#but so many lovely people have said lovely things about my fic i felt inspired

[clurbclassics]

my interpretations of The Girls™ in my wip, with the help of some dodgy photoshop + pinterest ✨

charles (born charlotte, also known as charlie by some) leclerc, il predestinata, italian men would die for her, first female race winner in the turbo-hybrid era

lando (affectionately referred to as lands) norris, 'one of the boys', fiercely loyal (and equally stubborn), the next big thing™ at mclaren, e sports and dj-ing 4lyfe

george (born georgia, also called georgie but she hates it) russell, quintessentially british, continued the female f2 winner streak after charles, will fight for her beliefs, paris geller if she drove cars basically

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down.

Word count: less than 2K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts. Part II is already in the queue and will be posted on Friday, 10/11.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, Bucky the player, wild thoughts, kisses on the hand and the cheek. No sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

"Won't see it coming when it happens. But when it happens you're gonna feel it, let me tell you now."

Bucky always scoffed at Steve’s advice. He and Sam never understood his solitary bachelorhood and his one night stand lifestyle.

The truth was, he hadn’t met anyone who held his interest enough to warrant a second date, much less anything beyond one casual hookup. So, he never made promises that he couldn’t keep, and most women said they were down for that. 

Even if they were lying to themselves.

At 42, James Buchanan Barnes was too dedicated to his business, ostensibly as an art dealer, for a serious relationship. The truth was that he dealt in many things, and that was why his business needed so much attention. 

His life and everyone’s around him depended on it. 

Bucky Barnes wasn’t going to get caught slipping.

In love or in business.

—---

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, on what you thought would be a random Monday afternoon, he appraised you in a way that shook you to the core, those ocean blue eyes looking into your soul. You felt as if he were evaluating a piece of art as he gazed at you across his desk. 

You couldn’t know that he felt the exact same way. 

His eyes never strayed from your face as he shook your hand, but he’d noticed every bit of you as you entered his gallery, Rebirth. You were more stunning than any piece of art that he’d ever curated in the space.

While nothing like his normal type, you made Bucky feel as if he’d been so wrong about so much in his life the moment you entered his orbit. He had to get to know you to find what he’d been missing.

This afternoon you were a sight to behold and serving body. Although you were covered from neck to shin in an elegant sheath dress, the high, wrapped waist was giving all of your bounteous curves up to whoever glanced at you. And you had heads turning.

Steve, Sam, and even Natasha craned their necks to watch you as you entered Bucky’s office. And he could have sworn that Nat’s neck was at a 90 degree angle as she watched you leave her desk just outside his door.

You were fine as hell.

Bucky was entranced by dreams of handling your curves and making you smile at him forever.

As Bucky dreamed, you admired the man in front of you. Tall, dark, and handsome, Barnes wasn’t a young man, but the gray in his beard and the crinkles around his eyes made him that much more attractive. 

Even more attractive than in the paparazzi pics of him with various young models and actresses of the moment, waifs and ingénues with whom he was never photographed twice.

You just knew you were safe from any advances from him.

You thought.

“Enchanté, Ms. Y/LN. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Bucky lowered his head as he greeted you, a slight bow and extended his hand to his desk. You noticed the tattoo that started on his hand and seemed to go up his sleeve and went in the direction he pointed.

"You know, you are quite tenacious. I don’t take many meetings with potential buyers. But all of my people told me that I should.”

The silk of his voice, the unexpected tenor of it, and the way he took your hand made you shiver at the aura of experience that he gave off.

The word Daddy floated around in your mind for a moment until he invited you to sit.

You had to concentrate on the business at hand, that of negotiating for a piece of art for the Art and Culture Center in Brownsville, of which you were the director. The purchase was made possible by benefactors to commemorate a deceased Brownsville artist who became famous, then forgotten, during the Harlem Renaissance.

“You’ve made it past Ms. Romanoff, my gallerist, Mr. Wilson, my business manager, and Mr. Rogers, my gallery director, Ms. Y/LN. What makes you think that I’m going to give you a different answer? Letting that piece go for the price you’ve proposed is not a good business move.”

“You can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity, Mr. Barnes. Yes, you will be taking a loss on the artwork, but you will be on the ground floor of a major rediscovery. You will be known as one of the few who helped to resurrect the brilliance of the artist Howard Benson. You can be the Alice Walker to his Zora Neale Hurston.”

And that is when Bucky leaned back in his chair, astounded at your shrewd calculation.

“I love the way your mind works, Ms. Y/LN.”

You smiled and settled back into your chair, causing Bucky to shift in his chair. He wanted to be buried in you. He appraised and decided that he liked the pout that changed your lips almost as much as the smile that initially greeted him when he replied, “But that price is still unacceptable.”

You raised an adorable eyebrow at him and rose to the challenge that he lay at your feet ready to tangle with the inimitable James Barnes. The conversation stretched from early afternoon to dinner time, making you suspect that Barnes was drawing it out for some reason. You matched him, point for point, until it was dark. But he yielded no ground.

The conversation was intellectual foreplay: art history, sociology, american politics. And it was the most stimulated you’d been in a while. 

You could do this all night.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down. There were several text messages and emails lighting up your screen. You’d been in deep with Barnes for hours. It was after 6 pm. It seemed like only minutes. You noticed that it was only you and Bucky left in the gallery and rose to excuse yourself, albeit reluctantly.

“Oh! I’m sorry to keep you so long. I’m sure that you must have plans.”

You’d done your research and you knew that there was probably someone little more than half Barnes’ age waiting for him. When you searched social media, there was a sighting or spotted every month or so of Bucky and a young, beautiful woman.

You reached for your coat, but Bucky was behind you in seconds, taking it from you and helping you put it on. You shivered at his breath at your throat and his hands on your collarbone as he draped the lapels over your neck. His deep chuckle made your stomach flip. He saw right through you.

“No one is waiting for me but my cat, Alpine. How about you, Ms. YLN? Anyone waiting for you in Brownsville?”

“Not tonight. No.”

Why in the world were you doing the sultry whisper thing? This man didn’t want you. 

Did he?

You cleared your throat and you felt dizzy when you looked up and saw how close he was standing to you. Those eyes and the smile that graced his handsome face had you warm, but the way he licked his lips had you spiraling.

Bucky pushed down a mild sense of panic that someone might be expecting you some other night, but that was irrational. Competition never ever entered his mind when he talked to other women. 

What was happening here?

“Well I would consider myself extremely fortunate and would be honored if we could continue this conversation over dinner.”

—-

The way James Barnes turned your meeting into a dinner date had your head spinning, but the wonderful conversation and easy, light hearted banter eased your mind. As soon as the first course was served at your table at dinner at Bohemian, he agreed to your initial price.

From there, once the terms were settled, the conversation turned to more personal questions, each of you sharing the stories of your life in your town, his childhood in Romania, your childhood in Brooklyn, and lots of funny stories.

At one point early in the night, Bucky stopped you from calling him Mr. Barnes.

“Please. Call me James. Or you could call me Bucky. My Friends call me Bucky. For my middle name, Buchanan. Bucky is short for Buchanan.”

Bucky found himself rambling. He had not been this nervous in a while.

You looked at him quizzically. At that moment, he would give you anything you were about to ask of him.

“Do you have a lot of friends? I mean, do a lot of people call you Bucky?“

Godamn, the husk in your voice, those lips, those eyes. Everything about you was about to set him on fire.

“I have a few who are in my close circle. Natasha, Steve, Sam. They and a very few others call me Bucky. Most people I speak with call me Mr. Barnes...”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips, making Bucky feel it in his cock.

“Then I will call you James.”

He got your subtle meaning. You wanted to be different. 

And you were. So very different.

After almost five hours of the best conversation and laughter, he proposed another time for you two to meet before the week was up, on Friday. He had made it clear at dinner that now that business was concluded that he wanted to spend time with you.

Friday night would be a date, the second one at his insistence.

You debated that fact as his driver took you home, even up until he walked you to the door of your brownstone.

He leaned against your doorframe and checked you out as you retrieved your keys from your purse. When you turned and caught him looking, you gasped, causing him to straighten up and move toward you, eyes dilated.

“It will be our second date,” you conceded.

Bucky’s mouth curled into a smirk as he grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth. Your soul burned as he pressed his lips to your palm. It was like the hint of a drug in your veins and you wanted so much more.

“What made you change your mind?”

That voice. Did you have a voice kink? Good lord.

You flushed, both at the images that were racing through your mind, and at the arbitrary three date rule you’d made up a while ago. Why was that again?

You cleared your throat.

“Because of the way you are looking at me, James. And the fact that you just kissed me.”

“Is this a kiss?”

“Ummhmmmm.”

You hummed as Bucky raised his eyebrow and your hand again. This time, he brushed his lips against your wrist and inhaled the perfume lingering there. You were about to melt.

Bucky didn’t even know what he was doing. The next step in his mind was to open his mouth and consume you, but he opened his eyes and spied you looking at him in that way, and he knew he had to stop. He didn’t want this to be like all of his other conquests.

He straightened up, but didn’t let go of your hand, entangling your fingers together. 

“You are correct, Y/N. In my mind, this is a date. I am interested in you, for more than just your taste in art. I hope that this is the first date of many.”

You were bowled over at his straightforwardness. It was not what you were used to. This was a man, not a boy in mens clothing.

“I appreciate your honesty, James.”

You went on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering on the black and grey stubble so close to his lips. You turned around, giving him a view of your backside as you opened your door.

“And your ambition.”

You gave him that smile again with a wink, and your “Goodnight, James,” floated up to him on cloud nine.

——-

Let me know if you liked it!

Part II here.

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

BREATHPLAY

ex!leon kennedy x fem!reader

notes: this year has been a lot so far LOL but part of this fic is based on my meditations after a breakup from a long term relationship so enjoy. descriptions of a rocky relationship, maybe a makeup? drunk sex (both lol), sub!leon and dom!reader, some religious tones. also shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet for safe when i fall i think i got inspired by that one :).

Leon and you never really meshed. Rough edges against other rough edges doesn’t mean sanding down so you’ll fit together nicely.

He’s uniquely good at pissing you off. He leaves the toilet seat up (you put it down), he doesn’t like cooking (“I have cereal,” he says, but muscles like those in his arms don’t live off cereal), he refuses to leave his shoes by the door and tracks in mud/dirt/snow/slush/leaves on the floor and your heart (no matter how many times you make him mop up his mess), he’s contrarian for the sake of having something to argue about (read: talk about).

Sheepish schoolboy through and through, no matter how old or grizzled he gets.

The one thing you two could agree on was always the bedroom, he was much easier to bear when he just shut the fuck up for once and put his mouth to better uses. He was always happy to worship at your altar, anyway.

You, oh, you. Leon loves you to bits, you’re his favorite mule. On one hand, stubbornness got you almost everything you wanted, him included. On the other, you’re almost impossible to deal with when you get in a certain way.

Leon likes to feel manly every once in a while, you know?

You also don’t tell him when you’re pissed, you just shut the hell up and shut him out until you’re ready to talk to him, practically scrubbing the dishes until the nonstick coating comes off.

Something you two implicitly agreed on was to hang on—and, boy, was that a mistake. People always say that you should stick it out, a rough patch is just that, you’ll come out stronger together.

What they don’t tell you is that some things are past the salvageable point and it’s better to know when to quit.

There was a lot of yelling that night before Leon packed up his shit and finally left.

You’d had a while of peace, it felt good, organic even, to get Leon out of your system in all the ways that could be meant.

Story of your fucking life that nobody else could get you off the way Leon can. It doesn’t even come down to skill, it just comes down to good old capacity to give a shit—but that’s what you get when you fuck a guy or three after your ex, who you were with for a handful of years, who had the opportunity to learn what makes you break open.

To you, this breakup felt like swimming to the surface after a few years under water.

Leon had the opposite sort of idea. He didn’t want to touch anyone else, he didn’t want to look at any other woman but you. He deleted your nudes off his phone in a drunken haze, so it’s only memories that get him off when he’s drunk—that is, if whiskey dick hasn’t struck him yet again.

(Another one of your complaints.)

Every time you said you’d go to your friends, they discouraged you from ever talking to him again. They went so far as to take your phone and change the contact name to DON’T EVER FUCKING CALL, changing the profile picture from Leon giving you bunny ears in a mirror selfie to a red stop sign.

You kinda miss Leon the way you miss a bruise, pressing on it a little longer for the hurt and for it to stay. Oh, the love was there too, and you two still yelled at one another or gave the silent treatment until someone (him) broke, walking to you on his knees.

Half a year goes by without you thinking about Leon as much as you could perhaps be. You came real close to breaking after about month two without freshly mopped floors because someone was so excited to be home with you that he forgot to take off his shoes, your friends saved you at the last second.

Month seven is when things get a little rocky. Spring’s coming again, even if the ground’s a little frosty still. Leon texts you first around eleven-fifty at night, when you’re scrolling on your phone in bed.

Hey.

What the fuck? You have to stare at the screen unseeingly for a moment, then blink, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them again to a simple greeting. You can almost imagine the tone he’s taking—he takes that one with you after he starts an argument with you just to talk to you about something.

God, back. Get a fucking hold of yourself.

Oh, hell. He’s texting.

I miss you.

Fuck.

Sluggish thumbs pause and hover over the screen.

Do you?

Like a limb. Is his immediate response. The next, a blurry pic of him raking his hand through his hair, gold chain glinting in the flash.

Christ on a cracker.

You can almost feel the chain in your hand the longer you look at it. The pleasantly surprised look on Leon’s face when you first grabbed the chain to carefully tug him closer is still burned in your mind, that’s what gets you off some days. Well, that and the other things you two did.

Come over? Startles you out of your reverie. Baby Christ in the manger with the sheep. Is this really you? Are you the type of bitch to go back to your ex, even for a night? Would future you be disappointed?

Yeah. Be there in ten. Future you is gonna be well-dicked, if and when she beats you up about this.

All Leon sends is his address as you kick off the covers and dress hurriedly, practically running out of your apartment.

You got there in seven. You take care to look nonchalant as you get out of your car, shutting it with a hip and locking it. You shove your keys into your pocket and scope out the apartment numbers as you get up onto the curb, then the sidewalk.

Your foot skids on a stair and you curse, glad you had a hand on the railing as you pause before continuing your ascension.

You barely finish knocking before the door opens, Lazarus fresh from the tomb in all his disheveled glory before you. Your heart’s in your throat. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Leon twists to the side, allowing you in.

Talk about a bachelor pad. You scope out the place as you toe off your shoes, leaned halfway against the wall.

TV’s on, he’s watching something. There’s vodka bottles littering the coffee table and only one light on in a corner of the room.

The door latches behind you and Leon stifles a hiccup into a fist. “You got here quick.” He says, sidestepping you fluidly and going over to the couch. He sits back down, swallowing some more vodka.

Your face goes hot. “I was overcompensating to not fall asleep at the wheel.” You shrug off your jacket, revealing your baggy shirt. There’s nowhere to hang it, so you drop it on the floor and walk over to the couch, plopping down. Ew, it’s pleather.

Leon snorts into his drink and you try not to gawk at his biceps. “Right.” He agrees solemnly, swallowing a little more vodka before he gets up, getting you a tumbler. He looks fucking delicious. “One or two.”

You hate straight vodka. “One.” Why the fuck not? That’s the flinch, isn’t it?

Leon pours you a shot and clinks your glasses together, passing it to you with his finger inside the rim.

You down it without tasting it, and so does he. You lean forward and pour another, swallowing it down with a burn lingering in your nose. When you have about four shots in your system, Leon speaks up.

“You know, people were right when they said that love is not enough.” He muses, swirling his glass around. Some sloshes over his hand and he slurps it up loudly. “Wasn’t for us.”

Your tongue feels heavy. Despite that, you don’t disagree.

When you’re silent for a little while, buzzed mind attempting to work, he scoffs. “Stop clamming up. It’s me.”

“That’s why I’m clamming up.” You snap after a moment, offense cutting through your buzz. “Because it’s you.”

Leon looks a little less pleased, pink mouth twisting and dipping at the corners. He downs a shot and pours another. You follow, plucking at your shirt to cool down as you sit back against the pleather upholstery.

“We were good, though, right?”

You watch the light play off his face, the blue light and shadows sharpening his features. “Sometimes.” You muster after a while, looking down at your shot glass. “When it was bad, it was bad.”

“Rough patches.” Leon mutters back, though he doesn’t seem to really agree. He sets his empty shot glass on the coffee table and sits back, lacing his fingers together behind his head as he watches the muted TV.

That v-line, he always made such pretty noises when you got to that. “Seems like the patches were the relationship.” You take another shot.

Leon shrugs without looking at you. Prick.

Another shot, more silence before you break it, feeling hot all over. “Did you call me over just to drink?”

Leon’s eyes flick over to you, skating over your features. He loved you, maybe. Loves? “Not really.”

Right. You always come when called.

“I just needed you close to me. Even for a moment.” He admits, eyes dropping from the TV to the coffee table.

He stinks of vodka and sweat when you crawl into his lap, ultraviolet eyes flashing wide for a moment before his hands settle on your hips, thumbs swiping over your bunny pajama pants. Muscle memory.

“You know what they say.” You lean in, eyes flicking between his eyes and his mouth, “Drunk words—“

“Are sober thoughts.” Leon finishes for you, chin tipping up as his eyes lid halfway. “You really are a broken record.”

“Fuck you.”

“You will.” Leon tastes like vodka and iron when he closes the distance between you, his lips slightly chapped. Nervous habit of his, he bites his lips.

It’s a little like being able to breathe. Maybe. It just feels really fucking good.

Leon pulls off your pants somehow, landing a smack to your ass to see the offended look you give him. You scratch him a little in return when you tug down his pants, he turns redder than his alcohol flush and dick jumping behind his boxers.

“Missed these most, fuckin’ hell.” Leon squeezes your tits when he gets your shirt off, leaving a kiss on the right side.

“Did mommy not breastfeed you?” You mock him as you tug his boxers down, rising up on your knees as he leaves you to struggle with his clothes. That vodka left you a little wetter than usual, it seems.

Leon leaves a half-gentle bite and you hiss, digging your nails into his thigh. “Dunno—“ You cut him off with a slow descent, back straightening as you hold in what could be a very incriminating noise. “You wanna try?” He says behind gritted teeth, eyes falling shut with a relieved expression.

You give a strained scoff, digging your nose into his cheek as you lace your arms around his neck, rolling your hips against his.

Leon whines behind a closed mouth, pressing his cheek against yours as his hands wander up and down your sides. You get to watch his eyes roll back when you lace your fingers in his hair and tug. His blunt nails dig into your skin, another louder whine leaving him.

Hitting all his weak spots coupled with the first time with you in a few months has him hurtling over the edge sooner than expected. Honestly, you too.

“In?” Leon pants, eyes opening behind his sweaty bangs, hips jumping to meet yours midway. “Out? How do you want me?”

Thank God, your thighs are beginning to burn. “In.” You leave a wet kiss on his cheek, reaching down with your other hand to fumble with your clit.

He comes right before you do, a pathetic sounding whine leaving him as he spills inside you. You collapse against him, panting for breath and sated in a way you haven’t been for a while.

While you collect yourselves and your dignity, Leon’s hands keep moving up and down your back and sides, soft puffs of breath blowing your hair.

It’s dead silent in the apartment, save only for your breaths. Sweat sticks you two together, you grimace as you peel yourself off him, flopping off to his side and making a mess (what a waste).

Silence reigns for a while longer as you pick at Leon’s fake leather upholstery, a million and one things on your mind. “We can’t be friends.” You mutter after a while.

Leon watches you, sweaty hair sticking up at every angle. “No.” He agrees after a silent moment, not bothering to slap your hand away as you keep picking at his fake leather couch. “I don’t think we ever could be.”

You shake your head, eyes on the patchy upholstery. “And we aren’t lovers.”

Leon shoves his hand beneath yours and holds it so you stop picking at the upholstery. “We could be.”

“Maybe.” But you know him and his soft heart. Beneath it, your heart’s soft too. “We’ll fight, though.”

Leon’s finger runs across your palm. “I like our fights.”

You close and open your hand around his finger. “And we only ever seem to communicate when you’re inside me.”

Leon shrugs. “We should just be physical.”

Round and round in circles we go.

[tkwrites]

Meet Me At The Mistletoe - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Video from @fallinallincurls

Title: Meet Me at the Mistletoe

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Based on the song of the same name by Dave Barnes, Quinn and Sarah prepare for and host a team Christmas Party, including shopping on a very special but inconvenient day. 

Warnings: Grief. Talk of dead parents and honoring traditions. Some sex is alluded to, but nothing described. A tiny bit of praise kink stroking. 

Word Count: 8,000

Comments: I'm back with my first ever Christmas fic! I’ve been waiting to write a song based on Meet Me at the Mistletoe by Dave Barnes since I first heard it three or four years ago. It has such a great story and evokes a specific feeling I felt like Quinn and Sarah were especially suited for. When Cici from @thedevilrisen reached out to me about joining a Christmas fic event called Ho Ho Hockey, I knew this had to be the story I wrote for it. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. Sending all the love your way!

Meet Me at the Mistletoe 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Will you help me plan a Christmas party?” Quinn blurted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Hu?” Sarah asked, struggling to keep up with the abrupt change of subject.

 Upon getting home from work, she’d practically jumped him in the kitchen. They’d made it as far as the lucky couch before desire consumed them both. He’d been on a roadie for the past few days, and though he got back the evening before, she’d been asleep when he arrived, so they weren’t able to welcome each other home properly. 

Now, she lay beside him, wedged between the back of the couch - cushions had been tossed aside in their frenzy - and his body, feeling sated and satisfied as her head rested on his chest.

“I have to plan a Christmas party for the team,” he explained, knowing he couldn’t put it off anymore. Even though they still had a few months, he knew she would appreciate the advanced warning and that it would only make it easier if they started now.

“Why do you have to do it? I’d think that would be something the coaching staff would do.”

“It’s for players only. We have another one with coaches and staff. It's kind of tradition for the captain to plan it.”

Her lips pressed together, “I don’t know how much time I can dedicate to party planning in December. That’ll be right around finals.” She didn’t have as many traditional classes this semester, but there was still plenty to do. 

“That’s why I’m bringing it up now, and it doesn’t have to be huge,” he rushed to explain. “Last year, JT and Natalie just had people over for drinks, and we did a gift exchange.”

“You want to have it here?” 

“I thought it would be nice.” Now that Sarah was here, the apartment felt more homey and like the kind of place he wanted to show off. 

“So cocktails and gifts?” 

“Yeah, or whatever we want it to be. I think they had some food last year.”

“Okay,” she said. 

“So you can help me?” Quinn asked. 

“Yeah. I don’t know that I’ll have time to go to tastings or anything like that.”

“Tastings?” 

“For food?” 

He laughed, “I figured we’d just order from De Beppe and set up a cocktail bar.” 

“Oh,” it seemed like he didn’t even need her help. “That sounds nice and easy.”

His hand snuck down to cradle the curve of her bottom, “you know I don’t like to make things overly complicated.” 

“It’s just for adults?” she confirmed.

“It was last year,” he said. “Why? Do you want kids to come?”

She shrugged, “not necessarily. Just if they do, we’ll need to host it somewhere else. Our house isn’t really kid proofed.” 

When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him looking at her with a goofy smile on his face. 

“What?”

“You said our house.”

“Hu?” 

“You said our house,” he repeated. “Before you’ve always said your house,” he pointed to himself, “or the house.” 

“Oh.” 

Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her a little tighter against him, loving the feel of her soft curls as they crushed against his hip. “I’m just glad you’re feeling more at home.”

A pocket of calm silence enveloped them.

“We’ll need to decorate,” Sarah said after a few minutes. 

Quinn agreed. When he thought about hosting the party, the house was always decorated for Christmas, but he’d never thought about what it would take to get it into that state.

“We can figure that out later,” she murmured, laying her head back on his chest, allowing his steady heartbeat to lull her into the state of calm that always came over her when he was home.

They spent another hour there, snuggled up together, only moving when Quinn went fishing for a blanket and had to lean halfway off the couch to get it. 

They didn’t get up until Sarah’s stomach grumbled loudly. 

“Did you eat today?” Quinn asked, his tone accusing. 

“I had a smoothie for breakfast.”

“Sarah,” he admonished. She never ate as well when he wasn’t home. Not just in quality, in quantity.

“I know,” she said, looking down sheepishly. “I even had a salad in the fridge at work, I just got so caught up in stuff. I did eat a protein bar on my way home,” she remembered. 

Deciding he’d tackle the issue of her nutrition later, Quinn traced his fingers up the curve of her spine. “What should we have for dinner tonight?” he asked as he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable exit from their cozy cocoon.

She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I don’t care. Just feed me.”

He laughed. “You got it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.” 

Are you free November 9th?

When Quinn sent this message, she didn’t think anything of it. They were both so busy that it was normal to schedule things three weeks in advance. 

Yep, what's up that day?

Just wanna take you on a date before the game.

The purposeful vagueness and his wanting to do something on a game day raised her eyebrows. Game days were usually reserved for napping and chill time at home before he had to go to the rink. 

Okay. It's in my calendar. 

He hearted the message, and Sarah went back to work. 

Pick you up at 11 out front, okay?

Though it was a Saturday, and she was off, Quinn knew Sarah would be working on her thesis and he needed to catch her before she got too absorbed by it, no longer concerned with looking at her phone.

For what?

We have a date, remember?

Oh, right. She’d mostly forgotten about the whole exchange, despite looking in her planner that morning and finding (heart) Date (heart) written in the sparkly blue ink she used to denote all things Quinn related.  

What should I wear?

Usually, when he called something a date, it meant dinner out, but this was the middle of the day, and she knew it wouldn’t last terribly long.

Whatever - jeans are fine.

Now, she was really intrigued. Okay. See you then. 

Wondering what on earth he had planned in the middle of the day on a Saturday, on a Saturday game day, no less, Sarah went back to her studies. It was hard to focus, though. Quinn was definitely up to something. They were even playing the Oilers that evening. Something fishy was definitely going on. 

All the same, at 10:30, she changed out of her pajamas, pulled half of her hair up, and put on some makeup before walking down to the lobby. 

Quinn was right on time, parked right in front of the front door. 

“Thanks, Reece,” she said as he held the door open for her. 

“Have a good day, Ms. Roberts,” he said with a nod. 

She slid into the seat of Quinn’s posh new car. She’d learned by now that most players leased a new car at the beginning of every season. Instead of the Jeep, Quinn now had a sleek and luxurious new Porsche SUV. Most of her hated that it was so expensive when there were perfectly good, reliable options that were half the price. Each time she got in it, though, she had to admit: it was extremely comfortable, and the features really were something else. She found a small measure of comfort that at least it wasn’t some ridiculous sports car. 

“So, where are we headed?” she asked as he pulled back into traffic. 

“You’ll see,” he said with a little smile as he reached across the console for her hand. 

Although he had a destination programmed into the car's GPS, she wasn’t entirely sure how the thing worked and didn’t want to accidentally get them off course by fiddling with it. 

They went out of the city, which surprised her. He was bothering to take her to Richmond when they had to get back in time for the game? Not that the 30 minute drive was outrageous, but it seemed a luxury to her when they didn’t have all that much time to begin with.

“We needed to come all the way out to Richmond to go to Costco?”

“It’s the second Saturday of the month,” he said quietly, “and this one's bigger than the one by home. I’m sorry we couldn’t go tonight.” 

“Oh,” her breath hitched as his intention settled on her. She’d stopped mentally marking second Saturdays about a year after her dad died, so she hadn’t even known.

The hiss of his seatbelt retracting brought Sarah out of her daze, and she reached for him before he could get out of the car. 

“Thank you,” she said, feeling both a swell of gratitude as well as a tightening in her chest. 

He beamed, glad he’d pulled it off. “I’ve been trying to get here, but you were so busy with the start of the semester, and then I was out of town…” he trailed off. 

“This is really sweet, Quinn.” Holding his chin, she leaned over the center console to press her lips to his.

He’d wanted to set up this date since she’d told him about her family’s monthly Costco adventures. “Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the store. 

She took a deep breath, letting it sigh out before nodding, “yeah.” 

When she rounded the car and he took her hand, she tried to blink the tears from her eyes. 

“I haven’t been back here,” she said quietly, wanting to explain, just in case she burst into tears. That hadn’t happened for a while, but she could never quite rule it out, especially now that the ache of doing this with him, but without her dad, was freshly torn open. That, mixed with the gratitude she felt at his want to do this for her, especially on a game day, brought up a swirl of so many emotions. Quinn was so incredibly thoughtful. 

He stopped in his tracks, “is this your first time back since your dad died?” he asked. 

“No, I went with mom whenever she or I was visiting, and we all go whenever I’m in town,” she said, “I just don’t think I’ve been without my siblings since she died.”

“Are you okay? We don’t have to go.” He was such an idiot. He should have asked her about it instead of just springing this on her. 

“No, I want to go,” she assured, giving his hand a squeeze. “It just makes me a little nostalgic, that’s all.” 

Before they got to the doors. She tugged him back, “this is really thoughtful, Q.” Why hadn’t she said it before? “Thank you. I feel really cared for.”

The big, genuine smile that took over his face made her heart swell.  

“So what are we looking for?” she asked, grabbing a cart and following him inside. 

“I kind of thought…” he trailed off, lifting the cap off his head, trying to smooth his hair down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mother turn her pointing little girl away.

“Hm?”

“I thought we could get some Christmas decorations. Like, obviously, we need a tree, but I didn’t know if you wanted a real one, or…” he trailed off. 

“Isn’t it a little early to be decorating for Christmas? I figured you were a strictly after Thanksgiving kinda guy.”

He laughed, “I mean, I am, but this was the only second Saturday I’m in town before January, so I figured we could shop and then decorate later.” 

A smile beamed over her face, and a sigh unknotted some of the anxiety coiling in his chest. They’d talked, well argued, a little about Christmas. He wanted her to come to Michigan with his family, but it was her siblings' year to be together, so she wanted them to go to Nevada. He was just about ready to fly everyone to Vancouver. It was their first Christmas together. He didn’t want to spend it apart, but he didn’t want either of them to miss out on time with their families. 

“I’ve never had a real tree,” she mused. 

“Really?” 

“My mom always said she hated the mess.” She paused for a moment, remembering, “well, I guess that’s not quite true. Trav and Trev had a real tree the year I lived with them, but it wasn't really my thing. I went back to Nevada in mid-December, so I didn’t help decorate or anything.”

“Okay, so we’ll get a real tree,” he agreed, glad to have that sorted. “You should get to experience it at least once.”

“Okay,” she agreed, a light coming into her face he usually associated with her while she was talking about her research.

The smile Quinn gave her in response - large and happy and indulgent - made her stomach flutter. 

“What do you think  the theme should be?” she asked.

“Hu?” 

“The theme,” she repeated, “like red, or blue or, like, snow?” 

“I don’t…know?”

“Is there anything you really like?” 

“I hate the flocking,” he said. 

“Not what I asked, but still helpful,” she said with a cheeky smile and a wink. 

Quinn felt himself blush. “I don’t know…I feel like I’m bad at this kind of stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff,” she asked, guiding them to the decor aisles. 

“Decorating and stuff.” 

She pshawed, waving her hand, “my mom always said if you like what you come up with, design is never bad. It might not be someone else's taste or style, but it’s not their house.” 

Right, her mom was an interior designer. 

“What do you like?” he asked, stopping to look at a display of dancing elves. They were sort of horrifyingly kitschy, but he couldn’t look away.

“I like classic things. Like red and green, or blue and white. Or, one year, my mom did this really pretty floral design. That doesn’t really match our vibe, though.”

“Did she design a new tree every year?” 

“Sometimes. It all depended on what set her off. She’d sometimes find something like a tartan ribbon, and she’d spin a whole design off of that. We had another little tree in our basement that all of our homemade ornaments went on. We always put presents under that one.” 

“Do you want two?” 

“Trees?” 

“Yeah, one upstairs and one downstairs.”

“Do you?”

He shrugged. “We could put one by the lucky couch.” 

The lucky couch being the suede couch. She’d jokingly called it that after their escapades when the Canucks clinched into the playoffs, “I feel like all I do on this couch is get lucky,” and the name had stuck.  

“Do you want that?” she asked now, looking at him seriously. 

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what that would be like. Ultimately, he shrugged, “wouldn’t hurt.” 

She laughed a little. “How about we sort the theme first?” 

He nodded, glad that she had some kind of a plan. 

“Why don’t we split up for a minute? We’ll each find a few things we like, and hopefully, a theme will come out of that.” It was something her mom often did when working with clients. It brought out shared styles. 

“Okay.” 

Sarah wandered off with the cart, heart so full she felt like it might just push into her mouth. 

After five minutes, when Quinn didn't come back, she went looking for him. She found him on one of the fringe aisles, locked in a conversation with a star struck fan. 

He glanced up when she rounded the corner. 

When it became obvious that the person currently holding his attention wouldn't let up anytime soon, he waited for them to finish their thought about the upcoming game and then started to excuse himself. “It was nice talking with you, but I need to be going.” 

“Oh,” the guy seemed to remember they were standing in Costco, “of course. Thanks for chatting, man.” 

They shook hands, and Quinn stepped around him to join up with Sarah. 

“Did you find anything, or did you immediately get bombarded?” 

The smile he sent her way was indulgent. “I got a bit of a look.” Taking the other end of the cart, he pulled her down one of the decor aisles and pointed out some different shaped gold glass ornaments. 

“I liked those, too, but I liked the silver better.” 

“We could get both,” Quinn suggested, lifting a box of each color into the cart. 

“You want to go metallic?”

One side of his mouth twisted. 

“So, no,” Sarah laughed. “What do you think instead?” 

“I don’t know. I just think only metallic is kind of weird.” 

“Okay,” Sarah turned to another section of baubles and started putting them between the silver and gold. 

They discussed the combinations but couldn’t agree on what colors looked better together. 

“Why don’t we just do two trees,” Quinn suggested after having the same circular conversation twice. 

Sarah agreed, glad he brought it up again.  

“Do you want two live ones?” 

“I think we should get one fake one. I’m already a little worried I’m going to forget to water the one.” 

“Do we have to water it?” 

“I’d imagine so. It’s a living plant, isn’t it?” 

He’d never thought about it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Didn’t you have real trees growing up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, before sheepishly adding on, “but my mom did all of that.”   

Just as he expected, Sarah snorted. “I can’t believe your dad made your mom take care of something for a holiday she doesn’t even celebrate.” 

“She celebrated Christmas,” Quinn argued. “It’s not like she was against it or something.” 

“It’s the principle of the thing.” 

He smiled indulgently at her. 

They spent another hour wandering around Costco, deciding what to buy. Sarah tried not to wince at the price when it totaled on the checking screen. It was their first year, after all. These things would always be basics they could use over and over again. 

After loading it in the back of his car and starting for home, Sarah spoke again. “Quinn?”

He glanced at her, worry etched onto his face. 

“I just wanted to say thank you again,” she assured, reaching for his hand. “This was so thoughtful and kind.”

A  smile spread over his face, “you don’t need to thank me, Sarah. “I like when I can do something special for you.” 

It wasn’t a strange thing to her anymore, to be with such a caring partner, who not only remembered things about her, but put them to use. Just the other day, he’d brought a set of playing cards home from Seattle after she mentioned wanting to use some different ones in her research with Walter. 

Quinn let her pull his hand into her lap, glad that he’d pulled this off and that she’d enjoyed it so much.   

When the day of the party arrived, Sarah was feeling remarkably calm. 

While they were planning, she felt the weight of hosting the team as the Captain’s girlfriend like a physical thing she had to uphold. Not only did she want everyone to have a good time, she felt it was partially her responsibility to represent Quinn well. Not that he couldn’t do that on his own. He could. It just felt like another mantle she had to uphold and worried she would somehow fail or let him down.

After sharing these fears with her therapist, she helped her to remember that while her fears were understandable, there wasn’t really any basis for them. She’d already spent time with the team with the title of the captain’s girlfriend. The only difference now, as Jenny pointed out, was that she and Quinn were living together. “Which,” Jenny told her, “really only solidifies your relationship. If the team had any issues with Quinn dating you, they would have brought them up a long time ago.” 

Now, as she got ready, hosting their first party together felt like a cementing step in their relationship. It felt a bit like something out of a fairy tale. 

Pulling at the skirt of her dress until it fell the way it was meant to, she smoothed her hands over her hips as she smiled. It’d been a ridiculously long process to find the right dress, but now that she was on the other side of it, the final result was well worth work.

After going shopping with Bella and Katelyn, she came home empty handed.  Everything they'd found was too…much. Too frilly, or too plain. Nothing fit correctly, or it didn’t cover what she wanted covered or didn’t flatter her body. She didn’t even have an image in her head of what she wanted to wear (she rarely did), but nothing they found felt right. 

She’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that dress hunting had, at least partially, been so hard because she felt more than a little frumpy and even a little bit fat standing next to both beautiful women. Not that either of them did anything to make her feel that way. They were kind and nice, and two of her best friends among the wives and girlfriends. Still, anytime she tried on a dress, on top of it not being right, when she stood next to them, her eyes were automatically drawn to her hips and stomach, which were so much rounder than either of theirs. 

Generally, body image didn’t bother her - she knew she was attractive and knew Quinn found her attractive. Even knowing that, she had a hard time turning off that comparison part of her brain when seeing herself reflected back next to the two thin women she was with. 

So, while both of them walked away with beautiful party dresses, Katelyn in a short, delicately sewn green frock, and Bella in a sparkly blue sweeping number, Sarah was forced to go hunting for the perfect dress online. Knowing she was running out of time, she bought fourteen, figuring she would return what she didn’t like.

Of course, it was the last one - which arrived only a week before the party - that finally sang to her. Even Quinn commented on it when he saw it hanging in the closet, telling her, “I like this one.”

“Yeah?” 

He’d nodded, offered her a cheeky smile as he said, “I can't wait to see what it looks like on you.”  

At the time, she’d laughed and shaken her head, but with the way he was looking at her now, she knew he hadn’t been lying. 

“Wow,” Quinn said, eyes scanning up and down her body when Sarah walked out of the walk-in closet.

The sparkly fabric cradled her curves as if it had been made for her. He especially liked the way it just barely cupped her ass before billowing down to the floor. He’d never seen her in something so fancy - they’d never had the occasion to dress up like this. 

Thoughts of past prom and formal dates skipped through his mind, and he decided she was the prettiest date he’d ever had. Especially with the way the dark red color turned her eyes a stormy blue.

She gave him a teasing, little smile, “you like it?” 

Scoffing, he gave up fighting the impulse to grasp her hips. The fabric was smooth and surprisingly soft under his palms. He’d expected the tinsel-y shine to be scratchy. Whoever made it knew what they were doing. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you all night,” he said as his eyes drank in her figure one more time. 

Slipping her arms around his neck, she gave him a seductive smile and a wink, “lucky for you, I think we could arrange for you to take me home tonight.” 

“Really?” he teased, one hand sliding around to cradle that curve of her butt he’d been admiring earlier. 

“Play your cards right, and I think you just might.” 

“I might have to corner you under the mistletoe before then.”

“I thought you hated mistletoe,” she said, rolling her eyes. He'd been mildly horrified when he found she'd hung two sprigs of it in the apartment – one in the front hall and one in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“I don’t know that I’d hate it with you,” he said, voice soft as he caressed her hips again. “I hated when people would try to corral me under it with some girl they wanted me to date,” he explained. “If it means I get to kiss you, I’m going to take advantage every time I can.” 

Thinking of past Christmases and failed mistletoe attempts, Quinn was so struck by her. His life from a year ago had been turned totally upside down. All in good ways, but it was still startling to glance back at how lonely he was last Christmas in comparison to the joy, love, and contentment he felt this year. 

 “You’re going to be the prettiest girl here,” he said, unable to stop himself from looking her over again.

Though she smiled, she snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“You will be,” he insisted, pulling her against him. He couldn’t fight not touching her more. 

Deciding she was too tired to push back against his compliments, Sarah leaned in to press her lips to his. With her heels on, he was just an inch taller than she was. Kissing Quinn was never difficult, but she did enjoy the easier access their closer heights allowed for. 

He mumbled a noise, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her head to intensify the kiss. 

As she broke away, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “are you not wearing any underwear?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “What?” she asked, a laugh splitting her mouth into a natural, pretty smile. 

“I can’t feel anything,” he explained, running his palm over her bum again. 

“Strictly speaking? No.” 

His eyes grew round with shock. 

“But I have shape wear on, so it’s kind of worse. Harder to get off.”

An almost relieved smile crossed his face. 

“Why?” 

“I just…I was gonna have a real hard time tonight if you weren’t wearing anything under this dress,” he admitted as his palm slid up the curve of her body.

“I don’t think I could face a party with your teammates without any underwear on.”

“Too bad,” he tsked, “then I really wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.” 

“Be a good boy,” she admonished, moving his fingers from where they were sneaking under the straps.

Licking his lips, Quinn looked into her face, his expression eager. 

She held his gaze, letting the tension build between them. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating against her leg. He didn’t look away.

“That’ll be the food,” she said, breaking the spell. “You better go grab it.”

“Yeah.” Shaking his head gently, Quinn reminded himself they were heading into a party and now was not the time for him to start fantasizing. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Those pants still look super hot on you!” she called, following him. 

A few weeks before, she’d first told him she liked them by sending him a Canucks Instagram story that showed him walking through the arena parking garage, along with the message, got me drooling over your thighs in this suit. The gray fabric was cut close, making his legs look deliciously thick and muscled.

His laughter echoed off the windows as he jogged down the stairs. “I’m wearing them just for you!” he called back before the front door shut. 

Making her way down to the kitchen, Sarah surveyed the apartment on the way. They had decided to put the second tree next to the lucky couch, which only served to make the spot more romantic. Since it’d gone up, they’d spent at least one night a week curled up together reading by it’s light. It was decorated in silver and green, while the larger, fresh tree was decorated in classic red and gold, including some geometric diamonds her mom used in their last family tree. Sarah had asked her sister, Rachel, if she could send them to her. It was nice, having that little part of her mom in the house at a time they both loved so much, nice to see pieces of Quinn mixed in with everything. 

Other than the trees, there were no other holiday decorations besides a Christmas Village that had belonged to her dad, which was set up on the sideboard in the living room. 

An hour later, almost everyone was there, dressed in their holiday finery. 

Quinn had an incredibly soft, dark green cashmere sweater on over top of a white dress shirt. He’d almost worn the bomb cufflinks Sarah had given him, but at the last minute, he decided it would be more practical if he rolled his sleeves up.

The way Sarah’s eyes lingered on his forearms when he had told him he made the right choice. 

Sarah had insisted the men needed to wear slacks, “if the women are putting on dresses, it’s the least you can do. No dude gets to show up in jeans when women have to wear shape wear.” 

He said he saw her point and dropped the bad news on the boys the following day. 

“Oh my God!” Bella gushed, walking into the house. “It looks gorgeous in here!” 

“Thank you. It was really fun to decorate together for the first time.”

“Huggy helped with this?” Brock asked dubiously, walking up and slipping an arm around Bella’s waist. Sarah swore they both could wear head to toe hunting orange and still be the most beautiful couple she’d ever seen. Seeing them dressed for the season was like looking into a catalog, two perfect people in exactly the perfect clothes, matched to perfection. If they stood by the tree, she was pretty sure she could submit the picture to any department store in the world, and they’d put them in an ad without question. It was quite stunning, really. 

“He did,” Sarah said, beaming. “We decided on the theme together and got decorations, and we put up the trees before you guys left over Thanksgiving.” 

“Brock never helps with stuff like that,” Bella teased. 

“I offered!” Brock corrected. “She said she doesn't trust my taste,” he told Sarah conspiratorially before dropping a kiss to Bella’s cheek and announcing, “I’m going to get us drinks.” 

“Oh my god,” Bella exclaimed once he was gone, “where did you find this dress? It’s, like, perfect!” 

“Its from this Australian company called Blackmilk. It was the last one to arrive,” Sarah said with a roll of her eyes, “of course.” 

“Well, it was worth the wait. You look killer. Your ass looks insane.” 

Sarah laughed, “the spanx have a lot to do with that.”

Bella shook her head, “no. You have a great ass. I wish I had curves like yours.”

Glancing down at herself, then at Bella’s petite frame, Sarah wondered who it served for women to be pitted against each other this way. The beauty industry, probably. Whoever invented spanx. 

“That's sweet, thank you.” 

Bella hooked her arm through Sarah's and demanded a tour of the apartment with everything decorated. 

Watching from across the living room as Sarah opened the door, looking comfortable and every part the hostess, Quinn smiled, glad to see her feeling so at home. 

He was only a little surprised to see the Millers on the other side of the door. He’d invited them, but didn’t hear anything back.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Sarah gushed, accepting the box of chocolates Natalie offered, before wrapping her in a hug.  

There had been some debate whether or not the Millers would be able to attend - it was their first team function in quite a while - but Sarah was extremely glad they were here. It wouldn’t feel like a team party without them. 

“Come in, come in. We have cocktails and mocktails and lots of food,” she said, turning to embrace JT.

He smiled, uncharacteristically quiet. 

Natalie stayed by Sarah’s side as he wandered into the party, getting progressively louder as he bro-hugged and took some ribbing from his teammates, jibing them in turn as if no time had passed. “Thank you for not making a big deal of this,” she said. 

Sarah shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re here.” 

The other woman gave her a watery smile, and Sarah took her arm to pull her into the house, “what can I get you to drink?” 

The one thing Quinn hadn’t counted on when planning this party was how much he’d be separated from her. When they attended parties in the past, they were often together, or at least not apart for long. Now, with the role of hosts, they had people to talk to and drinks to refresh, and it felt like everything was pulling them away from each other, rather than closer together. 

As the night went on, even though they were still separated, Quinn found he always seemed to know where Sarah was. Not just from her laugh, which he did hear in abundance, or from glimpsing light glinting off her sparkly dress, which occasionally flashed in the corners of his vision. No, it was that same magnetic force that pulled him to her the first time he saw her, still in full effect.

He was talking with Conor when he felt that longing hook in his navel, nudging him in her direction. 

When he looked up, however, he couldn’t see her. It only took a moment for her to reappear, walking from the kitchen, smiling at something Meghan was showing her on her phone. Probably photos of Quint, he guessed. She had a new bottle of Perrier in one hand and a bowl of ice in the other. 

As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up. 

Once their eyes met, their connection followed suit, snapping into alignment as they held each other's gaze. He was on the other side of the apartment, in the living room, but for a brief moment, it seemed everyone else fell away and they were alone in the house again. 

She winked, and a ridiculous, cheesy smile took over his whole face. 

They’d taken pictures in front of the Christmas tree at the beginning of the night as soon as Elias and Katelyn had arrived and could hold the camera. Sarah wanted to send them to her family. He’d smiled when the photo had popped up in the chat she had with his family. His mom had almost immediately hearted the photo and gushed over how beautiful Sarah looked in her dress. 

You look nice too, Quinn, Luke had quipped. 

That had been the last time he had his hands on her, and watching her chat with Meghan as she tipped fresh ice into the metal bucket, he was itching to touch her again. 

“So, what did you think of that video session today?” Conor asked. 

“Hu?” Quinn murmured, unable to tear his eyes from Sarah as she started to laugh. 

Conor followed his sightline. “Oh god, you’re hopeless,” he murmured. “Go get your fix, then come talk to me,” he said, tone only half joking as he pushed Quinn’s shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Can I borrow her for a minute?” Quinn asked, throwing a smile in Meghan's direction as he walked up to them. 

Not waiting for an answer, he took the bowl from Sarah's hand, setting it on the bar cart and leading her back in the direction of the kitchen by a loose grip on her upper arm. 

“Quinn, what's wrong?” she asked, glancing back to make sure Meghan didn't feel abandoned. Thankfully, Natalie had taken her place in the conversation.

“Nothing wrong,” he said, stopping to lean in the kitchen doorway. 

One of her eyebrows raised, “you just needed to come hang out in the kitchen?” 

A snort of laughter escaped his mouth before he pointed up. Sarah followed his finger to the little sprig of fake mistletoe she’d hung there. “I thought you were joking,” she said, her eyes coming back to his face. 

“About this dress?” he asked, slipping his hands over her hips and around to hold her bum. “Or about wanting to kiss you under the mistletoe?” 

She glanced back to the party, hoping no one caught Quinn groping her so openly. “I don't know. About the cornering bit, I guess.”

A smile crept over his face, “how else was I supposed to guarantee we'd end up here together?” 

Sarah tried to roll her eyes but ended up smiling instead. It was nice to feel so wanted. 

“I missed you,” he said, nudging her to step toward him by tightening his hands. 

“Quinn, people can see,” she admonished, even as she moved closer. 

“So?”  

“So you have your hands all over my ass in plain sight.” 

“I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting to touch you in this dress,” he said.

A thrill spiked in her chest. She’d never had this much pull over a man. “And what were you hoping for under this mistletoe?” she asked.

“Just need a minute to tide me over until the party ends,” he murmured, leaning in. 

His lips brushed over hers. 

Deciding she didn’t care if people saw, Sarah sighed into him. Everyone knew they were dating, after all. More than dating - they were living together. They were throwing a party together. No one would be shocked to see them under the mistletoe. 

Allowing herself to sink into the kiss, she opened her mouth and welcomed the sweet, tangy taste of his tongue. He must have just drunk some of the cranberry punch she made. 

 A contented noise escaped his mouth, and Quinn leaned a little closer, savoring the hint of chocolate liqueur in her mouth. 

The knowledge that his entire team and their partners were in the house caught up to him, and Quinn pulled back. He didn’t really want to, but he also didn’t want the ribbing that would surely come his way if it went any farther.  

He just needed to make it to that evening anyway. 

Pursing his lips together, he met her eyes.

Her smile told him she was looking just as forward to the end of the party as he was. 

The anticipation of it spiked in his stomach, making him feel giddy. 

The laughter and drinks kept flowing long after the gift exchange wound down.

 In an effort to do something different from the year before, they’d proposed a white elephant type exchange, but each gift had to be worth at least 100 dollars and something nice, not jokey. 

The most fought over gifts were a bottle of imported Irish Whiskey Dakota brought and a diamond necklace Sarah had found in a vintage shop along her regular route home.

Quinn ended up with a pair of tickets to a cooking class with a local chef, while Sarah ended up with a ridiculously soft cashmere scarf. 

Though Sarah expected that everyone, with their rigorous travel schedules, would want to get home as soon as possible, it seemed they all were savoring the time together without their kids and without the pressure of practice or a game. 

It was nice to see all the guys casual and carefree in a way that didn’t happen very often. She rarely saw the whole team so relaxed together. 

When it became evident that everyone would be staying much later than anticipated, Sarah started to readjust her expectations for the evening. The way things were going, they’d be too tired to do anything but do a quick clean of the apartment and flop into bed when the night wound down. 

Quinn was chatting with Lankinen in the kitchen, looking so effortlessly handsome in his sweater and slacks. Those slacks really should be a crime. his thighs looked good enough to bite. And then he’d gone and rolled up his sleeves. He had strong wrists and forearms, and when he wore shirts like this, she always felt a strange surge of attraction to them. 

As she continued to stare, just as she expected would happen, he looked up to meet her gaze. 

She gave a subtle head tilt toward the entry hall and raised her eyebrows. 

A smile crept over his face, and he nodded. 

Trying to be casual, she made her way to the front door. She’d hung mistletoe in the entryway, imagining kissing each other hello and goodbye at the door, even though that rarely happened in their everyday life. 

By the time Quinn was able to make his excuses and follow Sarah to the front door, she’d been there for several minutes, He found her leaning against the wall, with her head tilted back, seemingly savoring the time alone. 

He was just wondering if he should leave and come back when she glanced over. 

A smile immediately spread over her face, and she straightened.

“You okay?” he asked, closing the distance between them. 

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, just for him. 

Slipping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. Even in the dim, entryway light, she could see how the color of his sweater brought out the green in his eyes, making them a mottled, foresty color.

“You should wear green more often.”

The left corner of his mouth tipped up. “I should?” 

“Yeah.” Her fingers wove themselves into the curls at the base of his skull. “It brings out the color in your eyes.” 

He fluttered his lashes, and she giggled. “Can you just learn to take a compliment?” 

A blush flashed over his cheeks. 

“You’re just really handsome,” she said, almost as if it was a confession. 

Quinn resisted the urge to deflect the compliment and busied himself with running his hands over the smooth fabric of her dress. “You should wear this all the time.” 

“All the time?” she repeated. 

He nodded. 

“Even at the aquarium?” 

A laugh chuffed out of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not all the time,” he continued before she could cut in, “you just look really beautiful in it.” 

She knew how Quinn felt about this dress, he’d made that abundantly clear throughout the night - checking her out each time she entered the room and with his little stunt in the kitchen - but hearing the sincerity in his voice now made it burrow home with a bit more force. 

It was her turn to blush. 

“You’re doing okay?” he asked. “I can start telling people they need to leave.” 

She shook her head, “You don’t need to do that. I’m having fun. Just wanted you to myself for a minute.” 

Quinn felt a ridiculously big smile spread over his face. “Always happy to do that,” he said, leaning closer. 

As their mouths melted together, Sarah thought she heard shushing but pushed the whispers out of her mind, relishing the stolen moment alone. 

She didn’t think about it for the rest of the night, which lasted well into the next morning. By the time everyone left, after Natalie and JT stayed late to help them clean up, it was past two. 

Glancing at her phone for the first time after loading the dishwasher, Sarah was surprised to see she had a message from Katelyn. When she opened it, she found a dimly lit photo of her and Quinn in the entryway, kissing under the mistletoe. His hands were on her waist, and hers were in his hair. Through her editing magic, Kate had blurred everything else in the background, making the photo look just like Sarah felt in that moment – as if she and Quinn were in their own little bubble. 

Caught you guys under the mistletoe. It was too cute not to take a pic. Hope you don’t mind. Thanks for a great party. E was telling me on the way home how happy Q’s been since he met you. Anyway, just glad this crazy world brought us together. Love you, girl. 

 Love you too. Thank you for the beautiful picture. 

Katelyn hearted the message, and when Sarah showed it to Quinn, he said, “that one should go in the launch deck, don’t you think?”

Sarah nodded, her movement slow with sudden fatigue.

“Come on,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her away from the kitchen and the dishes. “We can finish this up in the morning. Let’s get to bed.” 

Too tired to argue that they really should just get it all done now, she let him lead her upstairs. 

They got ready for bed, and as he pulled her close, Quinn whispered, “I love you, you know that?” 

“I know.” It took a sleepy minute for her to continue, “I love you, too. I’m glad we did this.”

Tucking his nose into her hair, Quinn breathed in her familiar scent. His voice was dim when he thanked her. 

She turned, pressing her nose into the divot of his collar bone so he felt and heard her next words. 

“I’m glad this Christmas is with you.” 

 “I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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©2024 tkwrites. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform.

[corollaservant]

Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/dubcon, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.  

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley. 

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said. 

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat. 

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat. 

-

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic. 

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen. 

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant. 

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human. 

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service. 

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him. 

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you. 

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo. 

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it. 

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time. 

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too. 

[justallihere]

i've been talking about this for two months now, but we're past onyx storm and i'm finally far enough into this fic that i'm almost ready to start posting, which means. . .

dead on arrival chapter 1 will be coming your way on feb 3rd!

this is a bones-inspired modern au, and i'm in love with every moment of it so far. i can't wait to start sharing it with you, but in the meantime, here's the summary - and below the cut, a longer look into the first bit of chapter 1

Violet Sorrengail is a forensic anthropologist good with only one thing: dead people. Their bones speak a language only she can hear, but the living aren't quite so easy to understand - particularly one FBI Agent Xaden Riorson, who does everything possible to get under her skin. When an unexpected murder victim washes up in DC, the ensuing investigation brings them closer together despite her every effort to stay away, and she's forced to decide if the careful distance she keeps around her heart is really worth it.

There was a dead body.

That was what the text message said anyway, the one that interrupted Violet Sorrengail’s music with a cheerful little ding and made her flinch. It popped up on the screen of her car—from FBI Agent Xaden Riorson.

7:03 am There’s a dead body. I’ll pick you up in 10. 

When she read it, she rolled her eyes. Of course there was a fucking dead body. That was the only reason he ever texted, called, emailed, or otherwise contacted her. There was a steady stream of texts from him dating back six months, from their first case together, all variations of: Got a body. On my way to pick you up. Any updates on the case? Why aren’t you in the lab? I have new evidence for you. Never so much as a hello or a how are you. If his neck was more easily reachable, she would have strangled him by now, but as it was, he stood about fifteen inches taller than her, and Violet hated both high heels and step stools, so he got to keep breathing. For now. 

A bark came from the passenger seat. She spared a glance at Tairn and found the dog was already glaring at the car screen, as if he knew exactly who had texted. He held a special sort of contempt for Xaden Riorson that Violet didn't think he'd ever shown anyone she knew, and he'd been her service dog for almost three years.

She was stuck at a red light, so she took a fortifying drink of her coffee and then plucked her cell phone out of the second empty cup holder to respond. 

7:04 am  it’s 7 in the morning on a monday y tf do u think i’m in the lab already. i’m 20 min away 

Riorson hated shorthand text. Violet normally didn’t do it, but once, in a hurry, she’d typed bc instead of because, and it was the first thing he’d commented on the next time he saw her. She’d made it a point ever since to shorten as many words as possible. 

7:04 am  Then I’ll pick you up in 20. Washed up from the Potomac at a park in Alexandria a couple hours ago.

Sounded lovely—and unstable for her, given it had rained the entire weekend before and she could break or dislocate just about anything with a single wrong look.

It took her twenty-two minutes instead of the promised twenty to get to the lab, and she felt confident Riorson was losing his mind. He had a thing for punctuality that bordered on compulsive. Sure enough, he was already there, his government-issued SUV parked next to her usual spot. He stood outside it, leaning against the closed driver’s door, wearing a sleek black suit and aviators, not a strand of dark hair out of place. He looked the perfect picture of professionalism, were it not for the tattoo on his left arm that wound from wrist to jawline. The early morning sun gilded his brown skin, and he looked almost ethereal. It was both infuriating and unfair how beautiful he was, but he made up for it by being a complete and utter dick most of the time. 

Riorson was too composed to show any outward signs of impatience, but Violet was sure he was counting the seconds it took her to gather her coffee, her phone, and her bag and climb out of her own car to join him. Instead of waiting for her to round the car and open the passenger door, Tairn followed her out of the driver's side, his leash trailing. She didn't bother to pick it up; he stuck close to her side regardless, his nose nearly against her thigh.

“I need to go inside and get waders,” she informed Riorson instead of offering any polite greeting. She knew he certainly wasn’t going to offer her one. She skirted around the back of his car to the passenger side. She was wearing jeans and a white sweater and sneakers—not exactly appropriate attire for investigating a dead body on a riverbank. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Your waders and boots are in the trunk, and Sloane has the rest of all your fancy tools and equipment. She rode ahead to the scene with Rhiannon.” 

Well, that at least answered the question of which intern was on the schedule today. And hopefully Rhiannon was far enough ahead of them that she’d be done with her preliminary analysis by the time Violet got there. If this was the FBI’s problem, and Riorson wanted Violet there, then the remains were presumably in bad shape. 

Violet opened the back door for Tairn and stood back as he jumped inside, settling on the nice leather seats without a care for his claws. There were scratches in the material already, but Violet was sure most of them came from Xaden's own dog, Sgaeyl. She wasn't a service dog like Tairn, but Riorson had brought her around a few times, usually when a case called them in on a weekend or late at night. Tairn used his teeth to tug his leash closer when it dangled, and then sat back on his haunches, looking at her expectantly. She shut the door.

Violet climbed into the passenger seat, dropping her bag at her feet and her coffee in one of the cup holders, then buckling her seat belt as Riorson climbed in next to her, starting the car without a word. 

He was seemingly allergic to music, so they almost always rode in silence. Violet was never quite sure why he felt the need to drive her to crime scenes. She could just as easily get herself there, or hitch a ride in the forensics van with Rhiannon or Ridoc. But since the very first case, he’d insisted, and he was about as much fun to argue with as a brick wall, and some things simply weren’t worth the energy to complain about. 

Every so often, Tairn would make a little chuffing noise in the back seat, but he didn't actually lean forward and alert, so she ignored him. He was always restless and grumbling around Xaden. Despite his relative youth, he acted remarkably like an old man.

"So why are we going to Alexandria?" Violet asked skeptically as Riorson weaved expertly through the early morning DC traffic, heading the opposite way Violet had just come from. She had a charming, spacious house in Georgetown she'd received as a gift from her father, with a secluded backyard and even a small heated pool. As one of the most renowned forensic anthropologists in the world, she made good money, enough to cover the utilities and the property taxes and insurance with ease, but it was still far too rich of a neighborhood for her; she never could've afforded it outright. There had been questions for a while about where the money came from for her father to afford to buy her such a place, if it had been earned through legal means, but after six months of investigating when she first got the deed, everyone had stopped looking into it, and she'd been able to finally move in with no problems.

She'd been there for three years now with no additional issues. She suspected that was her mother's doing, but Lilith Sorrengail had never admitted it outright.

"Because that's where the dead body is?" Riorson offered dryly without taking his eyes from the road.

Violet huffed, and Tairn echoed the noise behind her. "It's in Virginia," she said, like it should've been obvious, because it should have. "What makes this the FBI's problem? Shouldn't local police get first dibs?"

"They don't want it," he answered. "The remains are in bad enough shape that we need you, Sorrengail. Do you really think Alexandria PD has the resources to investigate this?"

"Do you really think I know anything about the resources Alexandria PD has?" she countered. She didn't, and she didn't want to. That fell into the pile of things that were very firmly not her problem. Her brain had a lot of room, but local police jurisdiction wasn't really something she bothered to make space for. Riorson gave her bodies, and she told him how they died. That was her job.

He did look at her then, a brief, cutting glance from the corner of his eye. "I thought you knew everything."

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously not, Riorson."

A little smirk curled up one corner of his mouth, but he didn't say anything else.

Violet spent the rest of the car ride braiding her hair. She kept it long, and she liked to wear it loose, but her work didn't often lend to it. When she was younger, her older sister, Mira, had braided it into a crown for her when she'd gone through a phase of reading only princess books, and had taught her to do it herself as a teenager. It had quickly become her signature style in college and while she completed her PhD; it was the easiest way to ensure it was all out of the way while she was in the lab or on the university's body farm, studying decomposing remains. Beyond its practicality, she just thought it was pretty, especially because the ends of her hair were leached of all pigment, so the silver strands looked interesting all weaved together.

It was a challenge in the car—she had to lean forward to flip her hair over and start the plait at the back of her head, which didn't do great things for her heart rate—but it wasn't the first time she'd done this and it wouldn't be the last. She had hair ties and pins in her bag that she held between her teeth until she needed them.

By the time she was done, they'd reached the crime scene. The park was right on the Potomac River, and already blocked off with yellow tape. Riorson eased the SUV around a group of civilians standing and tittering as they watched the FBI forensics team as they gathered evidence. Violet couldn't find her own people among the sea of navy jackets, so they must have been closer to the river.

She hopped out and paused when her head spun, bracing a hand on the open door. Tairn barked, scratching at the door she hadn't yet opened for him.

"You good, Violence?" Riorson paused, leaning back down to look at her through his own open door. His sunglasses slid down his nose, revealing dark eyes and long, thick lashes.

She lifted her head enough to glare at him. "Don't call me Violence."

[hyperions-light]

How Do You Write a Long/In Depth Fic Comment?

First of all, let me say-- there's no 'wrong' way to write a fic comment (unless you are being rude or offering unsolicited concrit). Short comments are good, emojis are good-- all of it's good! Don't take me making this explainer to mean you have to write long, analytical comments. Express yourself however you want! Authors love hearing about how much you liked their work no matter how you choose to tell them.

This is meant to be a guide for people who want to do this, but don't really know how, because they find it difficult to express themselves, or don't know what authors like to hear. If that's you, let's continue below the cut!

EDIT: Also, here's a post by bourbon-ontherocks about how to add a floating comment box to AO3, in case you want to grab quotations you like as you go! Thank you @flowersforthemachines for finding it <3

Why should you do this?

because it's fun!

because you really like someone's work!

because it's motivating for an author, and can sometimes inspire them to post more, or re-post old stuff!

because it's usually a great conversation starter! Some of my best fandom friends have been made in comment threads on AO3!

What do authors want to hear about in long comments?

Many things, but primarily:

What you liked about their work

Why you liked it

You can show them what you liked by quoting their work back at them (I find it useful to put quoted text in an indented section; the html code for this is <blockquote>text</blockquote>), talking generally about which events or characters you enjoyed most, or, if you have thoughts about it, what you liked about the structural parts of their work-- i.e. plot, pacing, sentence structure, etc.

As for telling them why you liked something, getting into emotional reactions is great for this-- you can tell them where you laughed, or cried, or where you felt moved by something they said. If you found the way they had the characters talk or think realistic or relatable, tell them that! If you want to, authors love hearing that people noticed them foreshadowing events, or planting clues within the text.

You can also tell them where you were when you read it, or your overall experience -- did you read at 3 am? Do you have school or work tomorrow, but you just had to finish reading? Did you read their fic in the club? Tell them! And if you're feeling especially brave or you want to share, feel free to tell authors how or why you related to the text. If it makes you uncomfortable, don't worry about it, but those are some of my favorite comments to reread.

How do I comment on specific parts/lines of a fic?

Okay, a demonstration! I am going to pretend to analyze my own work here, for convenience:

He dreams of it, ceaselessly. It seems to echo throughout his days; he cannot let his mind drift too far, lest he fall back into it. He has to cling to this world, like a drowning man to a raft, though it rarely feels worth the effort.

Okay, so let's pretend I read this section and I really liked it. If you want to talk about that, stop and consider what about it was special, for you. Maybe I thought that the third sentence really captured what it felt like to be depressed, or the second reminded me of something that happened in my own life. I might say:

"I really loved this part! I found the way you wrote about [the character's] feelings in this paragraph so relatable; I think you captured exactly what it feels like to feel consistently hopeless."

You can also take a look at the way the author has written the sentences-- try reading them out loud. If I think the last line has a nice sound, I might say something like:

"I liked how you chose to structure the last sentence! The grammar you used gave it a really nice combination of phrases and stops. I loved how it sounded, and the rhythm the punctuation created."

Another thing you could talk about was how the sentence or paragraph made you feel about the character. If that section made me feel particularly sorry for them, or if this was the point in the story where I connected strongly with them, I might say:

I think this part worked really well to demonstrate how [character] felt! You communicated the pain they were in really effectively, and I was very connected to them, during this part.

You can also just express your excitement! I love great writing, and sometimes I just keysmash, or put a million exclamation points, or say AHHHHHHH!!!

Okay, that's all the advice I have for writing long comments, for now! If you have any questions, or would like to talk about similar things with me, please feel free to ask or DM me at any time! Thanks for reading, and happy commenting!

[sunshineangel0]

a theory of love

pairing- Professor!Kim Seungmin x Fashion Assistant!Reader summary- A fashion assistant and a literal genius find themselves on a date in an upscale restaurant, navigating their differences with humor and warmth. As insecurities creep in, they realize that intelligence comes in many forms—and maybe, just maybe, love doesn’t need a formula to work. genre- Fluff, Romance, Light Humor word count- 1.1k warnings- Mild language, mention of alcohol, light self-doubt/insecurity a/n- ahh i finally did it!!! the arvin and haley from modern family inspired seungmin x reader fic!! hope you like it! 😊💖

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place that whispered elegance in hushed candlelight and overpriced wine. A soft murmur of conversation hummed around you, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses. The air smelled of aged oak and truffle oil, a distinct reminder that this was not your usual kind of place. It wasn’t exactly your scene—though, in fairness, you weren’t sure what your scene was anymore. Lately, your life had felt like a chaotic series of events stitched together with double-knotted (😉) hope and caffeine-fueled survival.

Your date, on the other hand, looked like he belonged here.

Kim Seungmin. A literal genius.

Not just the “oh, he’s really smart” kind of genius, but the “has-won-awards-and-actually-discovered-elements” kind of genius. The kind who spoke in equations and theories and had NASA plaques somewhere in his office. The kind who was universally impressive in every way.

And then there was you.

A fashion assistant who had once used a shoelace to hold up a broken bag strap because you "didn’t have time for physics." A college dropout who navigated the world through instinct, aesthetic, and sheer determination rather than formulas and theorems. You weren’t unintelligent—you knew that much. But there was a difference between knowing how to style an outfit that could make a magazine cover and understanding the atomic structure of the universe. And unfortunately, you were firmly in the former category.

You watched Seungmin as he spoke, his voice smooth and measured, as if he were carefully picking the most precise words. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows in that effortlessly cool way, and his fingers tapped lightly against the table as he explained something—something about molecular structures or spectroscopic methods. The words filtered through your brain like static, half-comprehended and quickly dissolving into the ether of your mental fatigue.

“So, while that theory had been debated for years, our research team was finally able to prove it using a new form of spectroscopy. It was—”

“Totally! Wow,” you cut in, nodding rapidly. “That is so… spectroscopic.”

Seungmin blinked at you, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Spectroscopy,” he corrected gently.

“Right, totally what I said,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your drink, the wine burning a little as it slid down your throat.

He tilted his head, watching you with quiet amusement. “You don’t have to pretend to understand, you know.”

You set your glass down, eyes narrowing. “I’m not pretending.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“…Okay, maybe a little,” you admitted. “But in my defense, you just said, like, eight words that I didn’t even know existed.”

Seungmin chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll simplify it. Basically, we proved something that people thought was impossible. It changes how we understand certain atomic structures.”

You pursed your lips. “Okay, but like… does that mean I get a flying car soon?”

He let out a sharp laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that sent an unexpected thrill through you. “Not quite, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

You grinned, relieved to have made him laugh. Because the thing about dating a genius—something you hadn’t fully considered before tonight—was that it came with an invisible weight. Not on his end. On yours.

You liked Seungmin. A lot. He was kind and thoughtful, and despite his intimidating intelligence, he never made you feel small. But sometimes, you felt like a different species entirely, like he was speaking in a language you’d never be fluent in.

“Hey, for the record,” he said, voice softer now, “I like that you don’t think like I do. It’s refreshing.”

You scoffed. “Refreshing? I feel like a kindergartener trying to read Shakespeare.”

Seungmin rested his chin on his hand, considering you. “You do things I could never do,” he said. “You see the world in a way I don’t. That’s impressive.”

You bit your lip, warmth creeping up your neck. “Yeah, well… I guess I do put together some pretty great outfits.”

“That you do.” His gaze flickered over your outfit appreciatively. “In fact, I’m still trying to understand how you matched those patterns and made it work.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “It’s called talent, Professor.”

He chuckled, then took another sip of his drink before setting it down. “So, tell me about work. What’s the latest in the fashion world?”

You brightened at the topic shift. “Oh! So, my boss, right? She’s launching this new campaign, and—”

Before you could finish, your phone buzzed. You glanced down and sighed. Your boss.

“Crap,” you muttered. “I have to take this.”

Seungmin gestured for you to go ahead. “Of course.”

You answered, pressing the phone to your ear as you leaned slightly away. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” your boss demanded. “I need you to approve these fabric samples, like, yesterday.”

“I’m… uh, kind of in the middle of something?” you whispered.

“Is this about that date?” she scoffed. “Listen, unless he’s a billionaire who’s funding our next line, I need you to focus.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can this wait, like, an hour?”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if we end up with the wrong shade of beige, it’s on you.”

You hung up and turned back to Seungmin, giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

“All good.” He smirked. “Sounds like high-stakes beige selection.”

“You have no idea.”

There was a beat of silence, then he leaned forward slightly. “You’re really passionate about what you do, huh?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, it’s fashion, not, like, world-changing science or anything, but I love it.”

Seungmin studied you for a moment before replying. “You don’t have to change the world for your work to matter.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart skip.

You exhaled, leaning your elbows on the table. “You’re kind of perfect, you know that?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

You gestured vaguely at him. “You’re a genius, you’re kind, and you say things like that? It’s unfair.”

Seungmin laughed, shaking his head. “Trust me, I have my flaws.”

“Name one.”

He pretended to think. “I sometimes get so lost in research that I forget to eat.”

“Okay, that’s just a humblebrag.”

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m terrible at assembling IKEA furniture.”

You gasped. “Oh my god. A weakness.”

“Yes.” He nodded solemnly. “It’s my greatest struggle.”

You laughed, and Seungmin smiled at you—really smiled, the kind that made your stomach flip.

For all your differences, for all the ways you felt like you didn’t belong in his world, here he was, looking at you like you were just as fascinating as he was.

Maybe you didn’t need to understand spectroscopy. Maybe he didn’t need to know the intricacies of fabric selection. Maybe—just maybe—there was a theory of love that worked beyond equations and logic.

And maybe, you thought as Seungmin reached across the table to take your hand, you had just proven it.

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general tags: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789

(if you want to be added to my taglist, please comment under the post.)

[unhappy-sometimes]

a 2024 writing retrospective (for sxf fanfic)

ignore the fact that i’m a few days late. i’ve been unbelievably busy the past couple weeks.

in this post i’ll go over the fics i wrote in 2024 think of it as an extremely extended author’s notes. i love to talk and will do so when given the chance.

i’ll start from my latest fic and work my way backwards. spoilers for everything i’ve written in 2024.

(Very) Stupid

Something that I try really really hard to maintain in my writing is believability, specifically when it comes to writing characters. Characters acting out of character is one of my biggest fanfic pet peeves: if I wanted to read about someone’s oc, then I would’ve read a regular book. That being said, I think a lot about how Twilight would actually act like if he were in love. I had an interesting conversation with @cantareincminor forever ago about how he’s so emotionally constipated that it’s kind of difficult to write Twilight in love without making him a bit ooc. Right now in canon it’s hard to imagine him falling head over heels for anyone (in my opinion, anyway).

That being said there are moments in canon where he acts flustered in situations that could be interpreted as romantic. So, for right now, my hypothesis is this: if and when Twilight falls in love, he’s going to be an absolute fool. He’s going to do his usual overthinking and overanalyizing, so much to the point that he starts hesitating over the smallest things.

(Very) Stupid is how I imagine all of that unfolding, although for the sake of comedy I did push things to the absurd. Sometimes Twilight does things in canon with such certainty of “Yes, of course normal people do this, I’m nailing this normalcy thing” that he fails to realize he’s being kinda ridiculous. I also wanted to take that element and incorporate it into a fic.

I also wanted to try subverting expectations (ooh fancy literary term) by having them do romantic things that lead them nowhere. I tried to cram in as many tropes as I could—feeding each other with a fork, only one bed, first kiss—but do so under the guise of Twilight completely missing how dumb he’s being the entire time. He only realizes his feelings until after their first kiss, specifically when Yor surprises him with a quick peck on the cheek. This, of course, was deliberate. I figured that it’d make the most sense if Twilight would only realize his feelings in a situation where he wasn’t the one initiating a (somewhat) romantic gesture because he theoretically wouldn’t be overthinking it. Instead, Yor just sneaks in when his guard is down <3

Endings are usually the hardest things for me to write and (Very) Stupid was no exception. I almost had Twilight pass out at the breakfast table when he kisses Yor but then I realized I’d made him faint in almost every fic I’ve written this year and that felt like a cop out. But I figured it out and I don’t mind the way the ending turned out :D

Also, kind of a random reference, but the title is slightly inspired by VERY NICE by Seventeen lol

Holy crap I’ve written so much for only one fic so far. My apologies in advance.

21 Eden Street

I won’t go into too much detail for 21 Eden Street because it’s still ongoing, but I just wanna brag about how fun it is to write hehe. It’s really enjoyable to write pure crack and come up with stupid and insane ideas with Cantare. You don’t need to have seen either iteration of 21 Jump Street to understand what’s going on. Honestly, we’ve taken very little from the source material and treated it more like a loose guide and a basis for brainstorming.

Don’t worry, we haven’t abandoned it! Cantare is waiting on me to finish writing my chapter (hehe sorry, Cantare!) and soon it’ll be back up and running.

Seeing things

Ah, Seeing Things, my beloved <3

This fic has the least amount of hits out of everything I’ve written (which is not surprising to me) but I hold it very dear to my heart. There’s not a specific reason why other than I just really enjoyed writing it. I also spent a ton of time making supplementary drawings and a whole hype campaign for it, too, so I kinda am obligated to feel some sorta way about it.

Anyway, the way this fic came about is simple; I just had the things I am most afraid of happen to Twilight. Yes, I’m scared of serial killers and my loved ones dying like everyone else, but something I am absolutely terrified of are hallucinations. That and doppelgangers.

Not being able to tell reality apart from fiction activates the flight or fight senses in me. Real life can be scary, yes, but reality is bound by the rules of reality. Literally anything can happen in fiction. The most horrific, awful things are possible in fiction and if those things suddenly become possible in reality???? Girl I am GONE. Passing away. Curling up in a fetal position in the nearest corner. I don’t know if that makes any sense. If I ever start seeing things that I can’t be sure are actually happening or not, I am choosing to die right then and there. Doppelgangers as a concept are also really scary to me. It’s like stranger danger but times a thousand because you can’t tell who the strangers are anymore.

In my initial draft, there wasn’t nearly as much of a tension between Twilight and Yor. If I recall correctly, by then I’d written to nearly the end and realized that for Yor this whole experience has been Loid acting just a little more weird than usual. It might’ve been Cantare’s suggestion (just assume everything after Guy’s Night has been beta’d by Cantare and you’ll be mostly right) but I realized that Twilight probably would start to suspect the people around him were screwing with him. I added the scene where his room was messed up and it all fell into place hehe.

I don’t like writing gore or the like because I feel like typical gore quickly starts escalating into levels of pain that the average reader has no possibility of comprehending and it loses its efficacy. Instead I tried feeding into Twilight’s paranoia, adding things that in isolation are just weird but when put together are unsettling. I shamelessly stole the fourth room hallway from Impossible Landscapes, a Delta Green campaign that I highly recommend you check out if you enjoy surreal horror. I purposefully kept some things vague, like the things Anya sees in Twilight’s mind, the way Handler’s face gets warped, or the description of “the watchers” because I felt like going into detail would lose the unknown-ness of it all. That and I’m lazy heehee.

In some way, canon Spy x Family does deal with ideas of doppelgangers and paranoia. Spies are constantly afraid of being listened in on, they don’t know if they can trust anyone, and they always have to keep an eye over their shoulder. For someone who is always a little scared of being spied on (I cover my phone and laptop cameras for that exact reason), that kinda sounds like torture. Seeing Things was a fun way to crank that paranoia up to a hundred. It was especially fun writing the museum scene because I tried thinking of things that are just ever so slightly off, things that theoretically could exist but clearly don’t.

I also threw in other things I’m scared of, like being watched, being followed, the dark, and the bathroom at night just to be extra mean to Twilight <3

Anyway, I’m rambling and this analysis post will be a novel if I keep this up.

Guy’s Night

I do recognize the insane tone shift going from Seeing Things to Guy’s Night.

What is there to even say about Guy’s Night? I got the idea from Psych (the Last Night Gus episode) who got the general basic from the Hangover movies. I wrote it all out in a few days, one of which I was sick in bed. I don’t know what to say.

Looking back on it, I don’t love the way it turned out. I’m glad I wrote it but where I usually don’t mind rereading my stuff for fun I do kinda cringe at Guy’s Night. It relies on a lot of contrivances which I tried masking with humor but it’s still a bit obvious. If you make a timeline of the previous night’s events, it only kinda makes sense.

It doesn’t help that I went into it with no plan whatsoever. I just sat down and said what happens happens. When I wrote in chapter one that something had happened between Loid and Yor, I didn’t know what that was. When I wrote Loid saying “we need to see what’s on that camera film” I was right there next to him saying “buddy, so do I because I have no idea.” When wrote Franky saying that his friend Marko might have answers, I was hoping he would too because I, like everyone else, didn’t know what was going on either.

The ONE thing I DID know was that Twilight got a tattoo the night before. That was it. That’s all.

I don’t typically plan out everything when I write but I usually have a good idea. For Guy’s Night, I had a bad idea in that I had no idea. It kinda shows. Sorry.

That being said, it was incredibly fun writing their drunk shenanigans and banter. The dynamic between Twilight, Franky, and Yuri was so goofy that I’ve seriously debated writing a sequel of sorts. However that’s incredibly unlikely. If I ever do write a sequel, it’d be a Girl’s Night with Yor and a combination of female characters, probably Sylvia and Fiona.

After Peace (and Glimpses of Happiness)

A quick heads up: I don’t go into detail but I do discuss mental illness in this segment.

I am incredibly proud of how After Peace turned out. Not only did it receive a really good reception for being my first fic ever, but it also helped me work through some things in my own life. It’s important to give some context.

I wrote After Peace shortly after graduating college. I won’t go into specifics, but college was really, really difficult for me. I had been so excited for this next step in my life after graduating high school but instead it turned out to be one of the hardest experiences of my life. Depression came out of nowhere and stomped me into the ground.

I used to have very high expectations for myself; I had a clear vision of what I wanted to do with my life and I was taking steps to work towards those goals. Then my mental health tanked and suddenly everything just felt so difficult and pointless. I’d sleep all day and then hate myself when the sun started to set because that meant I’d wasted an entire day doing nothing when I was supposed to be working towards something. But I just couldn’t do it anymore.

That’s something I’ve noticed that a lot of media gets wrong about depression sometimes. It doesn’t always make you feel sad. Sometimes it just sucks everything out of you—sadness, happiness, anger, everything. I stopped drawing, stopped listening to music, stopped eating, stopped exercising, stopped doing everything that I enjoyed because it felt like the equivalent of doing the dishes. Everything was a chore, even the things that I liked.

What really changed things around was when my poor roommate, who was sick of me sleeping for twenty hours a day, dragged my sorry self to the free counseling services on campus. It’s doesn’t fix everything, but having someone who cares about you and you care about can really help your mental health.

Anyway, let’s not forget I’m talking about an anime fanfiction here haha.

After Peace really did start out as a couple of doodles but as I started to write it, I noticed that there were a lot of similarities between myself and Loid. No, I am not a former spy turned grumpy hermit, but I did once have great aspirations and now have to settle for what reality offers me. Realizing that worth comes from simply existing was something that I had to understand in order to begin my recovery process.

I’ve always found it kind of sad that if you took away the goal of world peace from Twilight that you’re basically left with nothing. He doesn’t really have hobbies, no real friends, and he never takes a day off. That’s hardly sustainable. Would he really be happy when there’s nothing left to do? I’d like to think so, but I wanted to see what would happen if he wasn’t.

I mentioned this in the end note, but After Peace was also influenced by this comic I was working on years ago that had the similar premise of “grumpy man learns to enjoy life with the help of a young girl” (very original, I know). I doubt that I’ll ever release that comic in the capacity I once intended, but it does live on in my secret second tumblr account of you ever manage to find it.

Anyway, I was worried about writing After Piece because Anya plays a big role and I am Not Good at writing children. It was hard striking a balance between making Anya likeable but still realistic. I don’t interact with children often and, as a youngest sibling, I don’t have much experience with them. Anya has so many layers—being a test subject, being a telepath, being a child—that it was hard managing them all. But I’m okay with how she turned out.

There is a slight problem in that she basically disappears once Yor shows up D:

I debated having Yor in the fic at all but then I realized that without her the emotional climax would have to rely on a four year old’s emotional intelligence and then decided right then and there that Yor had to be in it haha.

Yor’s whole deal with accidentally killing the wrong person was kind of a last minute addition. I do wish I was able to explore that more, but I also feel like she’s emotionally mature enough to forgive herself more quickly than Twilight would. She ends up serving a bit of a role model to him. It was also nice to be able to write them interacting with the truth out on the table and for them to be honest with each other.

Pacing was something that I was very concerned with. Looking back on it now, I’m still worried that things move along a bit quickly. However, I am reminded of some advice my graphic design professors gave me: “Good design is when nothing more can be take away.” And, because I was writing this as fast as possible, you best believe I was taking things away if I didn’t need them. I didn’t want to fall into the trap of dwelling on Twilight’s thoughts for too long so I instead opted for showing him progressing through experiences instead. I think it worked out.

However because I took so many things out I decided to start Glimpses of Happiness, a supplementary fic to After Peace that fills in the cracks, so to speak. I wanted to have more moments between Twilight and the other characters, like stargazing with Anya and growing close to Yor. Right now there’s only one chapter, but I have plans for at least a few more. I also thought it was important to highlight that mental health recovery never truly ends. Just because Yor and Twilight had a nice chat on the roof doesn’t mean that things are suddenly okay. It’s a long process that sometimes never ends and I wanted to show that.

Of course, I can’t talk about After Peace without addressing the Midwest allegations. As I said, yes, this fic was inspired by my childhood in the American Midwest, even though I was nowhere near any mountains. The Midwest is a silly place full of nothing to do but go to your local Walmart for fun, but I think it served a good enough setting for Twilight to chill out and slow down. If I really wanted to do full Midwest, I’d have Twilight watch a tornado touch down on a cornfield from his truckbed, but that feels sort of out of place.

I feel like there’s more to say but I can’t think of anything and I doubt anyone’s actually gonna read all the way down here anyway. But yeah, that’s After Peace.

Oh, and the A.M. AM by Damien Jurado Youtube video currently has nine comments that mentjon falling from a five story building, which I think is really funny.

So now what?

Against my better judgement, I’m still writing. I have a couple projects in the works, especially one big big big one that hopefully I can start publishing soon. Keep an eye out for that.

In the meantime, thanks for a great year! I hope 2025 holds more great things in store for us all!

-unso ^. .^<

[camilaxmartin]

hello good!!Could you do something about Vanessa x reader.the reader where the reader is a security guard and has a relationship with vanessa.One day while walking home, a group of drunks harass the reader and Vanny's personality comes to light?

unwanted touch

hi dear, sorry for the wait!! i need to get back to my writing habits skshdk anyway, i love the idea of vanny coming to light when ‘we’ are in danger and doing stuff vanessa wouldn’t normally do but oh my- she wants to. also, the whole way of switching personalities was inspired by @foxcantswim fics about vanessa/vanny:)

navigation // information // masterlist

summary: (request)

warnings: old gross men, harassment, unwanted touch, a bit of gore, pet names (one use of ‘bunny’)

notes: i actually loved writing this one and i’m so happy with how it turned out:) let me know what you think!!

requests: open!!

i looked at the cameras checking every room for the last time on this shift. everything was perfectly still, there wasn’t any mess anywhere, all the machines were turned off and the animatronics stood right where they needed to. perfect. i looked at the time showing 5:58 am and i comfortably sat in my chair turning off all the cameras and throwing my head slightly back letting out a deep sigh. night shifts were a pain in the ass but at least i could even in the slightest help vanessa with paying the rent. oh, and my parents finally stopped thinking of me as a failure, even though they haven’t really said it straight to my face. i took a deep breathe and blinked a few times trying my best to at least stay awake until i get home. i looked at the time again, seeing 6:00 am finally came along. i smiled to myself and got up from my seat, grabbing my bag and my phone. i closed the doors to ‘my’ office and waved to the animatronics while walking past them to the main entrance. i locked the door and tried opening it, to see if anyone will be able to break in. when the doors didn’t even move, i smiled to myself once more and began walking home, daydreaming of finally laying in my bed and going to sleep.

i walked the small sidewalk lighted up by high beams, even though it was already 6:00 am the sun was not yet awake so it was still pretty dark. i watched as the lights make circles on the ground and smiled at the sight just admiring the way it looked. i felt my phone buzzing in my pocket so i immediately took it out and checked the message i apparently got.

vanessa<3:

are you coming home already? or should i pick you up?

i smiled seeing the message and quickly sent a reply, that i’m already walking home. not waiting for another text from my girlfriend i slipped my phone into my pocket once again and continued on walking by the sidewalk hopping over the broken tiles, not even paying special attention on doing so. when i jumped over the last cracked one i realised that the lights end here and i have to walk through a total darkness for a while. i rolled my eyes not liking this idea in the slightest but not having any other option. i started walking the dark path trying not to think about all the horrible things that could happen and just simply focusing on my surroundings in case something actually happens. i slowly walked past an abandoned church and scrunched my nose at the sight of it. i turned my head around and noticed some other strangely looking building not being able to define what was it purpose before becoming abandoned. i shook my head slightly and looked down at the ground trying to just get over this dark path as quickly as i could. after many of my steps i’ve noticed a light in the distance and immediately smiled knowing i won’t be so scared in just a few more steps. focusing only on the light i haven’t noticed some people started to slowly walk behind me. i took a notice of their presence when they started talking to me.

“what a pretty lady like you does alone in the streets at night?” one of them asked, from his voice i could easily tell that he was drunk. i rolled my eyes and tried to ignore him, quickening my steps.

“there’s no need for rush” another man spoke up and i felt my heartbeat rising. maybe i should’ve asked vanesssa to pick me up.

“so? where are you going?” the first of them asked again. i tried to walk straight in my direction but knew they wouldn’t leave me alone if i just ignored them.

“i’m going back from work” i said not looking back at them but feeling their presence there still. and their smell.

“at this hour? it can be dangerous, let us help you out” the first one spoke up again, i could feel the smirk in his voice. i had to physically hold myself not to roll my eyes again. i tried ignoring them once more.

“yeah, we can definitely help you” the other one chuckled and i felt goosebumps cover my body in disgust.

“thank you a lot, but i can manage” i said and started walking even faster, feeling that they also picked up their pace. shit.

“oh, don’t be like that” the first one spoke up again. “we just want to help you, nothing more” he chuckled knowing exactly what he really meant by those words. i smiled sarcastically not even being sure if they can see my full face.

“thanks, again but i can take care of myself” i said seeing the light move closer and closer as i went into its direction. i felt my phone buzz again and i prayed it was another of vanessa’s messages. i moved my hand into my pocket trying to get it out but then they spoke up again.

“hey hey-“ one of them started and grabbed my hand that tried to take out my phone. i felt my heartbeat rise up again as i was completely terrified. “tell your boyfriend he can wait while we show you how real men act” he said and laughed the other ones along with him. there were at least four of them so it was obvious i didn’t stand a chance against them. i tried to wiggle my hand out but it did nothing as he hold me in place not even letting me walk.

“i don’t have a boyfriend” i said my brain going completely numb in that situation. the one holding my hand laughed again gripping my wrist a bit tighter, i groaned at the touch.

“then it’s even easier” he chuckled and tried to pull me closer to them but then i remembered one thing vanessa has taught me recently. i should always pull my hand in the direction of somebody’s thumb. i quickly looked at his hand around my wrist, the darkness not helping in the slightest and noticed that his thumb was pointing to the right. i immediately moved my arm right snatching out of his grab as my eyes widened not believing it actually worked. all of them looked at me in shock and my brain started to work again as i began running towards the light at the end of this dark alley.

i didn’t turn my head until i reached the light and noticed a lot of homes and buildings around me. i started to breathe deeply and finally turn around not noticing anyone behind me or even further in the dark. i shook my head at the whole situation and continued walking home, doing it quicker that usual. i took out my phone finally and looked at the notification, noticing it was actually a message from vanessa.

vanessa<3:

it’s taking you a while, are you okay? are you sure you don’t need me to pick you up?

i smiled at the message and sent her a quick one back saying that i’ll be home in less than five. i shoved my phone back into my pocket again, trying to focus on anything else rather than that situation.

when i opened the doors to our shared apartment my eyes have met with the blonde’s ones and i immediately smiled at that. i closed the door and locked it behind me throwing the keys on the kitchen counter.

“finally you’re back” she said coming up to me and locking me into a hug. “i was starting to worry”

i chuckled and hugged her back, hugging her even tighter than usually. “nothing to worry about” i said and laughed a bit too fake for her not to notice.

vanessa leaned away and raised one of her eyebrows at me, looking adorably considering that she was still in her pyjama. “what’s with the fake laugh? did something happen to you?” she asked visibly concerned, worry spread out on her face.

“no no!” i said throwing my hands around “just a bunch of guys wanted to probably rape me, but nothing happened” i said visibly exaggerating the situation but vanessa didn’t laugh. oh boy.

“did they touch you?” she asked her voice stern. i swallowed the saliva i had in my mouth wondering how to get out of this conversation.

“nothing happened, i’m okay, that’s what matters” i said while shaking my head and walking away to put my bag on the ground.

vanessa walked behind me almost immediately and grabbed my chin with one of her hands making me look at her. “did. they. touch. you?” she asked putting a more annoyed tone on every of the words. i let out a deep sigh.

“yes.” i said and looked down at her lips not wanting to keep the eye-contact with her. “one of them grabbed my wrist but, thanks to your practice, i got away” i explained and looked up into her eyes again, seeing a somehow crazy look slowly entering them. oh no.

“where was it?” she asked her gaze still on my eyes. “tell me” she said trying to sound more softly but making it come out as even more annoyed.

“in the dark path i had to walk from my work.” i said not knowing how to fully explain it. “close to the abandoned church if you know what i’m talking about” i added and she simply nodded her head letting go of my face.

“from this day on i’ll always drive you off the work” she said and walked to the kitchen making herself a cup of coffee to start the day. i bit the inside of my cheek not knowing what to respond still not being sure if i’m talking to vanessa or maybe vanny just now.

“i’m going to sleep” i said and yawned. vanessa looked at me with a smile on her lips while sipping her coffee.

“sleep tight, i’ll be back before you go to work today” she said starting to get ready for her day shift. i just nodded my head with a smile.

i went to our bedroom, laying down on the bed not even caring about taking off my clothes. just as i was about to fall asleep i heard the doors creak and slowly opened one of my eyes. i saw vanessa quickly walking over to me and giving my forehead a kiss. i smiled sleepily and immediately fell asleep.

i groaned looking at the time sitting in my chair. five minutes left till the end of my shift. i grabbed my phone looking for messages from vanessa to see if she was still coming to pick me up but nothing came. i burrowed my eyebrows not understanding why she hasn’t wrote anything yet. i rolled my eyes shoving the phone into my pocket and taking a last look at the cameras. everything was pretty still so i turned them off, gathering my things to finally leave this place. i threw the bag over my shoulder and took out headphones from it preparing myself for the walk home again. i checked the phone for the last time - nothing. i sighed and closed the door to my office, saying my goodbyes to the animatronics as i was leaving. i locked the mane entrance and began walking home still hoping somewhere deep, vanessa would come pick me up. i played one of my playlists trying to make this walk at least a bit more enjoyable.

i was walking the path with high beams and smiled again at the sight of circles appearing on the ground. as usual, i started jumping over the cracked tiles trying my best not to step over a broken one. after many steps i’ve noticed that the dark part of my walk was approaching and i immediately felt goosebumps covering my skin. i rolled my eyes forgetting about jumping over the tiles and tried my best not to freak out at the thought alone of meeting those guys from yesterday.

i passed the last light and my dark path started. i kept my eyes at the ground not even looking around at the church or that old building, concentrating only on the task of getting out of this dark alley. a slow song suddenly started playing in my headphones making me more aware of my surroundings than i wanted. great. i still tired to just focus on my steps not caring about anything else, but of course it couldn’t go that smoothly.

“long time no see huh?” a man said suddenly appearing behind my back. from his voice i concluded it was the same one from yesterday. i tried ignoring him at my best.

“you probably couldn’t wait to see us again right?” another one of them spoke up and my heartbeat rose up again. i glanced at them seeing there were five man behind me. i was horrified.

“let us show you how real men treat women” different one of them laughed and immediately grabbed my wrist, this time holding with both of his hand so i couldn’t shove out. i felt tears coming to my eyes.

“take off those headphones” one of them said and with my free hand i did as he told me not wanting to be in even more trouble than i already was. they pulled me with them to an even darker corner of the alley, probably behind that church. my brain went numb again i literally didn’t know what to do.

the one holding me shoved me into the wall still holding my wrist waiting for the others to start their actions. i closed my eyes not wanting to see anything and just hoping for the end to come.

one of them grabbed my neck and squeezed it so harshly i thought they wanted to just kill me at the spot. another one started to unbutton my pants and the tears from my eyes started to run down my cheeks. when he finally stopped unzipping my pants i heard a noise at the end of the alley from where they previously took me. i gently opened my eyes and saw a pair of red ones in the distance. oh god.

when that man wanted to pull my pants down another one of them started screaming in pain and my eyes immediately opened wide. i saw vanny’s costume slit his throat with one swift motion of her hand. i looked in disbelief at this situation thanking in my soul for her rescue.

vanny didn’t stop there, when the rest of them looked at her terrified i almost saw her smile widen even more but maybe it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. she shoved the lifeless body of that man into the wall running up to the next one and pushing her knife into his stomach, the man yelled in pain and fear, while his shirt started to become red from his blood. vanny twisted her knife repeatedly in his body trying to make it as painful for him as it was humanly possible. when that man stopped yelling from all the tiredness she took her knife out and shoved him into the ground with one kick, letting him bleed out. she looked back at the three that were still left. one of them started screaming and running away vanny only following him with her glowing eyes, definitely letting him get away… at least for now. she then moved her red glowing eyes to the two standing the closest to me. if that was what she did for the ones who didn’t even touch me, i definitely wouldn’t want to be in the skin of those two.

she tilted her head while looking at them and waved her knife from side to side, obviously debating on what to do about them. i felt that one of them took their hands off of my wrist while the other let go of my neck. i smiled to her not being sure if she saw my face. one of the men suddenly started to run towards her which was the stupidest decision he has ever made in his life. vanny swiftly grabbed his neck, just like he did to me a moment ago, and shoved him into the wall keeping him there and looking straight into his eyes. then, she moved her knife to his face and harshly pushed it into one of his eyes. he started to scream but then she pushed the knife even deeper not liking that he was making a noise, or wanting him to make even more of them. she hardly pulled the knife out along with his eye and dropped the knife to the ground. with her free hand, she pushed two fingers inside the hole in his head and tried to crush his bones. he screamed unbelievably louder and she definitely had enough of it cause then she pulled her fingers out and shoved her whole hand so deep into his throat i didn’t even know it was possible. she somehow managed to grab his vocal cords and rip them out making him bleed also from his mouth. she let go of him and let him slide down the wall not even being able to scream anymore.

the next thing she did was quickly run up to the man who was previously holding my wrist and just shove him to the ground sitting down on his hips keeping him there. he started screaming so she slapped him on the face with her fluffy paw. she then looked back to where her knife was laying and quickly turned around to him. knowing she wanted to use her knife again i walked over to it and picked it up moving to give it to her. but when i came over, she was already playing with not one, but both of his eyeballs using them like rubber balls. i looked at that situation a bit horrified by it all but also feeling a strange satisfaction that they got what they deserved. she then turned her head around and noticed me holding her knife. she shoved it out of my hand and started slowly cutting his face. the knife went in like into a cake and again i swore her smile widened. when his whole face was cut up and i was pretty sure he already passed away she stood up and shoved her knife right into his manhood. the man screamed for the last time and then life left his body for good. vanny dropped the knife and laughed out loud, looking around and seeing everything she did.

i looked at her still a bit terrified by all of this but a small smile creeped up to my face at the thought that she did all this for me. she finally moved her head to look at me and walked over to me staring my face down with titled head. then she moved closer and connected my nose with her fluffy big one. i chuckled slightly as my hands gently stroked her mask. vanny then moved her hands and took of the mask showing me her beautiful face, with messed up hair and a maniac look in her eyes. i tried to keep my calm but my pulse sped up uncontrollably. she laughed still looking at my face and threw her mask on the ground grabbing my waist with her one blooded paw while the other she put on my cheek gently stroking it.

“you’re mine” she said, her voice sounding maniacally, i still wonder how she manages do to that.

“only yours” i whispered and smiled to her trying my best not to be scared. she laughed feeling my heartbeat rise and rolled her eyes.

she moved her head closer to me and connected our lips in a passionate kiss, showing me how deeply she cares and that she would literally do anything to keep me safe. i smiled into the kiss and wrapped my hands around her hair, keeping her in place for as long as she lets me. vanny sighed into the kiss and slowly leaned away still gripping my waist. she opened her eyes and the maniac look was still present. i smiled to her taking my hands out of her hair.

“i would do anything for you. we would” she said and laughed again this time it sounded more like a chuckle.

“i know” i said and smiled to her. “and i really appreciate it” i added and gave her lips a quick peck.

vanny smiled at me and let go of my waist as well as my cheek to grab my hand while her other one picked up her mask. she led me out of that dark corner as i looked back at all the bodies and then turned to her not knowing if it’s safe to just leave them like that. she laughed seeing my sight and gently shook her head putting the mask back on.

“don’t worry about it, bunny” she said and pulled me closer to her once again now standing almost in the light of the street lights. “vanessa will take care of it, i discussed it with her earlier” she said and my eyes went wild at the mention of vanessa realising she knew exactly what vanny did. i smiled to her and uncontrollably giggled at everything that happened. vanny laughed with me as well and pulled me in for the tightest hug i’ve ever received from her.

[acedocx]

it's all been done, more than once

•

h.k.

word count: 13.4K

tags: hueningkai x reader, rockstar!musician!hyuka, college au, reader has anxiety, description of a panic attack, no this is not me projecting shut up, also i suck at writing drunk people please ignore, fluff, slow burn kinda but not really

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, depictions of panic attacks/anxiety, shitty formatting bc the author doesn't know how tumblr formatting works

🎸 author's note: hello! this is my first ever fic, please be kind to me. i started it way back in july, forgot about it, and then was hit with the divine inspiration to finish the whole thing in a week. enjoy!

•••

"are you having fun yet?"

it was all you could do not to smash the overpriced, slightly flat vodka redbull in your hand over your friend's head.

being in college means the acceptance of two undeniable truths: making questionable decisions and being broke. this is how you often found yourself at these cheap, shitty dive bars.

your lovely, wonderful best friend beomgyu (who would not appreciate having a glass smashed over his head and his outfit ruined, you reminded yourself) was the main perpetrator of your frequent nights out. beomgyu had bought in very early to the "college-is-freedom, good-time-not-a-long-time" mindset, often dragging you out at obscene hours during the summer to whatever club or bar was still open.

and then the next one.

and the next.

fortunately for the both of you (mostly him), classes didn't start for the fall semester for about another week. not that he had anything to worry about, he was kind of a genius—school came as naturally as breathing to him, something you had always sort of envied.

you forced a pained smile and spoke as loudly as you could through gritted teeth,

"yep. loads."

truth be told, you hated bars. they were loud, overwhelming, overpriced, unclean, and more often then not, way too crowded—people packed together like sweaty, drunk sardines. it's not like you were a germaphobe, but it's places like this where you were coming into contact with way more bodily fluids than you felt comfortable with.

the bar you found yourself in now was admittedly on the cleaner side, and to beomgyu's credit, he did pick the one you hate the least—a bar called 'annex'. it was an accurate name, as the bar was a small addition to a bigger restaurant, and was pretty charming despite its size.

it was certainly not without flaws; the chipped wooden bar barely left enough space for the bartenders to move around, even without the addition of bottles of liquor, miscellaneous knick-knacks, and probably illegally obtained road signs lining the walls. every time you looked, you saw something you hadn't seen before. had that poster been there the last time? what about the traffic light?

you really didn't like this scene at all—it made you nervous. but you loved beomgyu, and it's not like you didn't enjoy a drink or two, so it was kind of difficult to say no—especially once your cognitive abilities had been reasonably dampened by the alcohol.

"woahh...negative nancy over here," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender and stumbling back a bit.

"that is not my name." you couldn't help but crack a small smile at beomgyu and his outdated phrases.

"i know what your name is, silly...it's an esspression!"

"ex-pression. how many drinks does that one you have there make?"

"s'what i said....and only like....three." you could see the gears in his head turning. "or...maybe...maybe six...which s'basically the same!" beomgyu said indignantly.

you rolled your eyes. you felt kind of bad being so off-put by the place, you didn't want to ruin gyu's fun—but you couldn't help it. your head was beginning to pound from the lights and the overwhelming sound of chatter coming from every direction, and the walls felt like they were closing in further and further by the second.

neon signs and LED lights were about the only illumination in the room, bathing everyone in purple, red, and blue hues. the poorly painted black stool you sat on wobbled as you craned your neck at the crowd in front of you; people were crammed together at tables, lined up outside the never-empty bathroom—or for the most part, directly in front of the tiny stage at the far end of the room.

before you could protest, the conversations in the room noticeably quieted—the humming noise of a guitar amp being plugged in and the feedback from a microphone replacing the voices.

this was the only part you truly kind of enjoyed. the music. most of the music at these kinds of places was...subpar at best; cover bands butchering classics, some guy in a graphic tee and flannel with guitar tabs on his phone thinking he's the next elliot smith—usually cringey, but entertaining nonetheless. but every once in a while, there will be a singer or a band that seems too big for the cardboard box of a bar they're in, too talented for such a small audience.

he looked about the same as any college musician would—nervous, a little shaky, bright eyed with hope that hasn't quite been crushed by the world yet (and probably aided by a few drinks, too).

he was tall—like, tall. imposing, almost, with broad shoulders and long limbs, juxtaposed with a soft, anxious expression. his clothes caught your eye too—black band tee, ripped black jeans, and what looked to be a black leather battle vest covered in patches you couldn't quite make out and studs on every seam. his grey-blue hair fell into his eyes as he adjusted the microphone from where it hit at about chest-height.

your eyes lingered on his hands. they moved from the microphone and found the neck and strings of the guitar like they belonged there; despite his air of nervousness, there was no doubt he knew exactly what to do with the instrument he had.

you cut your eyes at beomgyu, who attempted to make his way towards the stage before nearly faceplanting onto the black tile floors, catching himself on your shoulder and almost pulling you down with him.

"THAT'S my FRIEND! i-i live with that guy, he's my FRIEND—my BRO, guys! you GOT this, kai, you can...do it! m'so proud of you, bro!" beomgyu raised his drink in the air in an unsteady toast—most of the contents sloshing out and onto your clothes in the process—as he leaned against your shoulder. laughter rippled through the audience and you groaned, screwing your eyes shut, head in your hands in embarrassment.

the boy—kai, his name seemed to be, looked similarly embarrassed, ears tinged red and eyes closed. he shook his head, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"um, hi. i'm hueningkai, or...just—just kai, as my, uh—friend said." he cleared his throat again, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "i'll be playing some music for you guys tonight—mostly original things, but some covers if i hear any good requests, 'kay?" kai gave a small half-smile, fingers finding the frets of the guitar again.

and then he began to play. and you probably had whiplash from how quickly your head snapped up from your hands. the sound that filled the room wasn't a soft cover of some old song—it was loud. it was sharp. the sound of gritty, messy, but intentional and practiced guitar pierced the room, instantly igniting the crowd of people that had gathered around the stage to see this kid play.

"holy shit," you whispered incredulously.

his voice perfectly broke and rasped where the music called for it, gaze shifted from soft to trenchant—all previous nerves seemed to have dissolved. he looked like a different person.

"holy shit," you repeated again to no one in particular. "this guy's a rockstar."

you became suddenly aware that you were no longer being used as an armrest. beomgyu had managed to regain enough composure to stumble his way into the crowd near the front of the stage, cheering and flailing about in what was probably supposed to be dancing.

you were torn between recording him for blackmail purposes later and going to get him before he got sick all over the other guests. finally deciding on the latter, you slid off the stool, a little woozy yourself.

you made it to beomgyu on two feet with no trouble, gently taking him by the shoulders, pulling him back towards the bar.

"come on buddy, you need some water in you, or you're gonna hate yourself tomorrow," you chided as he squirmed away from you.

"noooooo....m'having fun...wanna watch kai," he whined. "that's my—my...my friend...my friend—"

"i know, but i am also your friend, and this friend would rather you not be sick all over these people and the poor staff have to clean it up, you're gonna get us banned from this bar too, come on," you tugged a little harder—goddamn, he was stronger than he looked—sighing in frustration.

in the midst of your battle with beomgyu, your eyes met kai's as he played the final notes of the song. his silvery hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his face and neck which shone with exertion, hands still on the guitar in the position of the final chord. but his eyes. it was his eyes that stopped you.

in them, you saw the thing that you missed from a lot of these dive-bar musicians—from a lot of people in general. granted, covered songs aren't easy to add to, and it's not like it's a concert. but there's no soul in the music. they perform to make money and get out. kai had passion. as cheesy as it sounded, when you looked into his eyes, you knew this was his life, whether he was making money from it or not. the stage was his home, and you knew it.

for a moment, you felt like you couldn't move—paralyzed by this guy with his guitar, his pretty hands and his starry eyes. and then you felt beomgyu lean into your shoulder, head dropping against your shoulder, and the moment was gone.

"i don't...don't feel s'good..." he slurred, his whole body weight against you now. you sighed and propped him up, arm slung around your shoulder as you carried him outside.

"yep, see, i told you. this is why you shoulda listened to me when i told you three drinks ago that you should slow down. alright, let's get you back home, buddy."

you cast one last glance over your shoulder at kai, still panting from exhaustion and exhilaration, eyes still bright with the high of the music. you wondered if he even knew how bright he shone on that stage.

•••

"you did this to yourself, gyu."

"if you...speak again, i'm throw—urgh—i'm throwing up on your shoes next," beomgyu groaned.

thank the powers that be for the invention of the uber. you had both made it back to gyu's apartment in mostly one piece, and beomgyu himself, poor thing, was now curled up on the cold blue tile of the bathroom floor, clutching your hand like it was the only thing tethering him to this mortal plane—which, to him, it probably felt like it was.

you'd been here for about two hours, not wanting to leave beomgyu alone, and honestly not totally reconciled with the idea of getting an uber alone at three in the morning.

you'd asked him where his other housemates were, and through his hiccups, groaning, and gagging, you'd deduced that all of them were out for individual reasons; vacation, out with a friend, with family. you weren't sure which was which, and you decided not to push the subject. you hadn't actually met his housemates before, and this probably wasn't the best first impression.

you leaned your head back against the tiled wall of the bathroom, hand rubbing circles on beomgyu's back. you closed your eyes. your head still swam slightly from the alcohol, even though you had tried not to drink all that much. you looked over pityingly at the long-haired boy beside you, stomach revolting against him. poor thing.

"gyu?"

"ugh..."

"do you want me to get you more water?" you asked softly.

"ugh..."

"i'm assuming that's a yes. okay, i'll be back."

you pushed yourself to your feet, steadying yourself and making your way to the kitchen.

the apartment was small, but cute in a way. cozy. and messy, you noted; even in your altered state, you did double takes at some of the odd sights you saw around the place. why on earth is there a bike in the kitchen? you asked yourself, making a note to ask beomgyu about it at a later date.

as you finished pouring what was probably the sixth glass of water in two hours, you heard the handle of the front door begin to turn.

you spun to face the door in alarm. was someone trying to break in? what on earth could you do in this situation? you can't fight, you can't even walk straight! oh god, someone's gonna come in, rob gyu and his housemates blind, kill you twice—

the door opened and you were met with the same grey-blue hair and soft eyes you had seen on the stage two hours ago. ah, that's right. five people live here.

"oh, um, hi," you mentally smacked yourself in the head at your alarm. of course he lives here, beomgyu said it earlier. of course he's getting home now, it only makes sense. you quickly set the glass of water down and tried to smooth out your most likely unfixable outfit. "hi. i'm beomgyu's friend, i was with him at the bar you played at tonight. he's, uh, he's in there," you motioned toward the bathroom with a grimace. "he's...not doing too great."

hueningkai looked just as surprised to see you, mouth open slightly in shock, shaking his head to bring himself back.

"ah, thank you. he really can't hold his alcohol, can he? sorry about this, by the way, oh god, it's a mess in here—" red crept up his face as he took in the mess of the kitchen. you giggled slightly; maybe it was the alcohol, but you had the passing thought that he's kind of cute like this.

"don't worry about it, i'll be gone tomorrow. hueningkai, right? i watched you play, you're really good," you say.

he averted his eyes, half-smiling, ears still red. "ah, thank you, yes that's me. i appreciate that. and just kai is—is fine," he said, glancing once at you and away again.

you were suddenly extremely aware of how you looked—clothes twisted at odd angles from hours on the floor, hair simultaneously sticking to your face and out in all directions, face colored pink from embarrassment and the aforementioned vodka redbulls.

you quickly began trying to adjust your hair and you opened your mouth to respond, but were cut off from a drawn-out groan from the bathroom, making both you and kai cringe slightly. you sucked a breath in through your teeth.

"yeah, i'm gonna get this water to him before he starts trying to crawl out here after me. nice to meet you, kai," you say, waving slightly and grabbing the glass off the table, walking what you hoped didn't look like too quick a speed back to the bathroom, praying you didn't trip and fall.

•••

you refused the next time beomgyu invited you out, hoping desperately to avoid another tipsy run-in with kai.

realistically, you weren't that drunk, and surely you hadn't looked all that bad—at least not nearly as bad as gyu did. however, in the days since you arrived back to your dorm, you had managed to convince yourself that you could never look hueningkai in the face again, it would simply be too mortifying.

the last days of the summer holiday slipped by quickly, and classes began with much anticipation and even more dread.

the walk to your first lecture felt like miles, stomach twisting with nerves. you'd done this before. it's only lecture. but there's something about the first day of classes, when you don't know if you'll know anyone, looking upon unfamiliar faces and being thrust into an unfamiliar subject with no idea of how a professor will teach or test—it made you nauseous with anxiety every time.

and unfamiliar subject matter it was. advanced music theory and appreciation. you were a senior in college, an english major, and had finished up the majority of the required courses to graduate. all that was left was to fill the spaces with electives and courses that maybe you'd find interesting—or that would at least boost your GPA. that is how you ended up here, with a music theory course.

the idea is that it'll boost my GPA, you thought to yourself as you stepped into the chilly lecture hall. if i understand it at all. it did say advanced. you paused in front of the classroom door for a moment, hands shaking slightly. i did choir in high school, i remember the basics. it can't be that bad.

you pushed the door open, immediately greeted with chatter that surrounded you on all sides. you didn't really think to check how many people were in the class, and felt your heart sink into your stomach as you took in the unprecedented number of students. there had to be at least sixty, if not more.

"oh, no. no, no, no, no," you mumble to yourself, frantically scanning the room for a familiar face. your lungs felt as though they were shrinking with every attempted breath, heart rate picking up, uncomfortable warmth creeping up your face.

sixty-plus people who you didn't know, in a subject you didn't know, in a classroom you weren't familiar with—this was your idea of hell. what if you embarrass yourself? what if you don't make any friends? what if you don't understand the material? what if it tanks your GPA? what if—

a flash of blue-grey caught your eye, your head snapping over to the source. you admittedly felt relief wash over you as you recognized the side profile of hueningkai, staring intently at the notebook in front of him, scribbling down something you couldn't make out. there was one open seat left next to him. your only opportunity.

all previous notions of never looking him in the face again forgotten, you hurried from the door, down to the row where he sat. he didn't even notice you approach, too intent on writing what looked to be sheet music. you cleared your throat.

"this seat taken?" you asked softly.

kai's head jerked up, obviously startled, cheeks and ears tinged a familiar red with surprise.

"oh, hi! uh, no, no it isn't, you're good!" he said, shifting to the right as to give you enough room to put your things down. you smiled gratefully at him, hurrying into the seat, immediately feeling some of your nerves dissipate at being sat down at last.

"i'm glad to see a familiar face. i don't know anyone in here," you gave kind of a half-hearted laugh, hoping he couldn't tell how nervous that fact actually made you.

"i understand. that's the worst feeling. im glad i have a few friends in here—oh, one of my housemates is in here actually. but, he's avoiding me right now, i think."

"oh? where? and, why?"

"two rows up, four to the left. and because i maybe ate the last of his cereal this morning," he added sheepishly, glancing up to where you assumed the housemate in question was sitting.

"oh, criminal offense," you said, following kai's gaze. there was a boy there, glaring back down at him. he had plush lips and an intense gaze; his hair was a dark cherry red, his bangs falling messily into his eyes, still remaining somehow fashionable. you turned back to kai, shaking your head in mock disdain. "truly deplorable."

"yes, yeonjun was not happy with me. i'm surprised i made it out of the house alive and in one piece."

you giggled, watching as the boy—yeonjun, kai had said—stuck his tongue out at kai before returning to scrolling on his phone.

before you could start up another conversation, the professor walked in, and a hush fell over the room. you didn't catch the professor's name. or, for that matter, anything else he introduced in his first lesson.

within fifteen minutes, whatever modicum of confidence you had in understanding the course was completely crushed to nothing. these were words you'd never heard before, symbols you'd never seen—half the time, you could've sworn he was speaking another language. he is, you reminded yourself. a lot of music theory jargon is in italian—that makes me feel a little better.

you stopped processing the words coming out of the professor's mouth about forty-five minutes in. you glanced over at kai, not sure whether you'd be more or less relieved if he looked as lost as you.

he didn't, of course. he was completely attentive, eyes locked onto the board at the front of the room, nodding every once in a while in understanding. he didn't even seem to be taking many notes, though he did scribble a few down.

your eyes trailed down once more to his hands, where they fidgeted with his mechanical pencil. you felt that same feeling you did at 'annex', the same thought crossing your mind as when you saw his hands rest on the guitar—his hands, though nervous, were practiced and knowledgeable. and they really are such pretty hands, you thought.

you only came back to yourself when you heard the sound of chairs scraping and people scurrying, the hum of chatter from before resuming.

"you okay? you look..." kai trailed off, looking for a nice way to finish the sentence.

"like all my hopes and dreams of passing have been crushed to dust and i am now reconsidering all decisions that have led me to this moment?"

"uh, yeah, something like that," he laughed.

"i thought he was speaking another language, i felt so lost."

"to be fair, you're half-right, a lot of musical terms are based in—"

"in italian, i know."

you took a deep breath, putting your head in your hands, fingers tangling in your hair as you shook your head slowly.

"i am so undeniably, irrevocably, unequivocally fucked, hueningkai," you said, your tone so serious it almost made you laugh at yourself.

"come on, don't beat yourself up! i'm sure you'll get it!" he encouraged, tilting his head to the side with a half-smile. "hey, if it makes you feel any better, i felt like i had forgotten twenty-two years of learned comprehension skills in my literature class earlier."

"seriously? i love literature!"

"maybe we can help each other out, then."

you gave him a grin, the warmth of a new friendship alleviating the cold dregs of anxiety that still snaked through your stomach. "yeah, maybe so."

maybe this semester wouldn't be so bad.

•••

it was a grey, chilly october afternoon, the air heavy and damp with the coming storm. you glanced through the library study room window for the first time in hours, startled by the lack of light. you and hueningkai had been hunched over a library table, poring over your respective subjects for—how long had it been? four? maybe five hours now? your head swam with intervals and time signatures, scales and symbols you didn't understand.

"think of it like the math part of music," kai had tried to explain. "adding and subtracting different notes, chords, harmonies, dynamics n'stuff, to create an instrumental!"

you had nodded along, made the appropriate "ohhh"'s and "mhm"'s, but truthfully you were no closer to understanding how it worked than you had been when you started. you leaned back in your chair, sighing and wincing as your spine voicing its dissent at your posture.

your eyes fell on kai who was sat in front of you, eyes focused intently on a copy of 'the metamorphosis' by franz kafka, notebook and papers scattered haphazardly across the table. he didn't look to be in much better shape than you were, his brows furrowed and his hand tangled in his hair in a mix of concentration and frustration.

eventually, with a groan of annoyance, kai rested his head on the table, closing the book in defeat.

"but why is he a bug?"

"it's probably a metaphor."

"for what?"

you paused, thinking carefully. "for a lot of things! it depends on how you look at it," you said eventually, and giggled slightly at the unimpressed look on kai's face.

"well, let's see. what do you know about modernist literature?"

"that it was weird.".

"well, yes," you said in mock exasperation. "but what do you know about it historically?"

he thought for a moment, gears turning in his head as he thought back to the lecture notes he had just gone over. your eyes fell on his hands as they often did now, and you noticed that he seemed to be playing an imaginary piano as he thought, as if playing a melody only he could hear.

"let's see...uh, there was a lot of new stuff happening, like in science and psychology and inventions and whatnot," he began, glancing at you for approval and smiling slightly when you nodded at him to keep going.

"world war one had just happened, so there was a lot of unrest and social disorder, and a lot of anxiety and feelings of...maybe isolation? brought around by that," he said, nodding to himself.

"good, you're right! and what are some characteristics of modernist literature?" you asked, excited to be talking about something you understood for once. l

kai furrowed his brows once more, fingers playing that silent melody on the table again. you wondered if he was always composing, even if it was subconsciously.

"um...human thought? like the human psyche? language? perspective? am i even close to the mark here?" he laughed nervously.

"you are, you're doing great! those are all parts of it. so, in conjunction with the social context you mentioned before, maybe gregor being a bug is commentary on the feelings of isolation, loneliness, and anxiety of people during this time! maybe his dislike for his job and the coldness of his higher-ups and family is indicative of kafka's feelings on corporate bureaucracy and capitalism! maybe it's a metaphor for struggling with a chronic condition like an illness that causes the person to become not-themselves, and the rift that it creates in a family, who knows!

"that's the beauty of modernist literature, it all depends on perspective! instead of falling short because, of course, human language is inadequate at actually conveying things, it relies on that fact—the story is different to everyone!" you said excitedly.

literature and writing had really been the only two subjects that had come naturally to you. even music—which you loved and appreciated for it's artistry—was difficult to you when it came to the theory portion. it wasn't that you weren't good at other things, but you never had to work as hard to understand books. there was something in the analysis of it, picking apart the layers of a novel, building a broader historical and social context through the author's commentary—it was just fun for you.

you felt your face warm slightly as you looked back at kai, suddenly slightly embarrassed of your outburst. his expression was unreadable, somewhere between confusion, interest, epiphany, and something soft that sparkled just behind his eyes. it was similar to the glimmer you had seen in them at his first performance at 'annex' a month ago.

but he cleared his throat and looked back down at his notes, and it was gone.

"yeah, yeah, that, um, that makes sense. i hadn't thought about it that way. you'd make a good teacher," he added.

"i guess it's a good thing that it's what i want to do, then," you giggled.

"you want to teach?" he asked, 'the metamorphosis' now forgotten as he propped his chin up with his hand, leaning forward with interest.

you nodded, "mhm! i—well, i guess it's pretty obvious what i want to teach," you said sheepishly. "what about you? what are you majoring in? are you doing something with music?"

kai's expression hardened, and his hands ceased their playing on the table.

"no, i...i'm just majoring in business. i'm taking this class as an elective for credit hours, like you."

"what? really? but...don't you love music?" you asked, bewildered.

"of course i do, more than anything," he murmured, a wistful look in his eyes. "but it won't go anywhere. it doesn't make enough money, and i just...don't think i'm good enough for it to be a stable career choice, honestly."

you were genuinely floored. kai seemed puzzled at your bewildered expression, snickering a little at your wide eyes and mouth that was slightly ajar. eventually you found words again, shaking your head slightly as you spoke.

"not, not good—are you kidding ?! you don't think you're a good enough musician to have a career in it?!" you couldn't believe it. this boy who you believed to be a true star, who had music in every aspect of his being, didn't believe he was good enough to be a musician.

"well, i mean...no, not really," kai said hesitantly, obviously a little stunned by your reaction.

"sorry, it's just...i can't believe that," you scoffed, shaking your head again. "i can't believe it. you're amazing, i mean truly amazing—with all due respect, the other musicians at 'annex' have nothing on you."

you began to see that familiar tinge of red make its way across kai's face and ears as he smiled shyly.

"thank you, thanks, that—that means a lot, but...i mean, it's just such an oversaturated industry, y'know? everyone wants to make music and get famous. and it just, it sucks, because it's about the money and not the craft. i'm not an elitist or anything, there's a lot of modern music that i love! but it really bothers me to see music that isn't made out of expression or originality, but made for money or fame, y'know?"

you nodded slowly, feeling a pang of sadness for him. you wanted to tell him how good he really was, how the first time you had seen him perform you couldn't take your eyes off of him, how you admired the way his hands looked at home on the frets of a guitar, how he seemed music incarnate to you.

but the words seemed to stick in your throat, and all you could respond with was a choked, "yeah."

the silence that followed was denser than the air outside. you noticed it had finally begun to rain, sunset obscured by dark clouds as it came down in sheets of blue-grey. like kai's hair, you thought, before immediately shooing the idea away. you broke the silence first, standing and stretching your stiff limbs, groaning at the ache of sitting in one place for five hours.

"oh-kay, if we're gonna keep up this studying thing, i've got to get some caffeine in me before i actually fall asleep. are you down for coffee?" you asked, already throwing your binders and papers back into your backpack.

"yeah! yeah, for sure," kai responded, words still slightly stilted from the awkward silence.

you turned towards the door quickly, trying to suppress the thought of how cute he looked when he was embarrassed. you noticed his hands had begun playing again—a different, slower melody.

"wonderful! you're driving."

•••

"what do you mean the heating doesn't work? do you enjoy misery? do you crave death?" your voice came out shaky and uneven, spoken through chattering teeth as you felt the cold rain soak deeper into your clothes. hueningkai looked at you, face a mix of amused and apologetic.

"i told you, we should've gone in your car. here, there's blankets in the back," he reached back behind the passenger seat (putting you in close proximity, which you tried not to think about) and pulled out a fluffy throw blanket, which you gratefully accepted.

"no heating, no cameras, no nothing—dude, how old is this car?"

"well, i've had it since high-school," kai mused, "and it was my dad's before it was mine. it's from 2002, it's not that old!"

"is there even bluetooth in this thing?"

"nope, but there is a cd player!"

"oh god, it's like the fuckin' dark ages," you groaned dramatically, sliding down into the worn leather seat of kai's car. he rolled his eyes at your theatrics, scoffing at you as he pulled out of the library parking lot. you gave him a teasing smile, pointing to the glove box.

"cds are in here?"

he nodded, and you took that as permission to take a look for yourself.

"alright, let's see, what does mr. music theory have to listen to—oh, there's some good stuff in here! alice in chains, metallica, paramore—i love paramore, awesome, awesome...the offspring, so true—wait, holy shit, is this 'selfish machines'? i love pierce the veil!"

"and what do you know about pierce the veil?" kai laughed.

"hey, i thought you weren't an elitist," you teased. "i still like my middle school emo music, thank you very much. but my best friend from high-school loved pierce the veil, even saw them in concert once. this one and 'a flair for the dramatic' were their faves," you explained.

"they have good taste. that's the reissue, i think—the one from 2013?" when you gave a small hum of confirmation, kai continued, "i like that one. it has one of my favorite songs on it."

"oh, the bonus track, you mean? i like that one too—'kissing in cars', right?"

"mhm," he said, smiling as you opened the case and pushed the cd into the drive. the familiar fast drums and the piercing sound of the guitar filled the car, and you sighed, reminiscing on drives like this with your friend—simpler times. you had moved away, and they went to a different college now, but you still talk.

"they just have such a cool sound," kai observed, and you hummed in agreement, smiling slightly still.

"kai, you write your own music and stuff, right?" you inquired, suddenly curious.

"yeah, why?

"what's the hardest part about it, and what do you enjoy the most? composition? lyrics?"

"no one's ever asked me that before." kai looked slightly shocked at the question, but quickly shook his head, turning his eyes back to the road. "i think lyrics are the hardest. building instrumentals and making sure they flow together is fun, but putting lyrics to them isn't always easy. that whole thing about originality and expression applies here too—everything has been said in every way, and it's hard to find a way to express what i'm trying to say in a...i dunno, a meaningful way, an impactful way, y'know?"

"yes, i understand. the ineptitude of human language strikes again," you mused. "just like the modernists said."

kai went quiet, and you could see the gears turning in his head as the understanding dawned on him. "yeah...yeah, yes, exactly!" kai exclaimed excitedly. you smiled fondly.

"see, you got it! but yeah, i'd imagine lyrics are hard. i mean, just writing in general is hard, especially stuff like poetry."

"do you write?"

"mmm, sometimes! less than i used to—mostly just sporadic things typed into my phone at ungodly hours of the night when i just...need to get the feelings out. my poor notes app has seen lifetimes, it's a war zone in there," you laughed.

"makes sense! that's usually when i do my lyrics too, but more often than not, that's when i start producing. it's like as soon as the feeling hits me, the melody...just manifests in my head, and i have make it right then," kai responded eagerly.

you had completely lost track of the time, enraptured by the conversations, barely even registering when you pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop. as the first notes of the final track on the album began to play, you moved to undo your seatbelt and get out of the car, but kai's hand on your wrist stopped you.

"wait, can we...can we listen to this one first?" he asked, seemingly shocked at his own actions, familiar blush becoming visible once more.

"yeah."

your voice was barely above a whisper, and you almost couldn't tell if you had said the words aloud. all your attention was focused on where kai's hand met yours, sending electricity through your entire body. when his hand finally moved from your wrist, you couldn't ignore the empty disappointment that settled in your chest.

this was the opposite of whatever you had felt in that classroom, or in any bar. it was like the world had disappeared, dissolved by the rain, the only remnants of it the sound of the downpour and the song playing softly from the speakers. as you watched kai as he listened to the music, you thought he looked almost worshipful, eyes closed and lips parted slightly, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his hands once again playing invisible keys—in those moments, it truly felt like you were the only two people in the world.

this intimacy, the feeling of being alone with another person, it was almost suffocating—in the best way. like your lungs were full of energy that begged to be released instead of being choked by panic.

and though all you were doing was sitting in a car with a boy you had barely become friends with, listening to an old album on a shitty stereo, as surely thousands had done before you and thousands would after, it felt sacred—like it was an experience only you and kai could share.

the song began to fade out, and kai turned, opening his eyes and holding your gaze. starry, glimmering eyes—they held galaxies, universes. the feeling when you looked into them was a sensation not unlike vertigo; the force of it could've knocked you over had you been standing.

"we're here," kai murmured.

"yeah," you breathed.

"we should...go inside," he whispered again.

"yeah," you echoed, as if it was the only thing you knew how to say. he was the first to break the eye contact, nodding and giving a small smile as he turned off the car and opened the door.

everything rematerialized around you; the cars, the bustle, the people—the moment was over, and suddenly you were once again surrounded by the crushing weight of the world around you.

•••

it was a coincidence that kai happened to be playing at the bar you were going to. or, at least it was enough of a coincidence that you could convince yourself it was just a coincidence.

fall break had finally rolled around, and you had at last gotten into the swing of things, your grades were comfortable, mostly thanks to your study sessions with hueningkai that happened roughly twice a week—which you didn't want to admit were becoming more and more difficult to focus in.

predictably, beomgyu had insisted the two of you go out to celebrate the break.

"but it's for a good reason! to like....celebrate making it this far and stuff!" he whined at you from your doorway.

"don't give me that, you will take any excuse to get wasted, gyu," you answered, sprawled on your bed as you scrolled through your phone.

"that is not true, and i am offended that you would insinuate such a thing. on an unrelated note, pretty please can we go out tonight?"

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at his antics. truth be told, it's not like you were opposed to it—you'd probably appreciate the change in scenery from your less-than-impressive dorm room. you just didn't really want to go to the same three bars with the same six regulars and same four bands that play.

"fine, fine. since you have no other friends to bother, i'll be generous. but i pick the place," you added, ignoring the indignant, "hey!" from beomgyu. you were already scrolling through search results on your phone.

no. no. too small. too fancy. been there. been there. hate that one. you sighed, losing hope that there would be any new sights for you tonight, only shitty LEDS, chipped counters, and traffic lights.

it was then that you saw a new name on the familiar list of bars. 'divine machine', five miles away, in the heart of town.

"hm, that's new," you mumbled to yourself. you clicked through the links provided—the pictures of the inside looked extremely promising, though you didn't want to get your hopes up too much only to be tricked by good camerawork.

one of the links led you to the bar's instagram page. it was new, having just opened about two weeks ago. most of the posts were pictures of the inside, the stage, the bar—it seemed to be a metal or rock concert themed bar, which piqued your interest a lot. one of the posts was in the style of an 80's flyer that you would see advertising a band. 'new talent every night!' it read. 'come to divine machine to see stars be born!'

it was the picture that sold it for you. you'd recognize that piercing gaze and that blue-grey hair anywhere. hueningkai was the cover of the flyer, seemingly mid-performance—hands poised perfectly on the frets, hair tousled, in the throes of whatever song he had been captured performing. trying to ignore the way your heart leaped in your chest, you offered your phone to beomgyu, hopefully looking nonchalant.

"what about this one?" you asked. "it's new."

"ooh, exciting! yeah, sounds good!"

"you don't care where we go as long as there's alcohol, right?"

"i'm going to stop inviting you if you keep being mean to me."

"you'd be going out alone."

"that is irrelevant and untrue."

you found yourself at the entrance of 'divine machine' three hours later, still trying to convince yourself that you were not hoping to see kai perform again. he's just talented, you told yourself. i appreciate good musicianship.

immediately, you were much more impressed with this bar than any of the others. the photos didn't lie—the place was spacious and clean, boasting a large stage near the front of the room, decked out like a rock concert with speakers and microphones and scary-looking instruments, prop black leather jackets hanging off some of the speakers and spotlights of all colors pointed in different directions. posters of bands—some familiar, some obscure, lined the walls, along with a selection of guitars that appeared to have signatures on them. the haze from the smoke machine was tinted blue-purple from the lights overhead—it was well-lit, you had to give them that.

"this is pretty promising," you whispered to beomgyu, who you knew was only half-listening as he read the drinks on the menu.

it was early on in the night—well, as early as early could be for a bar, only about 8:30p.m.—but groups of people were already filtering in and mingling. you felt the familiar grip of anxiety on your chest, subconsciously shrinking back into the bar.

beomgyu noticed immediately, drinks forgotten as he looked at you worriedly.

"hey, if you don't want to do this, we can go home. i know this isn't easy for you," he began, reaching for his bag that he had set on a barstool. you shook your head probably a little too quickly.

"no, i'm—i'm okay," you managed to get out. "sorry. i'll be fine, just takes some getting used to, don't worry."

"don't be sorry! it's okay. the offer still stands, whenever you're ready to go we'll go, okay?" gyu said, taking you by the shoulders. you felt your heart grow warm at your best friend's sincerity.

you had met beomgyu your sophomore year at college, having a statistics class with him and sharing a desk. the trauma of that class had bonded the two of you for life. your friendship had grown closer over the next two years, your juxtaposed dispositions balancing each other out well. and though gyu was a troublemaker and a tease, he was nothing if not caring. he knew when to stop and always knew how to make you feel more comfortable.

"okay. don't worry," you repeated, trying to convince yourself more than anything.

"i'm not worrying. it's you who's—well, look who it is!" beomgyu's gaze moved over your shoulder as he waved excitedly at someone behind you. you didn't have to guess who, smile already pulling at the corners of your mouth, and heart rate picking up as you turned around to see kai approaching the two of you.

he looked similar to the first time you had seen him perform, if not more decked out in his rocker attire. ripped black jeans with chains falling from the belt loops, combat boots, studded bracelets and silver rings, a black muscle tee, and the same leather battle vest that you noticed had more patches added since last time.

honestly, it's a wonder you noticed any details at all; you were mentally cursing yourself as you tried and failed to divert your attention from kai's arms, the conversation him and gyu were having entirely lost upon you. he's stronger than he looks, i suppose, you thought to yourself. i don't think i've ever seen him not in a t-shirt or hoodie.

your half-hearted attempts at convincing yourself that you were staring out of shock, not awe, were cut short by beomgyu shoving your shoulder slightly, snapping you from your thoughts.

"quit spacing out over there, are you even listening?" he asked, rolling his eyes dramatically, earning a snicker from kai. you felt your face flush as you forced your eyes to the floor.

"as i was saying, kai, you should let us visit backstage after your performance! we should get VIP treatment, i did give you my phone charger three days ago," gyu stated matter-of-factly. "and this," he pulled you close to him by the shoulders, "is my plus-one."

"i'll consider it," he laughed.

"don't worry about it if it's too much, you don't have to listen to him, he's dramatic." you cut your eyes at beomgyu at the last comment, and he stuck his tongue out in return.

"no, no, it's fine! i wouldn't mind at all! but, i've gotta run guys, have to go get set up and all," kai said, motioning to the stage and beginning to back towards it.

"don't let us keep you, rockstar. break a leg!" you smiled brightly at kai, who started at the nickname before smiling back, waving and turning towards the stage.

once kai was out of earshot, beomgyu whipped around towards you with a ferocity that made you jump slightly.

"and what the hell was that?!"

"jesus christ, what is wrong with—"

"nono, i asked first."

"i have no idea what you're talking about."

"you gave him a nickname," beomgyu said incredulously. "you don't even call me a nickname."

"and i am not starting now," you said through gritted teeth, blush hopefully hidden by the hazy lighting. "it was a one-time-joke thing, nothing interesting. let's go, we can't get close to the stage if we don't hurry."

and hurry you did, despite beomgyu's teasing, earning yourselves pretty decent spots in the crowd. you sipped water this time, hoping your nerves weren't too visible.

eventually, scattered applause broke you from your conversation with beomgyu, and you turned to see kai walking out on stage.

"hi, guys—i'm kai," kai said. you gave a small cheer, clapping softly. kai gave you a knowing smile before continuing, the sudden confidence flustering you a bit. "i'm going to be playing some music for you guys. i don't have a bunch of original stuff, but i have some pretty great covers lined up, alright?"

scattered cheers resounded throughout the crowd, and kai prepared to play the first song. you recognized the intro immediately, and couldn't help but give an incredulous laugh.

"this is pierce the veil!" you said excitedly to beomgyu.

"huhwhat?" beomgyu asked, attention torn away from the beverage he was nursing.

"he's playing pierce the veil! it's 'the new national anthem', from 'selfish machines'!"

"you like them right? those are the ones you n'your friend like?" beomgyu's voice already slurred slightly, even though he couldn't have had more than two drinks already.

"yeah!" you giggled, cheering for kai as he played. you couldn't help but wonder if he did that because of you.

once again, you found yourself hypnotized by kai's performance. all of his nerves and endearing awkwardness seemed to have dissolved, leaving behind a passionate and practiced musician. you were again struck with just how confident and right he looked on that stage, and felt a wave of sadness remembering your conversation in the library.

you couldn't believe he didn't think he was good enough. you thought he was everything.

after a few more covers and a few originals (your favorite of which you think was called "growing pain"), you found yourself being dragged by a tipsy beomgyu behind the stage and into the dressing room where kai waited.

"bro, that was a-mazing, you're so, jus' so talented," beomgyu declared, throwing his arms around kai who tried fervently to push him off.

"do not touch me, i am so warm, please go away—choi beomgyu, if you get sick on me, so help me god, i will kill you," kai laughed. you shook your head, rolling your eyes and laughing as well.

"have some mercy on him kai, he's a lightweight," you said with a tone of mock pity, which beomgyu stuck his tongue out at.

"m'not a lightweight. i'm fine, i'm literally normal," he began, trying to walk in a straight line to prove his point, only to crash down onto one of the sofas, only causing you and kai to laugh more.

"this is bullying..."

"this is the consequences of your own actions," you corrected.

you and kai sat down on the sofa opposite beomgyu, kai sprawling out with his head tilted back, exhausted. you noted how much more confident he looked, the adrenaline of performing still coursing through him, the stage persona not fully faded away.

"that really was amazing. you played pierce the veil!" you exclaimed.

"yeah, i did! i learned that song ages ago, but i guess i only recently remembered it."

"i was excited! and i liked the originals too, of course—'growing pain', i think you called it, just absolutely fantastic. i loved the whole thing," you gushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how excited you were.

"i'm glad, i appreciate it. wow, not even a professional and i've already got a fanbase," he teased. you rolled your eyes, punching him in the arm.

"shut up. you have no such thing. i just recognize talent when i see it," you quipped, hoping the sarcasm in your voice hid your shyness.

"whatever you say—but i mean, coming to all my shows, meeting me backstage...from where i stand, you look like a regular groupie." his voice was teasing and bold, more playful—no, flirtatious—than you were used to. it stopped you cold.

not quite cold—you were very warm, actually. you realized with shame how the words had made your stomach flip, your heart stuttering at the tone. heat crept through your face as you attempted to form a response. the words wouldn't come, your eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing with no sound.

kai seemed stunned by his own words, blush tinting his face too. you held his gaze, unable to look away from his eyes. they were wide with embarrassment, still bright from adrenaline, the embers of that playful boldness still not fully gone out. you saw it again, that soft glow in them, and you wondered what it was he could be thinking about.

"ew, oh my god, get a room," beomgyu whined from where he sprawled dramatically on the couch. the moment was over, the both of you suddenly remembering where you were. you both glared at beomgyu, each grumbling some form of "shut up".

beomgyu held his hands up in mock surrender, slouching back down onto the couch and closing his eyes. you shot a glance at kai, sharing a sly smile with him when he met your gaze.

again, you couldn't shake that feeling when he looked at you—that you were the only two people on earth.

•••

this was the last thing you needed during finals season.

you had wondered how long it was going to take before you cracked under the stress of it all, and that time had finally come, at the worst possible time.

it had been a straight twenty-eight hours of no sleep—twenty-eight head-pounding, jittery, exhausting hours spent poring over books that had stopped looking like words about four hours ago. your laptop's search-engine screen seemed burned into the back of your eyelids, assignments and deadlines swimming before your burning, red-rimmed eyes.

you felt like hell. not just physically, but emotionally too. every time you left your room, you could feel millions of eyes on you, a building, pulsing sense of dread that crawled its way from your stomach to your lungs to your throat, choking even basic conversations to shaky one-word answers.

it was raining again, that december day; the world outside tinted blue and grey with winter. it was like the weather couldn't put forth the effort to be bright either. hueningkai sat across from you, as he always did, once again looking about as disheveled as you. his hair had faded to a dull blue with black roots, much longer than it had been when you had first met him.

you turned your attention back to your own essay assignment, words fading in and out of focus on your laptop screen. essays were usually easy—but having to do four in the span of two days was beginning to take its toll. you heard a sigh from in front of you as kai leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"hmm?" you hummed quizzically.

"i can't even see straight anymore, i'm so tired. i feel like i've been at this one assignment for years," he groaned.

you nodded in agreement, rubbing your own eyes to hopefully clear some of the blur, the throbbing in your head becoming worse by the second. "i feel you."

"i feel like im suffocating in here, don't you feel...choked, in a space like this?"

you hummed again, only half-listening, trying to focus your attention on the assignment at hand and not the knife in your head. you preferred the library to anywhere else, especially now, seeing as being around and talking to people seemed to be getting harder and harder.

"you can go somewhere else if you'd like, if it'll help you study better."

"we could go—"

"i told you already, i cannot go to 'divine machine'. i—i know it's not busy hours, i cannot go, i'm sorry."

kai seemed taken aback by your sharp words. he was right, you were starting to feel choked in the dusty study room, surrounded by the pounding in your head and the awareness of another person's presence.

the shame was upon you all at once, both at having snapped like that, and of having another person see you this way—especially someone you genuinely liked. the fluorescent lights above suddenly became glaringly bright, humming with previously unnoticed electricity. you became aware of your clothes, how they didn't feel clean, how your hair wasn't clean and stuck to your scalp, how your body ached from stagnation, how everything around you suddenly felt wrong—too bright, too close, too loud.

dread is cold. dread is a heavy, oozing thing that sits in your stomach and slowly infects you. panic? panic is hot. you can feel the way the flames of it flare and writhe their way into every part of your body. hands, arms, stomach, chest, throat, eyes, face—all burning with the shame of being perceived. you can feel every nerve ending in your body and everything it is interacting with, all sound drowned out by the blood throbbing in your head.

kai gave a small scoff, shrugging his shoulders and returning his gaze back to his assignment. "yeah, no, it's fine, i get it. people are scary."

and you knew he didn't mean it like that. but that was all it took. you shoved yourself back from the desk, grabbing your things and storming out the door, the only thing on your mind getting somewhere dark and quiet—somewhere with no people. your throat burned and tears dripped down your face, blurring your already-foggy vision. you stumbled towards the library door, finding it harder and harder to breathe. you didn't even hear kai calling after you.

everywhere you looked, everywhere you turned, there were people. people, people everywhere—you couldn't escape them. countless eyes focused on you, more than would even be possible, but you could feel it. the whole world was watching you fall apart, watching you ruin a friendship you tried so hard to build. he can see me, i'm embarrassing myself, was all you could think. he thinks i'm stupid. this is stupid. he thinks i'm embarrassing. this is embarrassing. i'm an embarrassment. why would he ever want me? even if he did, i am scaring him away, i'm too much, i have to leave, i'm too much, i have to get out, it's too much, too much, too—

and suddenly you were outside, the cold december rain sending a shock through your system. you took a deep, ragged inhale, the shock from the cold allowing a moment of clarity. as you slowly staggered to your dorm hall (you had the fleeting thought of how grateful you were to live so close by), the embers of shame still hot within your chest, you thought of kai.

you opened the door to your room. you thought of kai. you gently closed it behind you. no one was home but you. you were completely alone, in a dark and quiet room. you thought of kai. you slid down the back of the door, knees to your chest as the tears came once more. you thought of kai. kai who you desperately wanted to see you in a good light, who you wanted to be different for, who you put yourself out there for, who you had fallen for.

you thought of his hair falling into his eyes as he played guitar, you thought of the way his brows furrowed in concentration, you thought of his loud, goofy laugh, you thought of his hands and their inaudible melodies.

you thought of how sure of himself he had looked on stage at 'divine machine', like he belonged on the stage in front of all those people. you thought of how pathetic you felt, knowing that now he knew. you had tried so hard, but now he knew that you couldn't even handle a library.

when the first knock came at the door, it was so soft that you thought you might've imagined it. you remained slumped against the door, tears gone but eyes still burning. then it came again, more frantic this time.

"hey, are you in there? it—it's me, it's kai." his voice was muffled behind the door, but you could still hear that he sounded shaky and slightly out of breath.

"i'm here."

"can i...come in?"

"no."

"...can i ask why?"

you sniffled, wiping your eyes and trying to smooth down your hair. "i look terrible."

"i mean, if it makes you feel any better, i look like they just dredged me out of the ocean."

you scoffed a little at that, smiling despite yourself.

"i'm sorry for what i said. i didn't mean it that way, but i still shouldn't have said it. it's not fair to you," kai said after a beat of silence.

"no, no, i get it. i know you didn't mean it, i'm sorry for freaking out, i should've reacted better, i'm just—i am really, really stressed, and it, like, all crashed down on me at once, a-and—"

"it's okay. you don't have to be sorry, i'm not upset at you or anything—you can't help it."

"i just...i feel like i should be able to help it, y'know? i've lived with it for this long, i should be able to cope with this stuff." your voice shook with frustration, new tears threatening to fall.

"i understand. i really do, i know it doesn't," there was a pause like he was reconsidering, and you had the mental image of him dragging a hand through his hair. "it doesn't seem like i do. but...whenever i perform, like onstage—the minute and a half before i begin to play is the scariest moment. i can feel everyone's eyes on me, the weight of their expectations is so...so overwhelming, it gets hard to breathe. for that minute and a half, every bad thing i've ever believed about myself becomes true, and it feels like everyone can see it," kai's voice shook slightly with the confession, and you wondered if this is the first time he's ever told anyone this. "no matter how many times i perform, that initial fear will always be there."

"you seem so sure of yourself up there. when you begin to play, i mean. it's like you were...made to perform, or something," you murmured, half-hoping he didn't hear you.

"it's all practice. and it's because i love it. it's like you, when you explain literature or writing stuff—it's like the nerves melt away. the joy comes back, y'know? the thing you're doing it for, it overrides the fear. it doesn't mean the fear isn't still there, but it isn't as overpowering."

there was a silence again, longer this time.

"i wanted to write. did i ever tell you that?" you began. "i want to teach, sure—i mean, i love explaining things, but truly what i always wanted to do was write. but i couldn't get over the fear. i could not stand the idea of people...thinking about me. perceiving me in a way i couldn't control, i guess? it used to keep me up at night, honestly. at least in a classroom, i know what i'm doing is for the greater good—whether the students like me or not. but writing? i guess i just—"

"don't feel like you're good enough, so you chose the safer option?"

the silence that followed spoke volumes—lifetimes of dreams crushed by the realities of life and survival.

"can you please let me in? please?" it was spoken so softly, but the gentleness with which it was said nearly brought you to tears again. slowly, you pushed yourself from the floor.

you met his eyes as the door swung open—wide and glimmering as they always were, and he looked as though he had been crying as well. there were a few seconds of tense silence, and the world seemed to stop and hold its breath. kai's mouth was open slightly, like he was trying to find words to say. you broke the silence first, your eyes remaining locked on his.

"i'm sorry to make you come all this way in the rain, you really didn't—"

before you could finish your sentence, kai was through the doorway, wrapping you in his arms tightly. you froze, unsure of how to react.

the feeling was there again, the same as it was in the car back in october—there with him, you were the only two people on earth. you slowly relaxed, reaching your arms around to hug him back, burying your face into his shoulder. he's so tall, you thought.

"thank you," you whispered. kai just nodded in affirmation, fingers unconsciously grazing up and down your back soothingly. you had the fleeting thought that it was like he was playing guitar.

"you're really cold. and wet," you whispered again. you felt his soft laughter reverberate through him, making you smile into the crook of his neck.

"that's on you for making me trek all this way, in the rain, in december."

"you didn't have to follow me, you cannot put that on me."

"and what was i gonna do, just leave you?"

you went quiet at that, realizing that's exactly what you expected him to do. that's what you'd expected of everyone your whole life. you truly felt as though if you didn't constantly have it under control, people would see you and know. you weren't quite sure what they would know, but they would know, and they would see you differently forever. you didn't respond, only held kai a little tighter.

"it's really dark in here. cold too. do...you maybe want to go back to my place and get warm?" kai's voice was hesitant, like the gravity of the words hindered them from being spoken.

after what felt like an eternal silence, you nodded slowly.

"yeah."

•••

it was exactly what you thought it would look like.

posters and pictures lined the walls of hueningkai's room, pops of sharp color and vivacity along an almost-black navy blue wall. you felt a smile forming on your face at the plushies—honestly an unprecedented amount of them. the room was was a bit smaller than you had expected, but cozy in a way. the curtains had been pulled back and the blinds open to let in as much natural light as possible—which wasn't a lot at the moment because of the rain.

it was kind of messy, like the rest of the apartment—a fact you only remembered when upon arrival, you were met with the same bike in the kitchen you had seen four months ago. papers that looked to be sheet music were scattered across his desk and bed, some printed, some seemingly hand drawn staffs and notes. kai turned pink at this, immediately attempting to collect and reorganize, muttering apologies all the while.

what really interested you were the instruments. you noticed the guitar immediately, a sight familiar from watching kai's performances. he also, you noticed, had a bass guitar, a computer set up with a mic—and all the way in the corner, a keyboard. you almost laughed aloud.

"what is it?" kai asked.

"nothing, nothing, i just...i dunno, i knew you played piano. i just knew it," you chuckled.

"and how could you have known that?"

"maybe i'm psychic."

"or something like that."

you picked up one of the closest plushies to you and threw it at kai's head.

"okay, ouch. i chase after you in the rain, take you back to my apartment, offer you shelter, and this is the thanks i get?"

"will you just go shower—before i throw another one at you," you threatened, giggling. kai rolled his eyes at you once more before ducking into the hall. you settled down on the floor, not wanting to mess up the bed; you were still slightly damp from the storm outside. you leaned against a bedpost, taking in everything around you. it was so...him. it was slightly messy, but warm, cozy—with vibrant bursts of life.

you noticed kai had dropped one of the music sheets in his fervor to clean them. so—glancing at the closed door—you began to read it.

from what you could tell, this part was written for a guitar—which, you felt as though you should've gotten an award for understanding anything about it at all, all that studying did something. you were impressed with kai's dedication; he had drawn everything out himself, including the staffs and markings.

as you were poring over this paper, trying to mentally sound out what the song sounded like, you heard the doorknob turn. you quickly shoved the paper off to the side, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

"your turn," kai called, slicking his wet hair out of his face.

"mhm," you replied, trying not to stare as you grabbed the clothes you brought from your dorm and headed for the bathroom.

•••

you left the shower feeling lighter than before, the world seeming less horrible when you were clean and warm. you took a deep breath in, and felt your heart skip as you realized that you smelled like kai. you had brought clothes, but not your shower things, so you had to settle for his.

as you approached kai's bedroom door, you stopped just before turning the handle. you could hear noise from inside, something that sounded like a guitar.

you knew you probably shouldn't eavesdrop. you knew music was very important to kai, so listening to him compose and practice felt...invasive?

the song was familiar, and after a few moments you realized that it was the song from the paper you had found. you felt a fleeting burst of pride that what you had sounded out in your head hadn't been too obscenely far off, but that was quickly forgotten.

it was a beautiful song, even though you could only hear one instrument's part. it was slower than the other things you had heard him perform. if you strained, you could hear kai humming the beginnings of a melody over his playing—and every once in a while, it would stop, the sound of pencil scratching paper and kai talking to himself replacing it.

eventually, the guilt of eavesdropping won, and you knocked on the door to announce your presence.

"feel any better?" kai asked, moving the guitar and music off of the bed.

"much. the world doesn't suck as bad when you're clean and warm. i'm just very—" your sentence was broken by a yawn,"—sorry, very tired," you finished.

"well, rest here. you're welcome to take a nap," kai said, half-smiling.

you gave him a sleepy, half-lidded smile as you sat down beside him. "i heard you playing when i got out," you confessed eventually.

kai laughed and shook his head, embarrassed.

"ah, i see. hopefully i didn't sound too crazy, i tend to talk to myself."

"only a little crazy," you giggled. a hush fell over the room, the only sound the muffled tapping of the rain on the roof. eventually, you asked in a quiet voice: "what's the one you were playing? what's it called?"

kai looked slightly wary—this was obviously something he didn't talk with a lot of people about. you supposed people are difficult, no matter who you are.

"if you don't want to tell me, then that's okay too—"

"no, no, i was just stunned," kai answered quickly. "it's called 'dreamer'."

"when'd you write it? and...why, if you don't mind me asking?" at that, kai's expression turned a bit more solemn.

"i wrote it in november, when i had an argument with someone in family over wanting to do music as a job. she said it was stupid, pointless—it's not a real job, that i couldn't make anything or go anywhere from it," he said, brows furrowed in distaste at the memory. "this one feels like...i dunno, being trapped between being a kid and an adult—being expected to make something of yourself but wanting to preserve the dreams you had for your life."

you nodded along slowly, knowing the feeling all too well. you'd been told the same thing all your life—that writing would never get anywhere, that it wasn't a stable career, that you couldn't handle it. eventually, you began to believe it.

"will you play it for me?" it was out of your mouth before you could think about it, the sound barely louder than the rain outside. "only if you want to," you added quickly.

kai looked at you, expression a mix of nervous and content, and gave u a small nod and a half-smile before picking up his guitar.

you closed your eyes as he began to play. the world outside was nothing but distant memory, the only things real to you right now were the smell of kai's room, the rain on the windows, and the sound of guitar that floated throughout the room.

kai hummed that melody over his playing again, more confidently this time. you swayed, exhaustion hitting you like a wave as you relaxed for the first time in probably a month. you breathed out a sigh of content, resting against kai's shoulder.

all at once the playing stopped. after a few moments, you opened your eyes and turned to see kai, hands still positioned on the guitar frets, but music long forgotten as your eyes met his. you saw it again, the glimmer in them. you wanted nothing more than to fall into them, fall through their shifting hues and constellations forever.

the silence was tense, all noise drowned out by your own heartbeat as you held kai's gaze. slowly, cautiously, kai closed the space between the two of you, softly brushing his lips to yours before pulling away a bit and locking eyes with you again.

"was that okay?"

"yeah."

"...can i—"

"yeah, yeah."

you closed the gap this time, four and a half months of built-up tension suddenly released as you kissed him, hands slowly sliding up his shoulders to pull him closer to you. kai sighed shakily into the kiss in something almost like relief, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other hand resting lightly on the back of your head—like he was asking for permission to bring you closer still.

memories of the last four months—the first time you saw him play, whispering in classrooms, days spent in the library, nights spent looking up at him admiringly from below a stage, they all swam in your head.

for the first time, kai's hands were inexperienced and hesitant, unsure of where to go and what to do. pulling away from the kiss slightly, you rested your hands on top of his—moving the fingers of one to slide up into your hair, and moving the other to rest between your shoulder blades, where you began to feel the familiar rhythm of his fingers playing their inaudible melodies—slower this time, almost soothingly as your lips met his once more.

you couldn't think of anything else but him—he was all you could see, could hear, could smell; fragments of poems wrote themselves and dissolved as at last the two of you pulled away, the only sound your shaky breathing. you rested your forehead against his, eyes closed, slight smile on your face, and you had the notion that you could've written novels, volumes—all the beautiful prose in the world could not have described the way you felt at that moment with him.

•••

you were grateful for the reprieve from the the scorching may heat as you ducked into the cool, dark building. even though the sun was setting, it was still uncomfortably warm, humidity that spoke of rain to come making the air sticky and heavy.

you smiled slightly at the crowd that had gathered, though the show was still fifteen minutes from starting. kai had garnered a lot of fans in the last few months, and you felt your heart swell with pride at your boyfriend's success.

for the first time in—well, maybe ever, you were at 'divine machine' alone. beomgyu had other plans tonight, and usually that meant a night in for you—but you really wanted to see kai's performance.

you knew the fear was still there. it ebbed and flowed, crescendoed and subsided in your head. you admit it had improved, but you knew it would always be there. it not controlling you was enough, and you took an ironic kind of comfort in knowing that you weren't ever alone, and that you had people to help you—that not everyone was against you.

the lights began to dim, and scattered cheers rippled throughout the audience, growing louder as you saw kai walk on stage and wave at the audience. you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

he'd changed a good bit in the months since you'd met him. his once blue-grey hair was now jet black, and had grown out to his shoulders. half of it was thrown haphazardly in a bun, and his bangs fell into his eyes as he adjusted the mic stand. you noted he didn't have to do it as much anymore—being a regular performer does have its perks.

kai was broader, and somehow looked even taller. you imagined it was the confidence he had built over months of performing. he gave his familiar half-smile at the audience, and you could've fallen in love all over again.

"hi, guys! if you don't know me already, i'm kai. i'm gonna be playing some music for you guys tonight, alright?" as he spoke, he plugged the amp into his guitar, the feedback crackling through the room. "it's mostly originals, but there'll be some covers thrown in too."

you could never get tired of watching kai play. the way he put every fiber of his being into the music—he became it. your eyes settled again on his hands, somehow more confident and at home than they had ever looked. his voice carried through the room, filled it, leaving no space for the troubles or tribulations of whatever was outside the double doors.

you had begun to memorize his setlists, but sometimes he surprised you. after his usual four original songs, kai pulled a chair to the front of the stage, lowering the mic stand and sitting down. he made eye contact with you from across the stage, and you furrowed your brows questioningly. he just winked, gave you a small grin, and began to talk into the mic.

"i've only got two songs left, an original and a cover. this one is called 'dreamer', and i'd be remiss if i didn't give credit where it's due. this song and its lyrics wouldn't exist without someone very important to me, and i want them to know that i wouldn't be here performing if they had not given me the inspiration to." kai gazed at you lovingly from where he sat, and tears sprung to your eyes at the confession.

"the next is not as well-known. i haven't played it before, but i couldn't do 'dreamer' and not play this one, too. it's called 'kissing in cars', by pierce the veil."

you thought back to the memories made over the last nine months as he began to play. from meeting him, to building a friendship, to falling in love, you looked on every moment—even the bad ones—with fondness and gratitude. the two of you had written 'dreamer' together a month after you had gotten together. it started as you bursting into his apartment as soon as it was daylight, having not slept. the beginnings of the lyrics had come to you in the middle of the night, pulling you out of sleep and demanding to be written down. over the course of two weeks, you had helped him create the song in its entirety. you had seen him play it before, but it still brought you close to tears every time.

as 'dreamer' ended and hueningkai began to play the first notes of 'kissing in cars', it hit you just how lucky you were. it wasn't quite luck—or gratitude, or joy, or sadness, or even just love. you couldn't describe the emotion that now overwhelmed you. it coursed through you, the crowd around you melting away. the only thing you could think about was kai. words came together and broke apart, fragments of lyrics and poems born and destroyed as you searched for a way to describe what you were feeling.

you couldn't. as kai moved into the final chorus, just like back in december, you realized that you couldn't describe it. so many have tried, in so many ways, and you knew it would never be enough. you smiled as the song ended, tears slipping from your eyes as you cheered, trying to express this wonderful, exhilarating, indescribable feeling. you knew there were no words, no music, no art, nothing that could capture what you felt at that moment.

and maybe that is what made it so beautiful.

[atsro-slut]

I have too many ideas and too little inspiration to write them myself so thank you so much for your sacrifice 🙏

But how about a fic where it's Christmas holiday at hogwarts, with reader staying at hogwarts, so Remus decides to stay as well to keep her company. It's not that her family is abus!ve or anything. She just argues a lot with them, and they get so loud that she prefers to stay with Rem? (Am I projecting? Maaaybe) Thank you again so so so much!!! ❤️

The Coziest Christmas

Omg my fav!! I hope you like this lovey!!

Remus Lupin x female!reader

Christmas at Hogwarts was quiet, but with Remus staying behind, Y/N’s holiday turned magical—filled with stolen kisses, warm cocoa, and snow-dusted adventures in an empty castle.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The halls of Hogwarts were quieter than they had been in months. Most students had gone home for the holidays, leaving only a handful behind. The castle, usually alive with chatter and footsteps, now felt like it belonged to the snow falling gently outside its walls. For Y/N, the peace was exactly what she needed.

Home was… complicated. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family—they were good people, and she had many fond memories with them—but arguments were common, and they tended to get loud. It was exhausting, trying to keep the peace or defend herself when voices rose and tempers flared. The noise lingered in her mind long after the words had stopped, leaving her restless and drained.

That’s why she had decided to stay at Hogwarts again this year. It wasn’t the first time she’d spent Christmas in the castle, and she doubted it would be the last. What surprised her, though, was when Remus Lupin decided to stay too.

“You’re missing Christmas at home for me?” she’d asked when he first told her, her voice a mix of surprise and guilt.

He had shrugged, his easy, lopsided smile making her heart flutter. “Why not? Hogwarts is quieter, and we’ll have the place mostly to ourselves. Besides,” he added, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with a tenderness that made her cheeks warm, “I can’t imagine the holidays without you.”

Y/N had stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. He had a way of doing that—leaving her speechless with how thoughtful and kind he could be.

Now, the two of them sat together in the Gryffindor common room, the fire casting a warm glow across their faces. Remus had gone down to the kitchens earlier and returned with two mugs of hot cocoa, complete with marshmallows floating on top. The rich scent of chocolate mingled with the faint smell of pine from the garland strung across the mantle, making the space feel cozy and festive.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Y/N said, her voice breaking the comfortable silence. She curled her fingers around the warm mug, her eyes fixed on the flames. “How empty Hogwarts feels without everyone here.”

Remus chuckled, his tone light and soothing. “It’s almost eerie. But I don’t mind. It’s nice to have some peace and quiet for a change.”

Y/N smiled and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His jumper was soft, and the familiar scent of parchment and pine that clung to him was comforting. “Thanks for staying, Rem. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. His voice was calm, but there was a steadiness in it that left no room for doubt. “I know it’s not easy for you to go home sometimes. If staying here makes you happier, then I’m happy too.”

Y/N tilted her head to look up at him, her heart swelling with affection. “You’re the best, you know that?”

He smiled down at her, his amber eyes warm and soft. “I try.”

The day unfolded in a series of quiet, perfect moments. With the castle nearly empty, they had the freedom to explore without worrying about running into anyone else. They spent the morning wandering the corridors, peeking into classrooms, and laughing as they pretended to give dramatic lectures at empty desks. In the library, they sat side by side at a corner table, flipping through dusty old books. Remus had found an outdated Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and spent half an hour critiquing the absurdly dangerous suggestions it offered for handling creatures like boggarts and grindylows.

“It actually says to use fire against a grindylow,” he said, holding up the page for her to see. “Fire. In water.”

Y/N laughed, leaning closer to get a better look. “I guess they were going for dramatic flair over logic.”

Later, they wandered into the Great Hall, where the house-elves had outdone themselves decorating for Christmas. A massive tree stood at the center of the hall, its branches covered in sparkling, enchanted ornaments. A soft hum of magic filled the air, making the space feel even more magical than usual.

By the time dinner was over, the two of them were back in the common room, sitting side by side on the floor with a blanket draped over their shoulders. Snow continued to fall outside, frosting the windows and turning the grounds into a sparkling winter wonderland.

“Do you miss it?” Remus asked suddenly, his voice quiet and thoughtful.

“Home, you mean?” Y/N paused, considering his question. “Sometimes. I love my family, but… it’s just too much. Too loud, too tense. Being here is easier.”

Remus nodded, his expression pensive. “I get it. My house was always quiet, but not in a good way. Sometimes it felt like the silence was its own kind of noise, you know?”

Y/N reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. His touch was warm, grounding her. “You don’t have to go back there either, not if you don’t want to.”

His gaze met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Her chest swelled with emotion as she looked at him, the firelight dancing in his amber eyes. He was so steady, so kind, and she felt incredibly lucky to have him by her side.

As the fire crackled beside them and the snow continued to fall, Y/N felt a deep sense of contentment settle over her. It wasn’t a traditional Christmas, but it didn’t matter. With Remus by her side, it was perfect in its own way.

For the first time in a long time, the holidays felt exactly as they should—peaceful, warm, and filled with love.

[partycatty]

johnny cage > bust your kneecaps

kenshi's sibling isn't exactly known for being the kindest, especially when things don't go their way.

warnings: violence, you're kinda yandere type... or maybe tsundere i don't know i give up. johnny's an ass and i wanna beat him up.

notes: are you seriously telling me NOBODY has written a fic for this man using "bust your kneecaps" by pomplamoose?! LIKE.

[ masterlist ]

johnny, don't leave me, you said you'd love me forever - honey, believe me, i'll have your heart on a platter

• you stepped your way into the stupidly lavish mansion, the address imprinted into your brain and throwing knife at your hip. the belt accentuated the way your hips swayed, capturing the attention of the mansion's owner.

• "where's my wife?" he asks, defensive as he puts the glass of alcohol down.

• "your wife is fine," you turn toward your brother's voice as he speaks, a scowl painting both of your features.

• "you will be too, if you cooperate," your tone is unwelcoming, threatening. "you're johnny cage, aren't you?"

• "what's it to you?" johnny's anger grows by the second, frustrated and confused about the sudden yakuza-looking blade wielders in his home.

• your hand twitches as it rests on the handle of the blade. kenshi puts an arm out, pressing you back. his glare is a silent scolding and you groan, instead opting to cross your arms than threaten the actor at gunpoint.

• "come on," johnny instigates, a beckoning hand thrown out your way. "you're too pretty to be this rude to me."

• "i'm not here for you," you spit back, and kenshi points his sword out to the blade resting just above the fireplace. "we come for sento."

• we all know the drill. before you could fight for what rightfully belonged to your clan, johnny had you and your brother tied to a chair, groaning as consciousness returns to you only to explain your intentions through a groggy tone.

• it seemed like something from a lucid dream, two ninjas and a fire god as you're tied to a chair in a celebrity mansion. it was all a blur, explained quickly before you were whisked off to an academy to fight in a tournament you had only just learned about.

• it was all ridiculous but johnny had dragged sento along with him, keeping it in his room and away from the two of you - he never knew if you'd strike at night and run off into the sunset at any given moment.

• the training itself was quite useful as you learned new styles of fighting, weapon or otherwise. you felt yourself growing bulk and inspiration for combat and attempted to log as much information into your memory, studying after lessons or practicing moves when the campus was cleared of people with the moon high.

• it started innocently enough, johnny would at first spectate you and then eventually join in for (unwelcome) advice. you tried to brush him off, you really did, but he just kept coming back like the prettiest little parasite and that irritated you beyond belief.

• before you could protest or pick up his mood shift, he was being sweet on you - which is to say, pet names, compliments, anything you figured an actor would use to get in a girl's pants. he must do this to all women, you figure, but as time passes you find yourself leaning into his words and cracking a small smile that you cover with your hand.

• you had attempted to confide in kenshi, but in his typical attitude, he just teased you for having a crush on the actor. it was a claim you vehemently denied, no matter how many times his laugh rung in your ears or feather touches made your skin burn.

• it bothered you, truly. you hated him and his stupid sexy smile, his dumb idiot muscles as they flex and ripple during training — lord help you.

• when you started to give in, it was so painfully slow anyone could've missed it. johnny, shockingly, was a good judge of character and wore his opinions on his sleeve. he picked up on it, but wouldn't say anything; he would keeping poking and prodding the bear until you admitted your shameful attraction.

• you gave in after a particularly intimate training session. not having much experience compared to the star, he noticed your tense heat radiating from your back when he wrapped his arms around you, perfecting your stance as you trained against a dummy. unable to contain the trembles of your limbs, you spun around to face him, still caged in his grasp.

• "why do you do the things you do?" you ask, brows naturally furrowed in thought.

• johnny looks at you as if you were a fool. "because i like you."

• the answer left you dumbfounded, the answer was right in front of you but you dared not entertain the thought. your eyes darted between his, searching for any hint of bad intentions, but no. his eyes were sweet and soft, gentle and understanding. it ached you.

• the walls you built up crumbled to nothing the longer you two spent time together, johnny giving you almost little room to fully adjust to a romantic relationship. beside each other it was almost comical how much you resembled a black cat golden retriever duo, a comparison the other boys were sure to make often. even liu kang was surprised by this, commenting once that this "had not happened before." whatever he meant was lost to you.

• at first, it was sweet. he cared, he truly did. johnny would go more than an extra mile for you, understanding where to fully slam the brakes or how to gently encourage you to be intimate. the entire time you were absolutely floored, willing to explore the new world of love. it didn't take long for johnny to call it that, and you followed shortly after. he loved you, only you forever, as he'd say.

• the near-armageddon was heavy on the both of you, but everyone returned in one piece and things seemed to be taking a turn toward the domestic life. this is where everything seemingly took a turn for the worse.

• johnny had insisted you moved in with him as soon as possible, citing both love and your financial connections to the yakuza to support his living conditions even after struggling with money. he'd beg with those sweet puppy eyes, and who were you to turn down the first man that's ever loved you?

• you gave him your all, trying so hard to prove your affections and figure out how to appreciate someone that isn't yourself. johnny ate it up every time, his praise making you dizzy and his little pout every time your voice wavered in hesitation.

• at the academy and sun do, it was easy to forget that he was a supposed A-List celebrity. nobody knew him, flocked for photos and attention, the camera flashing wasn't even a worry considering their lack of technology. he was a normal man with perhaps a slightly inflated ego, but a charming pretty boy nonetheless.

• when you began living in malibu, it started to become a reality for you that you were now in the trenches of fame. while you yourself weren't famous, you did technically appear from nowhere arm in arm with the actor. it didn't take long for paparazzi to camp on your lawns, parking garages, or even as you're out getting your morning coffee.

• as a former yakuza member, your entire life was in the shadows or relatively secretive. now, everyone knew everything about you and the thought made you nauseous. johnny would remind you time and time again that this is what you set yourself up for. you two had never even approached the topic beforehand.

• then came the women. johnny was a conventionally attractive man in malibu, his glittering smile and perfect appearance had women constantly screaming at him for a glance, one that he happily provided with a slight wink. going online and seeing the edits and thirsting messages made your stomach flip. he was yours, but he felt like the world's.

• you tried sitting johnny down, unable to properly articulate your problems having never discussed serious topics with a partner before. it was a foreign topic to you, dancing around your words in one place and being too blunt in the other. johnny couldn't help but look at you with a nearly condescending stare, brow raising in such a way that made you feel... small.

• "you're dating a celebrity," he stated, as if you needed a thousandth reminder. "i'm johnny cage. i may have just been another trainee when we met, but i'm one of the most prominent men in the industry. this is what you signed up for. sorry, but i can't always be yours. i love my fans, too."

• "i didn't know what i signed up for," you clarify, brows furrowing in confusion over his tone. "i thought you'd only love me." he did say it pretty early on.

• "i do," he put his hands up defensively. "i just have more than you to worry about now, sugar. can we get on with our days, now? i have a meeting with a production team in an hour."

• perhaps you didn't know what you really agreed to. fame, women, money, cars, johnny was... wow, a pompous piece of shit in the spotlight no matter how much he claimed to have changed after the events. it was like the most sickening, arrogant light switch. you swore you loved a different man.

• after you had turned away his lifestyle for the tenth time, it was a few months after moving in that he really sat you down. he sat backwards in a chair, as if it was a casual conversation. another part of his routine.

• "you're not cut out for this," he'd open with, and you're not even sure what "this" was really referring to. "i don't want to keep dragging you through a lifestyle you can't keep up with." like you were a lesser being. your mouth goes dry.

• "you said you'd love me forever." your frown is piercing.

• "feelings... change, i guess. we met in a totally different place, things are back to normal and i just can't picture us continuing like we are now. i've got so much work to do and so little time, and you want my attention. i can't prioritize one out without losing the other."

• "so you're choosing directing over me? fame?"

• "it's not like that —" he sighs, pity in his voice. "you don't belong here."

• you stand up now. "you told me we were a forever package deal. you wanted to show me the world. you wanted this, took every first i could give. what? you're done using me for what i'm worth now?"

• johnny winces. "kind of? you're... you haven't been offering up much else than complaints." your jaw truly drops now, the anger you pushed away bubbling back up to the surface.

• "you think you can just clock out?" your voice grows in volume, increasingly nasty as you picture all the ways you could make him apologize. "you don't just get to escape that easily. do you know who i am?"

• johnny states your full name with a pitiful expression. as if it means nothing. he could have tricked you into thinking that was the case if you had kept falling for his love bombing. not anymore.

• "can you relax?" his tone is laced with irritation. "you're working yourself up, just make it easier for the both of us. look, i'll even buy you a plane ticket—" he reaches for his wallet but you catch his wrist, seeing red. for the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you're a strong person, a yakuza member.

• "easy," he wants you, tone now deadly serious. "i've got cameras everywhere. if i show police you put your hands on me like that, knowing your background, it'll be bad news for you."

• a smirk pulls at your lip, twitching in anger. you lean in close, real close. "if they even get to see the footage."

• it was a pathetic assumption that johnny would be able to escape you now, you were fully intertwined with him in such a way that angered you, but made you love him more deep down. your first love isn't supposed to just pull out from your grasp, not easily anyway.

• a wrestling match ensues. he's strong and knows how to fight, you saw it yourself. you were smarter, though. you managed to grab one of his small statues and position him just right to knock him out with a light hit. he goes limp in your arms, sending you to your knees from the weight of his body. not quite satisfied that he was at your mercy, you drag him to your shared bed.

• thanks to your intimate endeavors, rope was tucked neatly in the closet. you tied his wrists to the bedposts and his ankles to the edge of the bed. while you were emotionally detached, you were still utterly enamored with his entire existence. you leaned in close, admiring the crinkle in his nose or his delicate eyelashes as they hopelessly flutter. his plush lips part to breathe shallowly, and you barely notice your hand coming up to stroke at his cheekbone. he was a beautiful specimen, a figure that's meant to be immortalized in art.

• as mad as you were, he was just too pretty to part from. you peppered kisses from his temple to his shoulder, hand feeling the fabric of his dress shirt as you lay your head on his chest. you basically cuddled him as you leaned onto the bed, half sitting in your chair still. you had to be prepared in case he suddenly awoke and went for a bite or headbutt.

• he'll wake up eventually, and when he does, you'll be right there with a blade in hand and a wicked smile pulling at your lips.

[tsukimefuku]

old regrets and guilt ridden pasts (2) ꕥ higuruma hiromi

part 1 → this part → part 3 (soon) | mdni!

summary: you get home, only to find that hiromi is there ready to talk after your failed attempt to open up about your past. he intends to confront you on that, among other things.

tags: +18!, non-explicit! sex scenes, implied smut, f!reader, established relationship higuruma x reader, little to no cursing, reader is kind of emotionally stunted, romance, mentions of death, grief, angst, fluff, hurt + comfort (a lot of comfort, this is healing).

wc: 1.8k

notes etc.: heavy spoilers for "sand and snow" readers. this might be the loveliest thing i've written to date. thank you so much @redlikerozez for betaing it 🧡 written to the sound of running up that hill (kate bush) and heart skipped a beat (the xx) - the second one is the song that inspired the main scene. as always, i write flawed characters that can (and will) sometimes be assholes, but they're trying their best.

ꕥ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

When you came inside your apartment, there were no lights on. However, from the open door to your bedroom, you could see that Hiromi was laying down on your bed, probably fast asleep by this point.

Defeated, you left your things on the table and silently got in the room, stepping inside the bathroom to wash away all the grime and dirt (and hurt) from a godawful day.

'Godawful day' is definitely a good name for having memories of people long gone stirred up and thrown at your face, reviving your grief all over again.

You were still feeling guilty for not having talked to Hiromi about it, unable to not shut him out, yet again.

Why do I keep doing this? I'm such a jerk.

Upon finishing your shower, you came back into the room, and slid yourself into comfortable clothing before laying down beside him. Hiromi had his back turned to you, but he must've felt you on the bed, because he didn't take long to roll himself on the mattress and look at you.

He seemed upset, and with good reason.

"You could have entrusted me with your pain too, you know," Hiromi began, not giving you much time to muster up anything to say. Not even a good night.

You exhaled slowly, trying to collect your thoughts around it all. This day was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions.

"For you to learn my pain, I’d have to explain it, and I just... It is hard to explain exactly what happened and remembering that day," you offered. "Aside from me, Nanami is the only one who also saw it happen."

Hiromi considered what you said for a moment, but you could see the resolute way in which he softly shook his head.

"Still. I can’t fight you every step of the way for you to let me in. I’m your boyfriend."

The word lingered in the atmosphere around you.

He was, in fact, your boyfriend. You had been dating for a while then.

"We’re supposed to share these kinds of things so that we can be there for each other," he stated, a chide with a plead for understanding, while his thumb came up to press softly against your chin.

"I… I know. I’m sorry."

And you were, truly and deeply sorry, for everything. For pushing him into going along with that stupid idea of letting you inside his domain to get rid of your cursed technique temporarily, for retreating back into yourself when things grew dire, and for not letting him in when he expressly asked you to.

"What are you so afraid of?" Hiromi asked, in earnest.

You took some time to think about his question.

What were you so afraid of, after all, that you couldn't let him in — or at least felt like it, many times? 

Then, you realized.

"I'm scared that… That you will leave me too," you began, "I'm terrified that I will have opened myself up, all vulnerable and shit, and then for some reason, I'm left alone again. That's a recurring theme in my life."

"My love, in case that ever happens, keeping me at arms length won’t make it hurt any less."

You chuckled bitterly.

"Funny you should say that. I said the same thing earlier today."

Hiromi edged himself closer softly under the covers, approaching you gently.

"It takes one to know one, right?" he offered, in a kind and loving voice.

"I guess it does," you answered with a minute smile on your face.

"So, will you let me in now?" he inquired, holding your gaze. "Please."

You knew he'd surely be aware of at least the gist of the story, due to the evidence inside the envelope he never got to open before you confessed to your brother's "murder".

Still, it was different. He had to hear you say it, tell him the whole story.

So, you inhaled deeply, ready to dive in the murky lake of your past, before proceeding.

"My brother. He was…" considering for a moment, there was no word that could really convey it. Not entirely. You settled for "everything."

A sigh.

"He was… The sun to my moon. My brother was the laughter, the joy, the silly jokes, the shoes thrown around the house, the noise, the annoyance, the smell of curry in the kitchen, the helping hand, the coming home to, no matter how dire things got."

Silence.

"And then, in one night, there was… none of him anymore. Nothing, just his cold dead body laying on the ground."

A moment that felt like ten.

"I… We were twins, and a part of me, I guess… just died with him. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. So here I am, still living with this hole inside me, where some piece used to be. His piece."

Hiromi stayed quiet for a second, pulling your knuckles kindly against his lips.

"My sun is gone, and I'm drifting, untethered. I…" You took a heavy huff of air inside your lungs. Yet, you were still breathless, the ache weighing on your thorax like a hydraulic press.

"This grief is like a tar pit, and no matter what I do, this faceless monster just keeps sucking me under." 

Your last words dropped to the drum of a eulogy, the one you never got to do.

His palm descended lightly on your cheek as the night breeze gently brushed over the window. The room was dark, dimly lit by moonlight and streetlamps bleeding through the curtain, but it became remarkably quiet. Silent.

Cotton filled ears while the world stopped moving for a second, waiting under a muted heartbeat.

One. Two. Three. Four beats.

His gaze softened — rather than darkened — as his lips approached, all pacify, and yearning, and empathy, and commiseration. Upon contact, your eyes fluttered into a deeper dimness, letting your mind drift around, away and back again, as he began his first attempt to tether you.

You may have lost your sun, but you wouldn't keep drifting away, not anymore.

He wouldn't let that happen.

My love…

Yes?

Eyes on me.

One. Two. Three. Four beats.

Okay.

Dexterous hands pulled you back to Earth, drawing you deeper into his orbit when they fit themselves securely and unfaltering against your waist.

Warm digits kneaded over the celestial wanderer drowned in the tar pit of painful remembrance.

Your senses thickened, your pupils grew wider, and your touch found the nape of his neck, seeking the halo of his comfort.

He was always so comfortable.

Just like coming home to.

He felt at home in you, too.

Another kiss. Gentler. Kinder.

The dark against your fluttered-shut eyelids didn't steal you away from him again, though. He had placed himself firmly around you, with an inevitable gravitational pull, all understanding, warm and welcoming, with the soft press of his entire body against yours.

Your senses heightened — you smelled him, touched him, heard him, felt him. The rhythm of his breath, now softly hitched. His chest, up and down, pulsing with longing. His skin, silvery glow under the moonlight. 

Hiromi smelled…

Well, he smelled like Hiromi.

The best smell there was.

Earthly bound, finally.

His mouth, teeth, lips, all made their way to slit themselves against the edge of your jaw.

May I?

Please.

One, two, three, four beats.

A sharp exhale leaves your lips as his teeth sink against the softness of your chin, crawling up to your mouth, hot breaths mixing with one another, two stardust clouds melting together.

He bit your bottom lip and let it go, then brushed his own mouth against yours. So feathery. So delicate.

Another kiss.

You lock against each other with little to no exploration — you've walked these paths before. You do so with the soft embrace of familiarity. The velvety reassurance of known lovers.

All to the gravitational beat that surrounded you both.

You grasped each other's hands against your clothes, and gentle as could be, the fabric slowly unraveled itself from your bodies, sliding their delicate way down the floor, forgotten.

Hiromi began nosing his way down your skin, but your hands cupped his jaw, pulling him back.

A pause.

Four heartbeats.

Eyes on me, remember?

A huff, almost a laugh, and the kindest peck.

Okay, my love.

His hand made its way under the duvet, all electric, and liquid, and cold, and hot, pressing the air out of your lungs. He was happy to inhale you in, open-mouthed and muddy, as you hitched and whimpered to his rhythm.

You were quick to fall apart, undoing to him, arching your entire body. Almost losing yourself.

But he pulled you back, the other hand resting over your shoulder blades, remembering you.

Eyes on me.

As you tried descending yourself, he held you back. 

This time, it would be all about you.

Gently pulling you under, his thumbs brushed against your shoulders with tenderness. His eyes flickered with trepidation and affection, as your foreheads pressed to one another. Hiromi pushed and sunk slowly into you, hooked nose snuggled beside yours.

To say he was making love to you wouldn’t be wrong, but paled in comparison to this.

He was loving you tenderly, honestly, just so you could take some of that love he poured into you and give it to yourself, filling the gaping hole left behind by an abrupt absence. The forever and always empty seat in the front row of your life.

He pleaded internally, please, may this be enough.

He was loving you so wholeheartedly, giving you all the warmth you offered to most people but yourself, that you could’ve wept — you probably did, the dampening on his cheek brushing against yours made that evident.

"Touch me." Love me.

"Yes." I do. I will.

Hiromi tried, kind and gentle, loving this grief into vanishing, willing it into non-existence. 

My love. My whole, entire love.

But he couldn't, it was engraved in black all over your flesh, your bones, and your soul.

Each kiss while he wrapped his arms around you, tucking you underneath him, was an attempt at chipping away on your armor of pain and loss.

As he rocked your hips gently, he imprinted on your skin every inch of affection you needed to soothe yourself, but you were finding it difficult to pick up these pieces and ensemble the puzzle.

You found it hard to let all your guilt go, after all. It was already an old companion of sorts.

Drinking your voice in as you tipped over the fall, he thought for a moment, could I steal her pain away?

He'd do it in a single heartbeat if he could, if only to repay you for saving him after he had gone past the point of no return.

Some days after that, coming back to this moment, you would finally understand other people's shortcomings from a deeply personal and subjective perspective.

It was hard, after all, being forgiven without forgiving yourself.

Tag list (that I keep forgetting, sorry): @yammy-yammy-yama @g-kleran @otomesass

Reblog divider by @benkeibear

[isabel3710]

I've dived headfirst back into my old Trolls hyper fixation with the release of the third movie. So I decided to write a little something for the idea of Branch being adopted by the Country Trolls.

I was inspired by some fan art by crunchy_coookies_ on insta and @rocksibblingsau's AU and a post they've made on this idea.

I would love to turn this into a full fledged fic one day but I'm already working on another trolls fanfic plus I got some (very loose) plans for another for when I'm done. But if I every have the time to write more I'll be sure to let you all know!

-----------

A little gray trolling sat on the edge of a dusty road, a worn looking bag sitting beside him. Branch held his ankle with both hands, it throbbed with pain and he was struggling not to cry. 

A few weeks ago Branch had decided to leave his tribe once and for all, he was tired of being bounced around from foster home to foster home. Full of people who either hated him or tried to turn him into something he wasn’t. So he packed a bag full of his prized possessions and any supplies he might need and snuck out in the middle of the night. 

At first things were great! And then he left the forest and made it to this desert of a wasteland, Branch did okay at first. He was careful to ration his food and slept with a knife in his hand.

Then today Branch had gotten his foot caught in some kind of hole and now his ankle really hurt. He had tried to stand up and power through but couldn’t without pain getting to an overwhelming degree.

He sniffed and whipped at his eyes, Branch didn’t know what he was going to do. He was stuck here with a hurt leg and he had run out of food last night. 

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by some strange clip-clop sound. Branch reached into his bag and pulled out his little knife. He was alone out here and who knew how many things out in this strange land liked to eat trolls. 

Dust had suddenly risen up into the air and got into Branch’s eyes, he tried to blink it away as the strange sound got closer and closer. When his vision had cleared he saw the figure that matched the clopping sound.

And….

It was a troll?

The troll looked like one he had never seen before, she had orange skin and red hair which did remind him of the trolls back home. But that was where the similarities ended, for she had four legs with hooves and a fluffy looking teal tail. Her clothes weren't neon or pastel colored or covered in glitter, but fairly plain looking; with a few dirt stains and patches.

The woman seemed to notice him too for she started to walk over to him, the clopping sound following her. “Hey sugar” she said, her voice sounded strange. Nothing like Branch had ever heard before. “Why’re you out here all alone?”

Branch sniffled and tried to scoot away on his bottom, dragging his injured leg along the ground. The hand holding his knife shook a bit. 

“Hey, hey” the woman said, her voice gentle. “I’m not going ta’ hurt you.” She knelt in front of him “what happened ta’ your leg?”

Something about this woman felt calming, Branch hadn’t met anyone who made him feel this way since his Grandma died. “I tripped,” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “It hurts really bad.”

“I’m sure it does” the woman said “mind if I take a look?”

Branch hesitated before nodding, the woman carefully took his ankle in her hands. He winced a bit in pain but stayed still. The woman tutted softly “looks like you sprained it honey.” 

“Oh…”

She pulled out a piece of dark green cloth and tied it around his ankle. “We'll have to put some ice on it.”

“I don’t have any ice,” Branch said.

“Not to worry,” she smiled at him, “town’s not too far from here.” 

There was a town out here… “how?” He asked, “it hurts to walk.”

“Climb on my back” she said “and I’ll carry ya.” 

“Won’t that hurt you?”

She chuckled “you’re sweet, sugar, but not to worry. I’ll be fine.” The women helped Branch sit on her back before slowly standing “hold on darlin’.” 

Branch held his bag in one hand and to the women’s shirt with the other. And she began to walk, the clopping sound following them. It was then Branch realized he had no idea what this lady’s name was.

“Ms” he said “I’m sorry but… What’s your name?”

She chuckled “no need to apologize hon. I’m Ms Delta Dawn. What’s your name?”

“Branch.” He said “my name is Branch."

[katatonicimpression]

It's the middle of the afternoon on New Year's Eve and I have fuck all to do so let's watch the Sam episode of What If?

DISCLAIMER: This is the first, and so far only, full episode of this show that I have ever watched. It did not inspire me to watch more. So, that's my bias I guess.

Background

There was some controversy about all of this. Sam appeared briefly in the zombies episode in the first season of this show. He's already a zombie and is quickly killed (re-killed?) by bucky, who makes a quip about it.

The line feels kinda off, like they're trying to recreate the banter between the characters in the live action (finding each other annoying etc) but it falls flat. There's no love there. In civil war (which takes place before the canon divergence in the show), their banter still has a level of camaraderie to it. They're riffing off each other, and fighting together and saving each other. It's weird to have bucky quip at the prospect of sam's death in a scene that takes place after those scenes.

It feels like reading one of the thousands of "incorrect quotes" posts on this app that write Bucky being horrible to Sam for no reason. It's the exact same emotional experience. Put a pin in that.

There was another controversy related to this, which is that in the same episode, Sharon also dies. Allegedly, one of the main writers (matthew chauncey) said that they should give her a particularly violent death because "no one likes her... he belongs with peggy". This is an open expression of violent misogyny so yeah that's fun. What a piece of shit... allegedly.

Sam does not appear in any other episode of what if s1. When s2 came out, his absence felt conspicuous, and many people commented on it. In particular, there's an episode of s2 that is vaguely medieval/robin-hood vibes, and Sam is noticeably absent from Steve's band of merry men. Steve's best friend, closest partner of over 50 years of comics isn't there. The falconry themed superhero is not in the medieval episode. People rightfully called bs.

The show felt similar to reading posts and fics in the fandom, and the way that people will minimise Sam's existence in Canon. Put a pin in that.

One person involved in making it (I think a writer but I can't remember and I searched for like ten minutes it's NYE gimme a break) responded publically to these complaints. They cited a supposed uncertainty over sam's future in the mcu (specifically whether he was cap or falcon) as a reason for not including him.

This was very funny, because 1) There was no ambiguity over whether Sam would be cap - it was a dead cert since Endgame what are you on? and 2) no one would've been mad if Sam had appeared as Falcon.

This response had the same vibes as when random fans say weird and ignorant things in Sam's tag and, when confronted, will offer weird excuses that don't make any sense. Pin it.

The other bit of context here is the (admittedly heavy) discussion of how What If launched Captain Carter, a decision that had to have been made around the same time that they decided to do samcap. I've talked before about this; it's complicated and the discourse is annoying. But ultimately, it comes across very badly for the mcu that they created a white female british captain america (not captain britain from Excalibur, but specifically a captain america character) specifically to launch near simultaneously with a Black captain america. It looks bad and I don't like it.

Anyway, so after this person who's name i can't find put their foot in their mouth, Marvel released a few stills from s3, revealing that Sam would be in one episode. People were happy to see him, and (aside from the VERY VALID CRITIQUE that WhatIf!Sam doesn't have the eyelashes he so clearly ought to) people were mostly placated.

The Episode

I love mark ruffalo but his voice performance in the opening scene is not it. Also the narration is mixed a lot louder than the dialogue... which is a jarringly amateur mistake. Ok whatever i'm gonna try to keep my salty complaining sam-focused

So, the show opens with a version of the opening samsteve meetcute from CATWS. But this time, without a mutual exchange of vulnerability. This time Sam is just offering Bruce comfort.

Then he literally gives him therapy.

Then he takes him to Louisiana to the boat, a redo of the sambucky scenes in tfatws. I'm not the first person to point this out, but there's a big difference here. Bucky came to louisiana uninvited with a (technically unwanted, but still very impressive) gift for Sam and then spent the day working on the boat as a gesture of friendship. He was performing acts of service (or however you express it) because he wanted to preserve and nurture this relationship. He knew he'd treated Sam badly and wanted to make it up to him.

Then, Sam invited him to stay the night (or, rather, accepts bucky's self-invitation to sleep in his house), because he's nice and welcoming and generous yes sure. But also because he likes Bucky back, despite everything. They both want to be friends and partners.

That's not happening here. It's just Sam offering Bruce his home because he is apparently motivated by a desire to help random white men he meets.

It reminds me of the countless fics and hcs that write Sam exclusively as a caretaker and therapist for bucky or other white characters. It reminds me of the takes that rewrite canon to make him be the one to pursue bucky with a desire to help and nurture him - a thing that has never happened in canon. Urgh. Pin that thought up with the others.

Oh and of course, we can't have a story about samcap without paying tribute to our holy special boy steve for a bit. Whatever it was just a few overly long shots.. still annoyed me though. Wow I really am a hater.

Oh and Bruce is the one with the arc? He's the one the episode is about? But his change of heart happens entirely off screen and with no implicit turning point? Lol. Lmao even.

And "friends who accept us for who we really are." I want to take this entire writers room aside because no. You can't end with a thesis statement that wasn't the theme of the story. Go back to school.

Am I Nothing but Negativity?

It was nice to see sarah again! Shame all she got to do was scream then get violently shoved to the floor.

Ok but in general, once the episode gets started in earnest, it's fine.

I did genuinely like seeing Sam again. I like him in the lead, even if the episode was about Bruce, Sam was still the main character and that was fun to see.

Mackie's voice performance is strong.

I enjoyed the 0.0003 seconds of sambucky. I liked seeing Sam and Monica together.

"The man wants to have tea with Lenin." This line is so bad it's good again. Yeah he probably would. And he'd be fine. Vlad would love the guy, everyone does.

I like the visual of Sam facing down a giant kaiju and just chatting to it. That's very sam coded. That and Sam with the shot of the monsters walking past him and him standing strong.

What is the Point of this Show?

There's nothing spectacular in this episode. The dialogue is astoundingly predictable, the jokes fail to be funny.

At times, the animation style (much like TDP which recently finished) feels like it's holding them back. A lot of the quieter, less actiony, shots are ugly frames with people walking less naturally than sims do. And they do have some more expressive stuff in the busier scenes, so it's not artistically empty, but it's not doing a lot for me either.

Maybe it's an interesting technique for those who know more about these things, but honestly regular 2d animation would've been (i assume) cheaper and potentially better. Then again, if it wasn't visually distinctive, what else would it have going for it?

Conceptually, a mcu what if show is an amazing idea, but in practice IN MY VERY BIASED OPINION, it's done very little with that potential. The comics offer such a rich trough of ideas that could be spun into very entertaining short episodes with versions of the characters that would otherwise not be able to encounter those story beats. Hell, Sam in particular has an entire massive part of his character cut from the mcu (his powers) that they could explore... and that would be really well suited to animation!

But they've stuck to the comparatively shallow mcu lore for most of it.

I've seen people express disappointment that it's ending after only 3 short seasons and I see why. This is obviously the sort of thing that you could do so much more with. But I also feel that the writing is uninspired and betrays a real lack of interest in the worlds of most of these characters.

I Hate its Vibes

So let's take a look at those pins, shall we?

We have:

Ignoring Sam most of the time

Mischaracterising his relationship with Bucky

Writing him as a caregiver, a nurturing therapist only

A lack of an internal world and motivations beyond his desire to help others

Ignorance over his character's history including his powers and the depth and longevity of his relationship with steve

Nonsensical excuses when faced with criticism, unintentionally displaying even more ignorance and incuriosity over the character

I mentioned that writers comment about sharon earlier for a reason. The vibes are not good. They are rancid. They are reminding me of every dumb post I've ever read on this site. Every weird jab at the character for stupid, racist reasons. Every fic with the "magical negro" trope. Every moron i can think of tbh.

Yeah, so maybe I'm not being fair to this show. The episode was uninspired, but not bad. I liked seeing sam do things. If people gif him looking cool in it, I'll reblog it I guess. But I'm not gonna watch the rest of the show, and I won't mourn the fact that it's ending.

I guess my conclusion is that it's very funny that Marvel placated disgruntled sam fans with a still from this episode, and then when it finally comes out, it's everything we've ever complained about.