Good afternoon, Mr Kim." The manager bowed. The club wasn't open yet so Hongjoong could get some administrative work done.

"Get me a drink and come up to the office." Hongjoong said, walking into the club.

"Yes, sir." He bowed. Upon his entrance, all the workers stopped and bowed down to greet their boss This was the main club Hongjoong worked out of so they were used to seeing him around.

"Give me 10 minutes. No one is to enter." Hongjoong told the guard who stood by his office door.

"Yes, sir." The guard bowed.

Hongjoong entered his office and sat down in his chair. There were some things he needed to do and catch up on privately, without any interruptions. As the leader of Ateez, he had to keep track of the other Ateez members and their work, on top of his own. But the boys always did their work so it wasn't hard on him.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"S-Sir?" Hongjoong heard the timid voice of the club manager outside his door, making him look up from his phone where he was sending messages to Yunho.

"Has it been 10 minutes?" Hongjoong asked back, tucking his phone into his blazer pocket.

"Yes, sir." The male on the other side replied.

"Come in." Hongjoong said. The door opened and the male came in with his iPad and Hongjoong's whiskey in hand. Hongjoong nodded over to the chair and the manager bowed, taking a seat opposite him.

"Update me." Hongjoong took a sip of his drink. The manager began to update Hongjoong on the business.

"We have been thinking of letting our bartending apprentice go. He had been drinking on the job and getting drunk." He informed.

"Who?" Hongjoong leaned forward.

"This is his profile. The next page has some employee complaints and customer complaints that were logged." The manager informed, pulling up the ex employee's profile and handing it over to Hongjoong to look it over.

"I won't read this, let him go. I won't let anyone be caught lacking in my business. One complaint is as good as ten. Make him compensate for what alcohol he took." Hongjoong instructed.

"Of course, sir." The manager nodded, taking back the iPad and going through the other updates.

"Continue to manage necessary manpower and suppliers to the club. Revenue is still good." Hongjoong told him.

"I will. Thank you for giving me this responsibility, sir." The manager bowed from his seat.

"This is the list of VIPs coming. As usual, make sure they are well taken care of." Hongjoong slid over the list of VIP names and the dates that they would be coming.

"Of course." The manager folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

"You can go." With that, Hongjoong waved him off and he left. Hongjoong may seem cold and merciless but he treats his employees right, at least those that do their job well. He is a perfectionist and always wants the best, there shouldn't be anything that's lacking when it came to his business.

"Send Wooyoung and San for that private poker game. That's wheret they'll meet our informant." Hongjoong said to those that were in the group call.

"Oooh, I can get a new suit done." Wooyoung's focus and excitement was obviously on other things.

"What about the governor meeting that's coming up, hyung? Are you going with Seonghwa hyung?" Jongho asked.

"Seonghwa should go with Yunho. They know how to work the charm. Plus the governor's wife seems to favour Yunho." Hongjoong thought out loud, making the other laugh.

"No one can resist that face." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Yunho's ears just turned bright red." Yeosang informed and the others could hear Yunho's yell of protest in the background.

"Wait, what time is Seonghwa hyung and Hongjoong hyung settling the issue at the docks? I want to tag along, I could use some action. It'll be fun." Mingi asked.

"Oh! Me too! If Mingi's going, I want to go!" San agreed. Hongjoong could hear Seonghwa wanting to interject but it was ignored. Hongjoong and Seonghwa could never fight the younger ones, they were simply outnumbered.

"You guys always make a mess when you get involved... This time, call your own clean up crew." Seonghwa hissed.

"You gave in way too easily, Seonghwa ah." Hongjoong laughed and leaned back into his seat.

"I already have enough to think about. I have to pick my battles. Plus, if they can handle it for us, I won't risk getting blood on my new coat." Seonghwa said.

~

Series masterlist

[seren1tyhaze]

Dive

PAIRING: doyoung x afab reader (ft djj)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k (got a bit carried away)

SUMMARY: your best friend drags you out to a club to be her wingwoman as she meets back up with a stunning stranger and you cross paths with the hottest man you've ever seen in an expensive suit and a cross around his neck

THANK YOU: @strwbrysunday you know how important you've been in getting this across the finish line and you're a literal angel. thank you so much <3 thank you to all my friends who watched me brainrot over this over the past week and inspiring me to keep working on it with your positive words.

WARNINGS: explicit smut, smoking, drinking, drug reference, profanity, heavy religious imagery in a sexual setting (and I mean HEAVY - so if this is going to bother you, this isn't the fic for you)

PLAYLIST: Dive by DoJaeJung, Angel by NCT 127

This was clearly inspired by the Doyoung D&G promo images with the rosary and the rest was history...

I can dive, I'm diving into you

—

Ouch. You pinch your eyelash with the curler as you lean in closer to the glassy mirror in your best friend’s bathroom. You knew you should be wearing your contacts but had forgotten them at home and you weren’t going to hear the end of it from her if that was the excuse you had for ditching her for the night.

It had been an exhausting week at work but somehow your adorable firecracker of a platonic soulmate since childhood had dragged you to her apartment as soon as the clock hit 5:00PM in the co-working space your small start-up you both worked for shared with some other local environmental companies.

She had shed off her casual work clothes hours before, now wearing a glittery black dress, hugging her hips tightly, strings ruched up the side revealing plenty of thigh, covered with nude fishnets. You envied her long and bouncy locks that flowed down her back, reaching up to touch your straight hair that never cooperated with the curling iron.

“What is it?” she asked from behind you, catching you staring. 

“Is there something on my dress?” she spun around, craning her head to look at her own ass in the mirror.

You started to speak before you realized she was showing off, dropping to the floor quickly before slowly standing again, shimmying her rear as she started to sway to the faint music coming from her living room.

You rolled your eyes with a huff, curling your other eye’s lashes and applying a few coats of mascara.

“Loosen up, angel,” she called back as she moved into her walk-in closet to select her shoes and handbag, using her pet name she had been calling you for years.

You finished up the rest of your makeup, cleaning up the little pile of products and packing them back neatly in their small pouch before examining yourself in the mirror. Your dark hair fell almost to your shoulders, eyes accentuated with smudged dark liner and cheekbones dusted with a bright coral blush that complimented the glossy color across your lips. You had let your best friend convince you to dress up more than you usually did, since she said the club you were going to tended to cater to a more affluent clientele. 

A skin tight white leather crop top pushed your breasts up nicely and you had even let your friend dust some shimmering glitter across them with a large puff earlier. You smoothed the matching devastatingly short skirt and adjusted the lace up black boots that travelled up your long legs and over your knee. You felt confident in the outfit and only slightly uneasy about the night ahead. Your friend had a tendency to scan for her prey of the night the minute you entered a venue and often spent the night locking lips with half the dance floor or as she did the weekend before, dancing on stage with the burlesque dancers at the late night speakeasy.

Standing next to her as you both did final checks in the mirror, you looked like the moonlight and sunlight, night and day, devil and angel. A dangerous pair for any person to come across in a crowded club with these outfits, to say the least. You giggled as your friend planted a glossy kiss to your ear before pushing your hair back into place, following her out of the spacious apartment.

“WOO!” shrieked your friend, waving long fingernails at a tall, slender man leaning against a private booth tucked near the DJ. A warm grin spread across his plush lips and you couldn’t help it when your heart jumped a little in your chest. How your friend always found the most attractive people to surround herself always surprised you (not like you were complaining).

She had met Jungwoo the weekend before at a rave and had gabbed your ear off about the attractive and rich heir to a fortune who lived downtown in the middle of all the weekend excitement and had fed her drinks all night long while clutching onto her hips as they danced. She hadn’t gone home with him but instead had gotten his number and promised to meet him out the next weekend. The next weekend was now and out the two of you were.

Jungwoo was absolutely stunning, bright white hair damp, long, and hanging around his cheeks and across his forehead. He wore a sheer blouse unbuttoned halfway, exposing much of his toned chest and loose grey slacks that didn’t leave much to the imagination when he moved.

Taking careful steps through the crowd, you followed your friend who now had her hand held close to the lips of another man, this one dressed in the remains of an expensive suit, tie loose and sloppy around his neck with several buttons of a crisp pale blue shirt undone. He had dark hair slicked back to reveal his stunning face and his eyes glittered when he pulled them to yours to greet you.

“This is Jaehyun, Jungwoo’s roommate!” she giggled, a glass of champagne somehow already in her hand as she grinned at Jaehyun’s tender kiss to the back of her hand.

“Lovely to meet you, girls,” Jaehyun spoke deep and smoothly, his voice like velvet.

You cleared your throat with a small smile and shifted your weight in the uncomfortable shoes, eyes darting past the two men in front of you to a third seated in the booth.

Goosebumps instantly dotted your bare arms as you raked your eyes over one of the most attractive men you had ever seen. Even seated, you could tell he was tall with a broad frame. His hand was stretched out across his knee, high end designer fabric covering every inch of his body.

As if in slow motion, he lifted his head from his phone, placing it next to him to take a long sip from the short glass of dark liquid on the table in front of him. He brought his dark eyes up to meet yours and as soon as you made contact you watched his adam’s apple move in his throat, gulping as he peeled his eyes down your body.

You moved a hand to grip your other forearm, suddenly self conscious but equally intrigued, cocking your head slightly to the side. Your vision blurred briefly and you cursed yourself for not remembering your contacts as your loss of focus refused to let you make out the expression on the mystery man’s face.

“Doie - don’t be rude, say hi!” Jungwoo slurred out, taking a strong hand to the small of your back to guide you into the booth and directly next to Doyoung.

“Hi,” he spoke, quiet and soft, pulling his hand off his knee to extend a handshake to you.

You chuckled lightly and let him shake your hand, taking a moment to inspect him further now that you could see him better.

The white collared shirt under his suit jacket was tight (almost too tight) with the top buttons straining against the fabric enclosure. He had a soft jaw and plump lips, dark hair styled in a way that was kept but still messy in a sexy way. When he smiled his eyes crinkled in the corners and his neutral facial expression was hard to read when he wasn’t speaking.

You let your eyes wander down to his tight pants before shaking your head, begging your dirty mind to control itself. It hadn’t been that long since you had hooked up with a stranger at a bar but long enough to let your mind wander within minutes of meeting this man.

Doyoung reached across the table to pour you a glass of champagne from the bottle in the ice bucket and as he did, you noticed a glimmering chain around his neck. As he leaned further, you saw the small black beads on the chain catching the light and much to your surprise, a cross slipped into view briefly.

You sucked in a deep inhale at the sight - this man was wearing a fucking rosary around his neck.

Flashes of hours kneeling for Easter vigil mass, heavy clouds of incense in your face as you held the thurible in a floor length white robe, dark smudges on your forehead, and getting tipsy off communion wine in the church basement with your cousins flew across your mind as you watched him laugh at something Jaehyun said.

Jungwoo swore loudly as he dripped tequila across the table, attempting to pour five shots evenly. You can’t pull your eyes away from Doyoung, watching as he bows his head lightly, wincing ever so slightly at the curse words.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Taking a long drink from your champagne glass and tossing back the shot that is handed to you, you reach into your bag and dig out a carton of cigarettes, pulling the ashtray at the center of the table closer to you.

Pulling a loose stick with your lips, you instinctively gesture towards Doyoung who moves a hand quickly to decline. You shrug and move a bit closer to Jungwoo who is taking a long drag from a neon green vape. He chuckles and tosses his hair from his eyes as he watches the interaction.

“You’re better off making moves on Jae,” he says to you on his exhale. He tosses an arm around your shoulder, nudging your bare shoulder lightly with his thumb, cocking his chin up to draw your attention to a smiley Jaehyun swaying to the music, slightly off beat, as your friend tries to get him to salsa dance with her.

“Doyoung is a little more on the conservative side. Doesn’t smoke, doesn’t like getting high, barely gets drunk, takes his grandma to church on Sundays, all that,” Jungwoo adds, giving you a softer smile as he pulls your eyes into contact with his.

You narrow your own eyes slightly, not sure if this is some twisted attempt at reverse psychology to push you even more into the arms of his friend. While he was wearing the rosary, that didn’t necessarily scream “priest”. He was in a high end club’s most desirable VIP booth, surrounded by drinks and other substances, with two party boys that looked like models.

“Well he’s taken every shot that’s been poured for him, so I don’t know about that ‘not getting drunk’ part,” you quip back, taking a long drag from your cigarette and blowing it behind you through tightly pursed lips, intentionally avoiding Doyoung’s direction.

“Yeah he and Jaehyun lost some big account today, I think he’s just blowing off some steam. Plus he owes me,” Jungwoo winks as punctuation, making it apparent that he wasn’t going to elaborate on the end of that statement.

Throughout the night you learn that Doyoung and Jaehyun work at a big investment bank, Jaehyun sharing a small apartment with Jungwoo in the middle of all the city nightlife, the three of them having known each other since they were kids. Doyoung seemed to have never moved on from their strong faith-based formative years, holding onto these ideals even years later and still an active member of his family’s church community. When he checks the time on his phone you see the smiling face of an older woman pushed up against his, assuming this to be the grandmother Jungwoo mentioned before.

He’s quiet as you chat with him, having to do most of the talking, but is kind and puts some of your nerves at ease even when your friend is off in the middle of the dance floor doing god knows what with god knows who.

Despite his reserved nature, you feel his eyes trained on your every move, following your lips and hands as you smoke another cigarette, the way you cross and uncross your legs with ease, despite the short skirt that has a tendency to ride up when you wiggle in your seat.

You watch him in the same way he watches you, the way his hair falls into his eyes every once and a while and instead of pushing it away with his hand, he shakes his head lightly, flicking his eyes up as if to chastise the loose strands. When he leans forward to take a sip of his drink or gesture to the waitress, his toned chest is exposed by the undone buttons on his shirt.

As much as you hate to admit it, his very presence is intoxicating and it’s affecting you more than you would like. Goosebumps crop up on your arms and you suddenly feel chilled in the warm room, sending a shiver down your spine.

A loud laugh draws your attention across the booth and you are met with the sight of your friend feverishly making out with Jaehyun, sandwiched between him and Jungwoo who has his hand up the hem of her dress, laughing into her neck.

You whip your head back towards Doyoung, giving an awkward smile to him before the chill sets over you again. You train your gaze downwards, examining the patterned carpet on the floor and the laces on your thigh high boots, picking at the edge of the string. You startle at the feeling of fabric being draped over your shoulders, looking up to see that Doyoung has placed his suit jacket around your shoulders.

He keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulder after placing the jacket and you suddenly feel an additional set of eyes on you as you lift up to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. He’s staring at your slightly spread legs, running a wicked tongue across his bottom lip as it quirks up into a wry smile.

You feel Doyoung’s grip around your shoulder tighten and turn to see his face close to yours, your heart jumping in your chest when you feel his breath across your cheek. You can’t bear to break eye contact with him, despite the fact that you desperately wish you could see Jaehyun’s reaction.

“You seemed cold,” he murmurs to you, lips almost brushing across your skin as he speaks close to your ear. He smells delicious, like soft musk but still clean and warm. You mentally take note to slyly ask Jungwoo what cologne his friend wears.

“Thank you,” is all you can muster and you resist the urge to drop your head to his shoulder, suddenly feeling lightheaded in the haze of alcohol, nicotine, and the blaring music of the club.

Doyoung reaches to the table for his glass, arm never leaving your shoulder, rolled shirt sleeve revealing a large and intricate cross tattoo on his forearm. At the sight of the ink you are jolted back to the reality that this man is not who you want him to be. You would normally have a hand palming his groin in the dim lights of the club, moaning into his mouth as he gripped the exposed skin on your back and whispered filthy strings of words into your ear.

But no, you had to bag the “Holier than Thou, Man of God.” Of course you did. This was not going to be good for your libido.

Your friend is suddenly dragging you by the hand to the bathroom, moving surprisingly fast in her towering heels.

“Sooooooooo, angel,” she whines from the single use stall she pulled you into after locking the door.

“What are you about to ask me to do?” you sigh, fixing your hair in the mirror as your friend hikes up her dress to pee.

“I’m going to take those two home with me,” she bluntly tells you, as you predicted.

“Yeah I think anyone in this club could have told me that,” you reply, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. You didn’t really care what she did, only frustrated now that you had to make the hike home in an expensive taxi or wait for the unreliable train service.

“It’s fine, babe, I’ll get home okay,” you add, mustering the sweetest tone you can for your oldest friend. She deserved to blow off steam as much as next person, but you loved staying over at her luxury apartment on the weekends and the lazy mornings you spent sipping homemade cappuccinos and doing face masks.

“You’re the BESTTTT!” she nearly shouts, throwing her arms around you, damp hands fresh from washing them in the sink getting your skin wet. You laugh at her, congratulating her on getting her dick wet and ushering her out of the small room with a smack to her ass.

Back at the booth she wastes no time murmuring in the ears of the two eager men before they share a steamy three way kiss that results in Jungwoo tugging Jaehyun’s bottom lip with his teeth, looping an arm around his slim waist.

You are flicking through the various ride share apps on your phone to find the cheapest option, boots feeling uncomfortably tight on your feet after a long night. Last thing you want to do in this outfit is sit on an empty train and make the long walk uphill to your apartment complex once you arrive at your stop.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asks, face suddenly close to yours again. There’s a level of concern in his eyes that you cannot read when he speaks to you.

“Calling for a car home, I don’t have the luxury of living right here downtown and had plans to crash at hers. I’m assuming my job doesn’t pay as well as yours and Jae’s,” you reply, only lifting your eyes up to meet his after you’ve spoken.

God his eyes are so pretty.

“Why don’t you stay at mine, I can sleep on the couch and my driver can take you home in the morning,” he offers, picking your phone out of your hand and locking the screen.

You open your mouth in protest before thinking more on the offer. His driver?! You would be crazy to turn him down and your friend is already halfway out the door headed towards what will undoubtedly be a night to remember.

You nod and quickly stand, holding a hand out for his, guiding him out the back door of the club. He’s making a call on his phone in a hushed tone while you slide your long coat over his blazer, still wrapped around your shoulders, Jungwoo giving you a  small smile and wiggle of his fingers as he slides into the back of a cab.

“I love you angellllll,” your friend slurs out dramatically, knowing she is far less drunk than she appears, playing up the antics for the men around her. Jaehyun has an arm tucked loosely around her waist, grinning ear to ear as the evening wind ruffles his dark hair.

You pull your friend in for a hug before she ducks into the car, latching her lips immediately onto Jungwoo’s exposed neck, drawing a chuckle from you on the street.

Jaehyun pauses before getting in the car, dipping down to whisper right along the shell of your ear.

“Angel is it? I don’t know about that,” he practically moans out, voice breathy and deep.

“Seemed like a devil in disguise in that tight little skirt, slutty legs spread in the club for our sweet and innocent Doie,” he laughs out, laying the degrading tone on thick. His finger is under your chin, tipping it up to force you to look at him. Your heart is pounding and flying around your chest and you can feel your cheeks burn.

Suddenly there’s a hand on your back and you don’t have to look to know that Doyoung has stepped up behind you.

Jaehyun gives you a wink, pushing past you to plant a lingering kiss on Doyoung’s cheek, before turning and disappearing into the car.

Before you can say anything to Doyoung, a black town car replaces the cab in its spot on the busy street, Doyoung moving quickly to open the door for you, helping you in with a strong hand. He closes the door softly before moving around to the street side to slide in next to you, greeting the driver in the front pleasantly.

Your head is spinning and you desperately hope there is time to have a cigarette before going upstairs to Doyoung’s apartment, feeling anxiety creeping up in your chest.

Despite the spacious backseat, Doyoung can’t help but be pressed up against you, twisting to look at you as you make small talk. You watch him when he answers questions you ask and listen to a small story about a frustrating email exchange at work, as if the two of you had known each other forever.

Distracted by the beaded chain around his neck again, you reach over, taking the cross gingerly in between your pointer and middle finger, inspecting it. The metal is cold in your hand and nostalgia rushes over you as you hold it in your hand.

“I dip it in holy water every morning to help keep me grounded and ask that God bless my daily travels,” he offers, smiling lightly at you as he explains in earnest. You know by now that he isn’t lying, that there would be no reason for him to.

“I kiss it as well, asking him to bless my words and calm my mind in a world filled with temptation,” he continues, unwilling to break the heavy eye contact.

He reaches out and draws your fingers to his lips, still holding the cross, and kisses the small metal piece, catching the tips of your fingers with soft lips. They are warm and plush, sending jolts of electricity through your hand and to your chest. You have to shift in your seat to calm the throbbing in your core. This gesture shouldn’t be turning you on this much and you know now that if there is a hell, you surely are destined to take residence there.

The tension in the car is thick as you shiver, hand moving before you have a chance to think, bringing his hand and yours to your own lips, copying his kiss. You watch him gulp and pull his bottom lip in between his teeth as his eyes darken at the sight of the cross pressed to your lips.

Oh you are so royally fucked.

You watch him as he absently brushes the back of his hand against your own in the elevator ride to the top floor of the sleek and modern building. He lets his fingers tangle with yours briefly before holding his hand out when the door starts to open, bringing the foyer of his apartment into view.

You let a gasp fall from your lips, taking in the beautiful space around you. Lights flick on as you reach down to release the knot holding the laces of your boots in place, stepping out of them carefully by steadying yourself on a small table adorned with realistic looking fake flowers. 

You try to keep your boots tidy under the coat rack, slipping off your coat and hanging it up and checking yourself in the small mirror above hooks of dangling keys. You notice one key with a Kuromi cover, smiling lightly and wondering if he had picked that out for himself. He will tell you one day that it is the key to his mailbox and one of the kids from his Sunday school class brought it in for him after they said Kuromi reminded them of Doyoung.

You follow him to the open living area which melts into the compact kitchen adorned with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. He’s opening the door to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of water and pouring two glasses.

The apartment is warm but minimalistic in style, adorned with shades of cream, black and gray. You half expect to see a statue of Mary where the tv sits but there’s barely any religious imagery present. Maybe you had misjudged him after all.

As you close the space between you, you let his blazer slip from your shoulders, catching it and folding it gently in your hands, looking up towards him through your long lashes as you lean your hip against the cold edge of the counter, offering the blazer to him. Instead of taking the jacket from your hands, he leans forward, brushing a thumb across the high point of your cheek, examining your face.

“Let me know if there is anything I can get you to feel more at home, I want you to feel comfortable,” he murmurs, eyes flicking down briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

You feel butterflies in your chest and despite how tired you know you should be, your heart is pounding and core tightening at how close he stands to you in his beautiful apartment, finally able to hear his voice clearly without the sounds of the club or busy streets of the city. It’s velvety smooth and even and his lips tip up at the edges when he finishes his kind statement. You want desperately to push up and capture them in yours but instead nod slowly, taking one of the glasses of water into your hand gulping down some of the cool liquid to try to quell the arousal building within you.

He brushes your skin with his thumb once more before taking the jacket from you, moving to his bedroom and returning moments later with a couple pillows and a large blanket, which he leaves on the plush couch.

“I don’t mind just sleeping out here,” you offer, scanning the comfortable looking room, knowing if you slept in the living room you might be able to more easily slip out unnoticed in the morning. You’ve never been one for tender mornings in bed with a one night stand and this situation shouldn’t be treated any different. You don’t believe he will actually make any move beyond what he has, despite the brief intimate moments you’ve shared since stepping out of the club.

“No no, I insist, take my bed. The bedding was just changed this morning,” he makes sure to note and you realize how rich this man truly must be if he avoided mentioning who exactly changed the sheets. Surely not Doyoung, with his thousands of dollars of clothing and jewelry on his body and on-call car service and penthouse suite.

He moves to open the door to the balcony, cool but comfortable night air flooding the living room as he hands you a vintage glass ashtray from the media cabinet.

“In case you need one before you go to sleep or in the night,” he offers, smiling lightly at the shocked look on your face.

“Jungwoo is always hanging around here when I’m working late and I’ve learned there is no way to stop people from doing something they want to do. I can’t change my friends and I wouldn’t want to. I have things in my life and things I have removed from my life but that is my own decision and shouldn’t affect my relationships with those I love,” he adds, fingers brushing over yours as they make contact to pass the item to you.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a shower quickly and then let you have the bedroom and bathroom. If you need it, there’s a toilet near the elevator and some fresh fruit in the fridge,” he continues, resisting the urge to brush his lips over your bare shoulder.

You thank him and take your purse out to the balcony, closing the door lightly behind you but making sure it latches fully. Stepping forward towards the edge of the balcony, you quickly light a cigarette and feel calm wash over you as you watch the flickering lights of the city skyline. The cool air feels good against your cheeks and exposed abdomen, needing desperately to cool down. You try (and fail) to not let your mind wander to thoughts of Doyoung in a steamy rainfall shower, steam gathering on glossy mirrors and hot water racing down toned biceps and thighs.

You burn through it eagerly, extinguishing the cigarette in the ashtray and disposing of it in a small bin attached to the balcony’s railing before heading back inside. Doyoung is emerging from his bedroom in a tight white tank top and loose grey sweatpants, bare feet padding across the plush throw rug.

“I left you some clothes and towels on the bed but help yourself to my closet if you need something warmer,” he mutters awkwardly, the power balance shifting slightly as he stands in front of you in casual clothes, black rosary still visible proudly on his chest.

“I’ll wash up, if that’s okay? If you’re tired and want to sleep, don’t worry about waiting for me to finish. I usually stay up pretty late and I’m sure you have early mornings,” you ramble, scratching at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Take your time, I usually read for a while before bed,” he gestures to a small leather bound bible on the coffee table. Of course he does.

In the shower, you let the water rush over your body, using some of the small skincare bottles to wash your face and step out, massaging shower oil into your damp skin. You sigh into the warm white towel fresh off the warming rack and feel like you’re living in a dream. 

Can’t I just stay here forever?

You know your modest apartment waits for you a few miles away, with your own much smaller and dingier balcony where you like to sketch in your journal as you watch birds settle on the hanging flower baskets. You could never see yourself living full time in the cold of the city, barely any green space and garbage littering the streets.

Checking outside the bathroom door before emerging, the coast is clear as you step back into his spacious bedroom, lightly touching the clothing he had laid out for you. A large and faded t-shirt that appears to be from a church camp is folded neatly, logo barely still visible. 

A package of unopened cotton boxer briefs is next to the shirt, knowing he must have been panicking thinking of how he could offer you something to wear without it seeming creepy. But he seems to at least have experience taking care of stranded tipsy guests (even if they usually were just Jungwoo and someone he brought home from the bar). You pull the shirt over your head and it falls easily to your mid-thigh, skimming over your hardened nipples, painful as they make contact with the cool air from the vent.

Sliding on the boxers, you pull them up to your waist and the shirt covers them fully. You decide against the sweatpants next to the shirt, knowing they will be far too long for you and opt to instead roll on the pair of long socks before placing the pants back on the dresser. You listen at the door for any noise from the living room, hearing a light hum of music you can’t decipher. Pressing your ear closer you recognize Debussy floating through the air and let out a small smile.

You’re about to tuck yourself into the king sized bed before you realize you didn’t bring the water glass in with you. Scanning the room you don’t see one and silently curse yourself.

Sliding the door open quietly, you stick your head out tentatively, his head lifting to look at you. He looks absolutely adorable, bundled up in a fluffy blanket with his small bible in his lap and two scented candles lit on the table. The music did turn out to be Debussy, playing softly on a record player in the corner.

“Is the music too loud?” he asks, moving as if he is going to turn it off.

“No no, it’s beautiful,” you breathe out in reply, sliding out from the door and covering your chest with your arms, self conscious. This causes the hem of the shirt to hike up, exposing a sliver of the white briefs covering your lower half.

Doyoung’s eyes trail down your body, as if wanting to mentally capture this image of you dressed in his clothes, standing sheepishly in front of him. He pushes away thoughts of you on your knees in front of him, mouthing along his length through his sweatpants while he tugs on your silky and damp hair.

“I, um, just came out for some water,” you add, crossing to the counter to grab the glass before returning to stand awkwardly next to the couch.

“Why does she call you angel?” he asks suddenly, pulling an arm up on the back of the couch, unintentionally opening up a perfect sized space for you to sit next to him.

You smile lightly and cross to sit next to him, perching on the edge of the cushion so as to not crowd him.

“My middle name is Angelica,” you replied softly. “She just took a liking to the pet name many years ago.”

He smiles softly at this explanation, suddenly aware that his other hand has strayed to the hem of his shirt hanging loose on your torso.

“Angel…” he tries, feeling the way it sounds in his voice, feeling the way the words taste as they roll off his tongue. He smirks, pinching the fabric at the edge of the shirt in between his fingers and releasing it.

“Can I call you that?” he breathes out, suddenly closer to your face than you had realized.

“Only if you’re a good boy,” you manage to say in an even tone, hand finally reaching out to touch his chest, flattening against his toned pecs, metal beads digging into your palm.

His eyes flutter, brain clearly short circuiting at the mention of praise, fingers stilling but breathing becoming more labored.

“Can I please kiss you?” you ask, eyes and voice hopeful. You palm the cross on the rosary, holding it tightly in your hand as you pull gently, bringing yourself closer to Doyoung as your eyes slip shut, not waiting for a response.

His lips are on yours suddenly, pressing firmly as his hand flies to your lower back, pressing you flush against his chest, capturing your hand in between your bodies. You refuse to let go of the rosary, pulling tighter so he’s forced to deepen the kiss.

You feel his hand push up the back of the shirt and up your back, as if reaching for a bra to unhook and you can’t help but smile against his mouth, knowing he is far less innocent than he seems.

You rise up on your knees, moving your legs to straddle him on the couch, suddenly feeling something firm against your bare thigh. Your grin grows, nuzzling against his nose teasingly.

“Well, well, look who isn’t such a good boy after all,” you growl out, unable to control how horny you are for this man under you.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss, brows furrowed in confusion at your comment. Reaching between your bodies, he pulls out the leather bible and you flush deeply, unable to process that you thought it was his erection.

You avert your eyes from his and reach an arm up to touch the back of your neck nervously but his hand quickly grabs your wrist as he moves your hand to his lap, eyes darkening. When he pushes you down against his sweatpants you feel him harder than you thought he would be, not to mention way bigger than you thought he would be.

“Who said I was a good boy, angel?” he asked quietly, almost sounding annoyed with you. He grips your wrist tighter, pulling you closer to him before capturing your lips in his again.

It takes you a moment to respond, brain foggy at the name and sequence of events that had just unfolded. It doesn’t take you long to recover before slipping your tongue into his mouth hungrily, fingers lacing his hair to pull him desperately close.

You can’t help but move quickly with him, spreading your thighs to grind slow circles into his clothed crotch, biting back moans that bubble in your throat.

Hands are suddenly tugging at the hem of the shirt and you quickly oblige, peeling off the thin cotton and discarding it on the floor. Your chest is heaving as you sit on his lap in just the white boxer briefs, nipples erect and back arched to push your full chest towards him.

Doyoung hungrily licks his lips, eyes darting over your body as if there’s a time limit to the amount of time he has to look. You know you look good and he knew from the minute he saw you walk in the club that you would be on his lap, tits bouncing as he pressed up towards you with an experimental thrust. A small groan slides from his spit slicked lips as he slides one hand to your lower back and the other to cup your breast.

“Good God,” he lets out before lowering his mouth to your nipple, flicking eyes up to watch as you tumble contrasting curses from your plump lips.

He moves his mouth expertly, tongue laving over the sensitive skin, teeth dragging against your tight nipple. His hand on your lower back feels huge, fingers spread wide and gripping at your flesh as if you will disappear if he loosens his grip.

“Fuck me right here,” you can’t help but mutter into his open mouth after a particularly loud gasp flies from your mouth when you feel the tip of his dick collide with your clothed clit.

He pulls back, face seemingly questioning himself, eyes flicking over to the coffee table with the bible before turning upwards and fluttering shut.

You’re amazed at how this man can have his tit in your mouth one minute and then the next…

“Wait, are you praying?!” you ask in shock, stifling the laughter that builds in your throat.

He peeks at you with one eye open, smiling lightly before closing his eyes again and humming out an incoherent reply.

“Amen,” he says softly after a few more moments have passed.

You don’t have time to question him further when he quickly pulls his shirt over his head, revealing tight and toned abs and letting his broad chest crowd you in what could only be described as a bear hug. He pulls you close to his chest and you can feel his heartbeat reverberating through your own skin.

“The angel wants to get fucked, does she?” he growls as he digs his nails into your back.

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” he adds before flipping you over suddenly, standing above you as he slides the boxers down to your ankles, leaving your socks on.

He then moves his hands to his own waistband, removing the sweatpants and revealing his hard cock, already flushed and angry with arousal. As he bends down, the rosary dangles from his neck and you can’t help but stare.

You’re laid out, exposed in front of him as he drops to his knees, nudging your knees to widen in front of him. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, controlling and calculated. You have to ask yourself the same question you asked in the club, who the fuck was this guy?

“You asked if I was praying earlier,” he speaks quietly, long fingers dragging along your sensitive inner thigh, avoiding where you want him the most.

“I just like to thank God before I eat,” he adds, eyes glimmering with mischief as he pushes forward, tongue licking a long stripe along your dripping core, sending shockwaves throughout your body.

Your brain is swimming with pleasure at the filthy words he spoke and the way his mouth is warm against your burning core, tugging on his hair and slipping your hand down to his neck to stroke the shorter strands there to encourage him.

His muffled moans send vibrations along your folds and shivers up your spine as he laps at you like it’s the fucking last supper. You feel your release close, thighs pulling in to tighten around his face. He shoves them back open every time they threaten to suffocate him, giving him access to every inch of you. 

Your orgasm creeps up on you and you are suddenly screaming his name, head thrown back on the back of the couch, vision blinding white. Your eyes are clenched shut as you make every attempt to slow your heavy breathing.

You feel warm hands under your thighs and realize he's lifting you from the couch. You let your arms fall lazily around his shoulders and your head loll over as he carries you to the bedroom. Laying you gently on your back, he’s suddenly leaning over you, lips brushing against your jaw, peppering kisses up to your ear and leaving more along your hairline.

“That was heavenly,” you sigh out, feeling dizzy from the soft gestures.

He smiles and pushes your hair from your face, leaning down to kiss you. You can’t get enough of his lips, every time they press over yours you’re drawn in closer, wanting more and more.

“I know you said you wanted me to fuck you on the couch and as much as I would love to bend you over and slam into you, I want to see your face when I make you cream on my dick,” he says as if it’s the simplest and most normal sentence on the planet. He sits up, reaching a veiny hand over to the bedside table and into the shallow drawer there.

Your mouth hangs open for a moment until you feel his fingers on you again, rubbing slow circles on you, gathering your post orgasm arousal as he tears open a condom that is carefully dangling between his lips. He slicks up his rock hard erection with your wetness before sliding it on and running a hand through his now messy hair.

You adjust yourself on the bed, propping your knees up so he can crawl between them. He brings his face close to yours and drags his tongue lazily against your lower lip before pushing into you. 

Your eyes widen, feeling the stretch of his massive cock and the look on his face when he finally feels himself inside you. You swear he’s seen the second coming of Christ and you wish you could take a picture of the pure bliss.

It doesn’t take long for him to pick up a consistent pace of pumping in and out of you, grunts and moans falling from his lips and sounding almost like he’s singing. You almost come at the sight of the rosary dangling above you and moving with each thrust, knowing how fucking filthy this is but how it’s the most turned on you’ve been in ages.

He’s close and you don’t know how much longer you can last after him so you hook your legs around his back and push on him, silently begging to flip over. He obliges and lets you return to a similar position from the couch, him seated against the pillows and you rising up and down on his cock. This drives you insane, watching his face contort in pleasure as you ride him, letting his name fall over and over from your lips like your own prayer.

“Angel, I’m so close,” he moans, pulling you so tight against his chest that you feel yourself becoming one with him. You move together, moan together, and release in strangled cries together. 

You pull back, out of breath and struggling to compose yourself, glancing down at your chest to see an imprint of the cross in between swollen breasts. He has a hazy, happy grin across his face and you know you have to look the same in this moment.

He reaches out, brushing pads of his fingers across the imprint on your chest before dipping down to kiss at the cross mark.

You think your heart might explode in that very moment, suddenly visualizing the two of you holding hands in a church pew or leaning over candles, lighting them and bowing your heads in silence.

What the fuck has gotten into you?

–

Once he finishes tucking the plush duvet around your naked body, he lays flat on his back, exhaling in relaxation for what sounded like the first time that night, and humming out an almost angelic note.

“And on the seventh day, God looked at all he had made and rested from the work he had done,” Doyoung paraphrased, grinning at his joke, turning slightly to nuzzle his face into your bare shoulder.

Your cheeks warmed and eyes welled as you watched your dark haired lover drift off into sleep, arms laying beside him, not clinging to you as they had been all night, as if fully relaxed at how you seemingly fit so easily into his bed, into his life.

Checking the time, you unlock your phone, lower the brightness, and fire off a couple check-in texts to your friend and one to your mother asking if you completed your sacraments as a child and if she knows where your old prayer book is. You can’t believe this man is reigniting this in you and while you know no amount of good sex is going to fully pull you back into a toxic institution, you see the good in him and wonder if there is a world where the two of you can balance his faith and your more progressive views.

The next morning comes quicker than you had anticipated and light is streaming through the sheers covering the floor to ceiling windows. You glance over to see a still sleeping Doyoung, surprised once you check the time, knowing he probably starts his day at the office before you. You check your phone, frustrated at how quickly it will soon be the time when your boss is checking in to see if you are working from home or coming into the office. You send off a quick message to let them know you will have a late start to the day, working from your apartment.

They reply with a teasing tone, noting that you and your friend must have gotten into some fun the night prior since she had called off entirely. Oh boy, couldn’t wait to hear about that.

You roll over, seeing Doyoung’s eyes open in narrow slits, running a wet tongue over his dry lips.

“Morning star,” he smiles at you, placing that same strong hand on your lower back, pulling you gently closer to him.

“Hi,” you squeak out, giggling as his fingers brush lightly over your spine, tickling you.

“Can I make you coffee?” he asks, pressing lips softly to your temple, holding there and breathing in the scent of your hair, still faintly holding the floral notes from his shampoo.

“You don’t have morning prayers to get to?” you tease, pushing your lips towards his, silently asking for a kiss.

He pulls back, knitting his brows together and almost rolling his eyes.

“You really have me all wrong you know,” he starts, pushing strands of hair from your face before cupping your cheek gently, just as he had in the kitchen last night when you first got back.

“Yes, I have my beliefs and values that ground me. But that doesn’t mean I abstain from every activity marked as a sin in the bible,” he continued, his voice even and strong but not mean.

“I would have thought that would have been obvious by everything we did last night,” he added, pressing a little more firmly on your lower back, gliding his palm down to the slope of your ass to grasp at the skin there.

You gulp audibly, startled by his candid admission. Maybe you did have him all wrong. Maybe you judged this book by the cover too quickly, your opinion shadowed by everything you knew from the devout adults you had grown up around. You had always assumed it was black and white, no gray space between for any compromise.

All you could do in that moment, overcome with emotions you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge, was pull him close to you and connect your hips with his to slowly create friction between the two of you. You hungrily captured his lips in yours, sighing into him as his fingers gently tugged your hair and brought you to another two unholy orgasms.

–

You don’t bother showering again, opting to take Doyoung up on that ride home from his driver who arrives in less than fifteen minutes, despite the morning rush hour traffic. You’re soon stepping out onto the busy streets, feet back in those painful boots and coat wrapped tightly around you to cover your revealing outfit you still can’t believe you wore out all night (but probably have to thank for this entire encounter).

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t a lost little angel!” comes a familiar voice, catching you as you are approaching the black car, the driver standing with a neutral expression waiting to open the door for you.

“Jungwoo, hey,” you start, stepping towards the man who is placing his motorcycle helmet on the seat, arms crossed as he leans gently against the expensive bike. 

He’s wearing low rise leather pants with a matching belt adorned with a large silver buckle. His jacket is open and you can see a tight and cropped red shirt underneath, exposing much of his toned abs and navel. Nude color blocking rose up the sides of the shirt, covered in black crescent moons and he is wearing a stack of gold chains tight around his neck. A large green stone is dangling from his ear, moving as he speaks.

His hair is fluffy from the helmet, eyes smudged lightly with dark liner, most likely still from the night before. He looks absolutely unreal and your mind drifts to images of your friend pressed between him and the equally sexy Jaehyun in the crowded bar, stirring tension deep in your core.

“How was your night?” you add, stepping closer to him, curious about what your friend had gotten into.

“I’m sure just as sinful as yours by the look of this walk of shame,” he almost sneers back, tone unmatched to the large grin covering his face from his lips to his eyes. He grabs your phone from you and punches his number in, punctuating with a sultry wink. His eyes are flicking up and down your body dramatically, making overly exaggerated facial expressions at you.

You roll your eyes at him, turning to head to the car, wagging your fingers at him seductively and putting extra emphasis in your steps as you know he has his eyes glued to your ass as you slide into the car.

When Doyoung emerges from the shower with a towel tied low around his waist he finds Jungwoo lounging in his favorite chair in the living room, flipping through a magazine he had left here the week before. He looks up to make eye contact with Doyoung, smiling and letting a low whistle slide out his lips.

“Don’t start, Woo,” Doyoung warns curtly, pouring two cups of coffee and preparing them the way they both like.

“Look look, I have Father Lee on speed dial, he’s ready to do an emergency confession for you in the lobby of your office if you need it this morning,” he laughs back, closing the magazine and accepting the mug.

Doyoung rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to reach over and slap the back of Jungwoo’s head. He knows his friend is exaggerating but he had consequently already sent Mark a text that he would stop by the church later that day for a chat. Having one of your oldest friends be a priest that was known for being more on the liberal side had its perks.

“Just because I don’t flaunt my escapades all over town or upload racy videos into the shared DJJ iCloud album, doesn’t mean I’m not getting my dick wet,” he replies after a long sip of much needed coffee.

Jungwoo almost spits out his coffee at the vulgar comment, lips twisting up into a wicked smile as he watches his friend, relaxed and shirtless mid-morning on a work day.

“Something’s different about you, Kim Doyoung,” Jungwoo chuckles, tapping back into his conversation with Jaehyun from earlier, who had frantically texted him from the office that Doyoung hadn’t shown up for their morning meeting and wasn’t replying to any of his texts.

“I guess you could say I was touched by an angel,” Doyoung replies wickedly, winking at Jungwoo before standing and letting his towel fall from his hips, whipping it at leather clad knees before walking slowly back into the bedroom.

Jungwoo’s eyes widen and a smile spreads across his face, watching his friend’s toned ass move away from him and examining the red marks dotting his broad back.

“Oh Jaeeeeee, I have an idea for something that could be fun and oh so messy,” Jungwoo whispers into the phone as he steps out onto the balcony, lighting a blunt in the cool morning air, surrounded by the sounds of the bustling city below.

~~

Part Two TEASER + Tag List NOW LIVE HERE

[lamnwar]

Locker room Shenanigans // Kagami Taiga x Fem!Reader

MDNI 18+ knb kinktober entry!!

A/N: someone said "anything with kagami" and I love them for that bc that dude is so fiiiine I couldn't do a kinktober without writing about him yk 😫 it's 3.2k words bc I'm horny. Context: what can you, as a basketball team manager, do to cheer up your ace after a defeat? Warnings: Semi-public sex (in the locker room, people can hear them), riding, nipple play, unprotected sex, pussy eater kagami!, slight size kink (I couldn't help myself 😔✋🏽)

“Shit.”

Taiga’s harsh word is shortly followed by a loud clank! that echoes around the empty locker room. You sigh, still hesitating to get inside to look after your player.

He’s never really known loss since his high school days, ever growing to be one of the top players in Japan – if not the best player, which never fails to amaze people considering how extraordinary he already was as a teenager. Talent like that, and that you can say so with confidence from your years of career as team manager, is something incredible yet fragile. Of course, as a sportsman, he knows that you cannot always win. It doesn’t matter how insanely good you are, the game sometimes is nothing more than a product of luck. A mystery force driving the ball from one side to the other of the court, only to lead one team to the top, while the other falls from grace.

It does hurt to see the gut-wrenching look of defeat on the face of your players – you spend so much time with them that their feelings become yours, as if you are bonded by fate. But what really gets you, is seeing Taiga Kagami lose. The frustration written all over his face as he considers any mistake his; because after all, he’s the ace, the one that should carry the team to the top. But sometimes, it’s just not enough.

“Hey” your voice resonates in the empty lockers, forcing the tall man to throw a quick glance at you.

He’s silently slumped against the metallic doors, fingers fidgeting with the ring around his neck. It’s been at least fifteen minutes since the rest of the team has already left the gymnasium. Out of consideration for the red-haired player, you figured he might need some time alone. You’ve stayed behind, not willing to admit that you’re worried about him. Well, in all cases, what can you do? For all you know, he sees you as nothing more than his manager. Yet, you still sit next to him, your hand resting on the one that slumps on his knee. You give it a small squeeze, looking to be supportive.

“You know, I’m not even mad that we lost. I’m just... frustrated.”

You hum in agreement – it’s a fairly normal response to have after being through that kind of loss. The kind that feels like they could have been avoided, yet you can’t really pinpoint the moment things went to shit.

“While I agree that you should vent out that frustration, let’s not break the gym’s locker, yeah?” you chuckle softly.

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t thinkin – ”

“It’s fine, but if you’ll allow me, let me help you out here.”

He sighs, a slight scowl that you’d find cute overwise on his face. But this time, it is a clear expression of his thoughts, and you suddenly feel stupid for even thinking that there’s anything you can do to actually help him.

“I’m listening.”

He’s got nothing to lose, he thinks. He doesn’t expect you to change his mind, but at the very least do something – anything, really – just to make him forget about that daunting feeling for defeat, even if it’s just for a second. You’re taken by surprise, not expecting him to be willing to take any help, let alone from you. He must be truly in a bad state for him to agree to this, you ponder. The hand you had on his leaves as you scratch your cheek, in search for something to say.

“Ah... maybe you should vent it out? Like, in a better way.”

God, you’re a fucking disaster at giving advice.

“So, no punching around? Got it” he lets out, words laced in sarcasm.

You can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your lips – that’s just how lame your advice sounds. Well, you’re not wrong either. Whatever way he feels, wrecking the locker room can’t be the right way to cope.

“You know” you speak without much restraint on your thoughts, “I shouldn’t say that because I’m your manager, but getting shitfaced might help.”

He scoffs – ah, first time that you hear him laugh so far! A small fire warms your inside at the sound. You may not have realised so far, but nothing breaks your heart quite like seeing your players in despair, especially Taiga. What truly gets you is seeing a guy who is always so fired up and loud suddenly... quiet. Just a limp body full of brooding. So that scoff, however small it is, is enough to remind you how much he counts.

“Don’t we have a special training tomorrow?” he rests his head back against the lockers, a hint of a pout on his face.

“Then what do we have left? Alcohol’s out of the way, intense physical activity too...” you click your tongue. “And I really don’t see you do some meditation to feel better.”

“Yeah that breathing your feelings out bullshit is... well, bullshit.”

You laugh softly – that is such a Taiga thing to say. And to be fair, you might share his point of view on the topic. It might help letting out the breath you’ve been holding for too long, but any sort of meditation may, in this current situation, be just as efficient as putting a band-aid on a broken bone. You sigh, eyes falling on the furrow between his eyebrows. You lead your thumb to the crease, pulling the skin up. It’s a fairly childish move, one that makes him let out a semi-annoyed “ah!”.

“What do you do when you get frustrated?” he asks, swatting your finger away.

“Hm... I don’t often get frustrated like that. And if I do, it’s not in the same context.”

“I get that, we do not exactly have the same job here.” He hums, supporting his head in the palm of his hand. “Then what gets you frustrated?”

You stay silent for a minute, thinking. You do have a few things that gets you annoyed, leaving you feeling powerless because it’s out of your control, or just not that easily to solve. The small little things like slow walkers on busy streets, or when you try to teach basic decency to the shittiest guys. But really, nothing that comes as close as how Taiga must be feeling right now. And of course, there is the one thing that frustrates you the most, but that you probably shouldn’t bring up: your months-long period of celibacy.

You’re not proud to say that you haven’t had sex in so long that it sometimes eats at you in ways you wish it wouldn’t. And the worst is that you can’t really do anything about it. It’s not like you to have one-night stands with strangers, and for as much as you try to convince yourself that your fingers are enough, they’re clearly not. It doesn’t help either that you work with basketball players – tall, fine, muscular men who gets you going when seeing them show off their athleticism on the court. Although, to be fair, basketball players aren’t generally your type; but they’ve come to become, in your state of depravity.

But, of course, that’s not something you could say to Taiga Kagami. Especially not when he’s your player that turns you on the most. And yet...

“I get damn frustrated from not getting any” you blurt out.

You can’t tell what motivated you to say it out loud. Maybe because you wish that the embarrassment that comes with it will overshadow Taiga’s feeling of defeat? Because it sure is some kind of entertainment to make fun of your touch-starved self.

“Real” he responds.

You look at him briefly, surprised that he hasn’t laughed at you. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. Being a loser that cannot get fucked is not something that you are proud of, but if making fun of you is all it takes to put a smile on the ace’s face, you don’t mind (that much).

“What, like you don’t pull” you chuckle, incredulous, “don’t give me that.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that I don’t feel like having sex with just anybody” he shrugs, a ponderous filter in his eyes, “so I just kinda... wait for the right person to come. But damn, it’s atrocious.”

You laugh, and soon after, so does he. The sound travels straight to your heart, pulling on it with such might that you fear that he might tell already that you like him.

“Fuck, what am I talking about with my player?! Isn’t that a sexual harassment case in the making?”

The tall man chuckles, leg bumping with yours. You can’t say that you’ve cheered him up, but at the very least, he’s no longer sulking. You stop for a moment to observe the fatigue on his face, all this inner turmoil manifesting himself in his chapped lips, and the clench of his jaw, and the way you can tell that he’s been trying hard not to cry or look weak in any way.

“You might be onto something, though. Maybe a good fuck is what I need.”

“I cannot agree or deny.” You huff, a slight blush on your face. “Hope you find what you need for that.”

He hums, then lets out a long sigh. The gym is awfully silent, now that most players and most of the public is gone. You can hear the administrative staff outside the lockers, but there is some sense of peace right where you are, next to Taiga.

“Wanna go for a drink?” he suddenly ask, getting you to respond with a confused expression.

“What? Didn’t we agree that alcohol is out of the way? Not to mention that it’ll ruin your recup –”

“No, dummy” he punctuates his words with a small hit on your head, “I’m hitting on you.”

“Wh- where does that come from?!”

“You need to fuck, so do I. And I like you so I’m trying to be proactive... or something like that.”

You blink, not quite sure how to react to such an overflow of information. What should your brain start to analyse first, anyway? Should you focus on the reflection that led him to say something like that, figure out what kind of process is behind this conclusion? Or should you take in the new fact that he likes you? So much for you to take, and you don’t even realise when your finger went up to hook in the ring around his neck, or when you pulled him closer, and you can’t even tell what pushed you to kiss him.

Taiga is stunned, to say the least; but it seems that his reflexes aren’t only quick on the court, because his astonishment is only short-lived. By the time you register what’s going on, he’s got his hands on your cheek, holding you firmly, yet in a tender touch, as you taste his lips against him. The kiss is unusual, confusing. Wanted, yet not. His lips are soft, but his touch isn’t. You keep wanting more but you know you shouldn’t. It’s just too hard to stop, though, and the way your player grabs you makes you understand that you’ve started something that you can’t run away from. You pull away, panting, dazed by the feel of his touch on you. He looks like a dream, out of your reach despite his hands on your hips that hoist you up on his lap.

“Taiga...” you sigh, not sure of what you are pleading for.

“If you wanna stop, just tell me.”

You stay silent, watching his fingers pull on your top. It doesn’t even cross your mind to stop him. What is it, really? Is the frustration you’ve been feeling all this time from not getting fucked in so long? Or is it the attraction you’ve always felt for him, for once being expressed?

“Should we... they’re people outside. The door isn’t even locked!”

“I can keep quiet, can you?”

You stare at him, his challenging tone flipping a switching in your brain. You help him get you rid of your top, leaning in to give him a full-mouth, hearty, kiss.

“Bet. You gotta do a good job at keeping me quiet, too, though.”

He hums, soft lips trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones, a certain urgency in the way it navigates on your skin on its way to your chest. You swallow your breath, feeling the warmth of his mouth on the sensitive skin of your breasts – your bra being a ridicule barrier between what you both want and the reality. He doesn’t bother removing your underwear, rather pushing the cups out of the way. You mumble a few swear words when he attaches his mouth to your nipples, his tongue and lips working languidly, almost as if he’s hiding malicious intents under his ministrations.

“Fuck, Taiga!” you grit your teeth, fingers intertwined in his hair as to pull him closer to your skin.

“Always wanted to do that,” he chuckles, letting go of your nipple in a wet pop! “every time I see you in your tight shirts, making me wonder if I’ll ever get to taste you.”

You laugh, flicking his forehead playfully. “Ah, so there’s some stuff other than basketball in that big head.”

He nods, lifting you up to sit on the bench. You let out a gasp, not expecting him to manoeuvrer your body with such ease. But at the same time, he is arguably one of the physically strongest players of the league – should you really be that surprised?

“Pants off, Manager. Gotta prep you nice if you’re gonna take me.”

“Cocky, aren’t you?”

He lifts an eyebrow, settling between your thighs.

“Huh? I’m not joking, that shit can tear you. It’s no use if I hurt you.”

You look at him, processing that piece of information. For the amount of time you spend in the lockers surrounded by half-naked men, you’ve learned not to look down there, out of decency. The last thing a team manager should be doing is staring at her players’ packages. But for some reason, you resign at not pushing your luck with Taiga. All things considered, he most likely has a massive cock.

You urgently let your pants and underwear slide down your thighs, pooling at your ankle as your dripping cunt presents itself to the player’s dark eyes. He swears, spreading your thighs enough for him to admire your needy hole – clenching desperately, and yet, he hasn’t done a thing.

“Well, might actually not need that much prepping” he ponders, letting his rough digits roam between your lips, spreading them open as your arousal coat his fingers. “You’re a bit greedy, aren’t you? Barely touched you.”

“Shut up, it’s been a while!”

“I know that much.”

His soft laughs reverb against the skin of your thighs, kisses and nips decorating them as he gets closer to your vulva. Oddly, the sight warms your heart – there is a certain beauty in seeing a man that was previously defeated now sporting an elated smile, and all that, thanks to your pussy.

An impatient, yet mind-boggling lick at your cunt, Taiga hums at the taste of your honey on his tongue. You let out a loud whimper, quickly covering your mouth when you consider the voices coming from the hall outside. It’s so hard to keep quiet when you have Taiga Kagami between your legs. His tongue is strong and agile, quite like him on the court, reaching the right places to make you squirm, almost sliding off the metal bench if it isn’t for his solid hold on your thighs. He’s a man starving, quenching his appetite in your oasis, taken by desperation, a greedy need to vent out all his troubles in your pussy.

“Fuck that, I wanna fuck you.” He groans, licking his lips.

“Not gonna make me come?”

He shakes his head, standing up to pull his sweats down, boxers stained by the bit of pre-cum he’s already leaking just from enjoying your body so far. You fuss, the loss of his tongue on your aching clit feels like a betrayal of the worst sort. The red-head lets out an amused huff – it’s somewhat cute, seeing his oh-so-serious manager losing her shit from how much she needs to get fucked. An amused smirk on his lips, he tugs your pouting ass on his lap; you gasp, the feeling of his bulge against your pussy making you realise that this is really happening.

“Wanna ride me instead?” he hums, manoeuvring with one hand to extirpate his cock from its confines. “See if I was really being cocky early, hm?”

You feel like a slut for being that eager, shamelessly grinding against him, not even hiding your impatience to feel him in. Hell, you don’t even care about how uncomfortable the metal feel under your knees as you straddle his lap – no, it’s all pointless compared to the god-sent feeling of his bulbous tip at your entrance, prying the doors open to make you curse like a sailor. You sink down on his dick, fingers gripping his shoulders with all your might. Have you been depraved for that long? Or does it feel heavenly to bounce on his cock because it might just be the best one you’ve ever had?

Your half-lidded eyes fall on his figure – he’s not even fully undressed, clothes dishevelled while his naked manager ride him like the most experienced whore. Curious ears catch winds of your moans, moans that Taiga tries as much as he can to swallow with his sloppy kisses, but he can’t even help himself. The grunts that leave his throat; feeling your walls clenching around his cock, forcing him to hold you by the waist to guide your movements to match his desperation.

“Holy fuck, you take me so well” he groans – no, it’s more of a raspy whine.

“Dick... so good!” you babble, in deep struggle to be coherent.

You may try as hard as you can to use your words to clarify the chaos in your mind, but you are no poet. Just the nicest manager on Earth, most certainly, letting her player deal with her frustration by pounding into her like a man depraved. Sex written all over your faces, you don’t bother to keep quiet anymore. The more he goes, the harder it gets. You roll your hips frantically, the knot in your stomach that you’ve missed for so long menacing to unravel.

“Ah! Shit sorry, I don’t think I can’t pull out of that pussy...” he pants, trying his best to delay his orgasm just so he doesn’t come too fast.

“Don’t!”

Your hurried answer makes him chuckle – he could never expect that from someone he thinks of as the personification of responsibility. But there’s no point in asking question or getting confused. He’s got one thing in mind, and that’s the fuck all of the frustration out of both your systems. Mind too busy with your body to think about his loss, about the daunting feeling of failure. Who fucking cares, when he has you?

“Shit!”

You mewl, clenching tight around him as you’re hit by the waves of your orgasm, triggering Taiga’s. He spills heavily, thick thighs trembling under you as he sloppily thrust all his cum in your voracious hole. He pants, head falling on your shoulder in solace.

No but seriously, can Taiga Kagami truly know defeat, when he’s never once failed at making a pretty girl come?

[pomefioredove]

*does a little dance*

vil prompts you say? Can i get your take on Vil being confronted by Yuu's real and imminent return home? And it's their only chance too (ie. the portal can only be opened with a meteor traveling overhead and surprise surprise its passing NOW they have three days max)

*does a little jig, going away*

you guys love torturing this man omg. so much angst. I'm about to pour all my abandonment issues into him ikyk

summary: yuu leaving type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, angsty, post-book 7 author's note: my partner has been ignoring me for the past few days (I can't figure out why) so vil is about to experience pain, as he should

There are only six visible letters in lonely, and a thousand more hiding behind them.

The word carries such a weight with it, its meaning and its leaden implications, crushing the lungs of all who dare to shoulder it. It's a sore, tender sort of hurt, one that constricts the chest and numbs the limbs. Paralyzing, strangulating.

They say beauty is pain, but Vil has never felt more hideous in his life.

He had known; of course he had known. There was always a possibility you'd get your chance to return to your home, a world alien to him, and never come back. He'd been preparing himself for that reality from the moment he met you.

It didn't make it hurt any less.

Love is blind, but it's ignorant, too. Vil had pushed that thought to the back of his mind, covering it up with an if rather than a when, like throwing a veil over a tombstone. He had convinced himself that the chances of you leaving were slim, that when the time came, years from then, he'd be ready.

He wasn't counting on a few months.

"It works for about three days," you explain, a giddy smile on your face. He forces himself to share the expression. "The spell is so powerful, it can only be cast under specific circumstances... if I miss this, who knows when my next chance will be?"

Vil is an actor, yes, but this is different. This isn't something he's reading off a page to a room full of production assistants and actors. This is you and him, alone, tangled in an uncertain future with no ending in 12-point Courier.

His voice cracks. "That's wonderful,"

Sevens, is he selfish.

A part of him wants to slap you across the face and call you an idiot for even thinking about leaving him here, let alone being excited about it, but he can't even move his feet from where he's standing.

He should be celebrating with you.

He should be happy that you get to escape this terrible place. You get to go home, where you're accepted as you are, and loved, and where you belong...

But you belong with him. He accepts you. He loves you. Why do you need anyone else? What can they offer than he can't?

It's an egotistical fantasy Vil holds in the back of his mind for the rest of the day, one where you wake up and realize that your place is here, by his side, and not a world away from him.

He tries to convince himself it's not the end yet. Perhaps the spell will fail. Perhaps Crowley will change his mind. Perhaps someone else will overblot and throw the school into chaos. Each thought is more indulgent than the last, but without them, he might have lost his mind before noon.

What is he supposed to do?

Smile and wave while the only person who has ever understood and loved him unconditionally leaves him forever? Make a fool of himself pretending to be happy for you?

Every second without the certainty of seeing you the next day feels like an eternity.

It's wrong. He knows that. He can't keep you chained to the foot of his throne like a pet. You want to go, don't you? That's what you've wanted all along.

Once again, Vil only comes in second.

[parkitrighthere]

TEASER

• TITLE: Under The Blue Sky (Tangled In Love And Destiny Series)

• PAIRING: CEO!Yoongi x Accountant!Reader

• GENRE: Romance, Grumpy X sunshine, CEO au, fluff (?), love at first sight

• WORD COUNT: 5k+

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story explores themes of love at first sight, identity concealment, and the clash of personalities between two contrasting characters. It delves into the complexities of their budding relationship as they navigate misunderstandings and attraction. The narrative includes mature content, including explicit scenes and sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

• SUMMARY: Yoongi, the grumpy CEO, never believed in love at first sight—until he saw you on a rainy street. He kept his identity hidden, but when you moves in next door, things start to get complicated. Your sunshine personality clashes beneath the surface, sparks fly. Can your sunshine essence melt his cold heart, or will both of your differences will drive you apart?

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @parkitrighthere. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: I'm not tagging anyone here since it’s just a little teaser, but don’t worry if you’re on the taglist—I’ll definitely tag you when UBS1 is ready to go (which shouldn’t take too long… hopefully 🙈). Thanks for being patient with me, you’re the best!

MASTERLIST

You slouched back on your couch, the exhaustion from yesterday’s move still weighing on your bones, but there was a sense of satisfaction that kept you from fully collapsing. Your eyes swept over the apartment—every box was finally unpacked, every corner now arranged to your liking. As tiring as it had been, the sight of your new home made it all feel worth it. You let out a long, relieved breath and let your head fall back against the couch, closing your eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The scent of room freshener—lilies and jasmine—clung to the air, soothing your senses as the cool breeze from the balcony slipped through the open door, brushing against your bare arms. A shiver danced down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps, but it only made you smile more, the chill somehow comforting.

It was strange, though, sitting here in this quiet space, feeling the weight of everything that had brought you back to Seoul after so many years. The city had a familiar coldness to it, something that you had once known and yet felt so distant now. Eight years in Busan, away from the hustle and memories of this place, and now you were back. It all felt like a dream, an impossible twist in the story of your life. But life was nothing if not unexpected. You had learned that lesson early—how everything could change in an instant, how things could shift and crumble, and how the paths you thought you were meant to take often led you somewhere completely different.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, but it was hollow. The memories you carried with you felt heavy, like weights tied to your chest, and the loneliness that had crept into your life felt more pronounced now that you were here, in this new chapter. It was funny, you thought—how at one point, your life had been full. Full of people, of laughter, of noise. And then, somewhere along the way, you lost that. You lost them. You lost pieces of yourself too, chasing after things you thought you wanted, only to find that when you caught them, they weren’t what you needed. And those things you lost, those connections, those moments... you would never get them back. Only regrets remained, settling into the quiet corners of your mind.

But that was life, right? You had so many regrets, so many things you wished you had done differently, but you were still here, still smiling, still breathing. Because it was life. And life didn’t care if you understood it or not. You had learned that much over the years.

A soft, rueful sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering open as you stared at the ceiling. A memory crossed your mind, one that had stayed with you: "It's all in your head. Control it before it controls you." A piece of advice from someone who meant well, but who could never understand what it felt like to be stuck in the chaos of your own thoughts. Young you had thought it was profound. Wise. But now, now you understood it in a way that had nothing to do with wisdom. It was a struggle. The battle between your mind and your emotions, between wanting to control it all and knowing that you couldn’t.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its hands creeping closer to eight. Then, a sudden ding-dong of the doorbell sliced through the silence, jolting you from your thoughts. You blinked, disoriented, a frown pulling at your brows. “Who could it be...?” The words escaped your lips in a whisper, the confusion lingering as you glanced at your phone, only to toss it back onto the couch, your focus now entirely on the door.

You got to your feet, the motion slow, almost hesitant, as if your body hadn’t fully caught up to the change in pace. With deliberate steps, you made your way toward the door. Standing before the door, you paused for just a second, your hand hovering over the handle before you unlocked it. Just enough to peek your head out.

And there, standing on the other side, was a sight that left your heart skipping a beat. A man, impeccably dressed in a tuxedo, his hair styled with effortless precision. A stray lock fell across his forehead.

He looked... familiar. But not in the way you could place him, more in a way that tugged at the edges of your memory, like a faint echo of something. You frowned slightly, brows furrowing as you tried to remember where you’d seen him before. But you couldn’t quite grasp it. How could you forget a face like that?

He was stunning—his features sharp yet gentle, his lips full and soft. There was a youthful roundness to his face that made him look so effortlessly cute, and something about his presence made your chest tighten. His smile—oh, that smile—was a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and suddenly, you felt the urge to reach out, to pinch his cheeks, as ridiculous as that thought was. It was as if his smile held the power to disarm you completely, leaving your heart fluttering like it was caught in a soft breeze.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say or do, just staring up at him as your stomach twisted into knots.

"Hi!" he whispered, his voice soft. He gave a small, playful bow, his movements smooth. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, and his lips curled into a smile that was warm, disarming.

You blinked, still taken aback, and pulled the door open fully, your own response a little stiff as you bowed your head in return. Your hands hung by your sides, awkward, unsure of what to do next. You gave a small nod, the movement barely noticeable. It was more instinct than anything else.

"You live here?" he asked, his words filled with a strange mixture of confidence and confusion. It wasn’t the kind of confusion that showed doubt, but more like he was piecing something together in his mind. It was almost like a game to him, the way his brows furrowed playfully.

You nodded again, not trusting your voice just yet. His gaze was intense, but in a way that made you want to stay just a moment longer. His smile widened, slow and deliberate, like he was letting it spread across his face just for you to see.

"You need something?" You finally managed, your words polite, but your posture tense. It was hard not to be wary. Men, you thought. You knew better. They were nothing but trouble, a lesson you had learned the hardest way. The memories of it still lingered in your chest like an old bruise.

He tilted his head slightly, the smile never faltering. "Oh! Actually, you must have ordered food, right?" His voice was light, almost playful, yet his words felt oddly innocent. He didn’t seem like a creep, nor did he look like a delivery guy. He looked... out of place in a way that didn’t sit right with you.

You nodded, still unsure of how this was going to play out. You gave him another once-over, a little more deliberate this time. From head to toe, he was wrapped in luxury—designer clothes that probably cost more than your rent. You couldn’t even name half the brands, but you could tell from the sharp cut of his suit and the way he carried himself that he wasn’t some lowly delivery guy.

There was no way. No way in hell. Not a chance. He couldn’t be. Not in a billion years.

"And?" You prompted, still trying to piece together what was happening.

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah," he started, his words tumbling out quickly, almost like he couldn’t catch his breath. "Actually, the delivery guy dropped your order at my friend’s place. I was about to open it, but fortunately, I checked the bill attach to it and saw the address." He handed you the paper bag with a slight flick of his wrist.

You were so distracted by his presence, by the way his smile tugged at his lips and the gleam in his eyes, that you didn’t even notice the bag in his hand at first. You stood there, your fingers instinctively clutching the handle of the bag. A sudden rush of awareness hit you, and you looked back up at him, a sense of confusion swirling in your chest.

"Thank you...," you muttered, still trying to gather your thoughts, but your words trailed off when he interrupted, a touch of offense in his tone.

"Jimin," he corrected quickly, his brow furrowing slightly, a blush creeping up his neck. His lips curled into a playful, almost teasing smile, as though he found the whole situation amusing. "Jimin Park.”

The name hit you like a cold splash of water. Your eyes widened in shock as recognition struck you hard. Jimin Park. Of course. How could you not have known? He was everywhere—the notorious, high-profile director of Jeon Enterprises, always plastered across the media. Whether it was for business deals, lavish parties, or rumors about his playboy lifestyle, he was a constant figure in the spotlight.

You straightened up, an automatic sign of respect. "Thank you, Mr. Park." The words felt strange coming from your lips, like they didn’t quite belong to you. It was hard to act casual in front of someone so... big—someone you had only ever seen in the headlines.

Jimin's gaze softened, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy the moment.

"No. Please, call me Jimin," he said, his voice shifting to a softer, almost shy tone.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond, but you nodded slowly. "Okay, Jimin," you said, testing the name on your tongue. It felt casual, and for some reason, that made it all the more strange.

"Your the new tenant, right?" His voice practically bubbled with excitement, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The way he was looking at you—too keen, too interested—made your skin prickle with unease. You felt your heart beat a little faster. His attention was...too much, too sudden.

"Yes...?" you replied, the uncertainty in your voice betraying the suspicion building in your chest.

"Wow! That's... something," he laughed, his grin widening, but there was a hint of something in his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was curiosity or mischief, but it made the hairs on your neck stand up.

"What you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to make sense of his words.

"Nothing, really! It’s just that this flat has been vacant for years now." Jimin's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. He seemed to be enjoying the effect his words had on you.

Your brow furrowed. "Why? It’s a good one. It even has a pretty view from the balcony," you said, trying to defend your decision. The apartment was beautiful, a perfect little corner in the city. You couldn't understand why someone would leave it empty for so long.

Jimin’s smile faltered, and his eyes dropped for a moment as if he was weighing his next words carefully. Then, his gaze flicked back up to meet yours, a hint of something dark flickering behind his grin. "No, you got it all wrong," he said, voice lowering just a bit. "Actually, it was instructed not to let anyone stay here. So...”

The words hit you like a cold shock, a wave of disbelief crashing over you. You blinked, mouth dry, unable to fully process what he was saying. "What?" The word came out too sharp, too confused. "Why would they do that?”

He shrugged casually, but the tension in his shoulders gave away that this was something more serious. "How would I know? I just do." The casualness didn’t match the weight of his words, and it made your stomach churn. Was he just trying to mess with you? Or was there something more? His easy smile didn’t help ease the growing knot in your chest.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your lips pressing into a tight line. "How do you know?" you asked, your voice low. Your gaze locked onto his, silently daring him to give you some ridiculous explanation.

He leaned in slightly, his smile not faltering, but there was something else now—a slight glint of pride, maybe? "What do you mean? I’m friends with the person who instructed it.”

You scoffed, disbelief dancing in your eyes as you raised an eyebrow. "Who is he?”

"Who else, woman. Min Yoongi, the CEO of Min Corporation.The owner of this freaking building.”

Your breath hitched. Now this conversation was spiraling into territory you hadn’t expected. A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down quickly. The name Min Yoongi struck you like a bolt. The CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the country? This was getting ridiculous.

You knew about Min Yoongi. Everyone did. He wasn’t just a person; he was a name, a reputation. No one ever really saw him, though. He stayed out of the spotlight, almost like a ghost. Starting your new job at Min Corporations, it only made sense to know a little about the CEO. Not that you’d gone digging or anything—there wasn’t much to find. He was private, almost obsessively so.

Despite your gut telling you to shut the door and walk away, you stayed rooted to the spot. Your mind screamed for you to let go, but your curiosity was louder. Tomorrow would be your first day at Min Corporation, and you were curious, even though you shouldn't. You could almost taste curiosity in the back of your tongue.

"Why?" you asked before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out before you could think. Shit, you cursed internally. You never knew when to keep quiet.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with... Something, you couldn't quite place, his lips curving into a grin. "I don’t know," he said, tilting his head slightly, his voice suddenly softer, more gentle. "But I asked him to shift here once, and he told me he loathes noise... and I’m noisy." He chuckled at the last part, his fingers twitching at his side, almost like he was waiting for your response. "Am I?"

You bit back a smile, the words "Yeah, you do seem noisy" on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed them. He was fun to talk to, and you couldn’t deny it. It had been a while since someone had made you laugh, and it was oddly comforting.

"Jimin-ah" Before you could respond, a deep, calm voice cut through the air, and you froze mid-thought. Jimin’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face the source of the voice. You followed his gaze, and when your eyes met the man standing at the end of the hall, your breath hitched.

"I swear," Jimin continued, shaking his head as if he was reminiscing about something. "That guy has serious issues. You need to be careful around him."

It’s him.

"Suga, hyung," Jimin greeted, his voice soft, almost in reverence. Suga. The name rolled through your mind, oddly familiar yet strangely comforting, like something you’d always liked without realizing it, and you recognized him instantly. The man standing there was none other than the person who had helped you two days ago—when you were a mess, crying in the rain at that bus stop.

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat picking up speed. It felt like fate had thrown this moment at you, but it wasn’t without its sting. You remembered every second of that breakdown. The humiliation of crying on a street corner, in front of a stranger, no less. And yet, there he was again, but this time, he seemed... Different.

Why wasn’t he looking at you?

Your stomach twisted in discomfort. It wasn’t like you expected him to remember you, but he—of all people—had been there when you were falling apart, and yet, his gaze didn’t meet yours.

It had only been two days.

His attention was fully on Jimin, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. His eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a firm line. “I told you to wait for me, Jimin-ah,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was a trace of irritation under the surface.

Jimin simply waved it off with a dismissive gesture, clearly unbothered. “I was. You’re late,” he said with an air of nonchalance, but his expression shifted to something as he added, “And why are you scolding me?”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg, as though trying to hold his patience. "I told you to wait." His eyes flicked briefly toward you, but quickly away, as if it was an afterthought. The tension in his shoulders, however, told you something more. Anxiety? Was he anxious about something? Was he… waiting for something?

Jimin, still unfazed, pointed to the paper bag with a lazy grin. “I was just handing her this,” he said casually, nodding toward you. “Somebody delivered it at your place, hyung.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word after that. He simply nodded, a sharp, cold motion, before he turned on his heel, starting to drag Jimin toward the apartment next to yours. The air around you felt tense, heavy, almost suffocating. You were still standing there, unable to process the coldness that had overtaken him.

But before they could get too far, Jimin stopped, yanking his arm away from Yoongi with an exaggerated grunt. He turned back to you, flashing that same teasingly sweet smile. “It’s him," Jimin said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Your neighbour and the C—”

“I know him,” you interrupted quickly, your words tumbling out almost desperately.

But Jimin’s eyes widened, surprise crossing his face for just a fraction of a second before he turned to look at Yoongi with a slow, subtle smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yoongi, however, was already shaking his head, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes not meeting yours. His voice, when it came, was sharp and final, the words cutting through the air like ice. “No,” he said, the simple word leaving no room for any further discussion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his tone. You hadn’t expected it—this abrupt, dismissive coldness. What happened to the guy who helped me? The memory of him offering you his coat, in that rainy street, his voice so soft and understanding, felt like a distant dream now. This Yoongi was nothing like the one you had met two days ago.

You took a step forward, wanting to hold on to the memory of that moment, desperate to remind him. “What?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You were shocked, and you couldn’t mask it. “We met. Don’t you remember? Saturday evening—”

“I said I. Do. Not,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice colder than before, each word heavy with finality. His eyes still didn’t meet yours, and his posture was stiff, rigid. The tension between you was unbearable, like an invisible wall had been built between you two in the span of seconds.

Your face burned. The pink on your cheeks deepened with humiliation, your heart sinking. Why was he lying? Why was he denying it so harshly? You tried to hold it together, but your hands trembled at your sides, your breath catching in your throat. Why was he being like this?

How could he be the same person?

The disappointment hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your shoulders sag slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your gaze shifted to the ground as your fingers clenched tightly around the paper bag in your hand.

Jimin, who had been standing there quietly, watching the exchange unfold, must have noticed how your face fell. He took a step toward you. He could see it, too—the change in Yoongi. And maybe, just maybe, he could sense your discomfort, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“It’s okay if he don’t remember,” Jimin said, trying to break the tension, but his words barely landed. His voice, though soft, couldn’t lift the heaviness settling in your chest. “I’ll introduce you both. He’s your neighbor and the C—”

“Building manager,” Yoongi interrupted sharply, his words slicing through the air like a cold wind. His tone left no room for argument. He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, his eyes fixed on Jimin, his hand already gripping his arm with surprising force.

Jimin’s mouth hung open for a moment, clearly caught off guard by Yoongi’s sudden shift. He blinked rapidly, as though trying to process what he’d just heard. “Building manager?” His voice came out more as a question than a statement. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth snapped shut with a soft click, as if he was trying to hold back the flood of disbelief.

Yoongi didn’t answer him. Instead, he pulled Jimin by the arm, his grip tightening as he dragged him toward the apartment beside yours. The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw flexed as he moved with a strange urgency, his face set in a hard line.

The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud, the sound echoing in your ears like a final punctuation mark to the whole exchange. The force of it seemed to shake the air around you, the finality of it stinging more than you expected.

You were left standing there, frozen, staring at the now-closed door. Your heart still pounded in your chest, the hurt and confusion twisting inside you like a knot you couldn’t untangle. Building manager?

a/n: Hey, hey, hey, people! Did you survive it? Did you actually like it? Because if you did, please let me know—boost my fragile ego. And if you didn’t, that’s fine too; just rip me apart gently. Feedback makes me feel like a real writer or at least someone pretending to be one. Honestly, I don’t think it was that interesting, but hey, the goal was to post something, right? So yeah, hit me with your thoughts. I'm all ears (and slightly terrified)!

a/n: I know, I know, a lot of you are probably like, ‘Jae, what the hell? Why didn’t he just tell her he’s the CEO? What’s with the secret identity? And why is he so rude?’ Look, I get it. All I can say is: UBS1 is coming soon, so read it and find out. Also, he’s not rude, okay? He’s just... scared Jimin might spill the beans about him being the CEO. That’s it.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Luxe Couture Vignette

"My orders are absolute"

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

Announcer: The curtain rises on this year's Fairest City's International Film Festival. And today... Please take a gander around me!

Announcer: Queen's Palace is completely flooded with the press and movie fans. Enthusiasm is in full force!

Announcer: With so many filmmakers and actors present, this is the event of the season. Let's chat with a few of them.

Announcer: Hello! Which production are you most excited to see during this film fest?

Movie Fan A: WELL, OF COURSE, THE LIVE-ACTION BEAUTIFUL QUEEN MOVIE!!

Movie Fan A: Ever since I was a kid, I've always loved the animated movie on the Fairest Queen and her spirit of tenacity.

Movie Fan A: I'm really looking forward to the live-action remake! Can't wait to see what other info they drop during the film fest.

Announcer: The anticipation is immense! Alright, next… Hey, you over there! And why have you come to Queen's Palace?

Movie Fan B: There's someone I really really need to see…! You know how there's going to be a screening for the Beautiful Queen?

Movie Fan B: I was hoping maybe, just maybe, my most beautiful bias would make a surprise appearance, so I came here!

Announcer: Oho, I see. And who is it you're such a fan of?

Movie Fans: LOOK, IT'S VIL SHOENHEIT!!

Movie Fan B: Yeah, my fave is Vil… HUH!?

Announcer: Everyone, please take a look! Vil Schoenheit has arrived here at Queen's Palace!!

Movie Fans: KYAAAAAAA, VIL-SAMAAAAA!!

Ace: Woah, this is crazy! There's so much screaming for Vil-senpai that I can feel it vibrating my whole body!!

Jamil: Don't lose focus. Our job here is to protect Vil-senpai from his enthused fans and the media.

Azul: Indeed. As recompense for these Luxe couture garments, we must put forth our labor as compensation.

Vil: That's right. [Yuu], Ace, Grim. I expect the three of you to properly carry out your roles as well.

[Yuu nods]

Ace: I mean, I've got on this Luxe couture fit on, so. I gotta make sure I keep lookin' cool, don't I?

Vil: Absolutely. I need you to look your best so you can be of the utmost use for me.

[click! snap!!]

Cameraman: It's Vil Schoenheit!! I gotta snap as many pictures as I can from all angles!

Vil: Hello, everyone, are you all enjoying this very special day?

Movie Fan B: KYAAAAAAA! VIL-SAMAAAA!! I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO MEET YOUUUUU!!!!!

[Vil waves hand with a sparkle]

Movie Fan B: Ooahh, he waved at me! Now I can… die without regrets…

[faints with a thud]

Movie Fan C: PLEASE SPARE ME A GLANCE TOO, VIL-SAMA!

[Vil looks over with a sparkle]

Movie Fan C: THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFEEEE!

[faints with a thud]

Azul: Amazing… Fans are dropping like flies just from meeting Vil-san's eyes…

Jamil: Even when we find erratic people in the crowd, they're instantly affected by Vil-senpai's beauty.

Ace: And this guy's just as stoic as ever even seeing the crowd act like this… Vil Schoenheit is way too incredible!

1. He's so enchanting… 2. I can't stop taking pictures…!

Vil: Don't be content just yet. We're just getting started.

Vil: We'll make sure that no one ever forgets my momentous walk down the tapis rouge.

Vil: Jamil, bring that to me.

Jamil: Of course, I have it right here.

Announcer: Vil Schoenheit has stopped on the tapis rouge and has been handed a box.

Announcer: What could possibly be in the box? …It's an apple! Vil Schoenheit is now holding an apple!

[green smoke starts to surround Vil]

Announcer: Oh? And now he's surrounded by smoke… I can't see Vil Schoenheit at all.

Announcer: What is happening…? Huh!?

Vil: NOW, EVERYONE KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME, THE FAIREST ONE OF ALL!

Fans: WOOOOOOOOOOAH! / KYAAAAA!!!!

Announcer: B-B-B-Beautiful!!! He's so beautiful… More beautiful than I could possibly imagine!!!

Grim: That guy with the mic can't say nothin' other than beautiful anymore.

Ace: Haha, he's even stolen the announcer's vocab away. I'd expect nothing less from Vil-senpai.

Cameraman: Look at his spectacular attire, and his flawless posing…! This is out best chance to snag all the photos!!

[click! snap, snap!!]

Vil: Heh. Just as I expected, the reception is fantastic.

Azul: Indeed. Your design was a grand success. This was a fantastically gorgeous idea fit for this stage.

Vil: It's much too early to be complacent. All of you, make sure you follow me closely.

Jamil/Azul/Grim/Ace: Yes, sir! / Got it!

[Yuu nods]

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[Vil talking to others]

Ace: Hey, hey, [Yuu]! That person Vil-senpai is talking to right now…

1. They're definitely that one recently popular singer. 2. I feel like I've seen them on TV…

Ace: Right? Celebrities are chatting him up left and right… You can really feel just how much of a super celeb Vil-senpai really is.

Ace: Maybe we can slip into the convo at the right time! Think we could get an autograph!?

Grim: Oh hey, they're passin' out drinks over there! I'm gonna go get… Myah!?

[Vil grabs Grim]

Grim: Hey, don't grab me by the scruff!

Vil: Silence! Just because we made it safely inside the Queen's Palace does not mean you can do as you please.

Vil: You are to stay calm and refined, and carry yourself beautifully during the film festival as well. Or do you intend on humiliating me?

Azul: Quite right. The energy of these first years can be quite troublesome.

Vil: If you think so, I would rather you watch those little spudlings instead of passing out your business cards.

Vil: Especially while you tell them you're my schoolmate… Really, I give you an inch and you take a mile.

Jamil: I've confirmed our seating arrangements for the screening. The theater is just past here.

Vil: Wonderful. We should make our way there before the aisles get too crowded.

Grim: Movie's finally over. That was super long… Hey, why's everyone standin' up all a sudden?

[APPLAUSE]

Azul: Well, well… What a magnificent standing ovation.

Vil: The Fairest Queen's spirit of tenacity was fully explored throughout the whole Beautiful Queen movie.

Vil: She was never complacent with the status quo, and spent her entire life attempting to improve herself further…

Vil: It's only natural to be deeply moved by how she pursued her life goals, especially as a performer, myself.

Jamil: I agree. It was a fantastic film. We should join the rest of the audience in applause.

[APPLAUSE]

Vil: Ah… The entire venue has nothing but praise for this film. A spectacular sight to behold. I'm sure Dad is just as elated right now.

Ace: The live-action Beautiful Queen movie rocked. Based on that showing, it'll definitely be a huge hit!

Azul: Well, the film fest has concluded… Vil-san, what are our plans afterward?

Vil: Our plans? Well, that would be…

Vil: We head home.

Ace/Grim/Azul: HUH!?

1. That sucks… 2. No way…

Jamil: It'll get dark soon. If we want to make tomorrow's classes, we should probably head back to campus soon.

Vil: That's right. The main role of a student is to learn. That's why even I have put my career on hold.

Vil: When I received my admissions letter from Night Raven College, I have to admit I did hesitate.

Vil: Was there even any reason to place my acting career on hold just to attend a school…? Or so I thought.

Vil: However, I'm sure that the knowledge, studying and experience that comes from school life will undoubtedly be a boon.

Vil: Once I decided that, I chose to reduce my work commitments and instead devote myself to my studies.

Vil: By spending my days simply being Vil Schoenheit and a member of the Pomefiore Dormitory...

Vil: My understanding of the Fairest Queen's spirit of tenacity deepened, which in turn led to this successful promotion.

Vil: My daily life as a student has absolutely been a boon for my career, just as I expected it would be back before I enrolled… No, I suppose it would be correct to say even more than I had expected.

Vil: This little venture has proved to me that my decision had been the correct one.

Vil: And thus, I am also determined to spend the rest of the time I have left as a student to my fullest, with no regrets.

Ace: Vil-senpai…

Ace: Okay, you can say all that, but you do realize that this is probably the only time the rest of us get the chance to go to a film festival, right!?

Azul: Ace-san is completely correct. It would be an absolute pity to squander this opportunity to network with all these celebrities!

Vil: Oh, is that so. Then do as you please. That is, if you are willing to violate your contract.

Ace: Violate what contract? We played your lackeys already.

Azul: Actually… The conditions set by Vil-san were to "walk the red carpet"…

Azul: If he intends on walking the same path we took to get here, we must escort him during his return, as well…!

Vil: Correct. I see you fully understand the terms of your agreement.

Ace: Ehhhh～!? I thought we were only here for the grand entrance…

Vil: So I'll ask you one more time. I will be returning to campus, what will you do?

Ace/Azul: Return alongside you…

Jamil: Considering the role we were undertaking today, it's only natural.

Vil: Excellent. Then we should make haste to leave the venue.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[snap! snap snap snap!!]

Grim: Myah, the flashes are way too bright!!

Azul: I had anticipated the crowd would be more settled than when we had entered the venue...

Ace: Doesn't feel like they've petered out at all… And we even tried slipping out mid-fest.

Announcer: Vil Schoenheit-san! Please elaborate on your promotion work for this event!

Newspaper Reporter: WE WOULD BE HONORED TO HEAR YOUR COMMENTS ON THE LIVE-ACTION BEAUTIFUL QUEEN MOVIE!

Cameraman: Vil-SAN!! LOOK THIS WAY!!

Jamil: The press are coming at us in full force…! Ace, Azul, hold them back!!

Ace/Azul: RIGHT!!

Vil: Now, now, how frantic everyone is. There's no need to worry, I won't run from you.

Vil: I will gladly answer your questions, at least until I finish walking the tapis rouge.

Newspaper Reporter: Whew, that draped train flutters so beautifully… …Ack! I shouldn't be standing around enraptured.

Newspaper Reporter: Ahem. Then, I'll start. How did it come to be that you would do this promotion?

Vil: Eric Venue personally requested me. Must mean no one was better suited for the promotion than I.

Magazine Reporter: Your whole outfit coordination today is so stunning! Can you tell us some highlights about this look?

Vil: I call this "Black of Night" ―

Vil: It came about by utilizing the iconic Luxe brand color that originates in the Fairest Queen legends.

Vil: Instead of accessorizing with magnificent jewelry, I simply used myself as the adornment…

Vil: Which allowed my beauty to be accentuated even further.

Announcer: SPECTACULAR! YOU ARE TRULY BEAUTIFUL!!

Announcer: Speaking of which… Your companions here all look fabulous as well. Are you all models as well?

Ace: Ooh, is that how we look? I mean, we all look pretty rad, can't fault you for thinking so～

Azul: I'm grateful that you thought to cast your eyes on me as well. Thank you so much for you kind words.

Jamil: Guess it's not too terrible to be thought of as one of Vil-senpai's colleagues.

Grim: Myahaha! This guy knows what they're talkin' about!

1. Wow, I can't believe we were mistaken for models!

Vil: Calm down… Don't get all riled up. Obviously, it's because of the Luxe attire you're wearing.

2. I feel like I've never been noticed like this before…

Vil: Heh, you seem pretty composed. At least you can tell it's obviously because of the Luxe attire you're wearing.

Vil: Although, I suppose if you are basking in my glow, it wouldn't be surprising for others to notice you lot as well.

Vil: These fellows aren't models, but are merely my dutiful manservants. And they obey every order I give them.

Vil: Isn't that right?

Grim/Ace/Jamil/Azul: Yes, sir... Vil Schoenheit-sama.

Vil: …It seems the tapis rouge has come to an end. I'm sorry, but this is the end of the interview.

Vil: I do hope you all have a wonderful evening.

Announcer: Vil-san, please wait a moment!!

Newspaper Reporter: I still have another question for you…!

Vil: Here we go, boys. Get to work and secure a path!

Grim/Ace/Jamil/Azul: YESSIR!!

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Ace: Wheeew, we finally escaped. The press was pretty intense, but that was an ambush of fans!

Azul: Gasp, whew… Truly an ordeal…

Azul: With how Vil-san made such a grand appearance in front of the media like this despite recently taking a break from his acting work...

Azul: I can fully understand why anyone would want to take as many photos as possible in that scenario…

Vil: It's been sometime since I've had such an ardent reception. It's not something that I get to deal with while on Sage's Island.

Jamil: Good thing we were able to give them all the slip. It was a great plan to confirm possible back roads to escape to last night.

Ace: Is that what you were all doing!? I just thought you guys all snuck out of the hotel to have a bit of fun…

Vil: I don't think Azul or Jamil would let a single thing slip by them. You both have earned my praise just this once.

Vil: There were a few close calls, but… I would say you all just barely succeeded in the job I entrusted you with.

Azul: Your kind words fill me with joy. And once again… Thank you for allowing us to accompany you.

Vil: Of course. This was a fairly wonderful two days, was it not? Not only we were able to relax here in the Fairest City…

Vil: But we were also able to watch an early showing of the live-action Beautiful Queen.

Azul: Yes, indeed. The movie was utterly beautiful from start to finish… I could even feel the dedication in the tableware and cutlery chosen for the film.

Jamil: I understand the tenacious spirit of the Fairest Queen even better now. I feel like I need to put forth even more effort in my own life now.

Vil: Excellent thoughts.

Vil: Next. How about we hear the thoughts from the youngest spudlings here, who seem to be trying to avoid eye contact, hm?

Ace: It was super real-looking, and super fab, and the Fairest Queen was suuuper pretty… Basically, it was just super awesome all around!

1. I agree! 2. It was impressive!

Vil: Sigh, how appalling. How could you watch that masterpiece and only have such boring impressions?

Vil: It seems you still don't have a full understanding on the spirit of tenacity.

Vil: Once the movie is available to the public, you are to go watch it in theaters. Understand? My orders are absolute.

Vil: …And if the mood strikes, perhaps I'll join you.

Requested by @amourteddyst and @ordinaryanon.

[gunsatthaphan]

~ Monthly BL Breakdown: December 2024 ~ 

🎆 Happy New Year!!! 🎉

Hey everyone! This will be my last breakdown as I have decided to discontinue the tradition. Making compilation posts requires a lot of work and dedication and unfortunately the engagement is not big enough for me to have the motivation to keep going. Thank you to those who have liked and reblogged and said nice things, I appreciate that very much!! 🧡 I will continue to run my blog as usual so I will remain available for asks about anything (as long as they're nice) and I will continue to post updates here and there. Thank you 🧡

Disclaimer: ALL shows can be streamed here or here, as well as on Youtube and other platforms. For more info on where to watch what, check out this post! 

As always feel free to add stuff! -> previous breakdowns

What came out this month? (green = seen/currently watching)

🌟 Addicted Heroin Special Episode - December 1st (Thailand)

🌟 Tokimeki Bomb - December 1st (Japan)

🌟 Hidden - December 3rd (Thailand)

🌟 You Want Some? - December 5th (South Korea)

🌟 Be Moon - December 6th (China)

🌟 Eyes on You - December 11th (Hong Kong)

🌟 ThamePo: Heart that Skips a Beat - December 13th (Thailand) ✅

🌟 The Renovation - December 14th (Thailand)

🌟 Only For Fans - December 15th (South Korea)

🌟 Eternal Butler - December 20th (Taiwan)

🌟 Gangster And His Boyfriend - December 21st (South Korea)

🌟 The Way Home - December 24th (China)

🌟 Sangmin Dinneaw - December 29th (Thailand)

Monthly Likes / Dislikes

❣️ - ø 👎🏻 - ø

New series & movie announcements

🎥 Lost on the River (starring JudoFluke) - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 I'm Not Wrong - Date TBA (South Korea)

🎥 Love Destiny from Hell - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Concealed and Blended - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 City of the Sun - Date TBA (China)

🎥 Secret Relationship - Date TBA (South Korea)

🎥 Love and Punishment - Coming March 2025 (Taiwan)

🎥 Desire - Date TBA (China)

Other news from the BL world

❗️ The winners of GMMTV's BL contest Y-Find have been announced. A total of 4 submitted plots by Thai fans will be adapted into series. The winning titles are My Lovely Pet, Who Killed My Boo?, Lost Time and รักนี้พอดีเป็นของพระรอง. Further production steps have not been disclosed by the company.

❗️ The Japanese BL I Became the Lead in a BL Drama is getting a sequel. The title as well as a premiere date have not been announced.

❗️ The Japanese lgbt dating reality show The Boyfriend is getting a second season. Further details are unknown.

❗️ Former Be On Cloud actor Barcode Tinnasit has joined GMMTV.

❗️ In a public statement, the writer of the novel Pit Babe, which was adapted into a series in 2023, announced that they have removed the Omegaverse elements from the sequel as it no longer complies with their beliefs and principles. These changes will be carried into the upcoming series adaption by Change 2561 in 2025.

❗️ The yearly Y Entertainment Awards were held on December 1st. The following BL actors/productions won:

Last Twilight: Best BL of the Year

Aof Noppharnach: Best BL director of the Year

Pooh Krittin: BL Prince of the Year

Pit Babe: Best Production of the Year

"Re-Move On" by GeminiFourth: Best OST of the Year (My Love Mixup)

Up Poompat: Best BL Lead Actor of the Year

❗️ WETV released their 2025 lineup on December 5th. The following BL productions were announced:

Shine (sequel to ManSuang, starring Mile P. and Apo N.)

Love of Silom (starring Up P. and Poom P.)

Top Form (adaption of the manga Dakaichi, starring Smart C. and Boom R.)

Knock Out (starring Gunner N. and Nice B.)

Me and Who (collaboration with Domundi, starring Big T. and Park A.)

Upcoming series & movies for January:

👉🏻 The Boy Next World - January 5th (Thailand)

👉🏻 Ossan's Love Thailand - January 6th (Thailand)

👉🏻 When It Rains It Pours - January 9th (Japan)

👉🏻 Idolfactory 2025 lineup event - January 12th (Thailand)

👉🏻 Impression of Youth - January 15th (Taiwan)

[dsireland86]

Hii! :)

Can you do imagine request "Nap dates"? I had inspiration when i was listening Angus & Julia Stone's song Nothing Else. Y/n is working for Sumerian Records and is interested tour management. Sumerian sent her with Matt to work with the production so Matt can focus more on audio things. Y/n is first shy and trying to focus 120% only working but Noah is trying to get Y/n in every way. She is almost thirty years old and single, for the first time in a completely foreign environment. She is a native Finnish speaker and still looking for a little communication in English. She's a little shy, slow to ignite, but she's also been eyeing Noah, but scared that everything will go wrong. Her motto has been that you don't eat from the load. She talks a lot about how she misses skin to skin touching, but is too afraid of having relationships or sex with strangers and Noah suggests nap dates. She has a rule: no sex, no kissing, only cuddles and naps. Y/n is gemini ja Noah is Scorpio so they are not compatible and they try their best to fight off their interest in the other, but they still end up trying nap dates. Eventually they become romantically interested in each other and they end up kissing and having sensual, but mind blowing sex.

Nap Dates

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard  @blackveilomens @chey-h

The flight from Finland was almost thirteen hours. I check the time once I land then make a quick call to the record label once I'm out of the terminal, following the signs to ground transpiration. Even though this is my first time on any foreign soil, thanks to the help of the internet and the amount of English I know, I'm able to maneuver my way through the airport well enough to get to where I need to be. Still on the phone, my boss tells me there's an Uber waiting for me outside that will take me to the hotel where I'll be staying. In the morning, one will pick me up and drive me to the studio to meet with the man I was sent here to work with. 

A while back I mentioned to the label that I was interested in learning more about tour management in America, so they set me up with a guy named Matt with a strange last name I couldn’t pronounce, and arranged a meeting with him via video call. I liked him instantly. He was easy to talk to and had a really nice personality. I knew we were going to be a good match Upon exiting the airport, I see the Uber waiting for me. I climb in and we head to the hotel where I check in, find my room, then showering, and finally sleep. The drive to the studio the next morning is a quick one. I'm nothing but a messy bundle of nerves the minute I walk inside, wondering why I ever agreed to take this job. Turning the corner, I see two men standing in the hall and they both smile the moment they see me. My cheeks redden instantly. 

"Hey, can we help you?" a man, wearing a black ball cap asks. He has dirty blond hair down to his shoulders, a pointed nose and a very cute smile. He looks at me as if he recognizes me, and I admit to myself that he, too, looks very familiar. "I, uh, yes. Maybe? I don't know actually."

My English comes out slower than I want it to, but at least they can understand me. The other guy, tall with long brown hair pulled up in a messy bun, smiles at me too and proceeds to speak to me in Swedish. I sigh in perfect joy. We carry on a brief conversation where I explain who I am and why I’m here, learning that his name is Joakim, but his friends call him "Jolly", and that he is part of the band that I'll be working with.

"And this," he says, clamping a hand down on the shoulder of the man with the ball cap, "is Matt, our tour manager." "Oh my gosh, I'm an idiot," I cringe, slapping my forehead with my hand. I look back up at Matt only to see him grinning at me. "You knew who I was the whole time, didn't you?" Matt slowly nods, unable to hide his smile. I nod, too, feeling completely embarrassed. "Hey, don't worry about it," Matt encourages me. "You've had a long couple of days. I'm sure you're beat." "Yeah, just a little. Jet lag is kicking my ass.” "Come," Jolly says, I'll introduce you to the other guys." I nod and follow them down the hall to a room on the right.

Nicholas, Nick who goes by Folio, and Noah; the three remaining band members. I shake each of their hands, smiling shyly at them, but stop and stare hard the moment I get to Noah. He stares at me, his expression is cool and relaxed and his disarming smile penetrates my entire body. Noah seems to be a laid back sort of person and it helps me to relax a bit. Matt takes me over to the sound equipment, asking me questions about what I know and what I'm able to bring to the table as far as tour production, and I'm honest and thorough, telling him what I know and can do. He's impressed and says I'll be a great fit. Glancing over at Noah, I catch the way he's staring at me. His brown almond eyes are deep and entrancing, making it extremely hard to look away. I take a deep breath and exhale it through my nose quickly, trying my best to refocus my attention back to Matt.

It's been three weeks of work and I love my job. Matt is the best. Very easy going and easy to work with. His personality and intelligence match mine when it comes to work and pretty soon, the two of us, along with Noah, have a whole idea planned out for the upcoming tour. Noah is growing on me and I’d like to think I'm growing on him too. Getting to know him more, I learn he’s a little reserved and introverted like me, but very sweet, which is surprising to me considering his stage presence. Everyday I'm around him, my feelings about him change. The fluttery, butterfly feeling that would come and go is permanently there now and it only grows whenever we're together. It's ridiculous, actually. I'm thirty years old, not a teenager. Noah shouldn't have this sort of effect on me; yet he does. And if I'm being honest, I'm beginning to really like the feeling. 

The day I met Y/N face to face was the day my world turned upside down. I was drawn to her for reasons I didn’t know or couldn’t understand. I was never known to be a guy interested in the opposite sex to the point it was all I could think about. But she was; she was all I could think about.  I couldn't concentrate on anything but her and the way she moved so gracefully and the way she spoke, softly and slowly with her moderate Swedish accent that was thicker than Jolly's and much sweeter. Her smile was simple, but so bright. Whenever she used it, my heart would skip a beat and I couldn't help but smile back. Y/N was also very easy on the eyes. She was distracting. Every time she walked into the room, I found myself staring at her a little more than I knew I should, and the fact that she was single was mind blowing.. A woman like her shouldn't be. We became easy friends. The only problem was, Y/N devoted 1000% of her time to her job, never giving herself time to do anything else. Matt tried telling her not too, that he was afraid she might burn herself out, but she refused to listen to him, telling him it was just her nature to stay so busy.

"So, there really is no man for you back home? No one that interests you?" Y/N shakes her head, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. I managed to steal her away from work for the day, taking her out for coffee, which turns out to be hot cocoa instead. We're sitting on a park bench, overlooking the ocean. A soft breeze swings in, blowing the small strands of hair out her face. I look over at her, taking a moment to soak in her delicate features that make her so pretty, and find myself feeling things for her that I probably shouldn't, yet I just can't help myself.

"What about you?" she asks, turning to face me. The soft twinkle I see makes me smile as I huff a small laugh. "Nope. No one. I mean there have been girls that I thought were pretty and nice, but in the end they just turned out to be too shallow or taken. I find it better to just not go looking for something, but instead let that something find me. I'm not in any rush." Y/N chuckles and takes a sip of her hot cocoa. "You mean to tell me all your fame and money doesn't buy you happiness like everyone says it does?" she jokes. I laugh. Laughing with her is so easy. "I'm afraid not. I don't want to be rich anyway. I just want to find my person and grow old with her." Y/N hums in approval. "How did you get to be so wise, Noah," she smiles, playfully. But I sense some seriousness. "Life wasn't always easy for me, you know. I had to learn that falling apart isn't always a bad thing. It taught me how to become someone, that's for sure." Y/N frowned. "We're all someone, are we not?" "No," I shook my head. "I don't think we are. Most people live life in a bubble, locked up in their minds, completely turned off to reality and what's passing in front of them. They spend their whole life looking for the next best thing instead of enjoying the here and now; instead of being present."

"Wow, yeah, I agree with that," she nodded. "You know, you're not like other guys, Noah. You enjoy going slow and sitting still while you come undone and allow life to pick you apart a little. I like that. It's refreshing." Y/N turns and looks at me and I can't help but trail my eyes over her face and wonder what it would be like to kiss her soft, red lips. She's the first girl I've had these sorts of thoughts about in a really long time. "Thank you," I say quietly. "You're welcome," she says, trailing her eyes over my face as well. "Can I ask you a more personal question?" She hesitates at first, but then says okay. "When was the last time you were with a guy?" Her eyes narrow. "Like? Romantically or sexually?" I feel my cheeks redden a little "Both." A small smile creeps over Y/N's lips.

"Um, it's been a while. I'm really backwards and shy and have zero confidence. Having a sexual relationship with strangers is hard for me because of that. And trying to get into a deep, long term relationship never works out because if I'm not willing to sleep with the guy then he loses interest. "Are you serious? Y/N you're beautiful! You should have a lot of confidence." "Yet, I don't," she laughed, turning away from me. “Also, you’re really hot yet you’re single,” she points out with a sly grin and I laugh. “Okay, point taken.” I playfully shove her in the shoulder as we remain quiet for a moment,  processing what we just learned about each other.

"I miss it though," Y/N confesses. "Miss what?" "Skin to skin contact. Not necessarily sexually or anything, but just like hand holding and soft, gentle caresses and touches. Cuddling, gosh I love cuddling," she giggles and it's the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. "Especially when it's cold or raining. Cozying up together and falling asleep, or watching old movies in the dark. Those are the best."

Y/N's description sounds like this thing I read about in one of my weird, self-help books. It's a thing called nap dates and apparently it works when someone is missing the physical touch of another human being, so I mention it to her. "What about nap dates?" She looks at me completely confused, shaking her head. "What are nap dates?" "They're dates that people who are friends or in a platonic relationship have. You hang out with each other, cuddle, watch tv, sleep, you know, boring stuff." "Boring stuff," Y/N laughs, tossing her empty cup in the trash. "Well boring for those who aren't trying to make their relationship go anywhere."

We stand up, and I stretch, working out the kink's in my neck, grimacing in pain. "Are you alright, Noah," she asks, alarmed. "Yeah. I just have this insane knot in my shoulder blade that won't go away. It's been there for days and hurts like hell." "Oh, well sit. I can rub it out for you." I do as she says, making sure she has enough access to my back. The moment she lays her hands on me I feel the instant spark rip through my body. Her touch is electrifying. I can't help but moan and groan over the feeling of the way she works and messages the knot out. It's invigorating. But it's the way she's touching me that has my body all worked up. It's gentle yet confident. Strong yet sweet. And just the thought of never feeling it again sends my mind into a spiral.

"How's that?" I move my arm around feeling immediate relief. "Oh god that feels a million times better. Thank you." Y/N grins. "You're welcome." I take her hand and hold it for a moment, thankful she doesn't pull away. Her eyes are speaking to me, yet I can't read what they're saying. "Noah," "Yeah?" "The idea of nap dates sounds fun." "It does, doesn't it?" "You really want to try it?" "Only if you do," I assure her. "Okay," she grins at me again. "Let's try it. But there's conditions." "Sure," I agree, fighting hard to control my eagerness. "No sex, no kissing. Only cuddling and sleeping." I chuckle. Her conditions seem pretty fair. "Absolutely," I agree." She grins. "Okay, good."

The rain is pouring down outside as Noah and I lay on the couch together, cuddled up under a warm, thick blanket. My leg is wrapped around his and I’m curled into him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I'm engulfed by the scent of him and it makes me lightheaded. The abnormal fluttery feeling in my stomach that always comes around whenever Noah and I are together is hitting me hard in my chest, making my heart race. I'm not sure if it's anxiety or nerves, but it makes me snuggle into him deeper and wrap one arm around his torso. I take a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Are you okay, Y/N," Noah asks softly. I know his eyes are still glued to the tv as his favorite show plays quietly in the background. He has one arm beneath me, holding me so I won't fall off the couch, while his other one is tucked under his head. "Yup I'm fine," I say sleepily, yawning big. "Awe, you tired?" I nod slowly. "Go to sleep. We have nowhere to go or nothing to do," Noah suggests, bringing his hand down on my head and slowly caressing my hair. The warmth of Noah's arms are the very thing I need to help me drift off into a lazy, comfortable nap.

The night belonged to them. Nothing but the stars and the full moon watched them from way up above as they kissed one another. With her on her back, hands wrapped around his tattooed neck and fingers snaking through his newly trimmed brown hair, and him leaning over her, fingers tracing her cheekbones then caressing the side of her face, Y/N and Noah embraced the sensual feelings rushing through their bodies.

Night after night, day after day, their nap dates slowly began to take a different turn; they had developed strong feelings for one another. At first it started with their hands finding each other, fingers intertwining and playfully locking together. Then came the looks and slight smiles whenever they were around each other, the ones they thought they were being so secretive about. Finally, it came boiling over the night a huge storm rolled in with horrible wind, thunder, and lightning, knocking out the power for hours. It scared Y/N, making her cling to Noah as if her life depended upon it. Noah sang to her, held her while she rested her head quietly in his lap as he played with her hair. She fell asleep, only waking when she realized she was being carried to her bed. "Noah, please don't leave. Stay with me.” "Alight, I will," he promised, crawling into the bed next to her. The feeling of her body pressed so tightly against him made resisting the urge to kiss her impossible, but he did it anyway.

At first he thought Y/N would panic, freak out, or get mad at him because of their agreement when they first arranged their nap dates. But Y/N did the opposite. She turned all the way over, facing him and allowed Noah to devour her lips, her mouth, and her body, stopping only when it was about to go too far. "Not yet, not like this," Y/N whispered in the dark. The word "yet" clung to Noah's heart and mind like a magnet. He agreed, kissing her once more.

Now, here they were, tangled up in one another beneath the stars, unable to stop their hungry appetite for the other. "Noah, let's go home," Y/N mumbled against his lips. Noah smiled at her mention of the word "home". "Why? I like kissing you beneath the stars." Y/N giggled. "I know, but I'm not comfortable enough to do this out in the open. I’m sorry. I hate being the way I am sometimes.” Noah stopped kissing her and met her gaze. "I like you just the way you are," he told her, loving the way she smiled at him. He pulled her in and laid a soft kiss on her forehead. "I want to do nothing else but fall into your arms and let you have your way with me. I just can't do it here." Y/N confession had Noah's mind reeling. "You're going to let me have my way with you?" he asked. "If you'll have me," she answered quietly. Noah grabbed her and kissed her, standing up immediately after they parted. "Let's go."

Noah opened the hotel room door for Y/N and she walked in as he flipped the light switch on, locking the door behind him. His tall frame loomed over her small figure that was the picture of perfection against the black backdrop of the room behind her. She stared at him with eyes so intense he thought she could see right through him. And in that moment, Noah wanted nothing more than to just feel her naked body against him.

Leaving just the entry light on, he guided her back into the darkness of the room, thankful that the soft glow of the moonlight and the parking lot lights filled the room with enough light for them to still see one another. Noah ran his hands down her arms, feeling the instant prickle of her skin as he did so, making him shiver, too.

Without a word, he removed his shirt, then his shoes and socks, moving close to help Y/N do the same. Even though he knew she wanted to do this, she still looked alarmed. "When was the last time you were with a guy?" Y/N was quiet for a moment, unsure if she should be truthful or not. But, to do this right, she knew she had to be. "Two years ago." Noah's mouth fell open. "Why? I mean, I don't... " "There was no one worthy enough, that's all. I don't just sleep with anyone for fun, Noah. I have more respect for myself than that," she stated firmly. He closed his mouth quickly "Does this mean I'm worthy enough? Us being here together, alone, about to do the very thing you say you don't give to just anyone?" Y/N smiled up at Noah shyly, raising her arms as he lifted her shirt above her head and tossing it to the floor next to his. "Yes, Noah. You are more than worthy enough. I want to give in to you completely, mind, body, and soul. I just need to be assured that I won't regret it in the end."

He held her face in his hands when he kissed her. Noah didn't ever want her to go away again. It was as if her mouth had suddenly held all the oxygen that kept him alive. Undoing the clip of her bra, Noah gently pulled the straps down and she let it fall, revealing herself to him. He sucked in a slight breath, licking his lips instantly. "I have such a fucking weakness for you, Y/N," Noah confessed, carefully pushing her down on the bed and laying her back. "I have since the moment I saw your face on that video call. I was drawn to you, for reasons I didn't understand." He latched his fingers around the waistband of her leggings and pulled them off, leaving her only in her white cotton panties, which he quickly took off and shoved into the pocket of his joggers. "For safekeeping," he winked at her, making her giggle.

Looking down, Noah stared at the naked body before him on full display. Y/N was beyond beautiful. She was a perfect work of art, something to be worshiped and adored. Lowering his face, Noah trailed slow kisses over her stomach, feeling how it dipped from the way his lips tickled her, making him smile against her skin. Y/N ran her hands through his hair, moaning from the feeling of it running through her fingers as Noah placed kisses all over the front of her body.

From her stomach to her breasts, Noah went slow and steady tasting every single part of her. Wrapping an arm around her waist he arched her back and rolled her hardened nipple with his tongue making the noises coming out of her sound so intoxicatingly sinful. He was obsessed with her, and every touch, every sound made Noah feel more unhinged. He sucked her breast into his mouth as much as he could, nipping at her silky skin while flicking her nipple with his tongue over and over. Pulling back, Y/N cried out in protest of his absence, making him chuckle darkly. Standing to his feet, Noah slipped off his joggers and boxers at the same time, freeing his hard erection. The sight made Y/N shiver with absolute lust, and she couldn't wait to have him between her legs. "Spread your legs for me, Princess, and do as I say, alright," he whispered in her ear. Y/N obeyed, releasing a loud, content sigh over feeling him between her thighs.

"I want you in the worst way, Y/N," Noah confessed, rutting himself lightly against her soaked, throbbing core. She was already a panting mess, ready for whatever happened next. "Your taste, your scent, and I want the feeling of your skin next to mine. I want it all tonight," he whispered, staring her straight in the eye. Y/N swallowed, placing her hand on Noah's cheek. "Then take me, Noah. I'm all yours."

Without another word spoken, he reached down and guided the tip of his hard cock to her entrance and eagerly began taking her at his pleasure. Noah felt like heaven inside her. The sound of her first escaped moan as her body took him in and he spread her open wide was the best music to fuel his passion. He shivered when her nails dug into his back and his head fell into the crook of her neck as he began to pump hard and fast into her tight, wet core. The sheer ecstasy of it all threatened to tear them both apart and shatter them into a thousand pieces.

Noah grabbed Y/N's hips with purpose, aligning himself perfectly so that he could thrust hard and completely down to the very base of all he had to give her. She moaned for him, wrapping her legs tight around him and squeezing with all her might. No longer caring who could hear, Y/N cried out his name, biting his shoulder and pulling him in close to suck the warm, wet skin of his neck, Noah's own breathy moan seemed to accompany her sounds perfectly as his cock filled her entirely and hit the soft spongy spot of her cervix. Nothing could make him weaker than the feeling of her clinging to him and moaning "harder" in his ear as he bottomed out inside her, trying his best to cling to sanity.

"Oh god, you feel so good. Fuck," Noah groaned breathlessly, as he felt her writhe beneath him. "I'm a fucking mess for you, Y/N," he confessed, pounding into her a little harder and clamping his large hand around her thigh, pulling it up higher to get a better angle. She pulled his face into hers, latching her lips to his and feverishly kissing him while tugging on his hair collected between her fingers. "Fuck!" Noah growled," thrusting harder.

"Noah, I'm close," she whimpered. "I know, I can feel you. Goddamn, you're so tight, baby," he groaned. The pad of his middle finger rubbed circles along her clit, pressing down a little harder and making her squirm in delight. The way her back arched off the mattress mixed with her wetness gathering on his fingers, Noah knew she didn't have much longer. His hand took her leg and hiked it up higher against his side so that he could thrust even deeper down within her. The screams of her pleasure, echoing off the walls of the hotel room were pornographic,

"Noah," she cried, running her nails down his back, making him seethe in pain and pleasure. "That's it, cum for me, baby," Noah ordered, moaning as his head fell into her neck once again. Y/N's hands moved up his chest and around his neck and he made a sound deep in his throat that thrilled and frightened her to the point that her trembling walls shattered around his cock and she came as the hot rush of blood pulsed through her veins. Every muscle in her body tightened around Noah as he guided her through her orgasm until he felt himself tightening. He thrusted into her once, twice then pulled out and groaned deeply, spilling his warm release over her stomach

Spent, Noah's head fell against hers, his sweat mixing with her dampness, and he kissed her, long, hard, and still full of so much need. He rolled over and got up, heading for the bathroom Y/N laid there, panting, dazed over what just happened. Never in her life had she experienced sex like that before and now that she had, she only craved it more, but only if it was with Noah. He came back to bed carrying a warm and dry cloth, carefully cleaning up his mess. She watched him through sleepy eyes, sweetly caring for her until she was clean.

Noah tossed the towels to the floor and pulled back the blankets, climbing beneath them, still fully naked. Y/N narrowed her eyes at him as if to question if he was sure and he held up the blanket, motioning for her to come close. She was sleepy so she crawled over to him and snuggled deep under the blanket that Noah tossed over her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into him so that her back was pressed tightly against his chest." You have no idea how much I like you," Noah confessed quietly to her in the dark. "How much you make me smile and how much I love talking to you." Y/N smiled to herself, squeezing his arm in approval. "Yes, I do," she replied. Noah was quiet for a moment. "Then you know how much I wish you were mine." She took a breath and sighed, and because she felt so warm and safe, Y/N closed her eyes. "You have me, Noah. Until the very last star in the galaxy dies, I'm yours."

[thatchickwiththecamera]

What Do You Want From Me?

Synopsis: The European leg of the Concrete Forever tour marks one year since Tyler Garrett joined the Bad Omens media team. A lot can change over the course of a year. New experiences, new friendships, and new discoveries emerge.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x OC

Cross-posted on AO3 (thatchickwiththecamera)

MASTERLIST

Based on an idea I got from seeing this video.

Tag List: @sundamariis, @fastjelly-fish, @lilylovesdew, @narcissisticbehavior81

Tonight was night five of the European leg of the 2024 Concrete Forever tour and the end of January had marked one year since I had first joined the Bad Omens media crew. With the band's increase in popularity Bryan, the band's photographer and media director, decided it was time to expand the team going into Shiprocked so he could focus more carefully on planning and curating the media content produced and published for the band. 

So Bryan reached out to a friend in the music industry and asked if they knew of any photographers/videographers with a solid portfolio who were looking for a more permanent media production gig. That friend connected him to me and as they say, the rest is history. 

“Tyler! Did you finish up the edits for tonight's social post?” Bryan’s voice carried from the front of the crew bus to the back lounge where I sat backing up files to my external harddrive. 

“Yeah! They’re already in the dropbox!” I responded before ejecting my drive from my macbook and throwing them both back onto my bunk. 

I clipped my crew credentials with “CONCRETE FOREVER TOUR” and “TYLER GARRETT - MEDIA CREW” printed across the top and bottom through the belt loop of my jeans and slipped on my crew sweatshirt before walking toward the front of the bus. Bryan and Alana were standing over the main table and counter area double checking the batteries and the assortment of cameras we would be mounting in various parts of the stage for tonight's show along with our individual gear that would be on our person and laid out backstage for us to use throughout the show. 

The air once we stepped into the venue was buzzing with energy. I don’t know what it was about this leg of the tour, but it was like a switch was flipped. Ever since the first date in January opening for Bring Me The Horizon back in Cardiff there was this high that enveloped the entire group and it looked like no one would be coming down anytime soon. 

This energy was especially present in the band's lead singer, Noah. The usually stoic and serious persona he portrayed on stage was now replaced with one that roamed around the various levels of the stage doing jumping jacks, pushups, dances, and little vocal trills. 

After the first two shows, his antics even caused Poppy, our opener for this part of the tour, to completely abandon portraying her A.I. character like was originally planned for their performances of V.A.N.  Instead, she joined in Noah’s antics and even introduced the world to this little handshake that they had originally created during rehearsals leading up to the tour. 

Life in between gigs had been lively as well since the start of the new year. After each show when everything was packed up and the load outs were completed, the band and crew for both Bad Omens and BMTH would venture to one of the local pubs and celebrate with a few beers and carbonated beverages before loading up on the buses and venturing off to the next city. 

Until joining the Bad Omens crew, I would usually keep to myself in between shows while touring - choosing to prioritize edits, catalog files, and update my individual socials when not trying to finish a book on my Kindle or finish a show on a random streaming service. 

The first few months of touring after Shiprocked changed all of that and a few of the crew and band made it their mission to pull me out of the confines of my comfort zone and my regular routine. Over the course of the past year, Bryan has pushed me to learn and develop my photo and video skills far past where I ever thought they would go. Matt started teaching me front of the house controls, he now hounds me with daily racoon memes, and I in turn buy him random Dr. Pepper merch. Steven taught me all about the finer side of wristwatches, NBA basketball, and the intricacies of running merch. Alana quickly became one of my best friends and has balanced her assistant tour manager duties well alongside keeping me sane as the only other female member of the media team and crew. 

Folio decided that I absolutely had to learn how to fish when one of our venues had a lake nearby, even making me kiss the smallmouth bass that I caught before he threw it back in citing that it was tradition with your first fish. He also dared me to smoke my first joint, which caused me to hack up a lung because I somehow inhaled wrong. Nicholas helped me design a few tattoo ideas before inking my forearm and starting what will eventually become a full sleeve up my right arm. Jolly taught me a bunch of guitar riffs and how to cuss in Swedish (which I do entirely too often now), and Noah surprised me with the hidden talent of being a pool shark and we ended up becoming quick friends to the point where he is now my partner in crime hustling people out of their money when the crew goes out to bars. I also learned that while he hates it when people try to scare and prank him, he loves to scare and prank others. 

Which is why, as expected, throughout three out of the first four shows of the European leg, Noah made it his mission to try and scare me at least once per show mainly during the song transitions when I would try to quickly get from one side of the stage to the next during the blackouts. In Berlin, it was during the transition after “Nowhere to Go” when I was coming down from the second level of the stage after retrieving the camera that was filming Folio play. Luckily I had handed the camera and its tripod down to Alana behind the platform before descending the steps in time for Noah to jump out at the bottom already wearing his ski mask for V.A.N. 

I jumped, skipping a step on the way down, and felt a set of arms grab me and hold me back up before I could fall too far forward. I remember yelling ‘fucking hell’ in swedish and looking up to see Noah with a shit eating grin peaking through the mask and hearing Jolly laugh at my use of the words. I grabbed his mask and yanked on it so it was crooked on his face before I ran behind the platform to the other side of the stage where I had left my camera gear. I heard him let out a laugh and a few cuss words of his own as he struggled to fix the mask and climb the steps up to his spot on the platform before Poppy started singing. 

Night one in Cologne, I was mainly in the photo pit for the majority of the show, while Bryan and Alana were the ones roaming the stage. I kept a gear bag tucked behind one of the few big boxes we had on either side of the stage. In it, I had my spare batteries, my water bottle, and the 360 camera on an extension pole. The plan for this show was to focus on crowd shots and footage along with regular low-angle stage shots. While I got amazing shots of the guys performing and some hilarious shots of a fan crowd surfing in an inflatable shark suit. Noah lost any possible opportunity offered for pranking during the show. 

On night two in Cologne, he made up for the missed opportunity. During the transition between “Artifical Suicide” and “Like A Villan,” I quickly ran to the media team roadcase set up behind the guitar stage case and tech area to get a quick drink of water and change out a lens. As I was kneeling down in front of the case and had just finished switching the lenses, I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders. Luckily all the equipment was out of my hands because the sudden motion made me jump and fall back on my heels, causing me to bump into something, well someone, behind me. I let out a string of curse words, this time in English, and tilted my head back to see Noah, now without his mask, trying to hold back a laugh as he smiled down at me. I let out an annoyed sign and rolled my eyes. He gave my shoulder a squeeze before disappearing back out onto the stage right as the song began. 

In Munich, he chose the “Miracle” break as his time to strike. Only this time he stepped up his game. While I was switching out gear and changing my settings from photo to video, I set everything on a storage case under the second level platform and stood up to stretch a bit since this break was the more lengthy of the two. After I finished trying rid my shoulders of the tension that had built up from holding a camera in front of my face for a hour, I felt an arm wrap across the front of my collarbones and pulled me back into them while the person's other hand took one of the band's athletic water bottles and sprayed it down the rear collar of my crew hoodie. I squirmed and let out a loud gasp as the shock of the icey cold water briefly hit the back of my neck before I managed to wriggle away. I turned and as expected was greeted by a sweaty Noah smiling down at me trying to hold back laughter. 

“You little shit!” I shouted before quickly grabbing the water bottle from his hand and pointed it at him spraying him with the same icy cold water. 

He started swatting at the spray, laughing as his long thin fingers did nothing to block the liquid. He reached out and grabbed my wrist and I quickly tried to switch the bottle to my other hand but he was too quick, capturing that wrist as well before I could aim the bottle at his face again. I laughed and tried to pull away but he pulled me toward him and pinned my wrists against his chest trying to render the “weapon” he introduced inoperable. 

The laughter between us suddenly died off. The height difference between my 5’1” and his 6’3'' became very clear and his chin practically touched his chest as he gazed down at me. We stood there for what felt like an eternity, brown eyes connected with blue. He loosened his grip on my wrists slightly but neither of us made any attempt to move.  

The arena suddenly felt very warm and I don’t think I could blame it on the array pyrotechnics used during the show. I don’t know what to call this sudden shift in the air between us, but all I know is it caused something to flutter in my stomach and that scared the hell out of me. So I did the first thing I could think of, I diffused an intense moment with humor. I squeezed the water bottle that was still in my hand and the last remnants of water from the bottle hit Noah’s chin and neck. The shock of the cold liquid caused him to step back and release my wrists. I immediately missed the contact, but I needed to get away from this situation. 

“Shit that really is cold!” He laughed, turning to grab one of the black towels we had on hand backstage and started to dry off the water. 

When he turned to offer me the towel I had already retrieved my camera and fled to the other side of the stage wondering what the fuck had just happened. 

During the day off between Munich and Zurich, I kept myself busy editing, organizing, and uploading photo content to the media team drive and to my own socials. I had gained a considerable amount of followers since joining the Bad Omens team and while I enjoyed seeing the reaction and appreciation the guys' fans had when I posted new content, I was also starting to see some of the reasons why the guys like to take social media breaks as often as they do. 

Editing was one of my favorite parts of being a photographer and with us starting this European leg off with four back-to-back shows, I hadn’t had time to pause and really work my magic. So that is what I designated as my mission for this day off. I also may have used it as an excuse to avoid leaving the crew bus and chance any more contact with Noah. I was still trying to figure out if that flutter in my stomach was real or if it was just part of the adrenaline from a high energy concert and my body being attacked with ice cold water. 

Tonight, we were in Zurich and I was running around the stage at various times throughout the set while Bryan was down in the photo pit trying out some new ideas he had photos wise and finally having his turn with the 360 camera during a show.

During “What do you want from me?” I was standing in the wings to stage left filming Noah when he suddenly walked over to me in the middle of the second verse, grabbed my left wrist from where it held the side of my camera and pulled me out onto the stage. I keep filming as he releases my wrist and quickly slips his hand in mine while he continues to walk backward onto the stage. Once we were in the middle of the stage he started to spin in a circle with our connected hands extended in the middle. We spun around a few times before he started to jump while we were spinning causing his hair to bounce up and down on his head which I shakily captured on camera. The randomness of it all led to fits of laughter and caused Noah to mess up the last two lines of the verse. 

As the verse came to an end I expected him to let go and yell, “JUMP JUMP” like he usually does during the brief blackout. Instead, as the light goes out, I am yanked forward and feel a hand and the cool metal of a microphone against the side of my face, and a set of lips briefly collide with mine. I barely had time to process what happened before it ended, the lips were gone, the lights came back up, and Noah jumped onto the riser at the front of the stage to sing the rest of the song. I still held my camera up and panned to follow him trying to hide any reaction my face might show behind a veil of concentration. 

For the remainder of the show, I tried to avoid making any and all eye contact with Noah, who in turn tried his damndest to get me to look at him and gauge my reaction to what he did. He did it in a way that wasn’t too noticeable to the crowd by acting like he's playing up to the camera. My brain tried to process what had happened and what the hell it possibly meant over the course of the remaining ten songs in the set. 

Noah kissed me. 

On stage. 

In the middle of a show. 

Did one of the guys see? 

Oh Shit! Did anyone in the audience see?

The usual jump scare from the previous shows never came and my self-sabotaging brain was trying to solve the question of what everything meant. Kissing me to see my reaction instead of scaring me like usual? Was this real or was it just another prank?

__

Author’s Note: Let me know what y’all think!

[hongjoongsslvt]

ITS YOU -CHOI SAN (MDNI)

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Click here for Part-2(Smut)

WC: 1.6k

Pairing: Roommate San X Roommate Reader Genre:University AU, childhood close friemds to lovers, Common best friends, Wooyoung and Yeosang, Reader is taller than San

Warnings: fem! Bodied reader, mild cursing, suggestive, reader is referred as kitten, MDNI

That's all i can think about ≽^•༚•^≼

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I have everything I wanted, university's top student in academics, enviously good at both physical and E-sports, basically you name it and I am either too good at it to be called a beginner or I have already learnt about it in my life more than anything I had my childhood best friend and rival who is equally good at stuff.

For as long as I can remember, San and I have been together. We went to the same middle school, high school, and university, so it made sense for us to move into the apartment together. But I had a big problem because of this rooming together.

I've had a major crush on Choi San for a long time. I've had it since we first met, but I made the decision to keep it a secret and carry it into death out of concern that if I ever made a move on him, I would lose our friendship.

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

"Ayo Mate! Hurry up! I'm eager to test out this new mouse and write a review". In our shared game room, I yell while reclined in my comfortable gaming chair.

We have saved up enough money to furnish a comfortable apartment with the newest gaming equipment thanks to our accomplishments in hackathons, martial arts competitions, and streaming.

"Dude-c'mere and help me get this!" He seemed to be shouting, but it was barely audible. I moved out of the room to assist him with whatever it was, and as I did, I noticed that the man was in the storage room. He was wearing gray satin pajamas with the top two buttons undone, exposing his muscular pecs, a face mask, and a head band on. He was also tiptoeing to get his new keyboard, which was high on the shelf. "So adorable," I thought.

He jolted forward as I inadvertently brushed my breasts against him as I walked behind him and tiptoed to grab the keyboard. For a brief minute, I swear it felt amazing not having to wear a bra because the dark-colored, slightly baggy pajamas I was wearing nicely covered up my breasts. However, I chose to act like nothing had occurred.

"Having a Giantess in the dungeon is mad handy!" He patted my shoulder in appreciation and said, "Let's review your mouse and keyboard before he leaves the room like a cat jumping."

Yes, I am taller than my crush, but it doesn't really worry me because my 180 cm height got me hired as a model for several local magazines, which helped me be paid for new electronics and gaming accessories. However, I doubt San, who prides himself on being powerful, domineering, and manly, will ever consider dating a woman who is taller than him.

I sighed as I entered the room and saw two familiar faces: Kang Yeosang and Jung Wooyoung, our lads next door. The first had jet black hair, a gorgeous birthmark at the corner of his eye, and a deep, honey voice. The other had brilliant red hair and laughed like a witch.

"Wasssap Female Titan!" Wooyoung said as he got off my gaming chair to dab me up while yeosang nodded and gave me a fist bump and wacked the red haired boy. At the start of the year, the four of us really clicked because they were both excellent game designers. We are currently working together to design and build an independent game.

As I posted the schedule for the weekend in our group chat, I added, "Let's hit the library and the gym after the stream ends." We all four gathered together and began to stream information on products and collaborations, with Wooyoung constantly dropping spoilers and Yeosang and San, as always, delighting viewers with their distinct brand of deadpan humor. and San's sporadic, for reasons I'm not interested in knowing, staring.

By the time we finished streaming, it was close to 5 o'clock, and Wooyoung and Yeosang had to leave me and San alone since they had to pass our study session at the library and attend a significant lecture. It was expected since they both frequently went to seminars to get ideas for their game designs.

As I go into my own room to change and get ready for the night, I playfully tell him, "You better choose your outfit quickly before I barge in and break your kneecaps." We unintentionally became identical in black tank tops and sweatpants, but it didn't bother either of us. Even though I was dressed the same, I felt quite different. His large biceps, slim waist, and broad shoulders were all well-represented by the attire.

I got the other person to laugh as I flexed my biceps, triceps, and lats in front of a mirror, saying, "Oh boy, look at my guns and wings," hoping to release some of the tension building up inside of me. I had the perfect amount of muscle and curves to my body, luckily.

"Bet" he said, flexing his muscles and standing directly in front of me. God, he looks so ethereal and Greek god coded that I've temporarily lost my ability to process things. The doorbell ringing was one of them. San moved back to confront the person at the door, forgetting that I was right behind him. I again felt him brush against my breasts accidently, jerking and acting as if he hadn't touched before continuing.

We have done whatever we had planned for the day, without much convos outside the work, and without knowing a week has already passed already, with the tormenting "accidental" brushing against my breasts and ass, cooking food, cleaning room, doing laundry and other chores despite it being my turn to do. All these felt as if he had some hidden intentions behind them, but i decided to play it dumb till he comes out clear.

I made the decision this Sunday to give Wooyoung a call and tell him about my predicament making it the perfect time as Yeosang had piano lessons to attend and San was preoccupied with grocery shopping.

"HE'S 100% INTO YOU TITAN, TRUST ME" Wooyoung screams making me instantly whack his head.

"What was that for?" Wooyoung snarled and rubbed his head as I struck him. "Do you really suppose San rubs against every girl's ass and tits, remaining courteous and refusing to accept confessions?"-" I could almost see his wolfy, naughty smirk as he was ready to continue when his phone went off. wondering why he did this.

"Titan! Do you have anything sexy to wear? I realize I sound strange but trust me eh?" His hands are already enthusiastically going through my clothes in the closet mid way of the question.

"I don't think I do?" I said "Mate, why all of a sudden?"

He was too preoccupied digging through my closet to respond. A few minutes later, his witchy chuckle took me completely by surprise.

"BITCH- YOU NEVER TOLD YOU OWNED A BUNNY COSTUME?" he screamed, making me go deaf almost.

"It's not that I'm insecure about my height; it's just that I've never tried stuff like that," I remarked, leaning onto the door. "I got that as a gift from a stupid friend of mine," I said.

"let me cook" He said.

After what seemed like an eternity, he made me wear a costume of a bunny, but with cat ears in place of the bunny ears. He also lightly styled my hair, applied smeared lipstick, and made me wear Yeosang's fishnet tights. Upon seeing my progress, Wooyoung seemed happy and led me into the living room, where the lights were dimmed a bit.

"Damn! dude, i thought you were flatboard-" Wooyoung was about to start talking when an obviously irate San stormed into the home, dropped groceries at the door, and came right toward us. I swear, in my twenty years of living, I have never seen San look so upset.

"Too bad, Mate!, too late" Wooyoung said as he gave San's shoulder a pat before leaving the our house.

"San-"

"Is it true that you are sending semi nudes to mr.Lee?" He inquired, obviously furious

I was so perplexed for a moment that I just stood there.

"Yeosang said that Wooyoung was helping you take pics"

Now that it was all coming together, it was clear to me why they were rushing to a lecture on Sunday in the first place—they never go to seminars on Sundays!

"I love you, It have always been you and only you,I loved you since the moment we met in the school"San said in a voice that seemed shattered."Why Mr.Lee? is it because he is taller and much more appealing than me, because he is caring and kind?, I swear atleast I never thought height was a thing to be considered to love a person"

My mind went blank listening to those words, is it for real? or am i tweaking? this must definitely be a dream, there's no way San loves me, but soon i was brought back to reality from my thoughts by the sudden hug.

"Dude, that's why you were fucking brushing against my breasts and ass the entire past week, coz you thought imma date Mr.Lee?" I questioned him "Bitch, no shit my nips were crazy sensitive"

He replied, his tone falling several octaves as he crept nearer and eye-fucked me till I hit the wall. "It's your fault for being irresistibly cute and sexy." He grabbed my neck, held me to the wall, and bent me slightly so he could plant a kiss.

"Kitten you are merely 4 to 5 cm taller, that doesn't mean that i can't lift you up, bend you over and fuck you senseless"

Oh boy, I hope i will make it out alive by tomorrow morning.

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let me know if you want part two(Smut)~ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Re blogs are appreciated

DO NOT REPOST OR PLAGIARISE

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[eggluverz]

halloween with the hsr boys

pairing: dan heng; jing yuan; blade x reader

sof's note: guess who is in a halloweeny mood :> meee! and i'm sure a lot of y'all are as well so let's bask in these autumn vibes together LOL special shoutout to the anon who suggested dan heng would watch like 15 vids before he carves a pumpkin fhsjkghdf that is so accurate <3 pls enjoy and happy fall!!

dan heng

not big on the spooky parts of halloween, but he loves getting in the halloween/autumn spirit by watching twitches and halloween town with you

you host a pumpkin carving contest on halloween eve between the two of you and dan heng 100% takes it seriously

days of prep before the big night, hours of youtube videos in his history… he even reads up on the origins of pumpkin carving—just to be fully immersed and prepared

when the time comes, dan heng has his tools lined up in the most efficient order as he readies himself to make his design

he, of course, wanted to carve a tree with maple leaves falling in the night sky

you stare at his template with wide eyes, quickly scrapping your happy face idea to think of something more creative…

noticing this, dan heng chuckles in amusement. “you don’t have to change your design to match mine”

you shake your head. “and risk losing the competition? no way”

“then may the best carver win”

when the two of you are done, you take a photo and send to your friends to vote

it was a close call, but dan heng ends up winning by two votes

“maybe i should’ve joined your pumpkin carving research…” you pout, staring between your finished product and his

“there’s always next year,” dan heng soothes, giving you a hug. “besides, you’re always the winner in my eyes.”

jing yuan

he would make all the pies for you

pumpkin pie, pecan pie, apple pie, sweet potato pie, apple crumble pie…you name it 

he doesn’t even know how to make pie he just googled a bunch of recipes and winged it

you think something tastes off but you try to encourage him anyway 

of course, jing yuan sees right through it

“it‘s not that i don’t like your baking, i really do, but i may have some suggestions for the future…”

“there is no need to sugarcoat your distaste, y/n,” he says with a laugh. “we can redo them together.”

the pies turn out even better the next time

the two of you end up picking up pie making as your fall-time hobby this year and bake pie for all your friends

he tries to make a mimi-safe pie as well

mimi hates it (pumpkin spice is not good on the lion’s tongue) 

but you think the effort is cute :> 

he ends halloween night off by sharing a yummy slice of apple crumble pie with whipped cream on top with you

“so sweet!” you state happily as he feeds you the first bite. 

jing yuan leans forward and smiles. “not as sweet as you” 

blade

goes all in for halloween

is dead instead most of the year, comes to life for the halloween spirit

he likes to decorate the house with you, even making a mini “haunted maze” in the driveway for the trick-or-treaters

accidentally makes a kid cry in it…

really, he just went in the maze to do a quick maintenance check, but he looked so menacing in his costume that a kid saw him and started crying 

blade is too confused about what happened to feel bad 

you give the kid extra candy and apologize to their parents while stifling a laugh at blade’s blank expression

“i didn’t even say ‘boo’,” he murmurs curiously.

you just pat him on the head and give him a kiss on the cheek

after the trick-or-treat shenanigans, you and blade relax and unwind on the comfort of your couch

his definition of unwinding on halloween is watching old horror movies

[or, if you cannot handle horror like me: he watches the barbie movies with you to help you take your mind off the halloween scares and go to sleep :3]

you cuddle him as you doze off while eating leftover halloween candy 

blade carries you to bed and tucks you in for the night bc you deserve a good night’s rest <3

[atlasofthestaars]

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .016

first part | previous part | next part

NOTE:

Not much to say here but, I hope you guys enjoy this one! Still trying to get back in the groove of updating quicker, but with college life comes more responsibilities I'm afraid haha. I think in this chapter there will be something some of you guys have been waiting for a while now :)!

FROM THE EYES OF SOMEONE WHO DOES SOMETHING A LITTLE DIFFERENT

“You don’t have to do this with me.”

“I don’t mind.” You replied, not even bothering to look up from the recount of events you were writing. You felt Sonya Blade’s gaze bore into you. From how intense it felt, you understood why she was so respected in her field. If she had magic powers, you would have guessed she would have had magic beams that shoot from her eyes. 

Even without looking at her, you could tell she had a concerned look on her face. One that you’ve experienced plenty of times lately, not just from her either. While touched, you were feeling horrible lately about it all. “I’d have to do this eventually, I expect, plus I would feel awful leaving you to do this alone.”

It was the day after the showdown with Shao Khan. Well, to say the day after was rather misleading. It was just barely midnight, the new day having just barely rolled in. And here you were, sitting in a Special Forces office with your friend, Sonya Blade, writing up a report of events that had gone down the day of the whole affair.

You hadn’t eaten, slept, or even bathed. You still wore the tattered clothes, all scratched and messy from being tossed around. Dried blood still stuck to you like glue. But that was by choice. You didn’t want to spend a moment too long by yourself to let your thoughts creep in about what happened in the last twenty four hours. You suppressed a shiver at the idea.

If you were going to be forced to think about it, you’d rather do it doing something productive, and not by yourself.

You didn’t want to even think about what would happen if you let whatever happened truly soak in.

“You sure you don’t want to go back with Raiden?” Sonya inquired, her words carrying a sense of caution. It was odd to hear from the usually bold and blunt woman, but it was charming to hear her be empathetic towards you. You set down your pen, setting it aside. You had a feeling this would be a talking break.

“No, I can contact Lord Raiden myself whenever we’re done here.” You said, lifting your gaze to meet her eyes. The concerned look you had imagined to be on her face felt like an understatement now. The usually guarded, professional woman felt like an open book. Or maybe, you’ve gotten better at reading her after the couple of years you’ve gotten to know her for.

You weren’t ready to face Raiden yet. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of facing the thunder god made your stomach churn. You felt guilt at just the thought of having to look at him. So many people had died, many people you might have been able to save if you had just stayed behind. 

“You should really rest.” The blonde urged, her eyes scanning you. You held back a small pitiful laugh. The woman in front of you was a workaholic, it was strange to hear her tell you that. And yet, from the way she looked at you, you could tell you looked like an utter wreck. Your fingers brushed your cheek, and you wondered silently just whose blood was on your fingertips.

“I wish I could, Lieutenant.” You replied. You just noticed how exhausted your voice sounded. It was like you had dragged yourself out of the darkest pits of the netherrealm, which probably wasn’t too far off. Your fingers drummed on the wood of the desk, trying to fill the silence of the room. Your eyes looked around before you settled them back onto Sonya. “Can I just be honest for a moment?”

“Anytime.” She reassured you. You saw her straighten out her back, making her perfect posture just that more pristine. Your eyes seemed to drill into your own, as if she was trying to reach into your soul. You couldn’t imagine how intimidating she’d look if she were to be interrogating someone. 

“I don’t think I can rest until I know that our friends are avenged.” You admitted. Even with your admission, the weight on your shoulders didn’t lighten. If anything, it felt like it got a bit heavier, as if the weight of your ambitions had finally settled in. Sonya nodded, though the concerned look on her face did not change. “I don’t know how, but I know there’s some way to honor their deaths.”

“That sounds honorable, and I completely understand.” Sonya began, her words slow and deliberate. You knew from the way she spoke, she completely understood. She never talked about it too much, but she had alluded before to you that she had been tracking down some asshole because her partner had died. You looked at her, and you saw her hesitate. “You shouldn’t let your life be dictated by something like that though.”

Even as she said it, you knew she felt awful for being a hypocrite. 

“I know you speak from a place of kindness and experience, Sonya.” You said. You leaned forward, resting your weight on your forearms. “But I don’t know if I can heed your words.” A sigh left your lips, and you felt your shoulders slump forward. Exhaustion was clawing at you, threatening to drag you down. “I have to at least avenge Kung Lao and Liu Kang. I know Shao Khan’s dead, but I would feel so useless if I couldn’t avenge both of their deaths.”

“You think Shao Khan killed Liu Kang?” Sonya inquired. You saw her eyes widen slightly, and she shifted a bit in her own seat. You lifted an eyebrow, uncertain why she would ask that sort of thing. You nodded solemnly. 

“Of course he did, who else would? I’m certain you saw it too. You and Johnny both arrived on the rooftop before me.” You reminded her. “When I got there, he was dead already” You felt yourself tremble, the guilt within yourself threatening to spew out of you. “By the gods, if I had been a little faster, maybe, just maybe I would have been able to save him.”

You knew you weren’t just talking about Liu Kang.

“Hey.” The lieutenant spoke up, snapping you out of it before you could possibly spiral. Her eyes scanned you again, a torn expression on her face. She then stared deeply into your eyes. Her mouth opened, then she hesitated. Whatever she was about to say, you could never guess as she then proceeded to cringe before she got the words out. “Did…did you talk to Raiden about any of this?”

“No.” You admitted. And you weren’t planning to. You knew the god would disapprove of your plan, and you weren’t letting him change your mind. While you knew Liu Kang held some resentment towards the thunder god before he died, you didn’t. But you did feel like, perhaps, some decisions that you could make would be best without his influence. “I’m not going to tell him either.”

“I see.” Sonya said, her tone now awkward. There was a tension in the room, one that you couldn’t quite identify the reason behind. You looked back down at the report, trying to distract yourself amidst the silence that lingered in the air. “Hey, how about we just finish these reports up then head to bed, how does that sound?”

“I…” You began. The thought of going to bed, all alone with the memories of what had just happened, nearly sent a shiver down your back. You couldn’t suppress the goosebumps that covered your skin. But still, you couldn’t deny the fact that sleep did sound pleasing. You weren’t certain if you could stay awake for much longer. “I think that sounds fine.”

“Good, let’s wrap it up, I think we both need the rest.” Sonya nodded. She picked up her pen with a bit of renewed vigor. Then she paused and looked at you. “And hey,” She said your name, “if you ever need to talk about all this with someone, I’m here for you, okay?”

For what felt like the first time in forever, you smiled.

“Okay.”

Waking up this time was not dramatic like before, but it was not quite calm either.

Your eyes slowly opened, as if you were trapped within honey. You lifted a hand over your chest, your fingertips touching where your heart lay. It ached dully, as if remembering the memory along with you and was reminded of the pain of losing those you once cared for. All that left your lips for a moment was a forlorn sigh.

Your mind lingered on the blonde that had been so prominent in your last memory. Sonya Blade. This was the first time she had been prominent in your visions. She was not a foreign person to you, you remembered her as the ex wife…or wife, you weren’t quite sure. Not to mention, she had appeared at the tournament as well as the rooftop confrontation.

You rolled over to the side of the bed, staring at the ground. She was one of the few you had remembered but seemed not to be present in this world you now lived in. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall other people you haven’t seen yet, assuming they even existed. 

Nightwolf, Jackson Briggs, Fujin…several other names drifted in and out of your head.

Why have you not met them? This question buried itself in the back of your mind. It was always a question you’ve asked yourself. Some of the names you’ve had these questions about you’ve met, but it was odd these people who seemed to become more and more dominant in your memories seemed to be missing.

Was there a reason for that? Did these people even exist at all? Or were they replaced or missing, just like…

You felt your chest ache again without even finishing your thought. You pressed your hand to it, as if it would help soothe the pain. All it did though was allow you to feel the slow rhythmic thuds of your heart. You were still alive and kicking, that was for certain.

“No use lingering on it.” You muttered to yourself. It didn’t sound confident. Instead, it sounded almost defeated. Still, you took in stride and forced yourself out of bed. You didn’t have the time to think about all that and go through the heart ache. You took pause for a moment, your body recognizing the irony of the situation before your brain did.

You sounded just like your past self.

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. Some things never change, do they? You fought back the sinking feeling in your stomach and continued on with your morning routine. Like you said, it was best not to think about it, even despite what your gut told you.

By the time you walked outside your door, you heard the familiar sound of heels. You looked up to see the confident stride of Kitana. Her posture was even more pristine than usual.  Yet there was something off. You glanced at her face, and for a moment you saw an undertone of guilt on her face even with her head held high. The moment her eyes locked with yours, that guilt was hidden away as if it were not there in the first place.

“Good morning.” The princess greeted, the professional looking smile placed on her lips. You felt your eyebrows furrow, and for a moment you considered asking what was wrong. Then, in the next you reconsidered. Not only were you barely acquaintances, she was royalty. Any words close to asking her of her troubles died on your tongue. 

“Good morning.” You returned her greeting, wiping away your concern. Her eyes scanned your face, and for a moment, you wondered if she was going to question the look on your face. But instead she simply nodded and walked towards you, waiting patiently for you to join her side. “Today we are watching the match in the Hanging Gardens, correct?” 

“Indeed.” She confirmed, glancing at you. 

“Oh, your sister, Princess Mileena is fighting today.” You said aloud, eyes widening. A small smile spread on your face, wondering how it would be like to see the princess in action. You glanced over, and caught the sight of Kitana’s eyes widened a bit. Her smile turned a bit strained, much to your confusion. She hesitantly nodded.

“Yes she is.” She told you. Yet there was a tone to her voice that made your eyebrows raise. It was barely perceptible, the way her voice hesitated. But still, from your memories, you caught onto the subtleties within her voice. Maybe you were closer to her in your past life than you thought. Either way, it was not the same here so you could not ask. But there was definitely something off with how short her responses were.

“I’ll enjoy watching the fight, I cannot say I’ve ever seen royalty fight before. In Earthrealm, there isn’t much royalty left there, and if there is, not many, if at all, fight like Outworlders do.” You informed the princess. She nodded, seeming vaguely aware of that fact already. “Do you fight and spar often with others?”

“We spar and train often.” Kitana replied, her shoulders rolling back slight to make her perfect posture impossibly more pristine. “As for actually fighting, we only do so when necessary.” You supposed that made sense, after all, why would one need to fight unless necessary? Then again, she could always be lying to save face. After all, why would a princess disclose her empire in a state of distress?

Then again, Outworld wasn’t always subtle about its fighting habits before, maybe it was the same here. You remembered the state that the Outworld you once knew was in. It was…odd to think this world held the same name as the more bloodier version of it. Then again, from what you recalled, this world seemed more similar to Edenia.

What did happen to Edenia anyways in this world? You weren’t certain if that was taboo to ask. After all, in the past world, it had been conquered and merged. Would asking it be rude? You glanced over to the princess, noting her attitude. She seemed to be in her head about something, even if she was doing well at attempting to conceal it. You supposed it would be for the best to not ask right now.

Maybe you could ask Liu Kang about it.

“Do you and your sister spar often?” You asked, keeping up with your questions to show interest and civility. Kitana pursed her lips, pondering over your question for a bit. After a moment, she nodded. 

“We do, occasionally.” The princess replied. There was another pause, considering her words carefully once more. You didn’t try and question it much. Perhaps she was simply erring on the side of caution. You were a friend of Raiden’s. Maybe she thought you were trying to get more information on her sister to give Raiden some last minute tips. “We tend to spar more with the Umgadi more than anything.”

”I was not aware that they sparred with you on top of protecting the royal palace.” You said, glancing over to an Umgadi guard that was further down the hall. Upon reflection, the Umgadi reminded you a bit of the Lin Kuei, but only in the vaguest sense. Still, it was nice to make a mental connection to something from home.

”The Umgadi are responsible for plenty of things.” Kitana replied. One of her hands gestured to the guard down the hall you had been previously looking at. “Guarding the palace, sparring with us, making sure everything runs smoothly and properly. Being an umgadi is a lot of pressure but it is an honorable job.”

Ah, now it definitely reminded you of the Lin Kuei.

”I respect them for that.” You nodded, sending the guard you passed by a grateful smile. She returned that small smile for a few moments before returning to a more stoic look. “Your Umgadi reminds me of a clan back in Earthrealm.” You told her. “I will say though, that clan is not composed entirely of women.”

”A shame.” The princess said, and for a moment, you could detect genuine pity in her tone. Her mouth opened, probably to ask a question, but then the both of you arrived outside in the hanging gardens. You spied a little farther off was all three of the thrones of the royal family. You rose your eyebrows, wondering if the princess would sit down before the fight, but you chose to not question it. It was probably put there out of respect. “It seems we are here.” Kitana said, her shoulders relaxing just a touch. Her eyes met yours before nodding. “Enjoy the match.”

And with that, she walked off,

“Glad to see you here early as usual.” You commented, walking up to Raiden, Kung Lao, and Liu Kang. You watched as the champion let out a embarassed chuckle, his cheeks flushing for a moment. You smiled at him, trying to reassure him after your little joke. “No need to look so clammy, I was simply joking.” You told him. 

“I know.” Raiden said, avoiding eye contact with you for a few moments before he managed to wrangle his eyes to focus on you. Despite this, his face was still a little pink. On top of it all, a small sheepish smile was placed on his lips. You stared at it, admiring it for a moment. It was a nice sight. “I can hardly believe I’m going to fight a princess.”

”You mean you’re going to win against a princess.” Kung Lao spoke up, walking over to put himself right by your side. He flashed you a grin, crossing his arms as usual. He tilted his head to his friend. The confidence Kung Lao displayed was akin to someone who was going to partake in the fight rather than watch it. You watched as Raiden’s grin grew, seeming to absorb the positive feedback from both of you. 

“Indeed, you are ready for this match.” Liu Kang reassured Raiden. The champion nodded. “Princess Mileena is very skilled, but we have provided you with the information necessary for the tide to be in your favor.” You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with the god’s words. You couldn’t have put it any better yourself. 

“You’ve taken down five others before today, Raiden.” You told him, displaying your hand out to show him with your fingers the amount. “All of them were skilled in their own right. Do not treat this match any differently simply because you are to spar with royalty. Just focus on yourself and your own techniques and you’ll be fine.”

”I will do my best.” Raiden told you all, looking around. You felt better seeing a more confident man in front of you. Not only for the sake of the world, but it was nice to just see the man understand that he was indeed strong in his own right. It was a far cry from the beginnings of your lessons. It was heartwarming really.

Time passed, and you all discussed tactics and techniques to keep Raiden focused on the match ahead. You were only interrupted when Johnny Cage strode in and let out a low whistle and commented how this would be the perfect place to shoot an action scene, or even a romantic walk at night. 

”All I’m saying is that people would kill for this type of place to shoot at. It’s the perfect set.” The actor said. He held his hands out, creating a box to frame the area. “Just look at that bench, perfect place to hold an important scene. That’d be the money shot right there.” You held in a chuckle, seeing the very bench you and the princess had been sitting on for a few nights now. 

“Good luck, I doubt you’d be able to ever let a film crew here.” Kenshi commented, his arms crossing. He shook his head, letting out a dismissive sigh at the mere idea of Johnny even attempting to negotiate with the Empress to let them film here. You had to agree, the idea was rather farfetched.

”Oh they will, once I turn on the Cage charm.” Johnny boasted, grinning wickedly as he continued to survey the area with a careful gaze as if he were planning out the scenes he would shoot here. Which he probably was, given how he was muttering under his breath. You supposed you could respect his ambition to keep on the consistent grind.

Then, a little after that, the Empress arrived.

It was odd seeing her flanks empty of the sisters. But even without her daughters, the confidence and nobility she exuded caught your attention. She strode through the crowd before sitting upon her throne. You watched carefully, your eyebrows knitting as you watched her walk in alone. Where was Kitana? You had see her earlier, so he absence didn’t quite make sense to you.

You tried to brush those thoughts away as Sindel settled down comfortably for a moment, scanning the area before landing her eyes on Raiden. You stood at attention by Liu Kang’s side, ushering the others to stand with the others.

“You continue to surprise, Raiden.” Sindel complimented, her posture as perfect as Kitana’s was earlier. “Among others, you have defeated Kotal, Motaro, and Sheeva. Only two fights remain.” There was the smallest of pauses before she continued. “Are you ready, Earthrealmer?” There was a gleam of confidence within her eyes that seemed to have been revived.

”I am, Your Majesty.” Raiden said, his confidence from before still not faltering despite the renewed vigor. 

“Then next you will face my daughter…” You heard the familiar clacking of heels. Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to look at the source of the noise. “Kitana.” Bewildered beyond measure, you watched as the princess you weren’t expecting walked in. Two folded up fans were gripped in her fists as a mask adorned her face.

Had you not been so perplexed, you would have caught on earlier how similar her walking in with such ferocity looked. But alas, you were too caught up in your thoughts. Why was Kitana going to fight? Was this a trick from Outworld to try and trip up Raiden? Thoughts like this pervaded your mind as the little clues you had brushed aside fell into place.

Mileena’s discomfort at the mention of a match, not to mention her whole general attitude last night along with Kitana’s strange dance around the mention of her sister fighting Raiden seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in your memories. You almost felt foolish for not seeing it earlier.

Had Sindel intended to intentionally swap out Kitana for Mileena to gain the upper hand? That would certainly explain why the elder sister was upset last night, but still, the mere idea of that felt…scandalous. You fixtated your eyes on the Empress as Liu Kang, who was a little more lost than you were, stepped up in between the would be fighters.

”Your Majesty, this is unprecedented.” Liu Kang spoke, his words slow. It was as if he were trying to find the right words to voice his confusion without trying to display distaste at the current events. “Raiden’s next opponent should be your heir.” He gestured to the throne beside Sindel where Mileena usually sat.

”Mileena is unavailable.” The Empress replied smoothly. She seemed unphased by the events and by Liu Kang’s reaction. You supposed that came with the experience of leading an empire for so many years. “She’s away on pressing imperial business.” 

You felt your gut stir, as if to tell you that the Empress was lying. And honestly, you weren’t sure whether to believe your gut or not. You swallowed, trying to reason out the situation with what you knew. Maybe that was why the two had been acting so suspiciously? After all, it must be frustrating to be sent away so quickly before an important fight. And if it really was so urgent, it made sense that the heir would take care of it.

Still, your gut twisted and turned.

”But I have not prepared him to battle Kitana.” Liu Kang pushed back, pointing out the unfairness in the situation. You glanced at the masked princess who was holding Raiden’s gaze. From what you remembered, the two had very different fighting styles in your past life, which probably was true for this world. It made sense for Liu Kang to worry over it.

”He’s already demonstrated great skill.” Sindel replied, her voice and posture displaying jus how nonchalant she was over the whole thing. And yet, there was a quality to the way she spoke that caught your attention. It was like a challenge in her voice, like her scoffing and asking if Raiden was not as skilled as has shown if he couldn’t defeat a surprise. It was almost like an insult hidden behind a compliment. “Can he not improvise?”

”Do not worry, I can do this.” You heard the champion reassure the god who had been shaking his head. You were caught off guard, and soon found yourself smiling. The god nodded, accepting the courage Raiden displayed. It was good that even when Liu Kang showed doubt, Raiden was able to steel himself and push ahead.

”I will be no easier to fight than my sister, Earthrealmer.” Kitana boasted, walking back an appropriate distance. You watched as the fire god approached and stood by your side. You shot him a sympathetic glance. Traces of confusion still displayed on his face. You placed a hand on Liu Kang’s bicep and leaned over to whisper to him. 

“He’ll be fine.” You told him, squeezing his bicep for a moment. Then, a moment later, you found yourself pinching the skin there. He may not be Kung Lao you once knew and understand the gesture, but it was something small you wanted to do. You watched as Liu Kang’s expression relaxed and he nodded, now trying to focus on the match. 

“I suffer under no delusion, Your Highness.” Raiden replied, his voice devoid of any cockiness like the princess displayed. Instead, it was serious, taking her seriously just as he did for all of his other opponents. You admired the way he was able to lock in, mind focused entirely on the goal.

”I will win this fight.” Kitana said, making a promise. “For her, my Empress, and all of Outworld.” She took a step forward, before taking one step back into a fighting stance. There was a “sching!” as the blades of her fans brushed against each other, revealing the awe inspiring war fans she wielded. 

Then, the match begun. 

Kitana’s movements were elegant, it was like she was dancing more than she was dueling. It was almost like watching a hawk. Graceful, swift, but had deadly precision. The control she had over the fans she wielded along with the bits of magic she must surely have was beautiful to witness. Almost effortlessly, you watched as she would sometimes gain the upper hand and juggle your champion in the air, hit after hit with her fans and kicks.

For a moment, you were worried. Raiden seemed unable to adapt, being bewildered by the strange manner Kitana would throw out her fans, and not to mention the way she would use the air to her advantage much more than any of the others he had fought against. It was as if she thrived up there.

Still, even as he was battered and bruised, the man pushed through. He matched her movements, aiming to move as quickly as she was. He also threw in some of his own projectiles into the mix, deterring her from simply zoning him out from an advantageous position. Had you been an outsider watching this, you would have never guessed that Raiden was merely improvising these techniques against the surprise contender. It was honestly quite impressive. 

After seeing the man turn the tide, you were not surprised to see him finally topple the princess. This feat had been much more earned, as both of them seemed exhausted after the fight. Between moments of heaving breaths, Raiden looked down at the princess before nodding and smiling respectfully to her.

“You fight well, princess.” He commended, a weary, but kind smile upon his lips. Pushing herself off the ground, Kitana looked up at her opponent. For a moment, there was a frustrated look as she took some deep breaths of her own. Despite her mask, she was still very expressive. You looked at the mask adorning her face, remembering how she used to wear it long ago,

“As do you, Earthrealmer.” Kitana replied, sharing the same respect Raiden had shown her. Her gaze scanned the man, assessing him one last time. “Surprisingly so.” She added on, a hint of reluctance and shock in her tone. It was as if despite being beat, she still could not understand how the Earthrealm champion had bested her.

“Excellent match.” Sindel praised, though there was a hint of strain within her voice. Both of the competitors turned their attention to the empress. You gaze focused in on her as well. Her displeasure at the outcome of the match as well hidden, but you could still see it. It was in the way her knuckles grew bone white despite supposedly being folded neatly within her lap. Her jaw was set as she smiled at the two. 

While you weren’t certain still whether Sindel had intentionally swapped the princesses, you could see that she was not all too happy that Raiden had managed to improvise his way through the match. Your eyes darted back to the electric wielder. Had Mileena still been here to fight him, would he have fared as well as he did against Kitana?

“Tomorrow, young champion, you will face your final opponent.” She declared, looking up at the sky for a moment. “Then afterwards we shall hold a celebration. A festival, dedicated to whomever emerges victorious, whether it be Earthrealm or Outworld. We shall meet back out here for your final match.” The empress instructed, before swiftly walking off. You observed how the thrones were hauled back to the grand hall before a pinch on your bicep snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Finally today we get to hang out.” Kung Lao piped up, sending you a grin on the sly side. Your eyebrows rose. At first, you focused on the pinch. You caught yourself holding your breath, a wave of nostalgia and grief washing over you. You were perplexed on how he remembered the pinch, but then you remembered that he was probably mimicking the action you had done to him previously. “Oh don’t look so blue, it’s an honor hanging out with me.”

“When did we agree to hang out?” You asked, pushing away the thoughts of the old Kung Lao who your brain yearned for. Almost instantly, you regretted your words. His smile faltered, dropping. It was as if someone had kicked a puppy. Instantly, you put on a smile and placed a reassuring hand on his bicep, returning the pinch. “I was joking.” You quickly said. “I’d love to hang out with you.”

“Good.” Kung Lao replied, the glee returning to him. It was as if he hadn’t been affected by your question earlier at all. You weren’t sure if he had been acting or not, but you felt better seeing his smile. “I saw a lot of good food by the pier, I want to try them with you.” The former farmhand told you, beginning to lead the way to Sun Do. 

“As long as we get to go around looking for one last gift.” You piped up, following him to the way to the city. Kung Lao looked back, a small look of surprise on his face. 

“I thought you had been out yesterday with Kenshi to find the last gift?” Kung Lao asked. His eyes darted behind you, most likely gazing at where the others were before his eyes settled on you again. “By all means, I don’t mind. I know I have perfect taste.” He shot you a grin, making you chuckle and shake your head at his antics.

“I had been, and yes, I did find a gift. But I wanted to get something else too.” You informed the man with the razor hat. At this admission, his interest was piqued. He leaned over to you, his voice dropping to a whisper as if you were swapping a secret.

“Oh really now?” Kung Lao spoke, his voice dripping with excitement. A gleam was in his eye, and you spotted his dimples become more prominent as his smile grew. Your lips pursed as you observed them, you weren’t certain how to feel about even the little details like dimples being the same between the two worlds. “Well, if it’s a gift for me you can just tell me now, I don’t mind.”

“It’s not a gift for you, it’s a gift for Lord Liu Kang.” You told Kung Lao. You watched as his lips pursed into a pout. A disappointed look crossed his face, though this one was more playful than the last time. “Don’t worry, I already got your gift for you.” A look of surprise, as if he wasn’t actually expecting a gift, appeared on his face. You let out another laugh and picked up the pace, walking a bit faster as the man paused.

“Wait, really?” He asked, perking up as he made a light jog to catch up to you. You simply sent him a small smile, watching him think over your words. “What is it? When am I going to get it?” Kung Lao asked, his questions firing off like rapid fire. 

“I already ruined the surprise by telling you that I got you one.” You said, pointing at Kung Lao as you walked side by side down the road. “I think I have the right to keep the rest of it as a surprise, no?” The man hummed, head tilting upwards as he contemplated his words. Then he looked back at you with a mischievous look.

“I guess you do, but that won’t stop me from wildly guessing what you did get me.” Kung Lao pointed out. You nodded, letting out another laugh. You supposed that would be fair enough. It wasn’t as if you could stop his curiosity anyways. 

The rest of the walk was filled with light chatter. With Kung Lao, it always felt as if you could talk with him for hours on end. You tried not to linger on that fact that it felt like you were talking to an old friend. You had to stop that train of thought, after all, this man in front of you wasn’t…your Kung Lao. It was someone else, even if they were all too similar.

For a bit of the day, both you and Kung Lao roamed around the docks. The air was filled with the scent of street food. It made your mouth water as you took in a deep breath. Glancing over to your companion, you swore you even spotted the man drooling. You found yourselves hopping around the area, tasting and taking food as you pleased.

“This is amazing.” Kung Lao said, seeming to be lost in bliss as he indulged in the fried foods. You couldn’t help but agree. There was something special about this food, and it wasn’t just how cheap it was for the quality. As you let the taste melt onto your tongue, you couldn’t help but ponder over the seasonings within the dish. Did these type of seasonings exist back in Earthrealm? Or only here. “You think you could recreate this?”

“Maybe.” You said, still mulling over the unique taste it held. “They have different spices here, so it might be hard to recreate it one to one in terms of flavor.” You blinked in surprise as a bit of food was held in front of your face. Leaning back a bit, you shot a look of confusion towards Kung Lao as he brought the food closer to you.

“Try it!” He encouraged, a wide grin on his face. You looked between the man and the morsel of food, trying to work out what to do. Then, you leaned forward and ate the food from his fingers. You savored it, nodding as you closed your eyes and contemplated the flavors. A small hum left your lips. That was good. As you opened your eyes, confusingly enough, you were met with Kung Lao being…slightly flustered?

“Are you good?”

“Hm?” Kung Lao said, snapping out of his little daze. His cheeks were still dusted light with a bit of pink as he let out a laugh. “Yes! I’m fine.” He told you, though there was still that little tone to his voice that you couldn’t quite pin down. You rose your eyebrows, but shrugged. “Would you make me some of this food?”

“If I figure it out, sure.” You told him, finding it hard to say no to the hopeful look he sent you. You grinned at him, a slightly wicked look in your eye. “You know, you do still owe me for losing that bet.” You couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh at the pout he sent your way. “Did you think I would forget, Kung Lao?”

“Maybe.” He mumbled, looking away from you with a faux innocent look. You sent him a narrowed gaze, shaking your head. “I promise I’ll hold up to our agreement.” He said, putting a hand on his heart, an earnest grin on his face. You smiled and pinched his bicep. 

“Good, because otherwise if you don’t, I’ll make sure to talk to the monks about making your training regiment harder. And that’s on top of what I plan on making you do.” You informed him, a sly smirk on your lips. “But if you remind me, I think I’ll consider lessening your punishment.” 

The both of you toured the area for a bit longer until you passed a store selling fabrics. You took pause as you walked past it, at first dismissing it. Then, a familiar shade of red caught your eye. You wandered over, feeling compelled to inspect it. Picking it up gently, you marveled at the fabric. 

It was nothing special, to be honest. It was just a very vibrant red headband. And yet, as you held it in your hands, you felt emotional over it. You slowly rubbed the quality material between your fingers, a small smile on your lips. You felt Kung Lao’s presence beside you, and nearly jumped upon remembering that he was here. 

“You’re planning on giving Lord Liu Kang a headband?” Your companion inquired. He squinted at it, processing the piece of fabric you were holding. 

“I know it’s a simple gift, but it just…speaks to me.” You explained, returning your gaze back down to the headband. It was nearly uncanny how close it looked to the red headband that your friend would always wear. Ever since you remembered the accessory, you’ve missed seeing the man in it. You’ve never brought it up though, since you it was a little odd. “What do you think? Is it a silly gift?”

“No.” Kung Lao said, and you were a little surprised at the certainty in his voice. You looked up and over to him. On his face was a determined look, as if nothing could convince him that this was a bad idea. You were comforted by the look. “I think it’s the perfect gift actually, good find.”

You stared at Kung Lao for a few more moments. Your heart squeezed at the idea that this Kung Lao agreed with the headband fitting just so well for Liu Kang. For a moment, you were tempted to ask him why he thought so. Was it just the idea that Liu Kang would look good in red? Or was it…something else? And yet, despite your longing, you restrained yourself. You didn’t want to seem so…silly.

“Yeah, I think I will get this.” You agreed. You walked up to the naknadan who was manning the shop. You were delighted to see you had some money left over. Maybe you could keep it, as a reminder of your travels here. You took the headband, and folded it neatly, tucking it away. You felt proud of yourself, feeling accomplished for finding all the gifts you wanted for your friends. 

After a bit more wandering around the city with Kung Lao, you both eventually return back to the palace. You weren’t certain if you were going to go to dinner after a day full of tasting food, but you might for the sake of being with your friends. 

Before you could walk up the stairs into the palace, you stopped. You grabbed Kung Lao’s hand, stopping him in his tracks as well. You noted his hand, and how it still was as soft as it was when you had felt it when you had shook his hand. The former farmhand turned around, sending you a curious look, though there was a bit of a blush on his face.

You weren’t certain why seeing that pink hue on his cheeks was so pleasing to you.

“I just wanted to thank you for accompanying me today.” You said, smiling at him. You felt your hand squeeze his, though you didn’t consciously think about squeezing his hand. “I had a lot of fun going around and trying food with you. Sorry it took so long for me to have some time to hang out with you. I hope today was worth it.” 

“It was fun.” Kung Lao replied, a grin on his lips now. It was lopsided, as usual. You couldn’t help the little sigh that left your lips. “If you really want to make up for it, you could always forget about our little bet-” He noted the little glare you sent his way, and his smile grew. “Kidding! Kidding! But if you did want to make up for it, I would not be opposed to hanging out with you more often.”

“I would not be opposed to that idea either.” You replied. You stood there for a moment more, before you turned to go grab one of the ring boxes from your bag. You turned, inspecting the boxes more to see if you grabbed the right one before you held it out to the man. “Here, the gift for you, like I told you earlier.” 

Kung Lao plucked the box out of your outstretched hand. Almost hesitantly, he let go of your hand so he could open the box with his other hand. You watched as surprise overcame his features as he inspected the ring with the pink gem was sitting in the center of the box. He glanced back and forth between you and the ring. A soft look was on his face as he placed it on.

“I like it.” He said, admiring the ring as it adjusted to fit perfectly upon his. “I see it matches yours too. Now we’re doubly matching.” Kung Lao pointed out, pointing between both the rings and the dragon motifs you both had. A smile that was a little smug appeared on his lips. “Why pink though? Not that I mind.”

“We’re all going to match soon, it was a ring set.” You explained. looking down to the little ring that you had on your hand. “And yes, the necklace you gave me…” You paused, grabbing the necklace to feel it, “it honestly did inspire me, so thank you. As for pink, well…” You trailed off, thinking back. 

For a while now, you’ve associated Kung Lao with cherry blossoms. At first, it was because of how often you saw the petals fall near him at the Wu Shi. It was almost as if he was a magnet for them. But now, with you memories, it only seemed right. Much like many other things, it seemed to be a constant between your lives.

“I think it just fits. It’s the pink of cherry blossoms, which I think are very fitting for you, you always seem to be covered in those petals.” You answered, looking into Kung Lao’s eyes. Another softer look appeared on his face as he heard your explanation. 

“I think it fits too.” Kung Lao admitted, glancing back down to the ring on his hand. A grin spread across his face before he grabbed your hand. “Now let’s go, I don’t want to miss dinner.” His tone was dripping with excitement, despite how much you both had eaten earlier. You nearly stumbled to keep up with his quick pace, but you let out a small laugh as you tightened your grip onto his hand to adjust yourself.

Never change, Kung Lao.

Tonight was an especially beautiful night in the garden. 

The stars seemed to shine a little brighter. The skies seemed to be a little more vibrant, the bits of the purple sky swirling with the dark colors of the night sky. Not a cloud was in sight to block any bit of the view on display for tonight. It was like looking at a piece of art, just for you.

You sighed as you sat alone on the bench in the Hanging Gardens. You weren’t even certain why you were out here. Princess Mileena was out on imperial duties…supposedly. She probably wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. You supposed that you didn’t need her in order to appreciate the garden, but you also couldn’t deny it felt awfully lonely out here without someone to accompany you.

You weren’t sure how you caught the movement while looking up at the sky, but you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye. At first, you perked up. Maybe she was back early and sought your presence here. But as you turned, the figure you saw walking around the gardens was not the princess you were expecting. No, it was someone else.

In fact, it was someone you didn’t even recognize.

A man walked through the gardens. He held himself with grace, an air of elegance surrounded him. His hair, long and neatly tied, cascaded down and fell down his shoulders. A small smile appeared on his lips as he toured the area. You spotted a gleam of gold, and looking down, you saw a golden amulet with a large red gem in the center hanging off his belt. 

As you inspect the stranger, your eyes locked with his. A look of faint surprise appeared on his face, before a smile replaced it. He strode over, and for a moment you felt awkward. You hoped you didn’t leave a bad first impression on this man.

“Hello there.” The man said, stopping a little bit away from you. One of his hands gestured to the spot next to you. “Are you waiting on someone?” He asked, his voice smooth just like honey was. You glanced at the spot, thinking of the princess for a moment, before shaking your head. Gracefully, he sat beside you. “I don’t think we’ve met, to whom do I have the pleasure?”

“We haven’t met.” You confirmed, nodding. You told him your name, eyes scanning the man up and down. No matter how much you inspected him, you could not glean anything from him. If anything, the slight buzzing in your head almost seemed to quell around him. Your lips pursed. Seems you’ve never met this man before in your previous life. “I’m just here for the tournament. I’m from Earthrealm, actually, I’m accompanying Lord Liu Kang and his companions.”

“Oh, the tournament. I had nearly forgotten about that.” The man said, his hands neatly folding in his lap. “I have been so awfully busy carrying out requests for the Empress, I have not had the time to observe. In fact, I’ve only come back tonight just to gather some materials before I go back to my laboratory. A shame, I would have loved to watch.”

“It has been rather exciting, our champion has nearly won all of the matches so far.” You said, trying not to outwardly brag to this stranger. You paused, thinking to the words he said. “You said you had a laboratory, are you a sorcerer, or a mage of some sort?” You asked, thinking back to how Rain had a laboratory of sorts within the Imperial Academy.

“I am.” The stranger replied. The smile on his lips grew slightly as he nodded. “I have the pleasure of being part of the royal court. As much of a privilege it is, it is labor intensive at times, I must admit.” He scanned you, looking up and down. “You sounded quite excited about that prospect, are you interested in magic?”

“I suppose I am.” You admitted. You lifted your hand, shifting it to display a webbed frog hand. “Though I’m from Earthrealm, I have some magic of my own. Back there, we don’t really have magic schools, it’s more commonly thought of as a myth there.” A small hum left the man’s lips as he nodded along. His hands locked in on your limb as it displayed the little feat of magic. If you weren’t mistaken, it almost seemed like he was quite impressed with the little display. 

“Fascinating.” The stranger said, a tone in his voice you couldn’t quite place. Admiration, perhaps? That was the closest thing you could think of. “You can shapeshift, that’s your magic?” He asked, double checking your abilities with you. You blinked, nodding as you changed your hand once more, this time into a horse’s hoof. “Just animals, or are you capable of shifting into humanoids as well?”

“Just animals, I think. I’ve never really tried to transform into another humanoid, really.” You told him. You transformed your arm back, taking some time to mull over his question. You’ve never really…thought about humanoid transformation. Your magic was instinctual, so you’ve never really put much thought into it.

Was it possible? You’d have to explore that idea later.

“I think I’ve heard of you.” The man said. You blinked in surprise, furrowung your eyebrows as you looked at the man suspiciously. You doubted you have too much of a reputation to have random strangers hear of you before. “My colleague, Rain, has mentioned you before, I believe?” He said. You blinked, before you remembered.

Hadn’t Rain mentioned a sorcerer with talents like yours?

“Oh, Rain?” You said, repeating the name. The man nodded. “Ah, you must be the court sorcerer he mentioned!” You told him, a smile now across your features. You tried to think of his name, but found yourself coming up short. Ah, he had been interrupted before he said the name, didn’t he? You sent him an awkward smile. “Sorry, I don’t think he mentioned your name, what was it?”

“My name is Shang Tsung.” The sorcerer said, his smile growing more as he nodded. From the corner of your eye, you swore your saw the red gem in his amulet gleam for just a moment as he introduced himself. Must be the moonlight reflecting off. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“It is an honor to meet you too, Shang Tsung.” You said. The name rolled easily off your tongue. You folded your hands on your lap. “Would you do me a favor?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at the man. His eyebrows rose, but the charismatic, polite look remained on his face as he nodded. “Could you tell me about magic? I love to hear about it.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

And that night, you think you made a new friend.

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

[queen-dahlia]

𝐀𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦

"𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿"

not proofread

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation

The final dinner of the year finally came to a close.

The main character is a gluttonous prince.

The dinner party, which began in the kitchen in the morning with an extraordinary amount of food, was a success,

Before we even get to the main course, there's a disconcerting turn of events一

Gilbert: "I'm hungry."

Clavis: "Lord Gilbert, what were you doing a few seconds ago?"

Gilbert: "I was eating the food that the little bunny had cooked for me."

Clavis: "And?"

Gilbert: "I'm hungry."

Licht: "It's abnormal."

Clavis: "It must have been absorbed into another space, not the stomach. Next time I'll refer you to a good doctor."

Gilbert: "Thanks for your concern."

Gilbert: "Waiter, bring me more food."

Licht: "It's impossible."

Clavis: "Emma is not a superhuman. She's working hard to finish a dish for you."

Gilbert: "You don't have to elaborate that much, though."

Gilbert: "In general, it's a terrible miscalculation not to have the little bunny at the dinner party."

Clavis: "You have us instead."

Gilbert: "Do you really think you can take the place of the little bunny?"

Licht: "I'm... offended by the way you said that."

Clavis: "Well, well, well. I'm just the entertainment guy for when the guests are bored. You're up, Yves, Luke."

Yves: "We've been playing this for a while now!?"

Luke: "Don't you hear the violin and the harpsichord? Listen."

Gilbert: "Thank you for your wonderful performance, but I got bored."

Yves & Luke: "Can I go back now?" | "Can I go now?"

Clavis: "Wait a minute, boys, it's not fair to expect Emma to take on this beast by herself..."

Clavis: "Besides, I've already set up traps to prevent you from escaping from this room."

Clavis: "If that's okay with you, you can go back. Hahaha!"

Luke: "Screw you."

Clavis: "But I am at a loss. Lord Gilbert seems to want other pleasures."

Clavis: "I have no choice. I guess this is my moment to show off."

Gilbert: "Oh, yeah!"

Clavis: "Can you at least hear me out?"

Gilbert: "I've got a good idea."

Luke: "I don’t think there’s any proof that your good ideas were good things." **

Yves: "Lord Gilbert, where are you going?"

Gilbert: "Of course, I'll go to the little bunny."

══════════════════

Emma: "一So, what brings you all to the kitchen?"

Emma: "And as for Prince Gilbert, he had a knife and fork in his hand."

Licht: "I don't suppose you're going to... eat every last bit of the finished product?"

Gilbert: "Correct."

Licht: "That's gruesome." // "That's pungent." **

Gilbert: "If we eat here, the waiters won't have to carry the food, and you can watch the little bunny, right?"

Gilbert: "It's good for everyone."

Yves: "The pressure on Emma is not half as great as it should be..."

Gilbert: "I'm surprised so many of them haven't been brought in yet."

Emma: "It's not ready yet! All the seasoning and decorations are incomplete一"

Gilbert: "Well, I'll have some."

Emma: "Aaaahh!? Seriously, Prince Gilbert, don't eat it!"

Clavis: "It's not good. If the Appetite Monster comes into its own, all the food and ingredients in this place will be lost."

Emma: "Please, please stop!"

Licht: "I get it."

Yves: "Whoaaaaah! Licht, don't pull out your sword! Your big brother won't allow you to stop him like that!"

Luke: "Then I'll hit him一"

Yves: "Are you crazy? We're dealing with a prince of a great nation! There's going to be a war!"

Clavis: "Well, then, I guess my一"

Emma: "Please don't do that!"

Clavis: "… Why can't people just let me say it all?"

Gilbert: "Mmm... it's delicious."

Emma: "Prince Gilbert... that's not… in good taste."

Emma: "... I've made it this far, but it's terrible."

Yves: "Emma... I know how you feel. The pain of having a delicious meal ruined in the process..."

Yves: "I get screwed over by Jin and Leon from time to time, so I know what it's like."

Licht: "… That's right."

Luke: "To see Emma so devastated and you keep eating, that's not human behavior."

Clavis: "He's a monster."

Luke: "… All right, Clavis, Licht. Gather all the ingredients in the kitchen."

Licht: "Why?"

Luke: "While you stall for time with the ingredients, Yves and I will help Emma finish up."

Luke: "Otherwise, Emma will go through the year with a lot of regret."

Emma: "Luke…"

Yves: "I agree. It's too early to give up!"

Licht: "Understood. Let’s do it, Clavis."

Clavis: "I agree. We need to get rid of the monster and bring in a happy new year for everyone."

Luke: "Hey, I brought you some food."

Luke: "You should be thankful that I put a bear and honey on the base that Emma was building." // "You should be grateful that I put the bear and the honeycomb on the foundation that Emma was building."

Gilbert: "Yes, yes, thank you."

Clavis: "Phew, I got one for you too."

Yves: "Hey, isn't Clavis in charge of the ingredients?"

Clavis: "I'm not going to be able to do everything I'm capable of if I'm just carrying food."

Clavis: "So I decided to switch to helping Emma in the middle of the process."

Licht: "… Unnecessary." **

Clavis: "Look at this adorable tiger, Emma was working on it, and I finished it?" // "Look at this adorable tiger! I finished what Emma was partially working on?"

Emma: "Ah! When did you...?"

Yves: "Is there something hanging out of that tiger's mouth?"

Clavis: "It's a delicious sauce."

Licht: "What's that stuck in its head?"

Clavis: "It's just a decoration."

Licht: "… With a high murderous intent…"

Gilbert: "Leave it for me, I'll eat it later."

Yves: "… I honestly respect Lord Gilbert for not being intimidated by the food arranged by Clavis."

Gilbert: "And by the way, little bunny, you really are a genius."

Gilbert: "The food here is good, and it's cute."

Gilbert: "Hey, how would you like to be my personal chef? I'll give you a great deal at Obsidian."

Emma: "I am honored, but I must decline."

Gilbert: "Too bad."

Gilbert: "It looks like I failed to recruit you, so let's have this little rabbit here heal me."

Emma: "Eh."

Gilbert: "Sugar Candy Story."

Luke: "It's confusing."

Gilbert: "Hehe… This little rabbit looks delicious."

Gilbert: "I'll taste every bit of it, chew it up so it won't go anywhere, and keep it in my stomach to cherish for a long time一"

Luke: "… Don't say anything meaningful. Emma's pulling back." // "… Don't say anything meaningful. I think Emma is the one who pulled it off."

Emma: "I'm not pulling away. It just hurts to imagine…"

Clavis: "Lord Gilbert, this tiger cake is delicious, too. Come on, it's time for cannibalism."

the cake with spicy sauce

Yves: "… Clavis wants to feed you whatever he wants."

Licht: "I don't care if Lord Gilbert eats it."

Gilbert: "By the way, I like it spicy and sweet."

Clavis: "What…"

Gilbert: "I'll taste it for you."

Emma: "Ah!"

Luke: "What's up?"

Emma: "Now... Now all the dishes are done!"

Luke: "Oh, you did great, Emma."

Licht: "Somehow we managed to stop the monster."

Yves: "Licht, you're dealing with a guest of honor, right?"

Clavis: "Then we'll carry it out of the kitchen."

Gilbert: "Well, I don't mind if I stay."

Luke: "It's only natural that you respect the food Emma made."

Luke: "It's not something you can eat in the kitchen."

Luke: "You move, or I'll carry you. Or do you want me to carry you?"

Gilbert: "… I used to be the one carrying you."

Luke: "Shut up." // "It’s so noisy."

Gilbert: "Luke has a point. Fine, I'll take you back to the venue."

Emma: "… Hehe."

Yves: "What's wrong?"

Emma: "I thought it would be more fun to do the preparation together than to do it alone."

Clavis: "Haha, of course. Good thing you sent me a distress signal early, huh?"

Emma: "That's not the only thing."

Clavis: "Oops, that smile is so sweet..."

Gilbert: "If the little bunny laughed like that, then I guess I was right to get into the kitchen." // "If the little bunny smiled, then I made the right decision to get into the kitchen."

Luke: "… You're just talking about consequences, aren't you?"

Licht: "The dinner is just the beginning."

Emma: "I agree."

Emma: "Let's end this year with a smile!"

[buzzcutlip]

Cracks and Gaps - The Worst Day (part I) Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Mature (Explicit in the following parts) 7434 words ao3

You meet Carmen in Copenhagen through a mutual friend and bond over shared experiences. After following his rising career from afar, you reconnect in Chicago when he renovates his late brother's restaurant. As an editor, you can't miss an opportunity to find out more about the comeback of this chef prodigy.

A/N: I've started writing this story a looong time ago last year. There will be two more parts. I would like to thank @carmyboobear for being the most incredible beta and helping me out on the rocky journey. They're a very special person to me, and also a fantastic and inspiring writer themselves. Please, check their Carmy stories if you haven't!

THE WORST DAY

The first time you meet Carmen, you are both a little over twenty and in Copenhagen. He is staging at Noma, and you are interning at a design studio where everyone is very “green.” From one of your conversations with Carmen, you learn that Pop-Tarts and Cheetos are illegal here. In Europe. Most of the sodas that stained your tongue crazy colors when you were a kid are banned too. He lectures you on Scandinavian agriculture and food production.

Carmen is skinny and short—still a bit taller than you, though—with sharp, high cheekbones and bulging eyes. You don't know enough about each other to be “friends,” but he is a good companion. Your high school friend Becky knows Carmen’s older sister; that’s how you found each other in Denmark’s capital.

On two rare occasions, you get drunk together, and that happens only when he is stressed from work. Like, stressed STRESSED. You'd think he only drinks special natural wine from Lofoten or something, but his choice of poison is canned Budweiser. Maybe he misses home as much as you do. Maybe that’s what leads you to almost kiss him the second time. Carmen lives on a boat, and he takes you there, where you drink vodka mixed with herbs and licorice that Carmen concocts, his tongue peeking out between his lips as he concentrates. The drink tastes good. Weird. You don't hide your grimace. Neither of you comments on the alcohol ratio. It's more vodka than anything else, that's for sure.

Carmen is not your type, physically or character-wise—you are an introvert yourself, so you need someone to bring you out of your shell. Obviously, doing an internship on a different continent is a huge step, one that is only on you. He also smokes a lot and probably doesn't wash his hair. You've heard about his crazy mother and bonkers family from Becky, so you understand why Carmen is Carmen. Why he’s run off to Europe. It's just—his face—his eyes, when he's telling you about his dream job at Noma or Alchemist—they glow, and he becomes so animated, the quiet excitement seeping to the surface, and there's fondness blooming in your chest. He also knows a thing or two about sports, as you do, the subject bringing you back to Chicago, and the longing for “home” and “familiar” is terribly strong in the moment, enhanced by the alcohol. And Carmen, the boy sitting opposite you, with burns on his hands and ripped jeans, is both of those things put into one.

Nothing happens between you two, but the urge to press your own lips against his lingers after you leave in a taxi, not brave enough to ride a bike under the influence.

You try to stay in touch after Copenhagen, messaging Carmen on his empty Facebook profile, sending a text once in a while, mainly at Christmas, and when you have some terrible junk food, just to make fun of him. When he FaceTimes you, he’s in Paris, and you’re in Dublin. The next time, he’s in California.

He rarely ever answers messages on the phone. Usually, it's an emoji, sometimes a word or two. Soon, there are no answers, and you can't be bothered. You carry on with your life in Chicago, and it doesn’t take long before you start seeing Carmen Berzatto in the paper, on the internet. The young prodigy chef, everyone says. Reluctantly, you read the articles, thinking about the Copenhagen Carmen, smiling at his photos. He's grown up, filled out. His hair is curlier, his shoulders wider, his biceps stronger. He looks good. Good and sad, you think to yourself, and decide not to text him to congratulate him on his star career. Carmen is not one to care about what you think of it.

It's only when you hear from Becky that Mikey Berzatto has died, that you think of Carmen properly, after years full of work in the magazine office, one shitty almost-boyfriend, and summers spent in Europe, writing about sustainable travel and solo adventures. Becky says that he's inherited a restaurant from Michael. You decide against sending him condolences—too personal.

But about ten months later, there's whispering that a fancy restaurant, The Bear, is replacing The Beef of Chicagoland, and it's actually your boss who tells you that you should go check the place out.

You are not into that whole haute cuisine thing, to be honest. You never understood those tiny little portions and strange ingredients and their combinations. You prefer good pasta with Bolognese sauce or roasted chicken with mashed potatoes. Sometimes you wonder if Carmen's strange relationship with his family is what's keeping him away from his Italian roots and forcing him to work in pristine, starched whites in sterile kitchens, cooking intestines and antlers, making it art.

---

Becky gives you Natalie Berzatto’s phone number to get in touch with her to try to schedule an interview for the magazine feature. Your boss, Rob, hopes that Carmen could even make it to the cover soon when The Bear takes off. You’re not sure how you feel about bypassing Carmen completely and going straight to his sister.

So one Thursday, in early May, you decide to walk there, unannounced. You corner the building, passing a big glass window, and before you make it to the main entrance, you nearly collide with a very wonky wooden stepladder. With Carmen Berzatto on top of it, fiddling with a screwdriver or a similar tool, and a signboard.

The second you make contact with the ancient stepladder, Carmen shouts, "Fuck!"

“Sorry,” you yelp, and one glance at the man high up confirms that you are indeed dealing with the Chef himself.

“Could you watch out?” he says angrily as he makes his way down, measuring every step carefully.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, waiting anxiously for Carmen to—hopefully—recognize you. To anyone walking by, you must look like an idiot, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting motionless and stiff for a guy to climb down a ladder.

You don’t know what you had been expecting but definitely not Carmen staring at you with his huge, bloodshot eyes for seconds that feel like minutes. You nearly turn around and walk away, no joke.

He looks—

“You look—” you start. Terrible. But also, like, gorgeous. Terribly tired but hot. Is it awful of you to think that?

“Hi,” Carmen says, one hand going into the big mess of his hair, the other one into his pants pocket. He's avoiding your eyes, which makes you even more nervous, makes you think it was not such a great idea to come here.

“Hi!” you say, probably overly enthusiastically. “You're back in Chicago,” is the first thing you can think of.

He nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Well, congrats on the new place,” you say, gesturing to the building behind him, newspaper covering the windows. “I'm really sorry, I thought it was already open,” you explain, tugging on the hem of your lilac sweatshirt nervously. Can he tell you’re lying? “Becky mentioned something about it.”

“No, we’re opening next week,” Carmen says, holding a cigarette between his fingers.

“I'm really curious,” you smile carefully, testing the waters, wondering how he's going to react. You haven't seen each other in more than five years, and Carmen's never been exactly friendly. Not like mean, but definitely not easily approachable. “I work for this magazine, and we would love to do a feature on this,” you say, leaving out that it's you who would be writing it. Who wants to write it. Not only about the place but about Carmen, the enigma, the quiet boy, the excellent chef.

He only nods, clearly not sharing your enthusiasm. “Maybe later,” he taps the cigarette against the palm of his other hand. “When we're ready for this kind of thing.”

“Of course,” you agree quickly.

“Might be a while.”

“So what is the big plan?”

Carmen looks at you, measuring you. Like he thinks you have some ulterior motive. He lights up the cigarette, taking a long drag from it, and you fight not to scrunch your nose in disgust. The older you get, the more you hate the smell. Especially when someone is blowing out the smoke aimlessly—almost—in your face.

“My partner—Sydney, she’s hung up on the stars. So I guess a fine dining kinda place,” Carmen says, flicking the cigarette butt in the general direction of the gutter. The second sentence comes out more like a question than a statement, but you are still processing the first one.

“You run a business with your girlfriend?” you swear you don’t mean it to sound so accusing.

Carmen takes a step back, physically—bumping into the stepladder behind him—and mentally, too. “No! She—Sydney’s my business partner.” The defensive tone tells you exactly how your words sounded though. You wince. “We’ve been working on the new concept together with Nat, and the whole crew, actually. It’s—it’s a family business, I guess—uhm. We had only like three months to finish, and—”

You can see he’s really flustered. He’s starting to stutter, hand nervously scratching his neck. You hate the sight, hate that you’ve made him feel like this.

“I’m sorry!” you interrupt him. “It came out all wrong. I shouldn’t have said that,” you say urgently, hoping to see him relax back to his non-caring, nonchalant, tired-looking self. How could you mess up so quickly? Is that your special ability or a curse?

“‘s fine,” Carmen says, and he does relax a bit, shoulders dropping an inch. He doesn’t look friendly though. Or in the mood for a chat. “I just—she’s a business partner,” he repeats obstinately, face red.

The moment grows awkward. In your coat pocket, you touch a pack of chewing gum and start fiddling with it. “I—my office is nearby so I thought I could come around and see the progress,” you say into the void, trying not to cringe too much. “Maybe I would take a few colleagues for dinner.”

“The reservations aren't open yet,” Carmen says in a flat voice. You can’t call him out because it’s probably true anyway. Plus, you just lied again—the offices are not close; you had taken the L—and you feel bad about it.

There’s not much left to say, you realize. He’s not giving you any space to turn this “accidental” meeting into a proper conversation. You shuffle your feet nervously, feeling stupid.

“Alright. It was nice seeing you!” you say, as it’s about time to end this. “Hope everything’s gonna work out great!” you add in a cheerful tone, already setting to walk back to the station.

“Yeah. Thanks. Bye.” Carmen says back, lighting a second cigarette.

What a nightmare, you think as you walk through the busy streets.

—

In the following weeks, you almost forget about The Bear. Rob complains about the nonexistent article on the new, already hyped-up restaurant and wasted opportunities, but what can you do? The not-at-all-accidental meeting with Carmen had been a disaster you actively try to erase from your mind. Working on your regular column and material for the website keeps you busy. Then Becky calls out of nowhere, and you two arrange lunch at The Marq. You end up swapping hilarious stories from the last two months you hadn’t seen each other, and you secretly pray she doesn’t ask about Natalie Berzatto or her brother. You're out of luck, because she does—of course she does—and you have to lay the cards on the table.

“You did contact Nat first though?” is the first thing Becky asks.

“I didn’t,” you shake your head. “I didn’t want to exclude Carmen right at the very beginning,” you admit.

“Oh god,” Becky rolls her eyes at you, taking a small bite of her salmon cake sandwich.

“I knooow,” you quickly stop her, feeling like ordering something stronger than the simple soda you’ve been drinking.

“I think you should still call Natalie,” Becky says, pointing at you with a determined frown. “I went to see her and her new baby just last week. She asked about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Apparently they could really use some help getting the word out about The Bear. A good excuse to talk Carmen into an interview maybe? An exclusive one?” She wiggles her eyebrows, knowing how cool it would be for you to come up with this.

“Maybe,” you muse, playing it cool. Inside, you are already hyped up about the possibility of scoring the first interview with the former best chef in the world. Is he still good at all? Why did he disappear? Why is he back?

—

The anxiety of the following days forces you to actually text Natalie. You’ve been checking online websites and Instagram accounts apprehensively, worried that a medium might publish something about The Bear before you get a chance. Rob isn’t a dick, but you wouldn’t want to look incompetent in his eyes. So far, you’ve been able to steer away from conversations about the new Carmen Berzatto restaurant at work. Your work ethic makes it difficult for you to let The Bear go without a fight.

That’s how you find yourself in front of Natalie’s door. When she opens it, she doesn’t hide her fervor.

“Oh, finally! Hi! Please come in.” She ushers you inside. You’ve never seen her in person, only on Becky’s Instagram, maybe, and even though the exhaustion is apparent on the woman’s face, you can spot the similarities with Carmen in her features right away.

From the dark hallway, she leads you to the sitting room. When you look around, it’s hard to find a clutter-free space. Every surface is covered with baby clothes, baby diapers, baby wipes—clean and dirty—bottles—full and empty.

“Sorry for the mess,” Natalie appears next to you, snatching away a baby muslin from the sofa. “Have a seat, please,” she nods. “The baby’s asleep. Hopefully for the next—” and she checks her watch, “another twenty minutes.”

As you sit down, Natalie collapses into an armchair, not minding what appears to be a pile of freshly washed newborn onesies and other clothes underneath her.

“Thank you so much for stopping by,” she says sincerely, and you notice the many stains on her purple t-shirt.

You smile. “No problem.”

“Becky said that you know stuff about Instagram and social media and marketing and all that?” Natalie’s eyes are wide and hopeful.

“I would say so,” you nod.

“I’m not sure what Becky mentioned already,” Natalie says as she starts pulling the baby clothes from under her and folding them absentmindedly. That definitely says something about the state she’s in, without Becky describing the situation to you—not only with The Bear but also Nat herself. “Carmy’s putting so much into the restaurant—we all are—so much hope,” she babbles, “none of us have slept properly in weeks—months! And now the baby...” Natalie’s gaze becomes unfocused for a moment before she blinks rapidly. “The timing’s not so great,” she forces out a weak laugh, and you smile again, already feeling bad for her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“I understand. It’s hard,” you empathize, feeling genuinely bad—not for The Bear—but for Natalie.

“I’m not a marketing guru, but I can research things,” she carries on, more confident now. “But I can’t be there all the time, y’know? It’s just not possible. If—if someone could help with keeping the place afloat and spreading the word—” she stops talking and folding, looking directly at you. “That would be just so awesome,” she finishes quietly, her bottom lip wobbling.

You know that Nat’s not trying to emotionally blackmail you, even though the situation kinda feels like it, and you do feel for her.

“I can help, yes.”

“I’ll talk to Carm and Sydney, and we’ll figure out how much we can offer you!” The relief and excitement are apparent in the way Nat jumps up from the armchair.

“That’s alright, really,” you say calmly, putting a hand on her arm now that she’s closer. “We can discuss this later,” and you give her another encouraging smile.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying comes from somewhere in the house. Poor Natalie freezes, her hand going to touch her chest. She takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Thank you. Thank you,” and she takes a hold of your hand, squeezing it. “I’ll tell Sydney to get in touch with you—or you can actually just go to the restaurant; they know about you.”

That makes you slightly uncertain as you remember your first attempt at an unannounced visit to The Bear.

“Alright,” you nod with a polite smile. After all, you’re getting something out of this too.

—

Sydney texts you exactly 22 minutes after you leave worn-out Natalie and her baby behind and invites you to come to The Bear the next day. To make yourself appear more untouchable, you reply that the soonest you’re available is next Monday. Make them wait.

It gets you on edge, though, and more than once you think of Carmen in his tiny Copenhagen kitchen, how things used to be. How easy it is to grow apart. Not that you’d been friends exactly. Hard to be anything like that with a person as closed off as Carmen Berzatto.

On the agreed Monday, you dare to finish early at work and take the train to The Bear. Your stomach is in knots, even though you’ve been pretty brave about the whole thing. It’s just—you’re not sure how Carmen’s gonna react when he sees you, and you’re already thinking about the worst possible scenarios. Just stop! you tell yourself resolutely, forcing yourself to concentrate on the simple but well-thought-out marketing plan you prepared to present. Without being asked. If Carmen sees that you actually KNOW things, he might change his opinion about you. Not that you KNOW his opinion, but—maybe he would actually acknowledge you finally.

It’s just after the family meal when you arrive. A tall man who introduces himself as Richie lets you in instantly, and he’s clearly been informed about your arrivall. As soon as Sydney is notified of your presence, she rushes to you from the kitchen in the back, wiping her hands on her apron. You notice right away that she’s friendly and calm, and it relaxes your nerves. There’s no doubt she loves the restaurant and her job, and you see that she worries as much as Natalie does, or even more.

“We’re opening in two hours, so it’s a bit wild in the back, but maybe you wanna see the kitchen?” Sydney offers as she’s showing you around the newly restored restaurant, opening the heavy door. “A quick peek,” she adds as a loud cracking noise comes out of the exact door.

You’ve been to a couple of kitchens, and you must say that this one’s definitely on the chaotic side of the scale. People in white aprons run here and there, no one’s still, not even for a second. There’s a good amount of shouting and a huge amount of swearing. In the middle of everything, there’s Chef Carmen Berzatto. He looks like a character from Cartoon Network. His wild hair is sticking out in all directions, dark tattoos covering his arms and hands, face sweaty, eyes ready to pop out of his head. He’s shorter than most people you see circling the kitchen, but the loudest one. He shouts orders, and you notice the vein on the side of his neck—it sure is ready to burst. You wonder how far he is from having a heart attack.

“Or maybe next time,” Sydney mutters, gently pushing you out of the way and shutting the door again. She leads you to one of the brown wooden tables where you settle again.

“Is he always like that?” you ask Sydney, actually glad that you’re not in the room where the storm’s currently happening.

“Only when he’s stressed,” Sydney explains shortly, an apologetic smile on her lips.

When it comes to money, it’s obvious The Bear doesn’t have much to spare, that much is clear. Sydney is extremely apologetic and sweet about it.

“There’s a marketing budget—previously non-existent—that we’ve set aside and can offer. It’s just not much, I’m afraid,” she tells you, jittery.

You want to reassure her, to tell her that you're doing it for Carmen, for an old "friend." But from what you've gathered, Sydney doesn't even know that Carmen knows you.

So you just smile and reassure her anyway. "I'll put it on my resume. I can use more cases with social media for hospitality," you lie.

Nodding, Sydney clarifies, "Yes, just Instagram. Please. Carmy doesn't want to put anything in the press. Yet."

When a curious Richie joins you at the table, you present the Instagram plan to both of them. Even though Richie can't help making a few rather stupid remarks that only he finds funny, they both listen carefully. You see a lot of skepticism on Richie's face, probably because he doesn't understand some of the big words, you guess, but Sydney seems to be really into everything from pictures of the food and the weekly specials, to quick reels showing potential customers a little bit of behind-the-scenes action.

"Oh, I'm sure Cousin will be thrilled to have people sticking their noses into his business," Richie says, and you're not sure how serious he is. But Sydney shushes him, and you carry on, showing her the mock-up of the possible Instagram feed to set the mood for the profile.

For the next three weeks, you go to The Bear twice a week to gather some content—photos and videos. You talk to the crew and film those who are okay with it. Your presence is met with mixed emotions, but Sydney's gratitude and kindness make up for every suspicious glare and exasperated sigh when you find yourself in someone's way. Besides the restaurant, you take your neighbor's dog for a long walk every Saturday morning, call your mom and dad to check in, scroll Instagram instead of finally starting an actual book, and often wonder why Carmen is so hostile towards you.

Generally, you try not to hang out in the kitchen directly, especially not when Chef Carmen is present. Being uncomfortable in a new environment makes you positively anxious, causing you to go through a whole pack of your favorite cinnamon Simply Gums a day.

You also remember to always tie your hair up—not that the staff there wear hairnets or anything, but you don't want Carmen to find another reason to frown at you. He's been basically only frowning or ignoring you. Hard to tell which one is worse.

You always clean your hands super thoroughly, like during COVID, singing the "Happy Birthday" song to time it before daring to even stick your finger in the restaurant. Sydney offers you an apron to protect your work clothes, which you refuse. You sense from some people there that you're not entirely welcome.

But the more you avoid Carmen, the more likely you are to bump into him. You know Murphy's Law. So one morning, he just appears from around the corner, carrying a tray of mushrooms.

For a second, you're actually horrified that he's going to introduce himself. Before that can happen, you blurt out, "Uh—do you remember me? Copenhagen?"

Carmen stops and looks at you, wiping his wet hands on the towel attached to the string of his white apron. "Yeah," he confirms, "yeah, I do." He says your name, all soft and correct, along with your surname, and with his eyes fixed on you, you're frozen to the spot, affected whether you like it or not. Then he leaves to taste Tina's roasted peppers.

Obviously, your mind can't let the episode slip away. As you type copy for the upcoming Instagram posts, you pause every so often to cringe at how embarrassing you behaved. Of course, he remembers you, for fuck's sake! You're working in his restaurant—kinda.

"Hey! Copenhagen! You wanna see this?" Carmen yells a bit later from the other side of the kitchen, and you falter, deciding whether you're really going to answer to him calling you that.

You bite your tongue and trail hesitantly to the station where Carmen is with Tina and Ebraheim, gathered around a saucepan.

"Tina, chef, this is excellent. Well done," Carmen says to her as you approach, then turns to you.

"This is what we wanna share with the world. Perfect red pepper sauce. Simple but delicious."

"Okay," you respond, taking in the expectant way all three of them are looking at you. Like you're some kind of magician. Or a fraud.

"Just," Carmen adds before he sets off, "no recipes leave this kitchen," and he waits for you to confirm.

"Right."

Slowly, you start to question why you're helping The Bear. Is it because two years ago you thought of Carmen and what you might have felt for him? What could have been? More than the chef himself, you find yourself growing fond of the place and the employees—some of them! Seeing the Instagram followers number increase fills you with pride and satisfaction. Fuck Carmen.

---

Mornings are usually the only time when Carmen isn’t around, and you try to time your visits so your paths don’t cross.

Wanting to snap photos of the new tableware and make a quick, fun video reel, you head into the kitchen. There's no one around—Sweeps is probably hiding somewhere, and Sydney might be in the office. Not wanting to bother anyone, you set your always-heavy handbag on a chair and start looking for everything you need. There's no reason for you to feel like you're sneaking around, but you can't help feeling nervous. That’s when your clumsiness strikes, and you manage to knock over a glass of water. Rolling your eyes, you get on your hands and knees to wipe the spilled water with a rug that you hope is meant for cleaning, as you’re very aware of every item having its particular function here.

You straighten up and stretch to get one more plate from the shelf. Then you lose your footing on the still-wet tiles. Your foot slips, and the top plate falls to the countertop with a loud cracking noise. You react quickly, trying to break the fall, but there's no use. The plate shatters to pieces.

Of course, it’s Carmen himself who emerges from the door leading to the office, and you wince—both physically and mentally—preparing yourself for a very unpleasant collision.

“What’s going on?” he asks as he approaches you, eyebrows pinched. He’s not wearing his chef whites, just a simple white t-shirt and dark jeans.

“Sorry, I—” you start apologizing as Carmen stands next to you, assessing the damage.

“What—what’re you doing here?” he asks in a very flat voice, staring at the pieces of ceramic.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to tidy this and also pay for the plate, obviously,” you ramble, reaching down for the shards.

“Don’t,” Carmy barks, stopping you by grabbing your shaking hands in his. His hands are big, the tattoos making them look harsh and crude, even though the touch is gentle. “Don’t cut yourself,” he adds quietly, holding you until you relax your arms and then a second longer.

He must sense your nervousness. “It’s fine, I’ll get it,” Carmen assures you, catching your eye. “Hey,” he lays a soft hand on your arm, “step away, I’ll clean this.”

Nodding, you step back and wait patiently, disconcerted, watching as Carmen carefully handles and discards the shards, then checks the floor for any tiny fragments. He turns back to you.

“Are you okay?” he checks.

“Yeah.” And you’re more thrown off balance by having Carmen pay attention to you, all of a sudden, than by damaging the kitchen’s equipment.

He studies you for a moment, his face unreadable, and you’re the one to look away first. Which you hate, by the way.

“You wanna see some stuff I’ve been working on?”

“Sure,” you agree, taking a deep breath to relax further. “I’m sorry. The loud noise—” you wave your hand in the air vaguely, rolling your eyes at yourself. “Just scared the shit out of me, I guess,” you finish with an apologetic smile.

“You’re alright,” Carmen confirms and disappears for a bit. In the meantime, you have a small meltdown, shaking your head at yourself for being so, so very terribly lame. Luckily, before he returns with a tray of different dishes, you pull yourself together.

Carmen sets the tray down, revealing an array of colorful and sophisticated meals that instantly catch your curiosity.

“Any allergies?” he asks.

“Passion fruit—easily avoidable. Sometimes kiwi,” you list. “And grumpy chefs,” you add cheekily, feeling bold.

Carmen pauses. “I’m not grumpy. I’m focused.”

“You weren’t like this in Copenhagen,” you say softly, leaning a bit closer to him, your body language signaling that once you had been comfortable around each other.

“I’m more focused now,” Carmen retorts, stubborn and maybe a bit offended. “Back then I—uhm—I felt comfortable around you. It was easy.”

“And now?” you almost whisper.

But Carmen ignores the question, pushing the first bowl closer to you. “Here, taste this… or take a picture and then taste it.”

And you understand that the re-bonding is over.

---

Soon, you drop the habit of visiting the restaurant only in the mornings. One reason is that spending time with Carmen, talking to him or watching him cook and explain things, makes you late for work twice in a row. That usually never happens as you take pride in being on time at the office. You don’t work at The Bear for money, but you hardly think about it that way. When you decide to pop in during the morning, Carmen shares his deadly strong black coffee that he mills himself with you. It’s bitter but heavenly. Secretly, you like drinking it while chewing your favorite cinnamon gum, which somehow makes the taste even better—smoother and richer.

The second reason—you discover that Carmen is much calmer in the evenings after service. Less jittery, more relaxed. His blood flows slower, you think. His heart pumps with more ease. Sydney and he share thoughts and plans for the restaurant with you while you all sit at an empty table. It’s nice, you think, while watching Carmen’s hands play with a napkin. His hands are especially nice.

It’s Saturday and raining as you find yourself sitting in Gordon Ramsay's Burger. Nothing could’ve surprised you more than Carmen asking you to go out eat together. Had he felt bad for ignoring you at the beginning? You’re watching the rivers of raindrops on the big glass window, waiting for Carmen. As usual, you’re ten minutes early, and after you order a Life’s a Beach, the first thing on your mind is you're just early, he didn't stand you up, and then: this is not a date, babe! Which instantly startles you into sitting up straight and looking around, as if someone could see your embarrassing thoughts. Why are you even thinking about this?? Then Carmen arrives, wet patches on his shoulders and jeans that cling to his thighs. He chooses the Chicago hot dog and three different burgers with a bunch of sides. While he only nibbles on them and writes down notes on his phone, you feel bad for wasting the food and eat more than you should. Carmen studies the buns very carefully and asks you a lot of questions about the food, some of which you find amusing and actually—endearing. When you go to bed that night, your belly’s uncomfortably full. You dream that you’re pregnant and about to go into labor, and you’re pretty sure that Carmen’s the father. And, honestly, do you need a book of dreams to explain the meaning? Fuck.

---

All goes to hell next week when Carmen sees you eating a sandwich from the corner shop down the street. Instead of having your regular lunch with Becky, you’ve chosen to run to The Bear so you could see Marcus unveil his new dessert. But before that, you popped into the nearby deli to order a mozzarella and sundried tomato sandwich. No one at The Bear had ever explicitly invited you to the family meal, and you would never dare to have free food there. But the way Carmen looks at you while you sit on the step by the back exit, eating the rather dry sandwich, is indescribable. The stern look on his face is back, with a closed-off facade. His eyes are cold. Before you take it all in, you wave at him awkwardly, chewing. Carmen retreats back inside wordlessly, leaving you confused and a little hurt.

Unfortunately, the atmosphere surrounding you doesn’t improve when you return to work, the stupid sandwich sitting in your stomach like a heavy stone. You have a big argument in the meeting room while planning the next month's issue. Then one of your co-workers makes a nasty remark about your single life. The afternoon drags on painfully slowly, which forces you to message your cousin—an astrologist extraordinaire—to check what the heck is going on with the universe.

Tuesday morning is rough. The second you wake up, you know you’ve overslept because you never get up without the alarm ringing angrily. A single glance at your phone proves it to be true. Right after, you notice three missed calls from Sydney and two from Nat. There are no text messages, though.

At first, you intend to call Rob to beg for a home office day, something you rarely ever use. But as soon as you check your calendar, you’re reminded of the big conference happening from 11 a.m. until 5 p.m. You rush to work, finishing your makeup on the train, then enter the office building to quickly run through notes with your colleagues. The first time you have a chance to make a quick phone call is when you finally go to the bathroom. It’s Natalie who you manage to reach first, as the lunch rush at The Bear is just unfolding. Over the cries of Natalie’s baby, you hear half-sentences about a recipe, Carmen, and a leak. It’s hard to put it all together. At 4 p.m., Nat finally sends you a text. It says: “Recipe’s published in Taste of Home. Carm’s mad. Says someone leaked it.”

It contains a link to the Taste of Home website, with Carmen’s perfect Berkswell Pudding recipe in the Top Recipes of the Week, marked “Chef’s tip.” You check it again to make sure, and surely—it’s one of the dishes Carmen introduced to you just last week. You didn’t dare to photograph it, much less taste it. You remember concentrating on the way his lips moved when he explained the preparation process, not much on the cooking itself.

What’s clear to you is that the "Someone" from Nat’s message is actually you.

A gloomy dread settles in your stomach as the meeting goes on and on. You barely pay attention, which makes everything even worse. You’re scared of what’s happened in the restaurant, and you’re worried that you’re going to miss something important in the meeting.

When you run for a second quick bathroom break, instead of peeing, you think of your next step. You could try to call everyone in the restaurant, try to find out what the hell is going on. But you don’t want to be seen as hysterical. You check Instagram and possible messages to find traces of a catastrophe. There’s nothing. Again, you open the website with the recipe. The photos are pretty sloppy, definitely not something Carmen would prepare. As you check the ingredients, you notice there are some major differences from Carmen’s dish. All in all, the only thing that stops you from texting Carmen is your pride. And true fear.

Absolutely dreading facing Carmen, you make it to The Bear during dinner time. Which, obviously, is the worst possible timing. You’re only praying that he’s not in the kitchen but hiding in his office, deep in paperwork.

It’s Sydney who you meet first as you sneak into the restaurant through the back door. She grabs your arm.

“Don’t go to talk to him now! He’s in a really, really bad mood. Natalie and I were trying to call you.” There’s genuine worry on Sydney’s face, her eyes big and honest.

“I don’t understand what happened,” you frown. You can feel a headache approaching from the intense day in the office. “I think he should tell me himself if there’s a problem.”

“I’ve been trying to work it out with him, to explain—”

“Explain what?” you question, more sternly than you usually are around Syd.

She falters. “It’s just this stupid thing—and we love having you—don’t let Carmy upset you,” Sydney half-explains. It doesn’t make much sense, and you shake your head, heading to the office. You’re more mad than afraid now.

You don’t wait for an invite after you knock shortly. Closing the door behind you, you find Carmen leaning against the desk, a bottle of water in his hand.

Everything inside of you drops the second he lays his eyes on you. There’s no doubt he’s angry.

“Didn’t Natalie tell you you don’t have to come here again?” Carmen asks curtly. “I’m surprised you think it’s okay to be here.”

Not expecting Carmen to be this harsh from the beginning, you swallow instead of answering.

“I hope that you’re happy now,” he says meanly, putting the bottle down on the desk.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you croak out, sincerely meaning it.

Carmen straightens up, watching you like a feline. “The recipe. It’s out. One fucking thing I asked not to get out, and now the whole of America can see and fucking even cook it at home.”

You’re frozen to the spot. From the very beginning, you knew that Carmen is not a person to mess with, hoping that you would never experience his anger directed at you. Now it’s happening.

You want to say something about no one being able to cook the way he does, but it’s pointless. Instead, you’re fighting off the flush on your face from embarrassment. You feel like a child being scolded, but you don’t want to look like one.

The muted but still loud kitchen noises bleed through the closed door. A shout, clattering. Not loud enough to stop Carmen from piercing you through and through with his ice-cold eyes.

“I promise I didn’t do anything like that,” you say, desperately wanting the chef to believe you. “I swear!”

Carmen pinches the bridge of his nose, one hand propped on his waist. You wait, breathless, for his next move, scared to death. The shirt you have on is wet with your sweat. The really badly smelling kind—the one your body produces when you’re stressed or scared. And you’ve been stressed since the very morning. You flinch when you move your arm and the odor hits your nose, hoping that Carmen can’t smell you. You would be mortified. The strap of your tote bag is digging into your shoulder painfully, but you don’t dare to move to put it down to relieve your arm.

“This all doesn’t—it doesn’t make any sense,” Carmen starts pacing, looking down at the floor and not at you anymore. You’re not sure if it’s better this way. “You come here, wanna do a fucking interview with me, or some shit, then you show up again—this time wanting to work here. For free! So, please, tell me—how does it sound, huh?”

Petrified, you realize how exactly it all sounds. When Carmen says it like this, it makes you look like a fraud. Like a terrible, terrible person. A liar. Your mind goes weeks back, back to the moment you actually thought of maybe digging some scoop in here, maybe convincing Carmen to do the interview after all. But it’s far from how he’s making the situation sound.

“Carmen,” you start without knowing what you want to say. Carmen’s stopped walking around the tiny office like a caged animal, and he’s again looking at you. There’s so much tension in his face, back hunched. “It sounds bad, but may I explain—”

“You may not,” he cuts you off briskly. His neck—normally a place you find sexy—is all red, and the thick vein there is getting more and more prominent by the second. “No one fucks with my business, you understand?” Oh—and he’s shouting now.

The natural defense, you didn’t know existed, is to make yourself smaller. Somehow, anyhow. You hang your head, avoiding looking at his face. You just can’t meet his eyes, even though Carmen’s bowing and tilting his head to force you to.

“It’s like I have to start asking the staff to sign an NDA,” he carries on.

Carmen’s getting slowly closer and closer to you, pushing you against the wall by the door. He’s not touching you but only because you’re not allowing it. You’re sick with humiliation. Lost for words, probably for the first time in your life.

“—and Nat fucking leaves me here—us, all of us—and that’s just not fair. I would expect so, so much more from my sister. Not that my brother was much better,” he chuckles humorlessly, but you see it’s more like an effort to catch his breath. “Lousy fuckers… Do you think you do your job well here, chef?”

He’s scaring you now. The hair by his temples and above his forehead is damp, and his gesticulation is wild and weird.

“Do we disgust you here, is that right, hm?” Carmen probably finally sees your frightened expression because he adds, “Why would you buy food somewhere else and then come here to eat it?!” You understand that he’s referring to the day he saw you eating the sandwich by the rear exit. Unsure whether he expects you to reply, you decide to stay quiet. Your knees are starting to shake, from exhaustion after the long day and perhaps, from Carmen’s current behavior.

“It made ME sick,” he says, his face just inches from yours when one of his hands slams into the thin wall right next to your head. The noise echoes in the room, and you’re desperately hoping it’s not loud enough for the others to hear from outside. You would die on the spot if they knew what’s going on here.

“Who do you think you are?” Carmen shouts some more, loud, by your ear. It vibrates through you and never stops. You’re shivering all over, you notice. It’s not okay, not okay!

At last, you raise your head, chin jutting out. “No one’s going to talk to me like this. No one,” you spit out in the chef’s face, taking him by surprise. “Don’t you ever shout at me again,” and you jab him right in the middle of his chest, instead of punching him there like he deserves.

When you’re leaving his office and rushing to the back exit, you hear Carmen yelling.

Everything feels tense and your hands are shaking. Your jaw is set so hard your teeth could crush from the pressure. The fresh air hits your face, and you focus on breathing deeply through your nose. The sounds remind you of a steam engine. You walk for about a minute, mind blank with the shock. Only when you turn a corner do you allow yourself to stop, which causes the first tears to fall. You’re so mad at yourself. Why the fuck are you crying?! There’s so much frustration in the crazy mixture of emotions you’re feeling. You’re completely overwhelmed with it, not knowing what to focus on at first.

Out of habit, you look for your phone in your handbag to check the screen. The fucking heavy bag that’s been killing your shoulder. Frustrated, you let it slide off your arm and down to the sidewalk. You don’t even care if it breaks, as it lands with a noisy, dull sound. It had been years since you got properly yelled at, and you’re angry that it affects you this much. You promise yourself to take a few seconds here, in the middle of an empty street, then call a cab. At home, you can cry.

PART II