#but I feel like I only want to make it if someone is actually interested

[squiddyfics]

squid game characters in a relationship with you

saebyeok, thanos, namgyu, daeho, hyunju, semi, the recruiter

description: how squid game characters would be as partners (au; no mention of the games)

18+ minors dni

warnings: nsfw in parts!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

saebyeok:

♡ you were the one to ask her out and she quite literally didn't believe it

♡ like she didn't even answer you at first because she didn't think you were being serious

♡ she has a hard time expressing her emotions. you definitely said "i love you" first and it took her a while to feel comfortable saying it back

♡ despite this, she was the one who fell in love first. she just kept that shit to herself lmao

♡ rather than being outwardly affectionate with her words, she expresses her love through quality time. she loves planning dates for you or just cooking for you at home

♡ she's not big on pda, but she'll wrap a protective arm around you while you're out together

♡ if someone hits on you, she'll get even more protective. partly out of jealousy, but mostly because she hates the thought of someone making you uncomfortable

♡ she's a generous lover. def more of a giver if you know what i mean

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

thanos:

♡ he was the one to approach you, and he was bold about it too

♡ you aren't his first partner by any means, but you're his first real love

♡ he looooves to show you off. "look at my baby. look how lucky i got."

♡ naturally, this means he's into pda. the more eyes on the two of you, the better. he wants the whole world to know you're his

♡ especially if someone shows interest in you... then he gets even more touchy, so he can rub it in their face that you're his, all his

♡ if anyone wrongs you, he'll vow to make their life a living hell. you can't even gossip about your work drama to him without him getting angry on your behalf and threatening to kill them

♡ even though he talks a big game he knows he's lowk a loser and he doesn't take it for granted that you choose to stay by his side

♡ that being said he makes you his bitch in bed. he's for sure heavily on the dominant side

♡ he also has an exhibitionism kink i just feel that in my bones

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

namgyu:

♡ he was the one to make a move on you, but he said it in a joking manner so that if you said no, he could play it off as not being serious

♡ this man's love language is physical touch there's no doubt about it

♡ his words don't match his actions.. like he'll make fun of you for crying during a movie while simultaneously cuddling you and rubbing your back

♡ he doesn't have any cute pet names for you, just insults said in a loving manner ("stinky" etc). he just can't take himself seriously enough to be sappy

♡ you've unlocked his secret second love language, which is sending you memes

♡ he wants to be seen as tough so he pretends to hate it when you call him cute (he does not, in fact, hate it) (it actually melts him)

♡ he gives the evil eye to anyone who dares to look at you for a second too long

♡ you are for his eyes only

♡ he's dominant in bed but he likes you bratty. he wants to work for it

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

daeho:

♡ you had known him for a while, and you had to be the one to ask him out because he was oblivious to all the hints you were dropping

♡ he was too much of a gentleman to risk overstepping your boundaries by asking you on a date

♡ however, once he had the confirmation that you actually liked him, he was all in

♡ he was absolutely the first one to say "i love you". that man fell head over heels

♡ he is patient as fuck and will put up with whatever bullshit you throw at him. like when you tested the orange peel theory on him and he passed with flying colors

♡ you literally have a pet boyfriend. he'll go anywhere with you and do anything to make you happy. your fav himbo <3

♡ he's prone to jealousy but tries not to show it so as not to make a scene in front of you. if someone hurts you, though, all etiquette goes out the window and he's ready to start SWINGING

♡ your pleasure is his priority in bed and he's up for whatever you're into, but when it comes to his preferences, he'd much rather be dominated by you

♡ call him a good boy and his brain will go haywire

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

hyunju:

♡ you definitely had to make the first move. this mf was way too stoic to express her feelings for you

♡ she got anxious and cancelled on you before your first date, so you had to be persistent and reschedule

♡ she was surprised by your strong interest in her, and she still doesn't know how she got so lucky

♡ it took her a bit to open up, but she ended up saying "i love you" first

♡ she's extremely protective of you. her introversion is forgotten as soon as someone upsets you, and she's giving them a piece of her mind within seconds

♡ she doesn't really get jealous, she just gets sad :(

♡ she's an acts of service girly. she'll vacuum your floor, change a flat tire for you, anything to feel useful to you

♡ she gives stone top energy (this one is more for an f!reader as it's a wlw term)

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

semi:

♡ she was the one to ask you out, and she said it so casually that you almost missed it

♡ her first "i love you" was also casual, said as she was leaving your house one morning. "bye, love you."

♡ you honestly don't know if she's prone to jealousy because no one has fucked around and found out. everyone around you two respects her quiet confidence and doesn't even bother trying anything with you

♡ she has strong opinions, but she expresses them calmly. because of this, the two of you never fight, though you do occasionally have respectful debates. you tend to walk away feeling like she was in the right after all

♡ she's not huge on pda unless it's something cute and lowkey like holding hands, or some stupid shit like licking you

♡ you def have a secret handshake

♡ she's a soft dom and she's not shy about wanting to receive. she wants you on your knees in front of her

♡ with that said, she also gives great head. that lip piercing..... iykyk

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

the recruiter:

♡ he asked you out at a bar, making a bet that if you lost at pool, you'd go on a date with him

♡ you lost on purpose so his fine ass would take you on a date, and the rest was history

♡ he said he loved you first, and he said it fast. it's not often that he feels love for someone, so he had to act on it

♡ he would do anything for you. anything. if you asked him for help burying a body, he'd tell you not to get your pretty hands dirty; he'd do it himself

♡ not that that would happen... but he's thought about it. he knows that's how dedicated he is to you

♡ this freaky little fuck doesn't feel an iota of jealousy when others flirt with you. he just smiles, knowing know matter how much they fight for your attention, it'll be his name you're screaming at the end of the night

♡ he likes to be in control in life, and that translates to the bedroom too

♡ he has big sadist energy, but if he ever actually crosses a line he'll drop everything to comfort you (and beat himself up about it)

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I've been seeing your post about the podcast on Octavia Butler going around and I've been wondering, why do you think people only seem to react that way too problematic relationships? I've heard an English major, book reviewer say that they should've made the girl of legal age if they wanted to write about her stepfather attempting to prey on her because it's "gross" and also acted like it was an oversight. Another one, thought a book that is famously about a predator and the author is a victim of predation and the book is marketed about predation, romanticized predation and abuse and described it as an attempt at writing romance and failing? I don't know, I've just never seen anyone get that way about murder. Anyway, hi sex witch! 🧙‍♀️

I think there are like. complex and innumerable reasons for this, but re: the murder comparisons I think for many people it's worryingly easy to imagine that someone might actually act on or want to act on #problematic sexual behaviors depicted in fiction. like, the amount of murder that most people are doing IRL is absolutely zero, so I think it's kind of easy for most folks to sequester that away in a little fantasy bubble where someone who enjoys reading about murder is as likely to actually be partaking in that interest as someone who enjoys reading about riding dragons or traveling through space. whereas, statistically, most people have sex at some point, or at least could be having sex, so it feels like a much more reasonable concern to assume that their fictional tastes might be directly reflected in their actual behavior.

which is tied to another huge issue here, which is that I think a lot of people just... never learn to engage in a healthy manner with things that yuck them out or make them uncomfortable? so they get in a headspace where it's impossible to imagine that anyone willingly engages with fiction that they don't personally 100% condone. which extends to critiques of authors like you're mentioning, where some readers can't seem to ken that there's an intention and artistry to showing something vile beyond that depiction either being the author's personal fetish or their attempt to be an edgelord. a booktuber who I otherwise like quite a lot once downgraded their review of Akwaeke Emezi's novel The Death of Vivek Oji because it features a queer sexual relationship between cousins and the reviewer found the inclusion of incest to be unnecessary, which seems to be rather missing the point of a novel that's entirely about a family being drowned by its own secrets.

and also idk many people, especially my fellow USAmericans who have a bad tendency of skewing very prudish whether they recognize it or not, are just very very very scared of any sex that falls outside of Gayle Rubin's charmed circle

and will kind of immediately start getting nervous when exposed to it without ever once interrogating why. I absolutely guarantee you someone is going to sent me an angry anon about at least one aspect of this circle asking why I'm trying to justify it, which is going to illustrate the point very nicely.

[evilyisme]

we can simultaneously:

(1) have an internal valid, natural, and strong emotional response to this situation. we have the right to feel angry, disgusted, disappointed, betrayed, etc.

AND

(2) externally express those feelings through empathy, not spite or revenge. if you truly believe that ALL PEOPLE deserve basic human rights (shelter, food, healthcare, etc.), then you have to defend the rights of all.

that’s one of the truly hard parts about being leftist. you must always consciously act with empathy, in line with what you claim to believe. otherwise… you’re implying you DON’T actually believe everyone deserves automatic basic rights.

for example, if someone who’s trans does something horrible that you disagree with… you wouldn’t start misgendering them out of spite, right? if you did, that would imply something about you. that you think trans people have to EARN their identity and that trans folks can lose the most basic respect for their identity if you simply dislike them enough. I hate Caitlyn Jenner for instance. I think she’s evil. but me thinking she’s evil is a completely separate issue from her gender identity. I can simultaneously respect that she is a trans woman and also criticize and hate her for her actions. these things aren’t mutually exclusive.

with this current Trump administration, some of his voters are having their first “I never thought the leopards would eat my face” moment. you guys have to understand that MAGA is like a cult. people in a cult rarely ever think they’re in a cult. it takes quite a bit to for people to break free.

internally, you can be a bit spiteful, take a moment to think “I don’t care. we tried to tell them and they didn’t listen. this is what they voted for. f*ck them.”

but externally? your actions must remain focused on rights for ALL, even the rights of ignorant assholes. this is where—when an ex-Trump supporter turns to you and says, “I’m so confused. I didn’t know. I didn’t realize. I wouldn’t have voted for him.”—we say, “we tried to tell you. right-wing media lied to you to get what they want. they took your trust and money and betrayed you. i’m beyond pissed that you chose to believe them, but i’m still sorry you’re losing your rights. you’re here now and you see it. we’ve got to stop them.”

no one deserves to lose their basic rights. we can express our strong emotions towards those who voted Trump (voting not only against their OWN interests, but also against the interests of countless other people) without celebrating the results of fascism.

when you openly celebrate and advocate for certain people losing their basic rights (no matter how much those people suck)… you’re celebrating fascism.

you’re showing that your belief in basic human rights hinges on whether or not someone has “earned it.” similar to the MAGA crowd, you’re saying “these things are privileges, not rights. and only certain people deserve these privileges.”

internally, you can feel however you like. you don’t have to forgive or forget. but externally, you must make the conscious decision to keep fighting for everyone’s rights.

don’t feed the spite. it’s exactly what those in power expect and want from you.

remember, the oligarchy wants us fighting horizontally, at each others’ throats.

the only way forward, is to fight vertically, together.

[twilighthinker]

I know many people may not agree with me, but I do want to voice out my feelings. Please remember this is not a jab at anyone, and I'm not here to police anybody! I adore the LADS fandom and therefore its members, especially in this Tumblr community.

I guess I want to seek the knowledge of not being alone in my musings.

I don't really like the poly-content with MC (us) and the Love Interests. This is contradictory because I'm not against it, if anything I would love to read it! So this is actually said with a very specific context.

I don't like it when all their feelings are towards MC, but have no feelings for each other.

Maybe it's the helpless romantic in me? I am not sure, I would like for all of us to be in a consenting relationship, where we like and take care of each other, and of course their feelings are strong with us.

I want to imagine that when we are out hunting wanderers with Xavier and being a badass couple, Sylus and Rafayel are indulging in luxury and art, drinking wine slowly. I'd like to imagine that Zayne and Caleb are playing sudoku, with Caleb rambling about apple-based recipes that he would cook for us.

I'd like to imagine that when someone feels down, and we are not there, they will have someone to support.

I'd like to imagine that we are all sitting around the living room, eating whatever we and Caleb cooked, watching movies and fighting over the controller.

I'd like to imagine that we all make a big pile of cuddling, with Zayne drinking his sweet chocolate, Xavier nodding off at Sylus shoulder, Sylus leaning back to the couch to support him but also welcome us between his legs, brushing our hair or massaging out shoulders, with Rafayel having his head in our lap and his feet on Zayne's, and Caleb leaning on Xavier's legs with his head on our knee.

I want fluff 😭 sorry I ranted. Again this is not policing, it's just something I have an opinion about LADS and LADS only, and that I have seen no content of it. And I know many are against with the Love Interests being bisexual. This is just a headcanon of mine that I will be writing soon.

[flwrkid14]

I was reading the two posts about Tim's Christmas list, and just thought of the Bat Family noticing how happy Tim is.

Maybe Damian sees the new brushes and asks why Tim has Stephanie's things?

"Oh no, those aren't her's. They're mine. Danny got them for me cause they were on my list. I've needed a new set for a few years, but I only remember when I'm on a mission and needs to use them. Isn't he so sweet? And he got me really good quality ones, too!"

Or Jason mocking Tim for finally getting new hoodies. And instead of huffing or quipping back, Tim just brightens. Smiling in a way Jason's never seen.

"Danny got them for me! They're so soft. There's some of my favorite gifts from him! It's honestly nice to have new clothes that aren't formal. I'm so happy he read my list." And kinda just bounces away.

Maybe Bruce asking if Tim finally got new cups for his office?

"Danny's so sweet, isn't he? He found my list for Christmas and decided to get me a few mugs and thermoses. It's great I don't have to worry about accidentally cutting my mouth open again." 😊

Or Stephanie (who was injured on patrol and Tim's Nest, with apartment on top, was the closest place she could get to.) commenting on the fact that Tim has a lot of blankets, pillows, and plushies.

"Danny got them for me for Christmas I love how soft and warm everything is. He even found a plushie of a sleeping ghost! It's weighted, has a heating feature, and is made of glow in the dark fabric. Matter of fact, almost all the plushies and blankets he got me were weighted! Just like I had written on my list. They make me feel so loved. After all, he wants me to feel warm and safe, what's more considerate than that?"

Cass looks for Tim, knowing he's staying in the manor overnight because of a gala the next day. She hears music coming from the bathroom, but the light isn't on. So she goes in to turn it off, just in case Tim accidentally left it on. Only to see that there is a light on. A music box made to look like a record player spinning a vinyl, projecting blue light to look like you were underwater. Tim was in the bathtub, with the music box on the rim.

After the kerfuffle of them realizing Cass walked in on Tim taking a bath, and Tim getting dressed quickly, Cassandra asks him where he got it? It's cute and sounds really nice.

"Oh, it's a gift from Danny. He gave me it for Christmas. He knows I like cute things like that. And it's nice to listen to. He even got me this cat eared fluffy hairband for when I do my skincare or makeup! So cute, right?" 🥰

And slowly, all of them realize they never got Tim what he wanted. They try to justify it by saying he put tech on the list, but they look back through past lists and realize Tim changed his list because no one ever got him what he put on the list.

omg, I love your take on my posts! Your writing is so good! And you're absolutely right—the batfamily realizing their oversight and coming to terms with is such an interesting angle to explore! I like the way you went about it, especially all the times Tim kept mentioning the items were from his list!!

That said, I also wanted to address something that a lot of people were frustrated about when reading my original post.. many were upset with the family for not reading Tim’s list, wondering if they lost it or ignored it on purpose. I realize I didn’t provide enough context on my post for how the list actually functions!

The christmas lists in the batfamily aren’t necessarily meant to be followed to the letter—they’re more of a reference in case someone doesn’t know what to get. For example, Damian’s interests are pretty well known (art supplies, things for his animals, weapons), so most of the family can buy him something without needing to check his list. But for someone like Alfred or Bruce, where their preferences might be harder to pin down, the list serves as a guide.

With Tim, the family assumes they already know what he likes. They don’t think they need to check his list because, in their minds, they already understand him. So they keep giving him things they know he uses—cameras, electronics, hard drives—without realizing he already has more than enough. It’s not necessarily neglectful; it’s just a blind spot.

Danny, on the other hand, actually looks at the list. Not only because he wants to get Tim the best gifts possible, but because he lives with him. He sees what Tim already has in abundance and what he’s been meaning to get for himself but keeps putting off. That’s why his gifts are so thoughtful—he pays attention in a way the others don’t.

I hope this explanation helps clarify things for those who were confused or frustrated!!

[bitingdrivers]

part two of Max with kitty ears - maxiel, 980 words

Daniel stirs awake with Max still soundly asleep on top of him. He carefully fishes his phone out of his shorts and checks the time – they've been asleep for no more than a couple of hours. 

Slowly he extracts his other hand out of Max’s shorts, hoping it won't wake him. Max stirs and tightens his arms around Daniel's torso but doesn't wake up. 

Daniel waits a few seconds then unlocks the camera app and takes about a dozen of pictures and videos of them together: of Max, cuddled to his chest, of Daniel's hand in his hair, petting the ears.

He saves all of them to his blackmail folder, along with pictures of Max making breakfast in their kitchen, wearing only Daniel's bright pink socks; Max, wine drunk, passed out in their bed, hugging one of his trophies; a selfie of them, Daniel smiling at the camera, covered in lipstick kisses, Max, hiding his blush being his hands in the background; a few nudes from their message thread. 

Then he cards his hand through Max’s hair, scratching behind one of the ears – it seems to finally wake him up. Max grumbles and cuddles to Daniel harder, squeezing his ribs.

“Morning, sunshine,” Daniel murmurs, smiling gently. 

Max yawns and his ears flatten back to his head. “It's 4 p.m.,” he groggily points out and lifts himself from Daniel's chest. 

“It's morning somewhere,” Daniel shrugs and sits up too, rubbing his neck, it doesn't always agree with Daniel's love for napping on the couch. 

“I'm hungry,” Max says, standing up from the couch and stretching, arms behind his head. 

Ooh big stretch, Daniel thinks, but doesn't say, because he, not for the first time, gets distracted by Max’s stomach peeking from under his t-shirt.

Daniel follows him to the kitchen. “Alright, what do you want? Milk? Fish?” he pauses, “A mouse?” 

Max looks at him, ears flat, annoyed expression on his face like Daniel is one of those journalists with stupid questions. 

“Stop being silly or I will ask Jimmy and Sassy to pee in all of your shoes,” he threatens. 

“You can speak cat?” Daniel gasps. 

He always wanted to know what the two demons think when they sit and stare at a random corner. Or maybe they can finally ask the cats if they do actually feel sad when the bedroom door is closed, as Max always claims. 

“No, but they will understand me anyway,” Max replies and hoists himself on the kitchen counter. 

“Fair,” Daniel concedes and opens the fridge. Max’s ear flicks at the sound. 

“How does it feel, by the way?” Daniel asks, taking out a can of Redbull and handing it to Max. “Having the ears?”

Max cracks open the can and takes a sip. Daniel decides to make sandwiches.

“Weird,” Max says, playing with the tab. “I know they are of course because of the curse, but sometimes I forget. It’s like I always had them,” he muses, rubbing one of the ears. 

Daniel hums, moving around Max to take out the ingredients, a cutting board and a knife. 

“Sounds are louder, that's the only difference I think,” Max says, stealing a piece of ham from the cutting board.

“You never told how they cursed you,” Daniel prompts, slicing the cheese. He cuts an extra slice for Max to steal again. 

Max plops the cheese into his mouth, chews. “Because it's not very interesting. This girl sprinkled a powder on my head,” he explains before taking a sip of his Redbull. 

Daniel doesn't know a lot about curses, but that sounds about right. Probably the reason it won't work for long. They are lucky that it was a fangirl essentially pulling a prank on Max, and not someone who actually wanted to harm him. 

“Why cat ears anyway?” Daniel asks once the sandwiches are finished, and both of them are sitting at the dining table. 

“The doctor said it's probably random,” Max shrugs and takes a bite. He chews a little and hums, pleased. 

Daniel feels pride blooming in his chest. He's not the best at cooking, but the meals he does know how to make are good, or better than good, according to Max. 

“What animal would I be?” Daniel asks after taking a bite too. “If I got cursed?” 

“Hm,” Max hums, squinting at Daniel. He turns his head a little while thinking. Cute. 

“I think a poodle, maybe?” he suggests with a smirk. 

Daniel lets out an undignified sound. “A poodle?!” he splutters. “They don't even have ears!”

Max looks like he's about to explode. “Daniel, what? All dogs have ears,” he giggles. 

All dogs have ears, but poodles have the most ugly ones, Daniel thinks – or imagines. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw one, or if he ever saw one. Regardless, that’s not the point.

“That's very insensitive, you know,” he huffs while Max laughs. “I thought you would say a honey badger. That's literally my brand,” he grumbles, defensive. 

“Do honey badgers even have ears?” Max asks, cackling. 

“Do they- Of course they have ears, Max!” Daniel says, exasperated. “Small cute ones, on their head,” Daniel explains, lifting his hands to his hair. 

“Awww,” Max coos, the bastard. This is Daniel's brand they're talking about. If Max asked what ears he would get, Daniel would've said lion’s, a hundred percent. It's not like the answer would be wrong – a lion is just a big cat. 

“Eat your sandwich,” he huffs, nodding at Max's plate. Daniel needs to come up with a revenge for this. Maybe it's time to use the blackmail folder. 

“I love you anyway, Daniel,” Max smiles, settling. “No matter what ears you have.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. Fine, revenge can wait.

“I love you too,” he says begrudgingly. “Even after your cat ears are gone,” he smirks. 

Max kicks him under the table and takes a bite of his sandwich.

[hobbitkiller]

It’s not a perspective. Cait and Vi didn’t have different goals in that scene. Also, not every scene that sets up joining forces has to literally spell out that’s the intent of the scene. I honestly don’t get your insistence that everything be spelled out for you like you’re a child.

I’m also clearly going to have to explain foreshadowing to you. Foreshadowing is a literary and story telling device that is used to plant an idea in the reader’s/viewer’s mind for later. Introducing the idea that Piltover and Zaun had joined forces before was placing that idea in the viewer’s head.

You are very much reaching with your analysis of Ambessa just being there to raise tensions. You seem to not grasp how stories develop. In interesting, multifaceted stories like Arcane characters don’t show up with a moist ache to twirl indicating evil intent. That doesn’t mean it’s bad storytelling for them to become the major villain. That’s good storytelling, actually. That said, someone familiar with tropes and story structure could easily predict that she was going to become the new big problem.

Again, you keep acting like every bit of setup had to be super explicit in spelling out the two sides were going to fight together and that, if it didn’t it means that wasn’t the plan. That’s not how writing works. You’re supposed to be able to put all of the pieces together.

That said, they pretty explicitly showed where the use of hextech could lead without nuance in the second episode, so acting like that wasn’t set up as a major threat frankly feels intellectually dishonest. Sure, at the time we maybe thought Heimerdinger was being an alarmist, but everything that happened with hextech from that point forward drove the plot more toward that point he warned about. Even when they spell things out for you as clearly as they can, you don’t want to see it.

As for agency, season two was very much the “find out” part of “fuck around.” What happened with Viktor was a result of his dangerous experiments with hextech. If he hadn’t done that, Jayce wouldn’t have been able to use the hex core to heal him. Him and Jayce going their separate ways was the consequence of Jayce weaponizing hextech. The anomaly was the consequence of Piltover overusing hextech. Ambessa’s ability to take over was the consequence of Jinx blowing up the council. Season two was where characters had to deal with the consequences of the choices they made in season one.

None of these consequences were forced. Yes, they had big fantasy/Sci Fi fallout, but that’s because the show is Sci Fi/fantasy. That tends to be what happens in the genre. You could easily replace the implications and fallout of hextech with nuclear power or similar technical advancements that created massive problems in the real world, and an imperial power like the US, or Noxus in the show, taking advantage of social and political division in a smaller country to try to control its land and resources is a common refrain throughout history.

You’re right, the arcane isn’t the main focus. The main focus also isn’t the political strife. Both are devices used to tell the story of the characters. The show is not about Piltover versus Zaun. The show is about how that conflict has shaped the characters. Feel free to read my other posts on the subject.

Not sure wha t your Warwick point is. Yes, he is there to retraumatize Vi in the end. Yes, his agency is taken away. That would be the tragedy right there.

As for Mel continuing the cycle, that’s up for interpretation, I guess. I think the cycle she’s specifically breaking there is the one where “Medarda’s only take.” She ended the cycle where her family raises itself up by taking from others.

Your argument against the acceleration rune doesn’t make sense because the device that could only be made with it was Ekko’s which was, in fact, the difference. Pointing out how everything else is the same actually hurts your argument there.

Also, a big lipped alligator moment is something that comes completely out of nowhere and serves no purpose. Neither of those describe Viktor and Jayce. Do they have to explain the exact mechanics of what happened? Would stopping to go into some technobabble have made the show better? Because we always pay close attention to characters doing that in media right? We’re really in it for the made up technobabble.

Your desire for the show to end in a civil war makes it neither better writing nor what the show initially intended. You like to reference what actually happened in the Jayce Silco scene to try to say it wasn’t foreshadowing (again, because I can only assume you don’t know what foreshadowing is)? What did Jayce say would happen if they actually went to war with each other? Zaun would have been crushed. Yes, it would have been a blood bath on both sides, but a Piltover army with hextech and the Noxians would have either won or would have claimed victory and been dealing with insurgent attacks from Zaun for the foreseeable future.

There would be no reconciliation at all unless the show wanted to really abandon one of the ways it was most grounded, which is how violence and vengeance feed each other. There’s a reason why, after most revolutions and wars throughout history, the country is drawn into another war pretty quickly after. One conflict breeds another.

There’s a reason why regions like the Middle East are seemingly caught in endless cycles of violence—because people don’t generally forgive losing a war easily, because wars are costly in lives and resources, and because generational traumas and wrongs often come back to haunt us. Even if the war ended with a miraculous agreement on both sides to lay down arms, there will be people who lost family who will still want justice—to feel that their loved one’s death meant something.

If, however, people’s loved ones died fighting together, that’s a powerful reason to try to make a positive change. Because, again, people want the sacrifice to mean something. It supposedly partly why Britain and other European countries established services like the NHS after WWII. After living through the Blitz and the destruction, it made them want to create a better future.

You keep complaining that the show largely drops the class conflict story after episode four, and that would be a problem if that was what the show was about. However, given the show is about the characters and episodes five and six are mostly about bringing Jinx and Vi and Vi and Caitlyn back together, it made sense to narrow the focus back down to that family unit. The conflict is still there in the background—it’s in the tragedy of Vander, Silco, and Felicia. It’s in the fact that Noxus and Piltover feel entitled to take Vanwick, but it’s not the focus.

I’m honestly not a huge fan of episode seven, because I’m not a huge fan of TimeBomb, but that was an interesting take on what else could have helped bridge the divide between Piltover and Zaun—the tragic loss of a child and the loss of the technology that further drove Piltover and Zaun. The episode is about the class conflict in the sense that it introduces a world mostly without it, showing that, just like it’s possible to have “good” versions of Jinx/Powder, it’s also possible to have a works where Piltover and Zaun have peace. That was the lesson Ekko took away from his AU adventure, to not give up on a better world—that things aren’t “too far gone.”

I also find your point about Jayce not talking to Viktor weird…you do get that he wasn’t really in his right mind there, right? We also can’t say for sure what would have happened if he hadn’t shot him. Maybe the fallout would have been worse. Maybe Viktor would have made more followers so that there were even more dolls when it came to a head. But, again, Jayce wasn’t in the mental state to have a rational discussion right then.

The conflict does come back in the last two episodes because it is somewhat a question of whether or not Zaun will help—which would be Piltover suffering the consequences of its actions. Now, you’re right, arguably the question would be what choice did they have in the end, but that’s again honestly true to many real life conflicts. You’re stuck working with the lesser of two evils.

As I said, what would have been completely unrealistic would have been if everyone hugged and kissed and had a huge barbecue together with fireworks after the Noxians left. We know from history that old prejudices often return once the battle is over—take how Black soldiers were treated in the US after…I was going to say WWII, but really every American war.

I also honestly can’t help other people deciding Sevika being on the council is supposed to be a resolution instead of a first step. It was clearly not framed as a resolution with everyone sharing mistrusting looks and her looking, frankly, uncomfortable. If people decide to be obtuse and not read the overt visual language of the show, that’s a them problem.

And guess what? The show isn’t about class conflict. Yes, it’s an essential element, a major theme, and vital context. It is not what the show is about. Just like unchecked scientific progress is a theme, but not what the show is about.

You bring up what Silco said about the cycle continuing. My point is not about how all violence will always and forever be no more; it’s about how these specific characters are breaking their cycles. Again, this show is about the characters first, which is why it makes sense that they didn’t solve class inequality in a year. It’s about these characters and their stories.

Really, though, much of this conversation has strayed from the original point, which is that this was the direction that was set up in the first season. You may not like it. You may have wanted it to go another way. But it was, in fact, set up. The memory Heimer has of the horrible fallout from Arcane is essentially what happened. They deliberately planted the seed (which, again, is the purpose of foreshadowing—not explicitly stating what’s going to happen next, that’s just exposition) that the thing that originally brought the cities together was a common enemy. They had this conversation one episode after Ambessa, a war monger from an imperialist nation, was introduced.

Even if the show did what you wanted and went with a civil war, there’s a very good chance it would have developed into Piltover and Zaun versus Noxus anyway. Cait/Jayce would be trying to stop the war on Piltover’s side, but Ambessa would refuse to give up the fight and leave with nothing. This would have caused Noxus to turn on Piltover, and then it would have been up to Zaun to either help or let them take each other out first and then fight the survivors. Maybe that would have been better. I personally would be asking, “Hey, what happened to the existential threat posed by hextech that was also being built up in the first season?” But maybe you’re fine with dropping the whole “arcane” bit of arcane.

“What happened to rebel Vi? Season 2 destroyed her character!”

“What happened to rebel Vi” is that Vander took her to the bridge where her parents died in his revolution and asked her what she was willing to lose. Then she meets Cait who is gentle and kind while still being tough and it makes her rethink how she sees topside. When Jinx tells her she changed too, that’s what she’s talking about.

I’m sorry if you thought Vi was going to be a topside-hating revolutionary in Season 2, but that’s clearly not where her character arc was going. Remember how she forced her way between Ekko and Cait? It seemed very straightforward that was the role her character was taking on.

I feel similar about people who act like the show was betraying its premise because it ended with reconciliation/Zaun and Piltover working together. Again, the fact that two of the most important relationships were between characters from both sides and that they made a point of talking about Zaun and Piltover first coming together against a common enemy was a pretty clear indicator that was the plan.

Now, I get being annoyed that that was what they chose to do. You don’t have to love the creative decisions of media, just like media doesn’t have to compromise its creative direction to satisfy you. But not liking that they went that direction is not the same as the show having bad writing or engaging in character assassination.

Everything Vi did in season 2 was very much in character with how she changed and who she became throughout Season 1. Hell, she used enforcers and Hextech to raid Shimmer facilities before Commander Kiramman ever threw on a beret. So, yes, actually wearing the uniform was a huge and complicated decision that she was definitely not happy about, but it also fell in line with what she had been doing.

There’s meat for another post at some point about the three different Zaun/enforcer partnerships we see in the show: Vander/Greyson, Silco/Marcus, and Cait/Vi; but I’m not going to go into that now.

TLDR: “Rebel Vi” who wants to fight all of topside hasn’t existed since the end of the second episode of the show.

Editing to add that Vi doesn’t see attacking Chem Barons as attacking Zaun; she’s taking down the people who are destroying Zaun.

[genderqueerdykes]

Adding onto the "stop thinking everything a man does is sexually motivated"

I'm asexual (sex neutral) and any time someone tries to claim anything is due to "sexual means" I point out I'm asexual and deadass couldn't care less for sexual things, not ideal/completely correct I know but it makes them shut up most of the time. EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY TURN IT INTO "SO YOU THINK X IS UGLY/UNATTRACTIVE/BAD/ETC" LIKE SEXUAL ATTRACTION IS THE ONLY WAY TO ENJOY SOMETHING????????

It makes me want to commit arson on multiple degrees.

thank you for taking the time to stop by and share!

it's kind of fucking bonkers the double standard people have about men when it comes to sex and sexual attraction. people expect you to be a horndog and then when you're like hey actually i have no fucking interes, you'll get people like this who get OFFENDED because you're not attracted to something. you can't win. damned if you do, damned if you're don't. you're either a gross horny pervert or you're an asshole for not being attracted to someone because if a man isn't horny somehow that means they're saying that thing is objectively bad. like what the fuck are you even saying?

like people are offended if man is horny... and they're offended if the man isn't horny. what the actual fuck kind of double standard is that? you get mad at men when they're horny but then get mad at them because they'd DIDN'T find something attractive... why are you taking someone ELSE'S attraction personally like that?

people take men's feelings so fucking personally sometimes. no wonder it's hard for men to open up and express their fucking emotions. people freak the ever loving hell out the second that man's opinion or feelings are slightly different than what they expected. people do this weird thing where they think they can see right through men and know what they're all about just by profiling them based off of appearance and interests. we honest to god as a society treat some men like absolute fucking shit and it's time we acknowledged it.

take care of yourself, anon. you deserve better. stay safe out there

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin | When You Kabedon Them vs When They Kabedon You

Request: For the house gondolin would you be willing to do a group headcanon for kabedoning their s/o vs getting kabedoned by their s/o? 👉👈 Have a great December!

A/N: Oh anon, I hope this was done to your liking, and what you were expecting. Enjoy!

Synopsis: How the elves react when you corner them compared to when they corner you.

Masterlist | Navigation

.𑁍༊˚ Galdor

Galdor had never really considered himself the sort to be easily flustered. He was a warrior, a leader, someone who had seen battle and withstood its horrors without so much as a tremor. But then, of course, you had to go and press him up against the nearest wall, one hand braced beside his head, your expression positively devious.

He blinked at you as he tried to make sense of what was happening. “Are you trying to intimidate me?” His tone was dubious, a little amused even, but there was the faintest pink creeping up his ears.

The moment you leaned in, his composure wavered. He cleared his throat, but his voice had a rough edge when he spoke again. “This seems unfair. I am entirely unarmed.”

If you stole a kiss, he would recover quickly, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you in for another, deeper one—one that was far more calculated than your spontaneous attempt.

You did, however, manage to fully catch him off guard one evening after training when he was weary and unsuspecting. He had barely unbuckled his sword belt when you cornered him in the hallway. He actually took a step back before realising what you were doing. “...Must you do this while I am defenceless?”

If you ever caught him in a moment of deep contemplation and suddenly kabedon’d him, he would take an obnoxiously long pause before looking at you and saying, “Ah. You have finally lost your senses.”

When Galdor kabedons you:

He is not usually the sort to try and fluster you just for the fun of it, but if you had been provoking him all day, he had no qualms about giving you a taste of your own medicine.

He did not do it gently, nor did he do it lightly. One moment you were standing with him in the corridor, and the next your back was against stone, his arm braced above your head. He leaned down slightly, his voice low. “Let us see how you like it, hm?”

He would be very, very close. Not close enough to kiss you—no, that would be too easy—but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, could see the sharp amusement in his eyes.

If you tried to lean away, he would follow, not letting you escape quite so easily. His lips would quirk in amusement. “Is this not what you wanted?”

When he did kiss you, it was slow and deliberate, his free hand settling against your hip as if to keep you in place. “I think,” he murmured, “that you rather like this.”

.𑁍༊˚ Ecthelion

Ecthelion was entirely unreadable when you kabedon’d him. He merely arched a brow, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded you with mild amusement.

“An interesting tactic,” he mused, as if you were in the middle of some military strategy discussion. “And what is your next move?”

You were prepared for teasing, for flustering him, but not for the way he subtly leaned into you, just enough that your breath caught. “Do you intend to keep me here all day, or shall we get to the part where you lose your nerve?”

You did not lose your nerve. You kissed him instead, triumphant, only to realise he had caught your wrist in his grasp, his smirk widening slightly. “Predictable,” he murmured, before reversing the situation entirely.

You were the one against the wall before you could even react, and now he was the one looking down at you, all dark eyes and silent laughter. “You will have to do better than that, meleth.”

You once tried to do this after he had been drinking, assuming his reactions would be slower. The plan backfired. Instead of looking surprised, he merely sighed and reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You are determined to test me, aren’t you?”

If you ever did this in front of others, he would react with the same composure, but there would be the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, like he was trying not to smirk. The moment you were alone, he would absolutely pay you back for it.

When Ecthelion kabedons you:

It was always precise, calculated. He never wasted movement. One moment you were standing comfortably, and the next his arm was caging you in, his gaze sharp with amusement.

“I do wonder,” he murmured, “if you ever consider the consequences of your actions before you enact them.”

The problem with Ecthelion was that he was utterly unreadable. You could not tell if he was teasing or if he genuinely intended to keep you there.

He leaned down, close enough that his nose nearly brushed yours. “You do this often enough. I felt it was only fair to return the favour.”

He always left you thoroughly flustered, if only because he had an uncanny ability to anticipate your every reaction.

.𑁍༊˚ Glorfindel

Glorfindel was not prepared. At all.

One moment, he was talking, all confidence and charm, and the next—bam—your hand was beside his head, your gaze sharp and unwavering.

He blinked at you, utterly confused. “Meleth, are you feeling well?” Unlike Ecthelion, who would lean into the game, or Galdor, who would remain infuriatingly calm, Glorfindel simply did not know how to react.

You had to explain why you were doing it. That only resulted in him grinning at you in a way that made your heart race. “Ah. So this is meant to be intimidating?”

He made it impossible. He leaned against the wall like he was comfortable, like you had not just cornered him. “Oh no,” he said, grinning. “I am at your mercy. Whatever shall I do?”

When you kissed him, he hummed into it, pleased. “I should let you pin me against walls more often.” If you held your ground, he would try very hard to keep his composure, but the faint pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him.

Once, you caught him off guard—he had been mid-sentence when you abruptly pressed him against the wall. He actually stammered for a moment before laughing. “Alright, alright. That was well played.”

When Glorfindel kabedons you:

Oh, you were in trouble.

Glorfindel did not hesitate. The moment he decided to turn the tables, he moved—quick, effortless, and before you knew it, you were against the wall, his body caging you in.

He never did it seriously. It was always playful, always teasing. One arm braced above your head, his other hand catching your chin. “I wonder,” he murmured, “if this is how you feel when you do it to me.”

He made everything ten times worse by smiling through it, utterly delighted by your reaction.

“You look rather lovely when you are trying not to blush.”

If you tried to escape, he would just chuckle and lean in further, trapping you even more effectively. “No, no. I worked hard for this. Let me have my moment.”

The worst part? He would always kiss you after, slow and deep, as if he had won whatever game you were playing.

.𑁍༊˚ Egalmoth

Egalmoth was far too confident for his own good, so when you kabedon’d him, he did not look the least bit intimidated. If anything, his lips quirked in amusement as he tilted his head. “Ah, so this is how we’re playing today?”

He was annoyingly comfortable with it, even bracing one hand over yours as if he were the one trapping you. “How daring. What do you intend to do now?”

The moment you leaned in, he smirked and closed the distance for you, catching your lips before you could even tease him properly.

He was the worst person to try this on because he would never let you win. If you thought you had the upper hand, he would simply turn the tables on you before you even realised it.

You once caught him off guard—truly off guard—while he was reading. He nearly dropped the book, his eyes flicking up to yours with uncharacteristic surprise. That was a victory.

“Is this some new form of strategy?” he mused. “Because if so, I must say, I quite enjoy it.”

If you really wanted to fluster him, you had to get creative. One evening, you cornered him when he had just finished bathing, his hair still damp, his robe loosely tied. That was when he let out a sharp breath and actually hesitated.

When Egalmoth kabedons you:

Oh, he lived for this. You had done it to him once, so naturally, he had to return the favour—dramatically.

It was never just a simple kabedon. No, he had to lean in, let his fingers ghost over your jaw, tilt your chin just so—all while wearing that insufferable smirk.

“Caught you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.

If you tried to look away, he would chuckle, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Now, now. You started this game, meleth. Do not falter now.”

He would always steal a kiss at the end of it, just to make sure he walked away victorious.

.𑁍༊˚ Rog

Rog was not easily flustered, but he was a bit too straightforward for these kinds of games. When you kabedon’d him, he just stared at you like you had lost your mind.

“Are you trying to threaten me?” His tone was dubious, but there was an amused spark in his eyes.

You leaned in closer, trying to keep up the act, and that was when you saw his reaction—his hands twitched like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. His ears went slightly pink.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” he muttered, his voice lower than before.

The moment you actually kissed him, he melted into it before realising what had happened. Then, with a scoff, he pulled you into a proper kiss, one that left you breathless. “Next time, you will have to do better than that.”

You tried it once while he was in the middle of explaining battle formations to his men. The reaction was instant. He just stopped, his mouth slightly open, his soldiers staring.

“I—” He blinked down at you, utterly baffled. “...Now?”

If you ever pinned him properly, using all your strength, he would let you, just to humour you. But the moment you got too smug, he would effortlessly reverse it, his grin sharp. “Nice try.”

When Rog kabedons you:

He was fast. One moment you were standing there, and the next your back was against the wall, his arm braced above you, his other hand resting on his hip.

“So,” he drawled, entirely too amused. “How does it feel to be on the other side?”

He did not tease like the others—he was too confident for that. Instead, he just watched your reaction, his sharp gaze taking in every flicker of emotion.

If you blushed, he smirked. If you tried to act unaffected, he would leanin, just close enough to test your resolve.

“You do this too often,” he murmured. “Perhaps I should start returning the favour more.”

He always kissed you at the end, but his were deep, possessive things, leaving you breathless and very aware of how easily he could overwhelm you.

.𑁍༊˚ Maeglin

Maeglin had spent his whole life controlling his emotions, keeping his expressions carefully neutral. But when you kabedon’d him?

He froze. Not visibly, not obviously—but you saw the sharp intake of breath, the slight tension in his jaw.

“What,” he said slowly, “are you doing?”

His voice was too steady, too controlled. You could feel the way his pulse had quickened slightly beneath that carefully crafted mask.

You leaned in, tilting your head, watching for any sign of weakness. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to react but refused to.

“This is—” He cut himself off when your breath ghosted over his skin, his grip tightening. He knew he was losing.

The second you kissed him, his entire frame went tense—but then his hands shot up, gripping your waist with sudden force, pulling you in.

“You like doing this to me, don’t you?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

He let you win for exactly five seconds before flipping the situation entirely. Now you were the one caged against the wall, and he was far too close. “Let us see how you like it.”

When Maeglin kabedons you:

He was silent about it. No teasing, no warning. One moment you were standing, and the next you were trapped.

His hand was braced firmly against the wall, his eyes dark as they flicked over your face, taking in every tiny reaction.

He didn’t need words. He just let the tension sit between you, watching as your confidence wavered.

And then slowly he leaned in.

“You do not look so smug now,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You were the one flustered now, and he relished every second of it.

He would wait before kissing you, just to see you squirm, just to make sure you felt the anticipation. And when he did kiss you? It was deep, slow, utterly consuming.

“You thought this would be a game,” he murmured afterwards, his lips brushing your ear. “You should have known better.”

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[00valentina-writes00]

Abby with an older reader perhaps? I’ve seen a couple older abby x reader fics but i don’t think i’ve seen one where it’s the other way around 🤔

✞⛧ Three Dates Minimum ✞⛧

Warnings: age gap, drinking, flirting, suggestive themes, persistent pursuit, mutual teasing, slow burn, tension, implied smut but no actual smut

Setting: A normal AU, modern-day setting. You meet Abby at a bar you frequent after work.

Word count: 6.2k

The hum of the bar wraps around you like a familiar coat—low conversations, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the dimly lit room. It's the same as always. The end of another long day, another well-earned drink in hand, another moment to yourself before you return to whatever waits outside these walls.

You lean against the polished counter, your fingers lightly tracing the rim of your glass. The ice inside has begun to melt, condensation beading against the smooth surface, but you're in no rush. This is routine. The weight of the day lingers in your shoulders, but your posture remains composed—years of knowing exactly who you are and what you want evident in the way you carry yourself. You're dressed well, sharp yet effortless, a presence that stands out without trying. And if the looks you occasionally catch from strangers are anything to go by, it's a presence that commands attention.

Someone else has certainly noticed.

You feel it before you see it—eyes on you, persistent and searching. You don't react immediately, letting it simmer for a moment, drawing it out like a game you haven't quite decided to play yet. But when you finally lift your gaze, it's met with striking blue.

She's been watching you.

She's seated across the room, surrounded by friends, though it's clear her focus isn't on them. Her body is turned just slightly in your direction, posture relaxed yet attentive, like she's trying not to be obvious but failing miserably. A drink sits idle in front of her, fingers curled around the glass without much thought.

And then there's her.

It's impossible not to notice the way she takes up space—not just physically, though God, that's part of it. Broad shoulders, thick arms crossed in a way that only accentuates their definition, the lines of muscle cutting sharp even beneath the dim lighting. She's built like someone who knows how to hold her own, someone who's fought for everything she's ever had. It's in the rough edges of her, the weathered freckles that dust her tanned skin, the faint scars on her arms and face that whisper of past battles.

Her blonde hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling forward, catching in the light when she tilts her head slightly—like she's trying to gauge whether or not she's been caught.

She has.

You arch a brow, lips quirking in amusement as you hold her stare. Most people would look away, flustered under the weight of being seen. Not her.

No, she smirks.

And fuck, if that doesn't make things a little more interesting.

You take a slow sip of your drink, considering. She's younger than you—clearly—but not in a way that screams immaturity. There's a certain confidence in her, something bordering on cocky but not quite tipping into arrogant. It's charming, in its own way.

And then, after another lingering moment of hesitation, she moves.

You don't miss the way her friends exchange looks as she pushes up from her seat, nor do you miss the subtle roll of her shoulders before she makes her way across the bar. There's a self-assuredness in her stride, a deliberate kind of slowness, like she knows eyes are on her but only cares about one particular gaze.

Yours.

She stops just short of your personal space, close enough for you to take in the way she smells—faint hints of salt and leather, something clean but unpolished, like she's spent all day on the move.

"You always drink alone?" she asks, her voice rough in a way that suggests she's used to barking orders but is trying to sound casual.

You huff a quiet laugh, setting your glass down. "You always stare at women from across the bar before working up the nerve to talk to them?"

Her smirk widens, but there's something sheepish in the way she glances down for half a second, like she knows she's been caught. "Only when they look like you."

Smooth.

Your amusement flickers into something else, something sharper, more intrigued. You lean back slightly, taking her in now that she's up close. There's a rawness to her, a strength that's not just physical but intrinsic. You can see it in the set of her jaw, in the way her hands flex like she's used to gripping something solid—weights, weapons, people.

Still, she's waiting for a reaction, and you're not one to give an easy win.

You tilt your head. "And how do I look?"

That catches her off guard for half a beat. She exhales through her nose, rubbing the back of her neck, fingers brushing over the faint scar near her jaw. "Like you know what you want."

Your lips twitch. "And you have a thing for that?"

There's no hesitation this time. "Yeah."

The weight behind the admission, the way it sits in the space between you, is enough to make your stomach tighten.

Interesting.

You pick up your glass again, swirling the liquid inside, feigning a nonchalance you know she's already seeing through. "I don't usually entertain women who don't introduce themselves first."

Abby exhales a quiet chuckle, like she's both impressed and slightly exasperated. "Abby."

You hum, letting the name settle. It suits her—strong, no-nonsense, but with just enough softness beneath it.

"Well, Abby," you say, watching the way her throat bobs when you say her name, "I appreciate the effort, but I don't make it easy for people who want my attention."

She lifts a brow. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah."

Abby shifts her weight, studying you like she's considering her next move. Then, with a slow, deliberate ease, she rests an elbow on the bar beside you, leaning in just slightly. Not enough to crowd, but enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of her, the solid presence of her body so close to yours.

"I like a challenge," she murmurs.

Oh, she's good.

You fight the urge to smirk, instead letting silence stretch between you, letting her sit in the anticipation. And when you finally lean in just the barest bit, close enough that your breath ghosts over her cheek, you can practically hear her inhale.

"Then you'd better bring your best, sweetheart," you murmur. "Because I don't waste time on half-hearted attempts."

Abby swallows hard.

And you know, in that moment, that she's completely hooked.

———

You're not easily impressed.

People come and go in this bar, lingering long enough to swap half-hearted conversations and meaningless glances before disappearing into the night. You've been coming here for years, watching the ebb and flow of unfamiliar faces. Rarely does anyone manage to hold your attention past a single encounter.

But Abby Anderson keeps showing up.

At first, you think it's just coincidence. A passing flirtation she'll forget about the next day. She's younger, after all. Attractive, sure, but still that rough-edged kind of bold that suggests she doesn't take rejection personally. You assume she'll move on, find someone easier to win over.

Except she doesn't.

The first time you see her after your initial conversation, she plays it casual. No immediate approach, no shameless staring like before. She takes a seat across the bar, just close enough to be within your periphery, her broad frame unmistakable even when she's trying not to be obvious.

You're amused, but you don't acknowledge her right away. Instead, you sip your drink, letting the anticipation settle between you, waiting to see if she'll make the first move.

And she does.

A fresh drink slides into place beside yours. You glance up just as the bartender nods toward Abby. She raises her glass in silent acknowledgment, watching you with that same cocky smirk, blue eyes sharp beneath the dim lighting

Your lips twitch despite yourself.

You pick up the drink, considering. Then, deliberately, you turn slightly in your seat and lift the glass in return, mirroring her gesture.

Abby grins.

That should've been it. A single attempt, an unspoken challenge, a playful exchange that would end the moment you walked out the door. But the next time you show up, she's there again.

And the next.

And the next.

At first, she pretends it's happenstance. A small, innocent shrug when your eyes meet, like she just happens to be here on the same nights you are. You know better.

The thing is, she's charming in a way that isn't suffocating. She doesn't push, doesn't bombard you with attention or force herself into your space. Instead, she lingers just enough to make you notice, always finding some excuse to interact.

One night, it's another drink sent your way. Another, she casually takes the seat beside you, pretending to be caught up in something on her phone while you finish your own drink. Sometimes, she just watches, waiting for you to acknowledge her first.

And maybe it's the effort, or maybe it's just the way she looks at you—like she's trying to memorize every detail, like she's fascinated by the simple fact that you exist—but you find yourself enjoying the game more than you expected.

You start to expect her.

And you hate to admit it, but you like it.

——

Tonight, she's there again.

The moment you step inside, your eyes land on her without meaning to. She's easy to find, her presence commanding in any room she enters. The low lighting does little to soften her features—her sharp jawline, the way her cheekbones catch the dim glow of the bar's neon signage.

She's dressed the same as always. A black tank top, exposing the sheer breadth of her shoulders, cargo pants tucked into worn combat boots. Her arms are crossed, biceps flexing just slightly with the movement, and when she lifts her drink to take a sip, your gaze follows the curve of her forearm, the rough scars cutting through freckled skin.

She's strong. And she knows it.

The realization settles in your stomach like heat, slow and simmering.

But when Abby notices you, there's no immediate cockiness. Just a flicker of something unreadable in her expression, something quieter than the usual bravado.

And then she stands.

You're already moving toward the bar when she steps into your space, close but not intrusive, like she's testing whether you'll brush past her or acknowledge her presence.

"Was starting to think you were avoiding me," she says.

Your lips curve slightly. "That would imply I had a reason to."

Abby huffs a small laugh, shifting her weight. "You're not gonna make this easy, huh?"

You tilt your head, amused. "Would you want me to?"

She shakes her head, rubbing a hand over her jaw. "No," she admits. "I think I like the chase."

That catches your interest. You study her for a long moment, watching the way she holds herself—strong, steady, but with a subtle restraint, like she's still figuring out how far she can push.

"You've been persistent," you note, leaning against the bar. "Showing up here every night."

Abby doesn't deny it.

Instead, she shrugs. "Maybe I just like the drinks here."

You give her a look.

She grins, dropping the pretense. "Alright. Maybe I just like you here."

It's a simple confession, but there's weight behind it. Not in a way that feels suffocating, but in a way that feels... genuine.

For the first time, you let your gaze soften slightly, your usual amusement giving way to something more curious.

"What do you want, Abby?" you ask, voice quieter now.

She doesn't answer right away. She exhales, rubbing the back of her neck like she's gathering her thoughts. Then she meets your eyes, expression earnest.

"I don't know yet," she says. "But I know I don't want this to be nothing."

It's the first time she's hinted at anything more than just a casual flirtation.

That surprises you more than anything else.

You glance down, considering. Then, with deliberate ease, you pull your phone from your pocket and hold it out.

Abby stares for a beat before realization dawns.

The grin that spreads across her face is nothing short of victorious.

She takes your phone, fingers brushing against yours for just a second too long, and you pretend not to notice the warmth that lingers.

As she types in her number, you catch the way her hands move—strong, steady, calloused in a way that speaks of years of work.

When she hands it back, there's a glint of something teasing in her eyes.

"Guess I finally won you over," she murmurs.

You hum, tucking your phone away. "I wouldn't get ahead of yourself just yet."

Abby laughs, shaking her head. "Nah," she says, stepping back with a confidence that's more controlled than before, more assured.

"I think I'm exactly where I need to be."

———

The moment your phone buzzes, you already know who it is. The message is quick and lighthearted, carrying the energy of someone still high on their victory.

"Guess I finally got your number, huh? Should've gotten it sooner, but hey, good things come to those who wait 😉"

You lean back against your kitchen counter, phone still in hand, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you read the message. Abby's persistence has been undeniable, and tonight—despite all her flirting and teasing—something about her feels different. You still don't know if it's because of the way she looks at you with that gaze that's both raw and intent, or because of how she keeps pushing, but there's an edge of realness to this that wasn't there before.

A small part of you wants to play along, give in to the playful back-and-forth that's been building since the first night she approached you at the bar. But something else inside you—the one that's seen it all before, dealt with enough to know better—holds you back.

You sigh and type back a message, the words coming easily, almost naturally.

"Just so you know, I'm not interested in a fling. If this is just some older woman fantasy for you, let's stop now."

There's a beat of silence, your thumb hovering over the screen as you wait for her reply. It's not that you don't enjoy the tension between you, but you're not here for casual games. You don't have the time, the energy, or the interest in something fleeting.

When your phone buzzes again, it's a surprising shift in tone. No flirty emojis, no lighthearted remarks. Just a straightforward message from Abby:

"That's fair. But if I'm being honest, I'm not just looking for a quick night. I'm not that kind of person, and I'm not going to treat you like one. So how about this—let's go out. Just us. No games."

You blink at the text, trying to figure out whether she's being sincere or just responding to your boundary because she's determined to get a reaction. But there's something about her words—the lack of hesitation, the seriousness— that hints at something more genuine.

You sit with the message for a moment, the weight of the situation sinking in. You don't have time for games. You don't have time to let yourself get pulled into something that's just going to burn out as quickly as it started. But Abby... Abby's different. The kind of different you can't ignore.

"Three dates," you type back, the words coming quickly as you set the line in the sand. "Minimum. If you're serious, you'll wait. No sex until we've had time to get to know each other. That's the deal."

You don't expect her to reply immediately, but when she does, it's almost immediate.

"Three dates. I can do that. Don't worry, I'm in this for more than just a casual fling. I'll make sure you see that."

You let out a breath, staring at the screen. For the first time, you wonder if you might be in over your head. But then again, there's a part of you that's intrigued by her confidence, by the sincerity you've started to feel in her words. Abby doesn't strike you as the type to back down from a challenge. And you have a feeling you're about to find out just how far she's willing to go.

—

The first date is set.

It's simple enough—a dinner reservation at a quiet restaurant downtown. Nothing too flashy, no grand gestures, just a chance to talk. You told Abby you weren't looking for a whirlwind romance, but you also weren't going to sit around and wait forever.

When you see her walk through the door, your breath catches in your chest. She's dressed differently than usual—no tank top or cargo pants, just a button-down shirt that emphasizes her shoulders, paired with dark jeans and boots. The shift in attire only highlights her commanding presence, and for a moment, you're struck by how striking she is. How... real.

Her freckled face is a little more polished than usual, though you can still see the shadows under her eyes that speak to her hectic life. She's trying—trying to show you that she's here for more than just a fleeting moment. You know it the second your eyes meet.

She doesn't speak right away, but the smile on her face is wide, genuine. "Hey."

You return it, feeling your own lips pull up in response. "Hey, Abby."

As you walk to the table, you're aware of the way people glance in her direction. Abby stands out—her athletic, muscular frame a stark contrast to most of the others in the restaurant. You don't mind it, though. It only reinforces how different she is from anyone you've ever met.

Once seated, you both order drinks, and the conversation starts easily enough. At first, it's the usual small talk—how's work going, what's new, what's been keeping her busy. But it quickly deepens, as if she's holding nothing back.

"I've been training a lot lately," Abby says after a few sips of wine. "Trying to get stronger. I'm in a weird place right now—feels like everything's constantly moving, but I'm not sure where it's going."

You nod, leaning back in your chair as you look at her. "I get that. Life's always in motion, but it's easy to get caught up in the rush. Sometimes, you just need to slow down and focus on the things that matter."

Abby meets your gaze, her blue eyes steady. "Yeah. I'm not used to slowing down, though. It's easier to keep moving."

You smile a little. "You don't have to slow down, but you do have to know when to focus."

She watches you for a long moment, her fingers tapping the edge of her wine glass. "And what about you? What do you focus on?"

You pause, considering. "I focus on what I can control. The rest... I just let go."

The conversation lingers there, unspoken truths passing between you as you both take in the weight of each other's words. It's different from any date you've had before—more mature, more grounded. You realize you like it. Like her.

When the evening winds down, Abby insists on walking you home. It's the gentlemanly thing to do, she says. You don't argue, though the truth is, you're starting to feel a different kind of connection with her—one that isn't based on fleeting chemistry or easy attraction. It's something more.

At your doorstep, she stops, giving you a long look. "So... what now?" she asks, a hint of vulnerability in her voice that's completely at odds with the strong, tough persona she projects.

You smile, tilting your head slightly. "We go on two more dates. That's what comes next."

Her lips twitch. "Fair enough."

And then, to your surprise, she leans in, her presence overwhelming in the quiet of the night, her hand brushing your arm as she whispers, "Three dates. I'll make sure you won't regret it."

You stare into her eyes for a moment, feeling the promise behind her words. "We'll see, Abby. We'll see."

——-

The days between your first and second date stretch out in a strange, anticipatory silence. It's as if the air is thick with unspoken words, with each interaction between you and Abby carrying a weight of its own.

You're not sure what you were expecting from Abby after your first night together, but you definitely didn't expect how easy it would be to fall into a rhythm with her. Her determination to prove herself, to show that she's not like the others, is clear, but there's something else that lingers too—the softness that you get glimpses of when she lets her guard slip. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way she looks at you when she thinks you're not paying attention.

When you confirm the second date, a casual coffee meet-up, there's a tension in the air that feels just as electric as the first time you saw her. You're still cautious—still setting boundaries, testing her intentions. But part of you can't help but wonder what's really underneath that tough exterior of hers.

Abby arrives at the café right on time. You spot her immediately as she walks in, her presence filling the room before she even says a word. Her broad shoulders and athletic frame are impossible to miss, especially in the light of the morning sun. The simple T-shirt and cargo pants she wears seem effortless, but there's something about her that makes everything she wears look like it was made for her body—like she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, but somehow, it fits her.

When she spots you, she gives a quick smile, her blue eyes lighting up just a fraction before she makes her way over.

"Hey," she greets, her voice low but warm.

"Hey," you reply, standing to greet her. The small exchange is a quiet one, but it feels more comfortable than before. More natural.

You sit across from each other, the clink of cups and the low hum of conversation from other patrons forming a soft backdrop to your words. The initial awkwardness between you both fades quickly, and soon you're talking as though you've known each other for years.

"So, tell me about your job," Abby says, her gaze intense as she takes a sip of her coffee. "What do you do exactly?"

You hesitate for a moment, but her genuine interest makes it easy to share. You talk about your work, the challenges you face, the things you're passionate about. It feels good to speak openly to someone who isn't just listening for the sake of small talk. Abby actually listens—there's a depth to her focus that you didn't expect.

She nods, her expression thoughtful. "Sounds like a lot of responsibility. Must be a good challenge, though."

You laugh lightly, shrugging. "Yeah, it can be. What about you? What keeps you busy?"

Abby's smile falters for a moment. There's a flicker of something in her eyes—something that almost looks like hesitation, but then it's gone as quickly as it came.

"Training," she says, her voice steady but a little quieter than before. "I work with a lot of people... helping them get stronger. Whether it's physical or mental, I guess I'm all about pushing people to their limits."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "You're a personal trainer, then?"

She shakes her head slightly, leaning forward. "Not exactly. I've worked with people in the military, too. Taught them how to survive, how to fight when everything falls apart. Not much room for weakness in that line of work."

The admission surprises you, but there's no judgment in her tone. Just a quiet certainty that speaks volumes about her past.

You try to imagine Abby in that world—leading people, training them to push beyond their limits—and you find yourself thinking that maybe she's not as hardened as she lets on. Maybe there's more to her than the tough exterior she wears so proudly.

After a beat, she shifts the conversation back to you. "You still haven't told me what you do when you're not working."

It's a simple question, but it makes you pause for a moment. You're so used to talking about work, about responsibilities. But in this moment, sitting across from Abby, you realize you've never really taken the time to think about yourself outside of those roles.

"Well, I guess I like to read," you finally admit, giving her a small smile. "I've always been into books. And I like to spend time with friends—nothing too crazy, but... I like having a good laugh."

Abby grins, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You don't strike me as someone who just goes with the flow. You're more of a planner, aren't you?"

You laugh, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugs casually. "You just seem like you know exactly what you want. Not like me. I'm more of a... take things as they come kind of person."

You can tell she's not just talking about coffee or plans for the day. It's almost as if she's letting her guard down, just a little bit.

There's a shift in the atmosphere between you both, a subtle change in the dynamic. The more Abby shares, the more you realize that the woman sitting across from you is more than just the intimidating figure you first saw at the bar. There's a gentleness to her, a thoughtfulness you hadn't expected. It's an unexpected layer of complexity, and you find yourself wanting to know more.

The conversation continues, winding its way through various topics—light and easy at first, but with more depth as the minutes pass. You find yourself relaxing, laughing at Abby's dry sense of humor and her occasional self-deprecating remarks.

When you finally finish your coffee, Abby looks at you with a certain intensity, as if she's trying to gauge something. "So... what's next?" she asks.

You smile, feeling the tension in the air shift again, but this time, it feels more like curiosity than uncertainty.

"We'll see," you reply, standing up from the table. "I said three dates, right? This is just the second one. We'll see what happens on the third."

Abby nods, her eyes never leaving yours. "I can wait."

——

Date three comes quickly, and this time, it's Abby's turn to plan the evening. You're curious to see how she'll handle it. There's a palpable nervous energy in the air when she arrives at the restaurant, looking more put-together than usual. She's dressed in a fitted button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her forearms, strong and defined. Her jeans are dark, tailored just enough to highlight her legs without feeling too formal.

You don't think it's possible for Abby to look even more imposing, but somehow, she does. She's trying to impress, you realize, and that thought fills you with a strange mix of anticipation and intrigue.

She greets you with a quiet smile, and for the first time, you see a hint of nervousness in her eyes. It's small—almost imperceptible—but it's there. You're not sure why it catches you off guard, but it does. Abby, the woman who radiates confidence in everything she does, is nervous.

"Hey," she says, her voice a little lower than usual. "Glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't miss it," you reply, your voice teasing but sincere.

You both settle into your seats, and the evening unfolds with a comfortable ease. Abby leads the conversation, but this time, it's not just about her life or her past. She asks about you more, delving deeper into your thoughts, your values, your dreams. The tension between you both shifts again, like the pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together.

As the night progresses, you catch her staring at you—often. Her gaze is intense, and when she catches you looking back, she quickly looks away, the corners of her lips curling into a small smile. It's as if she can't believe you're actually giving her a chance, like she's still surprised by the fact that you're still here.

The chemistry is undeniable, and as the meal comes to an end, Abby's posture shifts, her muscles tense with the unspoken desire to lean closer, to close the distance between you. But she doesn't. She waits, her gaze lingering on yours, her body barely held back from moving closer.

You can feel the tension building, feel the pull between you both. She wants to kiss you. You can see it in the way she watches you, the slight shift of her gaze toward your lips before she quickly looks away again.

You hold back, not ready yet to let things go that far. But Abby... she's patient. And when she leans in to say goodbye, the closeness between you both is electric.

"I'll see you soon," she says, her voice low and serious.

You nod, heart pounding in your chest. "We'll see."

And just like that, the tension lingers between you both, a promise, a challenge, a question. You can feel the next step on the horizon, and for the first time, you're not sure which way it's going to go.

——-

It's been a month since your first night at the bar with Abby, and the quiet tension that's built between you over the course of three dates finally comes to a head. There's something undeniably magnetic about her—something that pulls you in and keeps you on edge. She's unlike anyone you've ever met before, and as much as you've tried to keep your guard up, you can feel the walls crumbling bit by bit.

Abby has been patient. Almost too patient. She's let you set the pace, taken things slow the entire time, but every time you've seen her, that intensity in her eyes hasn't wavered. It's as if she's waiting for the right moment. And tonight, you have a feeling that moment has finally arrived.

She texts you earlier in the day, suggesting a low-key night at her place. A horror movie, some drinks, maybe a little takeout—just the two of you, away from the crowds and expectations. You're relieved by the simplicity of it all. No pressure. Just the opportunity to relax, to see where things go without all the outside distractions.

By the time you arrive, Abby's already waiting for you. The door is cracked open when you knock, her voice calling from inside.

"Come on in, you're not late."

You step inside, the dim light of her apartment welcoming you. It's cozy, though you can tell she doesn't spend too much time making it look pristine. The place is functional, with a few personal touches—a photo of her with a group of friends on the wall, a worn-out couch that has seen better days, but it feels... real.

Abby is lounging on the couch when you walk in, the glow of the TV screen flickering against her face. She's in a loose t-shirt, one of her old band tees that's faded from years of wear, and sweatpants that hang comfortably off her hips. Her blonde hair is tied back in a messy ponytail, a few stray strands falling out of place.

"Make yourself at home," she says, her voice relaxed but still holding that edge of authority that seems to follow her everywhere.

You nod, taking a seat next to her. The space between you is a comfortable distance, but it feels charged, the unspoken tension from earlier dates still hanging in the air. Abby picks up the remote, clicking through options, before finally settling on a horror movie you both agreed on.

She leans back, her leg casually brushing against yours, and the simple contact sends a shiver up your spine. You glance over at her, catching the slight smirk playing at the corner of her lips as she catches your eye. There's something in the way she looks at you—soft, teasing, but there's also a rawness there that makes you wonder just how much she's holding back.

"I hope you're ready to be scared," Abby says, her voice low, but the challenge in it is unmistakable.

You laugh, not at all intimidated. "I've seen worse."

She raises an eyebrow, as if she's doubting your bravado. "We'll see."

The movie plays on in the background, but you can't focus. Every time Abby moves, every time she shifts on the couch, it feels like she's drawing you in closer without even trying. Her scent, a mix of the outdoors and something distinctly Abby, fills your senses. Her presence—her warmth, the strength of her muscles beneath that worn t-shirt—keeps pulling you closer, as if her very being is magnetic.

You're hyper-aware of her every movement now. The way she occasionally shifts, her bare foot brushing against your leg, the way her breath hitches during particularly tense scenes, even the way she rolls her shoulders back, stretching slightly.

You're starting to realize something. Something you hadn't allowed yourself to acknowledge before tonight.

Abby is more than just some cocky woman in it for a good time. There's a depth to her, a quiet sincerity that shines through the cracks in her tough exterior. She's not playing games with you. She's not trying to chase an older woman fantasy or take advantage of some power dynamic between the two of you. No, there's something real here.

Your heart races, and you catch yourself staring at her again. Her blue eyes flick to you at the same moment, as if she's been waiting for you to finally notice what's been right in front of you all this time. The silence stretches between you both, thick with anticipation, but neither of you says a word.

Then it happens.

Abby's hand—strong and calloused from years of training—finds its way to your leg, her fingers lightly brushing against your thigh. The touch is small, almost accidental, but it's enough to send heat flooding your body. She leaves her hand there, the warmth of her touch seeping through the fabric of your clothes. You hold your breath, afraid to move, afraid that any shift will break the fragile moment between you.

And then she does it.

She leans in, just slightly, her face inches from yours. Her breath mingles with yours, warm and inviting. There's a soft smile on her lips, something playful but also full of meaning. "So, are you going to keep pretending you're not into me, or are we going to do this?"

You can feel her body shift closer to yours, the subtle pressure of her weight against your side. Your pulse quickens, your hands trembling slightly, and you don't even think before you close the distance between you.

You kiss her.

It's slow at first, tentative, as if you're both trying to gauge what the other wants. Abby's lips are warm and firm against yours, tasting like the remnants of the beer she'd been drinking earlier. But when she deepens the kiss, when she pulls you closer, your heart races even faster.

Her hands find their way to your body, tentative at first, as if she's waiting for permission. But the way she touches you, the way her hands roam over your back, pulling you closer as if she can't get enough, tells you that she's not holding back anymore. She's all in.

The kiss intensifies, the heat between you both becoming almost unbearable. Your hands tangle in her hair, the strands soft beneath your fingers, and for a moment, everything else fades away. There's only Abby. Only her warmth and the electric charge that courses between you both.

When you finally pull away, gasping for air, you're both left breathless, staring at each other.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Abby mutters, her voice low and rough, her lips still hovering close to yours.

Then her eyes soften, the playful edge fading just a little. "I told you I wasn't here for a fling. I'm not just trying to get a quick thrill. You're... different. I want more."

You blink, stunned by the sincerity in her voice. For the first time, you see the real Abby—no masks, no walls. Just the woman who's been patient with you, who's respected your boundaries, and who's finally letting herself be vulnerable.

"Good," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "Because I want more too."

And just like that, you realize that Abby's not here for a fleeting moment. She's here because she's genuinely interested in you. She likes you. Not just as some older woman fantasy, not just as a passing fling, but as someone she sees something real with.

The weight of that realization hits you hard, and you find yourself smiling—genuinely. Abby is exactly who you thought she was, and more. You're not sure where this is going, but you know one thing for certain: there's no turning back now.

The kiss resumes, this time with a sense of urgency. Abby pulls you closer, her hands finding their way beneath your shirt, her fingers warm against your skin. You let her guide you, let her show you just how much she's been holding back.

There's no rush. There's no need to hurry. Tonight, you both have time. Time to explore, time to finally give in to the chemistry that's been building between you both for weeks.

[hongjoongspoetry]

LET'S GO, BABY! A FIC FOR MY BIAS MADE BY THE ONE AND ONLY ARI??? Life is looking bright again, the grass is greener, and it’s raining money—Okay, so I was actually going to read your Yunho stories first, buuuuut I couldn’t hold back, and you can’t blame me. Hongjoong’s my bias, what was I supposed to do?

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?”

It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet. And although this made me furious and angry at Hongjoong's character, I still love how you made him into an entitled prick 😭 Like yes, give me something else than the woke artist who thinks good of everyone. Give me a douchebag who wears a million bucks and gives his honest opinion about others, without thinking if he's going to get his ass beaten to a pulp.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

While I love to drag out on the angst, I really enjoyed his apology. It wasn't anything grand, just him owning up to his mistakes and taking responsibility. It makes the story feel a little more like real life, just two adults talking it out.

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analazye me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

Ahem... Anyways!

“Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

Man, this lil dude really loves running his mouth, doesn't he? Like NO ONE ASKED what you think of people. WHY IS HE LIKE THAT????? But at the same time, I LOVE HIS JOONG VERS. YOU'VE CREATED?!!? He's not plain and boring and all nice, he actually has some color on his canvas.

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

“Pretty barista from the pub!”

HE'S SO SMOOTH AND SHAMELESS WITH IT OMG. If a man (hongjoong) would call me that every time we saw each other, I'd be giggling like Lisa Simpsons, WHICH REMINDS ME. WHY IS THIS (0:34) LITERALLY THROUGH YOUR COLORS HONGJOONG?????

“Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

I would call her out for following a stranger home and getting high on his weed, but he gave her his hoodie 🥹🥹 (the bar is in hell, is it not?)

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

I always say this, but it won't become less of a truth the more times I repeat myself: Your writing is one of a kind. Both your creativity and the ability to come up with amazing ideas that makes the reader yearn for more, and your writing style that gets better and better with each fic/story you publish. You really outdo yourself Ari and I can't wait to see your next project 🩷

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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[azaharinflames]

Hello! I apologize for any awkward expressions, as I'm not American and not very proficient in English.

I wasn't part of the 9-1-1 fandom and watched it whenever I had time. It was a light show for me, but while watching 9-1-1, I hoped that Buck would find a partner to settle down with and be happy. (And I never felt even 1% of romantic feelings between Buck and Eddie.) When Buck broke up with Taylor, I understood the reason but felt regretful. After that, Tommy appeared as a meaningful LI. I sincerely cheered for Buck, seeing him happy.

I had high expectations for S8, but in 801, Tommy appeared briefly, and until 804, no one mentioned Tommy, which I found strange. Then I watched 805 and thought Henren's story was forced, but I liked Buck and Tommy's story. Then I watched 806, and... Buck and Tommy can break up. If it had been for a convincing reason like with Buck and Taylor, I would have been sad but understood. However, I couldn't understand the story in 806 at all, and the characters felt unfamiliar, as if they weren't the characters I knew. And the interviews with Tim and OS gave me trauma after enjoying watching 9-1-1 all this time.

Only Lou understood and empathized with me. I didn't know Lou and didn't remember Tommy from S2. I supported Buck and Tommy solely because Buck was happy... Especially OS's interview made me feel like Buck and Tommy were ignored as if they didn't exist. I don't usually have expectations for actors, but I was really disappointed. So, even though I subscribed to Disney+ annually because of 9-1-1, I no longer watch 9-1-1. I know that my not watching won't change anything. And I know that Tim doesn't have the ability to create good, creative stories. Knowing that Buck will just keep running in the same hamster wheel, I really lost expectations for Buck. Of course, knowing that other 9-1-1 characters besides Buck will also run in slightly different hamster wheels without development, I lost interest in the show itself.

Furthermore, I was honestly disappointed with the production team and the broadcasting company for not thinking of protecting the actor who was insulted and attacked in all sorts of ways just because they were Buck's LI. In the country where I live, if such a situation occurred, there would have been an official message from the broadcasting company and production team to stop the attacks and hatred.

I'm sorry for sending such a negative and pessimistic message. I wanted to confide in someone. Even if Tommy doesn't appear again, I plan to continue enjoying BuckTommy content on Tumblr and AO3, but I really miss the time when I was looking forward to and waiting for S8.

Hi, Nonnie! Sorry for taking a bit, physical therapy is kicking my ass rn lmao (kids do not tear your meniscus)

Okay by points. First of all - your English was perfect, don’t sweat it. English is my third language so Iunderstand where you come from, but you’re good!! Now:

you🤝me with this whole post. You were on my mind fr because I do share all of your thoughts.

Perhaps confession time: I liked Taylor! I ultimately understood why it wouldn’t work between Buck and her, but I liked her and I thought they were really cute. I was sad to see her go (although I’m glad by leaving we were able to eventually get Tommy)

Season 8 is the perfect illustration of something I’ve been thinking about 911 for a while - it is the land of missed potential. I’ve gone about it a few times so I won’t go over it again, but Season 8 is the perfect example of having lots they could do yet refusing to attempt to do it.

Your point on the break up is 100%. I would’ve actually understood and accepted it if it made sense in a larger scale, or if we had been introduced to it better. As it is, you do understand Tommy’s motives, but only if you look at the episode. Meaning: everyone acted so out of character during 806, it seemed like a different show. Therefore the break up (to me) does not make sense in a broader, more general view.

Your point on interviews: yeah I get it, sadly. The interviews left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth, because it did seem like Lou was the only one who truly cared for the couple and its fans. And for everyone who had been harassed for months for liking them, the nonchalant attitude of nearly everyone felt cruel and hurtful. It’s more than normal that many people felt like stop watching the show after it (me included). It does seem like OS has started to realize how big Bucktommy actually was and how liked they still are. So, progress? But it feels too little too late. Idk.

I also understand it does feel bad to see how they’ve ignored the bad treatment LFJr has received. Ofc we lack a lot of context (meaning: perhaps Lou himself asked them to ignore it, perhaps he did have a lot of support BTS), but the fact is that they let a group of deranged ‘fans’ bully and threaten an actor, and did nothing. No, instead it very much felt like those fans were being rewarded. It’s normal for us to not want to support that. I know I feel uncomfy with the idea of doing so.

We are lucky (infinitely lucky) that the Bucktommy fandom is filled with truly lovely and amazing people - people that are lovely to read, discuss with, and enjoy their art from!! If 911 doesn’t got my back, I know the BT fandom does ♥️

I hope you can continue to enjoy fandom life, anon! Ultimately they cannot take away what we enjoy!

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, giving opinions and confessions! And if you do not want them publish, please say so in your message 🥰 it’s cool with me, but I do need to know!

Take care <3

[drdemonprince]

I have a lifelong hypnokink but for years and years I completely hid it and only engaged through checking the what's new page on the mcstories.com every week and other forms of porn. I have been slowly opening up about it over the last few years and reached out to other people who are into it and I also now have an interested and supportive partner who is starting to explore hypnotic play with me.

I am at the point where I talk pretty openly and earnestly about this with them now (I used to have to really veil it in layers of detached irony and jokes) and we have engaged in roleplay around it which has been very fun, but when we try to engage in actual hypnotic sessions where they try to hypnotise me (even nonsexually) I get these massive waves of shame bubbling up and start crying.

There's a lot of tangled feelings and I don't know how to separate them all out. At least part of it is just feeling ridiculous and stupid for wanting this. And also that I am making them do something weird and awful and gross. This is mixed up with feelings about my own performance as a subject—I am in my own head a lot and constantly second guessing what I'm doing and experiencing and find it difficult to know how to engage with hypnotic suggestions.

The first time we tried I broke down into a sobbing mess before we even started. It has been getting better and my partner has been incredibly sweet and supportive and helped me feel very safe as we make progress on this, but they are also pretty new to all this and I was wondering if you had any advice or insight that might help?

Hi there Anon, I am answering this question on voice to text because it really touched my heart and I wanted to get to it and give it attention right away even though my hands are still pretty busted and it's been a long day. so please excuse any typos or weird homophonic errors.

like you, I was consumed with shame about my hypnosis fetish for a very long time. I knew since I was a very young child that hypnosis called to me, and fantasized about it in a deeply sexual way from very young, but I never said a word about it to another person until my late twenties. and even then it was a pretty fleeting, glancing thing. I found it a lot easier to play online with remote partners than to tell someone that I was in a intimate real-life relationship with. I also retreated into fantasy a lot, never believing that it would be possible for me to share in the kink with another person in a genuine way.

eventually I did meet some really wonderful play partners and Doms who helped me to realize I wasn't alone in harboring this fetish, and really populated my inner world and mental architecture to make me a better subject who was more capable of experiencing pleasure and transformation in hypnosis. but without that good fortune and their mentorship I don't know where I'd be.

One thing that I would recommend to you is locating the hypnosis fetish community and plugging yourself and your partner into it a bit more. there are both in person and digital conferences throughout the world for hypnosis fetishists. The kink's stock is up in a major way, especially thanks to the widespread popularity of pup play and bimbo play that incorporates hypnotic elements. if you are in a major city or on one of the American coasts, there are hypnosis oriented events and groups available to you. I even know of hypnosis fetish groups in relatively small towns like Winnipeg that are thriving and filled with other people.

I think both you and your partner will learn a lot technically about enjoying hypnosis scenes well, and that you'll rid yourself of a lot more of your remaining shame if you can take in some of their resources and really be in community with people who get this desire. hypnosis is a skill that requires a lot of time to develop, and there's really no ceiling to the amount of skill a person can get in it. both being a hypnotist and a subject are really intensive discrete skills, and knowing other people who are honing those skills will really help you and impart you some tips and tricks that could really spare you a lot of pain and give you some new ideas for how to have fun together.

as for the shame and crying freak outs that you are experiencing, it sounds like you are having an abreaction, which is a pretty common form of emotional spillage following an intense hypnotic event. these reactions can happen when we get triggered or a nerve gets struck, but also sometimes they emerge just because we've really plunged into emotional depths or a dark headspace and our brain is freaked out by it and trying to draw us back up.

letting a person into your mind is really intimate and revealing, and when you are embarrassed or ashamed of even wanting that degree of revealment, there are a lot of emotional explosions that can occur. continue to move through this and process it with your partner. if they are enjoying exploring this kink with you, they probably find a lot of value in getting to explore your mind and learn how you react to things, and a lot of intimacy can be built through examining strong reactions and processing freak outs together.

I know that it is hard to believe, but you are not inconveniencing your partner, or putting them out, or failing to make the most of their supposed generosity by not always having an easy and an enthusiastic response to them engaging in hypnosis play with you. these disturbed intense reactions are part of the work, and potentially it can take you to new places together, if you let it.

I think you should probably also continue to explore your own hypnotic capacity on your own, watching spirals, listening to hypnotic audio files, meditating, writing mantras in a notebook or on a website such as Write for Me, and learning carefully how to bring yourself down into a trance, as well as how to bring yourself out. if you haven't yet, you and your partner should read books on hypnotic techniques and safeties; Mark Wiseman and sleepinggirl's books are probably the best place to start.

One of the things I was really fortunate to experience early on was having a Dom who installed safeties into my mind that force me to articulate when I am feeling unsafe and bring myself out of a trance automatically regardless of whatever the hypnotist is doing or if there's even another person there. I really believe that every hypnotic subject should have these kinds of safeties put in place early on and have them reinforced regularly so that they are ultimately able to pull the rip cord on any suggestion or mental state that is damaging to them.

beyond that, I'd say just keep working at it. if anything, these strong emotions that you're having are a demonstration of how powerful and significant this kind of stuff can be. hypnosis is heady fucking stuff. and that's part of what's so hot and enchanting about it. this stuff is real. it's a level of profound control and knowledge that you're giving over to a partner when you do this stuff, and that alone can be incredibly rewarding to them, even if they didn't have a hypnosis kink before they met you. what you are doing is not silly or disgusting, nor is it a waste of a partner's time. It is a beautiful, really really intimate gift. really. a lot of new people have gotten into hypnosis in the last few years because it is such a flexible and vulnerable kink that really pushes a lot of sexual and emotional buttons. any partner who shares in this activity with you is lucky to get to do so, you have nothing to apologize for or feel ashamed about. I hope you have a really enriching time with this. this is a very special part of you and a very special way to connect. I hope you can enjoy it for all that it is, even in its darker and scarier moments.

[theclownghoul]

Gratuitous

Opinion piece & analysis

I really hate how Jinx’s suicidality is portrayed in S2, largely in Act lll but we’ll talk about all of it.

In S1 we have about three moments (by my count) that show Jinx harming herself or trying to end her life. Hitting herself in episode 3, being careless with the staples in episode 7 and pulling the pin on the bridge also in episode 7. There is also a line she says to Vi “You’re the reason I’m still alive” in episode 9 which given other things she says in that moment could be interpreted as other ideations.

What makes these moments different from S2 episode 9? Well none of the three main writers were credited to those episodes other than the dialogue in S1 episode 9. Most of them are communicated through animation only. They also just feel different, they’re vulnerable, other things are the focus and her doing these things is just a reaction to those feelings. There was something to get from the scene besides a showcase of her pain.

Episode 9 of S2 is not that. It’s gratuitous, it’s a spectacle, it’s gory and somehow losing all its impact. There’s the music which is not what I’d call tasteful or subtle. It’s making an impression, wants to force a feeling or reaction. Make you sad or horrified and oh, I was horrified but not the way they wanted.

Even the way she digs her nails into her cuticles in S2 episode 8 isn’t really meant to show us anything about her. It’s meant to affect the audience.

In comparison I almost appreciate how people have read her pulling the pin in S1 episode 7 as trying to manipulate or take Ekko out too instead of being a completely clear cut attempt. Because it at least shows that there is enough going on with the character’s mindset that we can speculate on her motivations and how she’s reacting to all the emotions that came from fighting her old friend. If you look at her face it’s sadness and regret (S1 is also better at story through facial expressions since there was forethought). You’re free to have your own reaction, not the one that’s set out for you.

I have mixed feelings about her fight with Vi now and telling Vi that she’s okay to go out by her hand. It feels closer to the moments in S1 than later in episode 9. There’s more going on, we’re meant to consider multiple layers of both her and Vi’s feelings in the moment. It’s a non explicit parallel to the Bridge and does show a pattern of behaviour. It’s also not credited to any of the main writers.

The scene from the opening of episode 9 as a whole, is it romanticization? Heard differing opinions on this and I honestly don’t know where I stand. One one hand it shows how empty she feels and how everything has come crashing down despite trying and it communicates her emotions through the images and music. On the other the scene is meant to be visually appealing while also showing her detonating the bomb very explicitly, like you see her blood. I���m sorry but this is some 13 reasons shit. None of this is helped by the fact that Isha was killed purposely to get her in this state.

I had way more emotions about the actual story in the scene with Ekko in S1 and the scene with Vi in episode 3. Originally I liked this scene but I just can’t really remember why exactly, especially when compared to the earlier ones. The other scenes aren’t lacking in any way when it comes to showing her despair so I’m lead to believe it’s a stylistic choice in line with S2’s music video focus.

Then there’s Ekko… what did he do to deserve this? I’ve said before that if he had to he would save her but the reason he had to was because this scene sounded like a good idea. Saw someone say why is it his responsibility to save her and yeah why? He’s her romantic interest? Not from her perspective at this point and that’s a terrible reason anyway. Not only are we shown her blowing herself up in detail, being inflicted with it but he also has to see that, multiple times. Please don’t make me think too long about it… then we don’t see what actually changes her mind and actually see their bond. That also doesn’t give me a lot of faith is what they think is important to show.

Then she sacrifices herself at the end to “break the cycle” which no one is actually clear on what is meant by that and the same damn song is playing. It’s weird.

I’d like to compare it to the Poison sequence from Hazbin Hotel since that scene faced backlash for romanticizing abuse specifically in that scene. If I can describe what makes Poison not exploitative and what makes Wasteland so then I can safely say they are different and there is something deeply sinister about Jinx’s scene.

Poison benefits internally, inside the context of the story from being visually appealing and pretty. That tells part of the story in and of itself and eventually it cracks, mirroring how Angel feels in the scene and in his situation.

Wasteland benefits externally, it’s done for the audience as I’ve been saying. There is nothing about Jinx’s mindset or actions that we get a better insight into from the stylistic choices. We know “she loves a spectacle” but that’s the only internal explanation that I could make. Even if they wanted the cutting of her hair and the burning on the last drop but the framing could have easily been different.

Think about the staple scene for contrast, it has no interest in being something other than what it is, brutal and disorienting, just as she is feeling in that moment. Jinx would behave that way whether there were “eyes” on her or not. Poison is the same, Angel “performs” to keep his thoughts at bay regardless of an audience. Wasteland only exists in its current form to entertain.

The final “sacrifice” also falls into this, solely focusing on eliciting a reaction from the audience and making a spectacle of sadness. There is no resolution to Jinx’s earlier conversation with Ekko, we don’t see her reflect, we don’t see a change. We have no reason to believe she’s in any way in a better place. Her decision to give her life for Vi’s isn’t particularly fleshed out and this as a conclusion to her arc is bizarre at best and offensive at worst, suggesting she had to remove herself from her loved ones lives, something she simultaneously feared and was tempted by.

I probably shouldn’t feel the need to make such a caveat but I am aware that the could be a matter of preference when it comes to how scenes like this are portrayed but the way this scene was done continues to strike me as odd. I can’t help but think it maybe intentionally or unintentionally is playing into the “sacrifice” message where, it may be a sad thing but Jinx had to die. And that’s a horrible thing to say.

[acourtofthought]

Can I share a theory? I do think there is foreshadowing for a rejected mate’s storyline but I don’t think it will be Elucien. I think it will be Mor and Eris. That will be the “more to the story” that Eris keeps hinting at. Also the way Mor reacted when Azriel was choking Eris, she was pale and shaking for awhile after. Even though the mating bond can be rejected they still feel it so she felt Eris’ pain in that moment.

I agree. I've had a difficult time imagining any other reason they seem so drawn to the other after all this time, why Eris could scent that Mor had dropped off Cassian, why he left her in the woods for a reason that she's too afraid to admit the truth of.

The most plausible reason (to me) is that they are mates but Eris could sense where Mor's heart lay (that she was not romantically drawn to men) and the only way he could set her free in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion from his father is to act cold and cruel and leave her in the woods after claiming she was used goods. And that storyline is one where we wouldn't mind seeing two mates not end up together. First we don't know what Eris's sexual orientation is so we aren't sad over the thought of him not ending up with his mate, he's never shown any sort of longing for Mor. Second, while I do think Sarah has written him to be a (sort of) good guy after all, we've spent much of the series feeling a bit put off by him. He was cruel to Lucien UTM, attacked Feyre on the ice, ridiculed Cassian and the IC, etc. and again, while I realize this all may have been a "cover" so that Beron did not suspect him as being anything but a loyal son, Sarah still hasn't confirmed that as the case and after 4 books I don't think anyone truly wants him in a relationship with Mor because of it. I know Azris is a huge ship yet nobody is bothered by the thought of Eris and Mor not ending up together even with all their interactions and I think that would still hold true even if they end up as mates. That really is the best way for Sarah to go about a true rejected mating bond storyline (where the rejection holds) without anyone feeling sad for either of the two that share the bond. Even if Mor and Eris always feel a tug to one another, it still wouldn't be weird because Mor does not prefer females and Eris has shown no romantic interest in Mor so that tug would feel like more of a familial tug than anything. When it comes to Elain and Lucien, we don't have that setup because we know Lucien longs for Elain and we know she is the most beautiful female he's ever seen. We don't know Elain's thoughts on Lucien's looks just yet however Sarah has already give us a setup where it would be odd for Lucien to end up with someone else since Elain has been written as the "peak" for him. Not only because the next best thing is something he already had and lost (Jesminda - who he once believed was his mate) but because his actual mate took his breath away with her beauty and he's spent over two years showing longing and loyalty for only her. That sort of setup does not work well for a rejected mating bond because there really is no true HEA for Lucien and even if Elain went on to have a relationship with someone else, she will always feel a tug to Lucien. Considering she is attracted to men, it's an odd thing to feel that sort of draw to a straight attractive male who you aren't in a relationship with and that makes for an awkward situation for all parties involved.

[elumish]

You speak on romance as a genre a lot, and there’s a trope I’d love to hear your thoughts on. I don’t know if there’s a real name for it, I usually just call it “perceived rejection” wherein Character A overhears/misinterprets/somehow comes to believe that Character B hates them, doesn’t want them around, only puts up with them for appearances, etc and now have to live with that misunderstanding until it’s cleared up. If there’s a proper name for the trope, I don’t know it, but I bet it’s related to another semi common romance trope of the love interest admitting they’re wrong/needing to beg forgiveness for something (ala pride and prejudice).

You’ve certainly read more of the genre than I have, I’m just wondering if you’ve seen this a lot and noticed any patterns about it?

Ooh, the hated misunderstanding trope (eavesdroppers never any hear good of themselves edition).

As with all misunderstanding plotlines, this is the sort of thing that can work really well or can feel extremely contrived. In my opinion, the two biggest things that make or break this trope are:

Is it believable that the character would hear the thing that they heard in the way that they heard it?

Is it believable that the character would misinterpret what they heard in the way that they did?

The most successful implementations of this trope, from my experience, are either when the thing that they heard reaffirms a belief they already had and/or is factually accurate. Overhearing that someone started pursuing them over a dare or bet, for example, has a much bigger impact on the reader if it's true than if the character misinterpreted what someone was saying.

The reason for this is that the biggest failure with misunderstanding plotlines is that they rely on characters continuing to not talk to each other. If what someone overheard was accurate, even if it's not the person's main motivation anymore (or isn't the whole truth), then simply clearing up the misunderstanding isn't sufficient, because the truth was still hurtful. Then the other character needs to make up for it, which makes for a more satisfying emotional arc.

I feel like I see this show up most in a few different ways:

Character B started their relationship with Character A under false pretenses but is now in love with them, and Character A overhears someone talking about the false pretenses

Character A already thinks that Character B is planning to leave them and then overhears something that implies that

Character A overhears Character B being defensive about the relationship or otherwise denying that it's romantic

Character A misunderstands an overheard conversation that Character B is having and assumes it's about their relationship

The problem particularly with the latter three is that often I read the conversation and either it doesn't seem like a conversation any human being would actually have in real life (so it feels manufactured just for the drama) or I can't read the misinterpretation from the conversation (so the misinterpretation feels contrived).