#dancing with the stars finale winner

[dailyminingnews24]

Dancing With The Stars Season 33 Finale Announced Its Winner, And I Have A Theory About Why My Favorites Fell Short

[updateexplore]

Dancing with the Stars Crowns a New Winner! Find Out Who Took Home the Season 33 Mirrorball Trophy

Full Story

[cumikering]

Underground fighter Ghost x reader

3.3k | smut, light bondage The fighter in the balaclava caught you wet handed

Who knew the top floor of the most expensive hotel in the city was an underground fighting ring.

You blinked when your cousin told you, stars in her eyes as she patted her boyfriend’s thick bicep. You’d heard all about it, about people getting absolutely beaten, injured beyond repair in the aftermath. Sure, he made quite the money from fighting, but you didn’t understand why he’d risk his life like that.

It took you a few months to realise that after the nights he came home battered, your cousin would flinch away from you. Shoulders up to her ears, she’d pull down her sleeves that had already gone past her palms, avoiding your eyes.

It was then you wished the bastard would quit his bouncer job and fought full time. The more he fought, the sooner he simply… wouldn’t return home. So when she invited you to his fight that night, you weren’t going to pass up on the small chance of watching him get beaten to a pulp.

While he won his first fight, he didn’t last long at all in the second against an opponent bigger than him. When he fell backwards with a thud from a particularly hard blow, next to you, your cousin gasped. You couldn’t say you sympathised. Motherfucker had it coming.

The crowd cheered as the referee started his count above the coughing meat. When his limp body was hauled off, your cousin broke out of her trance and rushed to the door of the arena with a sob. Blood poured out of his nose, smeared as his feet dragged through it on the white floor of the ring.

You figured she was off tending to him and would soon leave the hotel even when he didn’t warrant the attention. No matter. You remained in place among the crowd. You’d dressed up, and his departure was no reason to end the night early. Also, you probably wouldn’t experience anything like this again.

Waiters in crisp shirts distributed another wave of champagne and dainty finger food in wait of the next and final fight. Did it make you a sadist, that seeing the bastard get thumped brought you unbridled joy and made the blood pump in your veins? That satisfaction bubbled in you when his mouthpiece flew out of him after the finishing blow, knowing he deserved it?

No wonder people paid bank to watch these fights.

You didn’t have a chance to mull your feelings over, because soon, the crowd erupted. The reigning champion, Ghost, entered the ring in his black balaclava to face the winner of the previous round.

He shrugged off his black satin robe, revealing his threatening physique along with his sleeve tattoo and the black boxing shorts that hung low on his hips. A perfect contrast to his milky skin. He didn’t have defined abs, but even under the deceivingly soft layer, he was solid.

He rolled his shoulders, his back, the right half of it covered in burn scars, rippled with the movement. If you thought the last winner was big, well, he didn’t look like he stood much a chance against Ghost.

You’d witnessed the damage he could do, but it was anybody’s guess what Ghost was capable of. It was sick, like watching someone on his last mission, but he wouldn’t have been here if he didn’t have it in him. You found yourself rooting for the underdog.

The round started. The underdog put up the fight of his life, movements frantic while Ghost remained calm and calculating. Between jabs, his arms remained in front of his face, muscles bunching and rippling at his opponent’s impact.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the guilt that simmered from watching the act before you that lit your body on fire. Ghost’s feet were nimble as he dodged the attacks, like he was amusing his challenger, taking his time playing with his food.

The clock ticked away above the arena. The dance went on for the entire around without any meaningful attacks landing when you knew full well Ghost could have ended it. If he wanted to.

Thinking of the sheer power he reserved in his body sent chills down your spine. He could lift you with no problems at all, and more, you decided.

Your gaze followed him as the fighters returned to their corners for their two minute break. He scanned the audience, and when his hard eyes met yours, your heart skipped a beat. The eye contact lingered a moment too long before you could look away.

The next round started. The underdog seemed to have shaken off his panic, more precise now in his attacks, some of which were successful. Ghost, though, continued to dodge and block instead of going on the offense even well into the third round.

Was this a courtship display? Males parading their superiority over others, a promise of security. Whatever it was, it was working. You couldn’t tear your gaze off him.

The announcer proclaimed the last 30 seconds of the round. It was then Ghost landed a big punch, sending his unsuspecting opponent staggering. It was his chance for another, and another, until he straddled the poor lad, barely able to block the blows anymore. Ghost had this look in his eyes, completely locked in, like he only saw one thing.

It was clear who was going to come up on top. You snapped out of it and made your way to the bathroom. You couldn’t hold it anymore. You took the furthest stall, your heels clicked along the sparkling marble floor, past the velvet love seat by the entrance.

You didn’t want to. You cursed yourself as the thought crossed your mind. It was vile. Deranged. But as you sat down and closed your eyes to regulate your breathing, your thighs rubbed together against your will. You shouldn’t feel this way looking at a stranger demonstrating his power, even one with a massive and gorgeous body.

The crowd outside boomed, and it was now or never. You had to do something before people started piling in.

Just a little touch.

You hiked your skirt up, palming your soaked panties. You pressed on your mound, your head tipping back at the pleasure. You let out a shaky exhale, unable to stop yourself from pushing the fabric aside and circling your clit with a finger. Your breath hitched, hips jerking up towards your own touch.

It was then the door busted open. You gasped, heart hammering in your chest. The click of the lock turning echoed in the bathroom.

“Come out, little bird,” a man said, his voice a deep rumble.

Your thighs shut as footsteps approached, coming closer and closer before they stopped right outside your stall.

Chills ran down your spine. You knew no one else here. Did you unknowingly send a signal, some sort of secret code? Private societies often had covert symbols to identify each other.

“I know you’re in there. I don’t bite,” he said, and added in a low voice. “Unless you want me to.”

Heat rose up your neck. You stumbled to your feet and smoothed your dress down. It was humiliating, getting caught wet handed. You inhaled before cracking the door open, eyes on the floor, meaning to squeeze past and avoid the situation with the unknown man.

But nothing prepared you for what awaited. Ghost towered over you, his broad chest still slick with sweat, still in his shorts that hung even lower now as it strained against his growing situation. The light material didn’t leave much to the imagination. His gloves were off, but his hand wraps remained.

You froze, transfixed on the way he palmed himself.

He took a step back. “Door’s right there. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

You let another beat pass. You could have sworn you saw a smirk under that mask.

“Get on your knees.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.

“Is this what you wanted?” he rasped, pushing the waistband of his shorts and underwear down, freeing his hardening cock in your face. “Don’t be shy now, you were just having fun all on your own. Don’t let me stop you.”

Tentatively, you took his cock, warm and heavy in your hand. You gripped him, pumping lightly as you planted little kissed on his tip. He hardened more as you kissed down the side of his length, pressing your nose against the trimmed hair on the base of his pulsing cock. His musk sent a jolt straight down to your core.

You pressed your other hand flat against his muscular thigh, your tongue swiped over his tip, tonguing him. He let out a deep sigh. You looked up to meet his brown eyes boring down on you.

You opened your mouth, sliding him along your hot, wet tongue, still holding his gaze. His cock twitched in your mouth as he let out a low groan. You could never fit the entirety of him in your mouth, but you were going to try anyway. Your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed as you slid down his thick shaft. His breathing grew laboured as his hips bucked. You continued to pump him, your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, grazing the ridge of his tip every time you slid up.

Ghost’s tangled his hands in your hair as his hips jerked, but he held himself back with a stuttered breath. Thinking of him fucking your face made you whimper.

You reached down to your leaking hole, pushing your panties aside. You circled your clit, impossibly slick from the torture you endured. The contact made you hum in pleasure, making his grip tighten on your hair as he hissed.

You couldn’t help but hump your own fingers. Lost in the pleasure, your pace faltered on his cock as you moaned around him.

You let out a weak whimper when he pulled out. Your eyes fluttered open, and he pulled you up to your feet to wipe the corners of your mouth with his thumb. He undressed himself before sweeping you up in a princess carry. You let out a squeal as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He set you down in front of the loveseat, where he plopped himself down. He leaned back, muscled thighs spread as he stroked his soaking wet cock languidly. Like a predator waiting for his unwitting prey to fall into his trap.

“You want to come on my cock?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, climbing over him.

Ghost helped you out of your dress and bra, eyes lingering a moment on your tits.

“The heels stay on,” he said, running his paws down your sides before settling on your hips, his hand wraps rough on your skin. “Set the pace, luv.”

A hand on his hard shoulder, you pulled your panties aside and lined him up with your entrance before lowering yourself. He tipped his head back, intense eyes trained on your face made you bite your lip. You were so painfully ready for him, your dripping hole didn’t put up much a fight despite his size. The initial breach made you gasp, your eyes shut close. You sank further down, bouncing a little each time, coating his already slick cock with your juices.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, aren’t you, doll?”

You nodded, still dizzy with the sensation of being stretched wide around him.

“Naughty girl, what got you so excited?”

The sentence that started with amusement ended with a shudder as you swallowed him down to his base. You panted, your pebbled clit grinding against his soft curls as your eyes flew open.

Up close, the faint dusting of freckles on his collarbones were visible. You ran your fingers along them as you took your time sliding up and down his throbbing cock, getting used to him. Your hands trailed to his bulging biceps, trying to not make it obvious you were feeling him up.

He peeled his mask up, bunching it over his nose. “Call me Simon,” he growled, kneading your ass.

On his cheek was a fading scar that disappeared up into his mask, while his jaw was lined with blonde, trimmed stubble.

“S- Simon.” You met his piercing brown eyes as your fingers traced his soft lower lip.

“Good girl.” He grasped your jaw and leaned in, speaking against your lips as they parted. “Scream it when you come on this cock.”

You picked up your pace, exposing your neck to him as you moaned. Simon planted open mouthed kissed up your neck before licking up your throat. He inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Tell me your name,” he said, his breath hot against your neck.

You might be on him, but you’d be a fool to think you had the authority here.

You babbled your name and he moved his hand to wrap around the base of your neck. He leaned in, repeating it, tasting it on his tongue before capturing your lips.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle. He took his time with your lower hip, giving it small bites before swiping his tongue across it. You were the first to part your lips, moaning into his mouth. It only spurred him on, his tongue meeting yours as he deepened the kiss.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You were made for me, weren’t you?” He panted, his thumb caressed your hip. “Come on my cock, doll.”

Simon gathered your hands behind your back and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you flush against his firm body. His thighs parted further before he thrusted up, the move knocking the breath out of you.

You threw your head back, the feeling of him ramming your soaking pussy made you heady. His balls, now drenched in your juices, squelched against your ass at every thrust. The familiar heat pooled in your belly as the mewls continued to pour out of you. He was hitting all the right spots.

“Simon- you’re going to make me come,” you said breathlessly.

He bit and sucked on your shoulder, hard enough for it to sting, and you knew it was going to leave a mark. It was enough to push you over the edge.

“Si- I’m coming, ah- Simon!”

You unravelled with a moan that you stifled by biting down on your lip. He let you ride your high, continuing his leisurely thrusts as the tension in your body subsided. You slumped over him as you caught your breath.

“Did a good job for me,” he muttered. He angled you by the chin, kissing your neck for a moment longer before cradling the back of your head.

In a swift motion, he laid you down on the loveseat. You watched as he pushed your shaky legs open, making room for himself to climb over you. His kisses trailed from your collarbones down your sternum. Still buzzing from your orgasm, your back arched as his tongue grazed over your nipple, his hand massaging your other breast.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbled between kisses as he made his way to your hips.

Simon gave them a few gentle sucks before his mouth descended to your pussy. He planted kisses on your mound, inhaling your scent. He licked a strip up your slit before laving at your entrance, teasing, coating his tongue in your juices. When he pursed his lips over your clit, it sent a zap up your spine making your thighs close over his head.

“Simon-“

“Let me eat,” he grumbled, easily holding your legs down for him to feast.

His tongue continued to dance on your clit, still achingly sensitive, but your hips couldn’t help but buck up into him as you continued to leak. He let out a soft laugh and you let out a broken moan from the vibration.

You raised your head, eyes meeting his as he watched you through his pretty, blond lashes. His deep brown eyes glinted this time, like he was having too much fun tormenting you.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he said, planting one last kiss on your clit.

He positioned himself between your thighs, a knee on the couch and a foot on the floor. He slid himself along your slit, painfully slow, but the friction was enough to make your breath stutter.

“You still owe me another one.”

He undid his hand wrap with his teeth, using it to bind your wrist and pushed them above your head. He curled your fingers over the armrest of the loveseat. He sank down on you, his forearm flexing by your head. He brought the tip of his cock to your opening, nudging it playfully as he glazed himself in your arousal.

“Ready, luv?” he rasped into your ear.

“Need you, Simon,” you whined, lifting your hips to him.

He pushed forward, letting out a low groan as he entered you. His hand moved to your hip, pinning you down to the seat. It only took him a few pumps to bottom out in you.

“Love it when you say my name,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them in another gentle kiss.

His thrusts quickened, mouth moving over to the side of your head. You held onto the armrest above you as his hot breath puffed over your ear, heavy as he groaned and panted. Each plunge coaxed a soft whine out of you, pushing you closer and closer to your release. He seemed to feel you clenching on him because he straightened up before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, making you gasp.

“Give me another one, luv,” he breathed, his half-lidded eyes trained on you. “No need to be quiet.”

He swiped up and down over your pulsing clit, the pace of his hips unrelenting. Small whimpers spilt out of you before you came undone with a moan, your body shook as your face twisted in pleasure. The pretty face he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from.

It was all he needed to chase his own high as he leaned back in, driving mercilessly into you. You thought you felt the loveseat skidding on the floor as he threaded his fingers with yours, still wet from making you come.

Simon pressed his forehead against yours as his eyes bored down on yours. He closed his mouth over yours, groaning into you.

“Come for me, Simon,” you said against his lips. “Want your come on me.”

His hips stuttered, whimpers tumbling out of his parted lips. He pulled out with a low moan, spilling on you before continuing to softly hump your belly to ride out his high.

He collapsed, squashing one side of your body under his weight. He nuzzled your neck, as his chest stopped heaving.

“You’re crushing me.”

He let out a small laugh, pushing himself off you and untying your wrists, his shoulders and neck still flushed. He took you by the hand to the sink to help you clean up and get dressed before minding himself.

You stood there facing each other wordlessly for a moment, unsure where to look. You didn’t want to be caught ogling him even when you were dying to, but your eyes cut to him when he pulled his mask off. You took his face in: his pale skin, his nose with the little bump on it, the way the cut on his cheek ran up next to his left eye.

Simon took a step towards you, pushing you against the sink and lifting you up to sit on its edge before giving you a chase kiss.

“Sorry about this,” he pressed his lips against the small bruise on your shoulder and the inside of your left wrist. “Would you come watch me again next week?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If you want me to,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let’s get dinner.” He kissed your cheek, smiling against your skin. “I’ll drive you home after.”

Neighbour Simon if he still had his family Ghost gave you a piggyback ride Ghost's online fantasies came true Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @astraluminaaa

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Dancing with the stars Steddie au 😫

Steve is one of the professional dancers on the show and is paired with frontman of Corroded Coffin, Eddie Munson, who can barely walk in a straight line when sober.

Eddie doesn’t take the gig at first bc he knows that he’s going to be the first one to be kicked out and he doesn’t want to ruin that for the dancer that he’s paired with. Chrissy, CC’s manager, ends up convincing him since it would be great pr and would help reinforce his whole “don’t knock it ‘till you try it” attitude.

The first time they meet is super awkward and Steve keeps making these little bitchy remarks that has Eddie falling head over heels for this quick-witted prep of a man— not to mention that he has a great ass.

Much to Eddie’s surprise, they make it to the finals and Eddie has gained some balance on his legs and a lot more rhythm. (His fans are raving over the fact that he doesn’t look like a baby deer when he does more than walk, plus the newfound, wiry muscles that emerged on his arms and legs were much appreciated).

When they are training for the final dance, Eddie starts to make each session longer than it has to be because he doesn’t want to stop hanging out with Steve. Over these couple of weeks, he’s fallen totally in love with Steve and everyone but Steve seems to notice.

They are waiting to go on stage when Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes and says, “I want you to know that whatever happens, I’m taking you on a date after this.”

Steve just nods and says, “thank god.”

They perform a salsa that has the crowd screaming when they get into their final pose: Steve’s leg wrapped around Eddie’s waist as Eddie dips him.

They don’t win the show, which is totally fine with the both of them. Brad Pitt won with his crowd appeal and gyrating hips.

Steve and Eddie are just happy that they met. Even with their second place status, most watchers of the show deemed them the true winners.

Then they go out on a date and fall in love and get married and adopt kids and grow old together and they stitch TikToks of them reacting to the edits that people have made.

[lholland14]

Error: Name Unknown

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: When you vs the Paige Bueckers in her own game, but don't know who she is.

Warnings: Somewhat suggestive? Also, I have no idea who most of the UCONN basketball team is SORRYYYY I JUST FOUND OUT PAIGE AND IM OBBSESSED!! Also this isn't edited so if you find anything pls tell me and I'll fix it.

---------

The annual Sport Swap, the day where all UCONN athletes show off their athletic ability by playing other UCONN teams of different sports in different games. The staff would randomly choose two teams to face off in a series of random sports determined by a spinning wheel. 

It was electrifying.  

It was your day, as someone who played soccer, this day was a chance to show off. You were a newer athlete, but that didn't mean you weren't popular, fans began noticing you after pulling of a 2 goal comeback and an assist against St. John in the last 15 minutes of the game winning 3-2. Ever since then you were highly regarded as the "Comeback Kid" of UCONN and was shortly named captain, even with that title though, Paige Bueckers was the one to watch. Winning award after award, game after game, heart after heart.

"Okay! Everyone gather around!" Your coach yelled into the clamouring locker room, "The competition is out and I think you're gonna be happy about it this year!" 

You and your teammates sprung out of the tightly packed locker room and into the meeting room with a slide show on titled "SPORTS SWAP". As soon as everyone was settled down your coach lectured you all on being good sports and how everyone is winners. 

To be honest, you had tuned out long before he had began talking. He finally garnered your attention when it was time to reveal who you were playing.

He clicked a button and he slide switch to reveal the highly anticipated words, "UCONN WOMEN'S SOCCER VS WOMEN'S BASKETBALL" 

Your teammates paled at the though of having to compete against the 6ft tall team of total hotties, you, however, didn't understand the fear. Being a younger player in a much more rigorous major you didn't get out much, in fact you never went out, or watched a lot of TV, including certain games starring a certain blonde haired girl. 

Your coach began ushering your solum team into the basketball court where the girl's basketball team was waiting to hear what sports you'd all be playing. The moment you opened the court's doors your team was welcomed with loud music, laughter and cringy dances by the basketball team. 

You smiled, but on the inside you hated it, you hated how cocky they were. You never met them, or seen or watched them, but you hated them. Their smirks and loud music in a dominant way to show that they simply didn't care. 

They knew that they would win. All you and your team was to them was dust on the pedestals. Tattered challengers  standing before gods, someone they could merely dismiss without a thought. 

Your blood boiled at this, and with a defiant look and steeled nerves you asked your teammates who the most famous one is out of the group.

"Paige Bueckers, she's the blond one with braids." Your friend replied staring heart eyes at the 6ft tall girl with piercing blue eyes. You simply rolled your eyes in response, earning a shove from the girl.

"Settle down everyone!" Geno yelled, "I'll be spinning the wheel soon to determine what sports we will be playing today." The basketball girl's screeched in response, yours remaining dead silent.

He began spinning the wheel landing on ice hockey (cue the groans), cheerleading (out of the corner of your eye you could see a younger girl joking rub shoulders with the blue blue eyed blondie you were told about earlier) and finally, basketball.

The final spin landed on basketball, you could visibly see your teammates hearts sink as the other girls erupted in screams. Geno turned to us in apology offering to do another spin, just as your teammates agreed to this you asserted a cold no.

He sighed, and told us to skate up.

~~HOCKEY~~

You had to admit, it was pretty funny to see both teams just slide across the ice in various positions (none of them correct). Both teams not even bothering to play anymore, just running out the clock in order to show off their "skill". 

By skill you meant how long one could stay standing, and that record was held by a girl named KK on the basketball team, her record? 15 seconds. Other various skills included how many players one person could take out in the least amount of time currently held by you.

It just happened so fast, one minute you were standing hunched, arms sprayed out in hopes for finding balance, but instead finding the stomach of a certain blonde haired girl and the mouth of you teammate. Desperately needing balance you accidentally swung out and clutched onto the girl, effectively knocking your teammate onto the ground. However, Bueckers wasn't so balanced herself and began skating backwards due to the sudden force your body had. With each backward step you two knocked down three other played before tripping over a random 6'3 body.

Landing softly, thanks to girl whose shoulders you were clinging onto, whose hands are on your thighs that were currently straddling her waist. As you slowly lifted up your sweaty body from hers you felt the shock that came from unconsciously grinding on her abs after her shirt rode up. The shock sent waves of red onto both yours and hers face, breathing heavily you stood back up, and stuck your hand out to help the blonde haired girl. She sheepishly grinned in response, the cocky smirk wiped from her face and onto yours.

You didn't even notice the long forgotten puck sliding slowly into your goal.

Point Basketball team.

~~CHEERLEADING~~ 

"Lets gooooo!!!" KK screamed the moment we entered the gym. As you continue walking to the middle of the gym you could feel the intensity of Paige's eyes at the back of your head. Was she really check you out? With your mind of occupied by the blue eyed beauty you failed to notice the pom poms set out by Geno, and because you're a tad dramatic ...you screamed, thinking it was a spider.

Both teams erupted in laughter as your teammates ran to help you up, heat rushing to your face due to embarrassment, not because you can still feel the heat of Paige's hands on your waist, and definitely not because the same girl was staring at you with a lopsided smile. 

"Well, I guess Y/n has volunteered her team to go first!" Geno clapped your coach's back with a grin, while the rest of your team groaned and walked over to the pom poms. After 20 minutes of practice, trying to choose a song and props your team was ready and rearing to go. 

With you donning ridiculous white sunglasses and a plastic poofy skirt, you took your place at the center of the gym. The moment the music Apple Bottom Jeans played you started dancing, only stopping when a teammate fell or was laughing too hard to continue, finally ending with the last pose, one hand on your hip and the other in the air with smug eyes and a goofy smile.

Honestly, Paige didn't know if it was hot or the most adorable thing she has ever seen. The way your curved hips swayed with the music, or how the skirt was showing off your ass perfectly. Your goofy smile and the way you were the first to help a teammate, either way, Paige Bueckers was hooked. 

Her teammates could tell too, the way she would just gravitate towards you, how she would look at you for approval when she did a move correctly, tripping over her feet the moment your eyes locked into her's. 

And thanks to your quick observational skills, point you.

Well, Point Soccer team.

~~Basketball~~

The court was buzzing with excitement, with countless students coming in just to see Paige the basketball team dominate a team no one has heard of, but with your 5'7 frame and hidden skills you were determined to win. Unbeknownst to the basketball girls, your team actually played basketball frequently, practicing teamwork, communication and trick shots. Along with UCONN had offered you both a soccer and basketball full ride scholarship, but no one knew about that. 

After both teams came out it was clear to everyone who the audience preferred, the moment Paige came out the students cheered and you were pretty sure you could here girls begging Paige to fuck them. You'd be lying if you hadn't had that exact same though ping through your head at least once today. 

With you facing off for the ball against a someone named Aaliyah, you didn't even bother jumping against her 6'3 frame, instead opting to go behind her in order to steal the ball from KK. The moment the ball was in your grasp you hurled the ball towards the basket, and a loud buzzer played, signifying the bucket you just made. The crowd was dead silent, then cheered so loudly, you fell out of surprise, falling right into Paige.. again. 

"That was insane ma," She murmured against your eye, her hot breath fanning your neck causing you to shiver involuntarily. You just bowed your head in response to the praise, heat spreading to your face and to your core.

With the crowd not settling down anytime soon, you returned to your position. Nodding to your teammates in unison. You had a game plan, you had each others backs and you were going to win. 

With multiple well timed passes, a couple of threes and some insane dunks preformed by your team, you were well ahead of the actual basketball team. 

And they were pissed.

Paige was laughing and cheering and smiling, until, she wasn't. Until she started to get annoyed how you were beating her. She was the record breaker, you weren't. She was a god at this school, you, well you were a nobody.

After you had just scored a three that Paige thought was hot, she started guarding you more closely.

"Who are you?" You breathed out behind her body, trying to block you from getting the ball.

"Paige, Paige Bueckers" She managed to gasp out, her body was totally gassed from the earlier events.

"What? Are you famous or something?" You cocked an eyebrow that you knew would only agitate her more. 

"You could say that" 

With her momentarily distracted your teammate passed the ball to you in the final seconds.

"Really?" You smirked, "because you seem," throwing the ball in a no-look half court basket, the way you saw Paige had done in a video.

Just before the buzzer could signify the end of the game you put your hand on the back of her neck pulling her close, and whispered,

"Irrelevent." 

[yummyuta]

winner takes it all | p.w ft s.e

♡ genre: smut - mdni! slight angst | word count: 2,583

♡ pairing: wonbin x f. reader (ft bf! eunseok)

♡ warnings: cheating (reader is involved in a bet) alcohol consumption, public sex, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), slight dumbification

♡ summary: in a tense and unexpected turn of events reader finds herself spending the evening with her boyfriends racing rival.

♡ authors note: im back again with another wonseok fic only this time wonbin is the mc! i've had the idea of rival racers since april, and im so happy i got around to writing it. i hope you enjoyed this one! btw i do not condone cheating whatsoever, this is purely fictional.

♡ song recommendations:

the stands were packed, and the roar of the engines was deafening as the cars lined up for the start. you stood amongst the crowd, of fangirls screeching out your boyfriends name. as the countdown began and checkered flags were raised, your heartbeat accelerated. as supportive as you were of your man, and his career it always filled you with a sense of dread that someday he would get hurt. as the sound of the gunshot went off, signaling the race to begin you spotted eunseok’s car, a brilliant red streak on the track, and your eyes followed him eagerly. but as the race unfolded, another driver caught your attention. a sleek navy blue car with silver stars decorated across the hood and sides seemed to dance through the track with an almost mesmerizing grace. this mystery driver was audacious and precise, and you couldn’t help but admire his skill.

the race was fierce, as eunseok and his rival were locked in a breathtaking duel, their cars battling for every inch of the track. the crowd was on their feet, and you found herself torn between cheering for eunseok and marveling at the other mans performance. the final lap was a heart-stopping spectacle, and in a dramatic climax, both cars crossed the finish line at the same moment.

as the dust settled, you began running down towards the track, signaling to your boyfriends team to let you in. you noticed the tension between eunseok and his opponent. the two racers exchanged words that seemed more charged than celebratory. suddenly, the mystery man approached you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of intensity and curiosity.

"you’re y/n, right?” he asked, his voice calm despite the adrenaline still pumping through him. "yes,” you replied, a bit taken aback. “how do you know me?” suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a side hug. "dont you dare speak to her wonbin" eunseok barked at the man. eunseok turned to you, a look of concern in his eyes, "lets go home okay, forget this race" he quickly spat out. you sat there in confusion, before wonbin broke your focus. "now not so fast, i want my rematch. this time, the stakes are higher. the winner gets the privilege of spending time with you", he said so casually.

your eyes widened in shock. “what? i’m not a prize to be won.” eunseok looked conflicted, on the one hand he wanted to run away with you, and not look back while on the other he felt his pride and career would be at risk if he didnt take on the deal. the clock was ticking, it was time to make a decision, besides you were his good luck charm, as long as he had you he was sure he could win and everything would go back to the way it was. you believed in him, he knew that, so he took the leap, hoping you would understand.

"baby, this is about more than just the race", he confided in you. despite your discomfort, you saw the determination in his eyes and agreed to the terms of the rematch, hoping it would resolve the tension between them. the rematch was set for the following week, and the anticipation built up. when race day arrived, the atmosphere was charged, and the race was even more intense than before, with both racers pushing their limits. in a stunning final lap, wonbin edged out eunseok by a fraction of a second. the crowd erupted in cheers as wonbin crossed the finish line first. you felt a mix of emotions - sadness for eunseok, and a growing unease about what the night with wonbin would bring.

the bleachers started the clear, as people began making their way to the after party. you sat there in disbelief until you were faced with wonbin and eunseok directly in front of you. you were about to run towards your boyfriend until wonbin held out a hand to you. "i'm going to have my fun with you tonight", he smirked. you rolled your eyes, accepting your fate, then wonbin turned to his rival, saying, "dont worry ill try to have her back in one piece." eunseok nearly lunged at his enemy, you quickly reacted, standing in between them and placing a calming hand on eunseoks' chest. "i dont like this anymore than you do," you reassured him, placing a peck on his lips, before wonbin began dragging you away.

wonbin lead you into the bustling party, his hand held on tightly to your waist as he guided you through the crowd. all eyes were on you, everyone knew you were eunseoks girlfriend so it was no suprise to you that whispers and rumors immediately began to circulate. as the night went on, wonbin introduced you to his friends and fellow racers, shotaro, and anton. wonbins groupies also were intent on following you both around like lost puppies the whole time, waiting for a moment where you left his side, giving them the opportunity to pounce.

you were hoping for that as well, but wonbin only got more physical with you. he placed his hands wherever he could, your thighs, ass, waist, hips, shoulders barely leaving you space to breathe. his hands were rough, calloused, and cold, nothing compared to your boyfriends. a few times you would spot eunseok from across the room, it was like wonbin was purposely flaunting you in front of him. the minute eunseok met your gaze, he could only shake his head and down another shot, hoping he could drown his loss of you and the race in alcohol.

while wonbin was preoccupied for a few moments talking business with his manager, you managed to sneak off to the dance floor, swaying your body to the sweet sound and sipping on your cocktail. you were enjoying your peace until you felt the presence of someone behind you. wonbin reached around you, lightly grinding into your back, whispering compliments into your ear. "you know you are by far the hottest girl i have ever seen, i dont think eunseok realizes how lucky he is." your cheeks began to flush as heat began circulating around the two of you. you blamed it on the fact that you were borderline drunk at this point and kept moving to your own rhythm, hoping his words wouldn't phase you anymore.

you ignoring him only added more fuel to wonbins fire. he lived for the chase, he was a go-getter after all on and off the track. he decided to take things to the next level, sliding one hand up your shirt, while the other found its way lightly around your neck, testing the waters to see how you would react. to both of your surprises, you leaned further into him, letting out the cutest sighs he's ever heard. you were getting worked up, you knew it was wrong to be doing this you promised eunseok you wouldn't enjoy yourself, but also he is the one who put you in this position in the first place. you turned your head around in his grasp, looking into his eyes, the purple and blue lights reflecting off his beautiful features. you didn't stop yourself when he locked his lips with yours in an eager kiss. you also didn't stop him when he began to escort you off the dance floor and outside to the parking lot. the cool air, along with the reality of what just happened, smacked you in the face as soon as you stepped out. you instinctively moved toward eunseoks' car, and wonbin followed.

you leaned against the hood of his car, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to compose yourself. this was wrong, and the guilt began to crash into you. you were lost in your thoughts until wonbin stepped in front of you, positioning himself in between your legs. "whats wrong baby, miss your boyfriend" he snarked. you stared at him with tears in your eyes, "why did you do this? couldn't you have found some other way to settle the score without ruining my relationship!" you screamed out in frustation as you balled up your fists, wanting to hit him but trying to contain your anger. he only continued to stare at you, getting more excited.

you didn't know this, but he's had his eye on you since the first day you came out to the track to support eunseok. when he looked for you in the stands, he imagined you cheering him on, he thought of you wearing his jacket, he thought of you running down, jumping into his arms and kissing him in celebration of his victories. he imagined laying you down in the backseat of his car, undressing you, as you begged him to keep going. he wanted you more than any championship title or the fame that came with it. "are you even listening to me?" you snapped annoyingly in his face.

now it was his turn to catch an attitude with you, he didnt have much time left before you went crawling back to eunseok, so he knew he needed to do something to bend you to his will before he missed his chance. he rolled his eyes, before grabbing your chin between his fingers, "baby we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, and i much prefer a challenge" he said with a sick smile before leaning in, not quite placing his lips on yours yet. he was testing you, "the choice is still yours though, just remember im not the bad guy here, eunseok is the one who didn't fight hard enough to keep you." your eyes swirled in his, he saw right through you, all your conflicting emotions, "you can't tell him okay, please, you already got what you wanted" was the last thing you thought before releasing all the tension, completing the space that was left between you. he pulled away ever so slightly, "you will be my dirty little secret" he growled before picking you up, placing you on the hood.

your legs wrapped around him as he began to unbutton your shorts. you made quick work pulling his racing jacket off his shoulders, taking if off and placing it next to you. he went for your shirt next, ripping it up and over your head, stretching his fingers to your back to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits. you leaned back, propping yourself up on your elbows, as he slid your shorts and underwear down your legs, and watched as he rid himself of his pants.

his buldge was prominent, he leaned in and you sighed, closing your eyes wanting to feel him again. you felt cold, leathery fabric being placed over your shoulders, opening your eyes as you saw he put his racing jacket on you. "that's much better," he purred in your ear. he began placing open-mouthed, tongue kisses on your breasts, collerbones, down your navel, to your inner thighs, licking and biting all the way to your glistening core. "you dont know how many times i imagined this," he muttered before locking his lips around your folds, sticking his tongue in your entrance.

his obscene slurping sounds mixed with your moans, the beat of the music from inside the party could barely be heard over the sounds you were making. he flicked his tongue in and out of you expertly, he had to be the best at everything in his life. he took the hand that was holding your hips apart, bringing it closer to you so he could play with your nub. like pressing on the gas pedal, he was firing you up with each second that went on. you threw your head back, hair sticking to your forehead, and jacket barely hanging onto your body as you arched your back, moving your hips closer to his mouth practically suffocating him. wonbin was bringing you closer to the finish line, and before you knew it, your orgasm smashed into you.

juices splattering all over his chin, as he pulled away, licking his lips, eyes blown out in lust and the moonlight sparkling on his face. "you taste even sweeter than i ever could have thought." your face was red, you were exposed and embarrassed, but you wanted more, "please, wonbin..." you had to be out of your mind, but you wanted to make the most of your mistake before it was over. "please what baby, use your words", he hissed back, "do you want my cock, you want to get fucked on top of your boyfriends car is that it?"

in the midst of everything, you completely forgot where you were. guilt started setting its way into your stomach once more. you wanted to curl up into a ball hiding yourself from the man in front of you. as ashamed as you were, you didn't want to think of it anymore, and your body was screaming at you, so you listened. "yes please fuck me until i forget" you begged him, "oh princess, trust me this will be a ride of a lifetime", he said before unveiling his cock, pressing it into you, his hips snapping into you. he was slightly longer and thicker than eunseok. easily reaching places, it took your boyfriend a few moments to get to. you gasped, exhaling every bit of bitter air that entered your lungs. he was knocking the wind out of you with every thrust. the car shaking, the hood bending with the weight of you and the force and speed of his hips pistoling in and out of your core.

"if only eunseok could see this, his precious girlfriend getting railed by his arch nemisis," wonbin teased. you hated to admit this to yourself, but the thought of it kinda turned you on. maybe if eunseok saw you like this, he would realize you dont deserve to be treated like a bargaining chip. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, biting down on your lip until you nearly bled, feeling your second orgasm of the night rapidly approaching. eunseok had never made you cum this fast, he was a sweet lover, but it wasnt always enough for you. maybe what you needed this whole time was someone who knew how to push your buttons. strings of curses flew from your mouth, as your body was being thrown around the hood of the car. wonbins bicepts flexing as he held your legs strongly around his waist.

"almost there baby, cum for me, let everyone hear whose the champion, who is fucking you this good," wonbin exclaimed. you went to cover your face, becoming extremely overwhelmed by his words. wonbin wasn't having that though, he needed to see every expression, every scrunch of your nose, and curve of your lips as you were overcome with pleasure. he grabbed your wrists pinning them above your head, "come on baby, say it, let eunseok know who the real winner is". your throat raw, and mouth dry, as you clenched around the man whose name came out of your mouth in broken screams and moans. wonbin pulled out of you, "thats it baby" he groaned as he painted your tits and stomach with his release.

your chest heaved, your body tingly, and brain nearly checked out. barely catching your breath, you were startled by the sound of your phone ringing from your pocket in your shorts. wonbin got off you, and as he pulled his pants back on, grabbing your device, bringing it to his ear "y/n phone, may i ask who is calling?" wonbin answered. you sat up, inching off the hood collecting yourself when you heard "oh its you, yeah, she's right here. we are by your car, she's exhausted, " wonbin exasperated into the speaker. realizing he was talking to eunseok, you quickly made yourself look as presentable as possible, hoping there were no signs of the sinful act that had just taken place. suddenly, the door slammed open, your boyfriend pacing towards you.

"times up, we are going home right now," he yelled. you turned to face wonbin for the final time that night, as he placed his index finger over his lips in a shushing motion, winking at you. when eunseok made his way over to your side, opening the passenger door for you, he took notice of your change in appearance. "why are you wearing wonbins jacket?" he said in disgust. you gulped, eyes beelining towards the ground, studdering trying to find an explanation. "didnt want her to catch a cold. besides it looks better on her anyway, you can give it back to me at the next race...when i beat you again." he confidently said as he walked over, getting in the driver seat of his own car, reving the engine and driving off into the starry night. as your boyfriend drove home, you clenched onto his rivals jacket, knees buckling as you recalled the events that had transpired, both of you sitting in silence, as the recollection of the time spent with wonbin slipped into the unknown.

[broadwaydivastournament]

Broadway Divas Tournament: FINAL

So. It's all come down to this. Were any of us truly surprised? Are any of us really prepared?

Six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald (1970) holds the record for most Tony acting awards a person has ever won. She is one of five actors to be nominated across all four respective acting categories and the only person to win every one (and the only actress out of the three who is still living...). Her stage work includes: Ragtime (1998), Porgy and Bess (2012), and Lady Day at Emmerson's Bar and Grill (2014). Internationally acclaimed concert tours, Tony host, crown jewel of the American Stage. Grammy winner, Tony winner, Emmy winner. Get this woman an Oscar, stat. This is a BROADWAY Diva tournament, and Audra Ann McDonald is BROADWAY.

Seven-time Tony nominee, two-time winner Bernadette Peters (1948) has a sixty-plus year stage career of monumental proportions. Considered the foremost Sondheim interpreter, their collaborative works include Sunday in the Park with George (1984), Into the Woods (1987), Gypsy (2003), and Follies (2011). She has a thriving concert career, and was a co-founder of the beloved Broadway Barks event each year in Shubert Alley. She has an honorary third Tony (Isabelle Stevenson Award) for her outstanding advocacy and philanthropy. This is a Broadway DIVA tournament, and I mean come on, look at her. That is the quintessential DIVA right there.

NEW PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT

"I don't know what to tell you if you're somehow on the fence here. Audra Ann McDonald is Broadway's most beloved darling, and that's a quantifiable fact. Look at her award shelf. Her voice could resurrect the dead. She is an Oscar away from EGOT status. She has overcome almost insurmountable racism on the Great White Way. She is everything to me. A triple threat of acting, singing, and dancing where not one takes a backseat and she looks and sounds amazing at all times. "

"I have been besotted by Bernadette Peters (and her bosom) for more than two decades. Her name is synonymous with Broadway. She is THE Broadway Baby. She started in showbusiness as a child and has not left in seven decades. Her voice is emblematic of a time when we let people with unique, fascinating, wildly different voices star in shows rather than have everyone bow to the BA-ification of Broadway where everyone sounds the same and no one is distinctive."

[ourserendipity]

samsara of shattered dreams: past

(aventurine x gn!reader x dr. ratio) just some heads up, this happened before the whole penacony arc in the story. No Beta read ��😎 (That's all I think lol. Anyways I'll be leaving for a while cuz I'll be busy and shiz 🥲🥲. hope y'all enjoyy✿) Part 1/3

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Memories. Like glass, they glisten the beauty reflected by the light giving its vivid colors, and yet they are oh so frail; like the fleeting flow of life, sudden yet steady at the same time.

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Looking back, you wouldn't have thought that you would see yourself in this situation; not that you already foresaw your fate in the first place. Still, there's the feeling of regret lingering at the back of your mind; one that is not directed towards you but rather to the things that you've done. If only, if only you had the power to change the course of fate maybe this wouldn't have been necessary, if only one could stop the other's heart breaking perhaps goodbyes weren't needed to be said. But alas, destiny has its own ways and so now you are trapped, here in a samsara of endless possibilities, all from the past up to the future; all that is only but a dream yet to spur along with the branches of life.

You dance, you circle around the twinkling stars swimming along azure waters that reflect the night sky, following the roots of time ever so slowly growing, a future waiting to be born, its memories captured in the garden of recollection. Spin after spin, countless lightcones spawn in the vicinity of your eyes; an attempt to draw you unto them, delving into the memories of both the future and past once more. They all glimmer in your eyes, symbolizing its high importance to those who gaze at it, but truth be told, you didn't want to look at them anymore, not when you know you'll only hurt yourself in the process. Even then, you caress them over your palms ever so gently, cherishing the moments silently; actions do speak louder than words after all.

And now you wonder, will everything be alright? Now that the stars have finally collided, and so shall your encounter with death had arrived.

"Y/n... Y/N..."

"Aventurine-"

"They're... they're gone. They really are not here anymore, huh?" He whispers, tightly holding your cold, desolate body.

Despair was imminent in the thick air that engulfs the room as he desperately tries to hold back himself from tearing on the spot. He'd hate for the two of you to see him cry and be vulnerable; after all, didn't he tell you that he doesn't bet on the losing end?

And yet here he is: lo and behold, the winner of it all, stripping him of his own tears, his own freedom to be frail and weak, all just to keep himself at bay, and yet failing so miserably.

"......."

Only silence was heard across the room, rather, it was the only answer the genius could give him. Though not fitting his character, he believes that even he could not give the response the man wanted; needed even.

"There's no time left to mourn what's already gone, we should make haste." It was the only thing he could reply. He knew he had to give him an answer somehow, else the man's insanity would escalate even further.

".....leave.."

"what?"

"leave me alone, I... I'll follow you after a while, just please let me be," he pleads achingly, as if he is almost breaking into the point of oblivion.

Utter brokenness was the only thing he heard upon Aventurine's response. And that alone already tells him that

You wished it wouldn't have been sooner, that you could stay just a little bit longer. And so you fought, no, you ran, you ran along with them in the dark in hopes of outrunning time but to no avail. In the end, you still had to go, regret trailing alongside your eyes brimming with tears.

"Hey no fair! that's my share Aventurine!"

"Not when you say please~"

"Such prudence... Will you two stop the act already?"

"Ooh so scary, Mr. Alabaster head~" you tease, obviously trying to mock him and his antics.

"Indeed. I wonder, where is that handsome bust of yours? You don't seem to wear it as much anymore~" Aventurine coos, whilst holding the bag of candies on his right hand, with you struggling on the other hand, trying to reach the said bag from him.

He scoffs upon hearing the blonde's remarks, though what he was saying is true. If he were to be honest, he doesn't see the two of you as an idiot, but he wouldn't openly admit it to both of you, not with his pride and ego of course. Sighing, he knocks the blonde's head lightly, making the guy dramatically wince in pain.

"ow, that hurts y'know?" he cries all the while you were there, stifling a laughter trying not to laugh at his obvious acting.

It was just a simple day for the three of you in the IPC and yet at that moment, everything felt light; it felt as if the three of you were simply living in your own world, rightfully so. It felt so comforting, like a dream you wish that will never end. But then...

All those years of endless banter, the fondness of even the simplest of times; both good and bad, and them, the two of which you truly had loved with all of your heart, the stars you thought you would never reach; but you did, ever so effortlessly. To think that fate had allowed for the three of you to meet is a miracle from the aeons themselves. And despite their clashing personalities, the pointless arguments they dare not speak of, the past one does not wish to return to, you made it work somehow, like fixing the broken pieces of a broken glass only to be shattered again, all because of that stupid, cruel thing called fate. But somehow, you found yourself here in the samsara, reborn from the memories that you hold, now with a new purpose; to collect and to preserve new memories once more, in hopes of retaining what's for the future to hold on to when the time comes. And now that you have regained life in a different form, perhaps you could go back to the real world, to raise a bud anew, in that beautifully miserable place. And perhaps you could meet them again, not letting go of any opportunity given to you, to build a new bridge, to finally reconnect the three of you once more, all for a better future.

"May the cosmos guide you to the path of the unknown, my beloved stars. "

to be continued......

xx/xx/xxxx

xx:xx

From: ■■■■■■■

To: ■■■■■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■■

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To Aventurine

"To my dearest gambler, blessed upon the gaze of Gaiathra. I simply bestow to you my full adoration and longing. The unknown may hold us captive in our own, but we shall be the winners who'll decide the results; and it seems like it in your side, to which I could only pray for its continuous flow. I am truly humbled by your guts and wits, my dear. But despite it all, I could feel the lingering despair each time you gamble your life away. So to you I offer this humble gift; a gift of life and new comings. Never forget, you are Kakavasha, born from the bright yellow star, blessed by abundant luck and fortune. May you walk upon this newly lit path of destiny, along with him and what's left of us. "

To Ratio

"To my favorite scholar, truly a genius amongst geniuses. I could only stare in awe upon all of the achievements you have gotten. I may not be as potent as your vast amounts of knowledge nor do I reach the same standards as you do, but please be reminded that there are things that even the smartest revolutionists simply could not have a grasp of. And even if it seems that one's passing is but a swift gust of wind in your eyes, I could tell: the moment my drifting eyes meet yours, those eyes of yours are telling otherwise. So please, be a little bit nicer to them next time. You may never know; that in the future, he will be in your saving grace, hoping that you'll spare him the sympathy that he truly needs. "

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[starrysvn]

place in me | jung wooyoung

pairing: chef!wooyoung x chef!gn reader

genre: angst, slow burn, fluff, ex2l

word count: 17k

warnings: angsty af, kinda toxic workplace, food, drinking, i know jackshit about cooking apart from hell's kitchen, masterchef and google searches, one (1) sex joke, reader is kinda dumb.

a/n: this has been in the works since march. i gotta stop procrastinating. anyhoww, i cited "m. butterfly" by david henry hwang and reworked one of my favorite quotes ever from "jane eyre" by charlotte brontë bc i luv her. hope u guys enjoy it <3

networks: @cromernet 🫶🏻

playlist: beside you by 5sos, finally // beautiful stranger by halsey, sparks fly by taylor swift, sorry by halsey, back to december by taylor swift, right where you left me by taylor swift, the winner takes it all by abba, haunted by taylor swift, amnesia by 5sos, place in me by luke hemmings

masterlist | navi

During quiet nights you worked best. It had always been that way ever since you were a student and you didn’t think things would change. Not when the kitchen was completely silent except for the slow rumbling of whatever you had on the stove and the swift swish of your chopping knife against the cutting board. You loved listening to music while cooking, but on nights like these, you preferred the muffled sounds of the city coming in from the cracked open window and the occasional humming that left your mouth. 

It was peaceful enough to remember why you loved cooking so much. Not that you ever forgot but, lately, it was hard to find joy in your job. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen kept you busy enough to render your work almost mechanical, punctuated by the quick rhythm of orders coming in. All the loud noises around you sent you into a frenzy more often than not. 

It was on nights like these - in the kitchen of your own apartment, off duty for the evening - immersed in the mellow atmosphere you created, that you wondered if it had all been worth it. The studying, the getting yelled at, Paris… If it had all brought you to this - working in a Michelin star restaurant you had only ever dreamed of setting foot in -  but could never get you anywhere past it. If this was your final dream, your last ambition, then why did it all feel so heavy? 

It was a question you could never answer. You took great pride in your work and in yourself for getting you where you were. You liked some of your fellow chefs, and the reaction your answer got out of people when they asked you where you worked. It lit a match in you, it felt like a pat on the shoulder to your younger self. But when you got home exhausted and so not ready to face it all again the next morning, doubt clung heavily to your mind. 

You turned off the burner with a sour taste in your mouth you knew only your cooking could melt away. Sat down in front of your gamjatang, you took a big breath before diving in. You had avoided the dish like the plague ever since then, but somehow tonight your hands moved for you when reaching for the ingredients. The circumstances couldn’t have been more different than when you last cooked it; you weren’t hungover, it wasn’t four in the morning, and you weren’t halfway across the world with him. 

A memory pushed and shoved to come to the forefront of your mind, one about warmth and love and understanding all washing over you in the tiny kitchenette of a Paris apartment where, with him, you tipsily laughed and slow danced to the music of your hearts beating at the same time.

It wasn’t surprising that it just didn’t taste the same. Recipe and execution-wise it was perfect, you couldn’t count the amount of times you cooked the soup. But it tasted off, somehow. And right now you didn’t have the mental capacity to analyze why. So you just ate in silence, a slight frown on your lips with every spoonful, grateful you only had to load the washing machine before going to bed, disappointed your peaceful night of cooking had been ruined. 

–

“What’s got your panties in a twist today?” 

Park Seonghwa was your favorite coworker. You two started working at Hwang’s at the same time and bonded pretty quickly. He was quiet and focused, a perfectionist when it came to his job and never really contributed to the migraine-inducing bustling crowd of chefs around you. He also would never dare to speak like this when you both were in earshot of the sous chef. You sighed. Apparently, you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and proceeded to grill your junior chef Jongho with more bite than usual. 

“Please don’t say that when Seo’s so close to us,” you flashed him a warning look which was met with a mischievous smirk. 

“We all know you’re aiming for his spot, with the scolding you just did he can only be proud,” the sous chef in your kitchen had the reputation of being even worse than head chef Lee, truly the bane of everyone’s existence. You didn’t want to be like him. 

“Oh, lord,” you shook your head, slowing down your chopping the slightest bit. You’d woken up with a headache after a fitful night of sleep, already frustrated with the world before even facing it. Missing the bus and clocking in late didn’t help either, not when you were greeted with a murderous glare from the head chef. You didn’t mean to be snappy with your junior, but things had inevitably piled up. 

“I don’t even know if I want the position anymore,” you grunted under your breath, earning a soft giggle from Seonghwa.

“Careful saying that out loud, or the vultures will try even harder to take you down,” he knew better than to bump his shoulder with yours, lest he interrupted your furious chopping and ended up being the reason you lost a finger, but did it anyway. The sweet gesture comforted you, surprisingly you didn’t feel the urge to bite his head off. 

“Let them,” you meant the words to sound a little less disheartened than they did, but all of last night’s thinking had seemingly gotten to you. Seonghwa gave you a confused look but could say little before being interrupted. 

“Executive Chef Kim needs to speak to you,” the eyes of the whole kitchen were on you as a sort of stillness descended upon everyone. Even Seonghwa beside you looked surprised, even if less than everyone else. You knew in his head he was probably cooking up some joke about you being the next tyrant sous. 

There were two ways this encounter could go: either fire you or promote you. A conviction that grew stronger when you entered the still-empty restaurant and sat at a table were not only the executive chef, but also the owner and manager, waiting for you. Why would they do this hours before opening? 

“Thank you for joining us,” manager Na said as soon as you sat down in front of them. “As you may be aware, chef Kim and chef Lee have had their eyes on you as a possible candidate to replace chef Seo once he retires.” Her piercing eyes stared deep into your soul. You nodded, almost afraid to speak, wondering why in the world you chose to work for such intimidating people. 

“I’m afraid you will not be taking that spot.” 

A low blow. Somehow, even when you were neither too hopeful nor too enthusiastic about becoming sous chef, the rejection still hurt. It still sent a jolt of disappointment and self-doubt shooting through you. Were you not doing a good job? Were you not up to their standards? 

“However,” you looked up again, your eyes now on executive chef Kim. “Mr. Hwang is opening up another restaurant.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” you mumbled, wheels slowly turning in your head. Manager Na smiled knowingly. 

“I would like to give you the opportunity to become head chef in my new restaurant,” Mr. Hwang said. “I’m told by chef Kim and chef Lee that you would fit the position better than the one of sous chef. I trust their judgment.” 

It took all you had not to let your jaw hang in front of them. Head chef? Had they lost their minds? Never had your mind taken the decision for you before you could even rationalize your thoughts. 

“Could I think about it?” 

“Time ticks fast here, you know that chef Y/L/N,” Manager Na’s intimidating eyes were on you again. “We’d like to have an answer in two days at most.” 

With a curt nod, they dismissed you. You didn’t think you had ever made a beeline for the bathroom so fast in your entire life. Surely, you couldn’t go back into the kitchen looking like your cat just died. Everybody would know something was wrong, they would know that the position as sous was still free and you had been shot down. And there was little they could do better than kicking a man when he was down. 

So you sat in the cubicle, trying to calm your shaking hands and regain composure. Act like nothing happened. Betray no emotion. Go back to dicing potatoes exactly one centimeter by one centimeter. Not a millimeter more, not one less. 

Assholes. All of them. They couldn’t have chosen a better moment to tell you this than the most hectic night of the week. And now you’d have to work through it. Through the eyes trailed on you, holding questions and spite and jealousy. Through chef Lee’s and chef Seo’s yelled reprimanding, making sure everything was just perfect for the critic coming in.

Just one more night.

Never had you held on so tightly to such meager consolation. 

–

“You look like you need a beer.” 

Seonghwa’s voice broke the silence of the back alley. After closing, you decided to stick around instead of fleeing home like you usually would. It had been a while since the last time you sat outside the back entrance of the kitchen, alone with your thoughts after hours of noise. 

“I need vodka,” you voiced, not looking up as he took a spot beside you.

“That’s stooping so low, what’s wrong?”

You knew the question would come. Somehow he had not asked anything when you entered the kitchen again with a blank face. A murmur had slithered past as you took your place and started working again. But Seonghwa had just shot you a look, resuming his work as well. 

“They want to make me head chef at Hwang’s new restaurant.” 

“But that’s great!” He was looking at you with those big, wide, excited eyes of his and a genuine smile on his lips. One would think the offer was made to him. You were almost sorry you had to wipe that happiness away. 

“I don’t know if I want that…”

“What do you mean?” He looked puzzled, but not surprised. You sighed. How did you explain this without sounding crazy? 

“I mean… I-” you grunted, hands in your hair. “When’s the last time you felt like cooking?” 

Seonghwa stared back with a slight frown in his brow, eyes bouncing around your face in an effort to understand. 

“Like, really cooking. Without walking into the kitchen and wanting to throw up, or dreading opening time and all the yelling. I know it’s how it is when you work for such big names but fuck. Everything’s too fast and I… it feels like I don’t care anymore, Hwa. They took my passion and stomped all over it.” 

“Didn’t you want to be a high end, gourmet restaurant chef?” 

You stared, mouth hanging open. Of course, you did. It was your biggest dream, your one ambition. It was excruciating that all the pressure was making you break, making you think that you weren’t cut out for this and you had wasted your time. 

“I did, I do.”

“But?” 

“But this isn’t it. This feels like a survival show, where everyone’s out for blood. I understand competitiveness, but I can hardly breathe when we start cooking. Chef Seo is a literal nightmare and I don’t think I can do it anymore in a place like this.” 

“I see…”

“You think I lost my mind,” you let your head tilt back, eyes on the starless night sky.

“Maybe you did,” Seonghwa said. “That doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” 

“I’ll be honest, I never thought I’d hear you like this,” he continued. “You hold such pride for what you do and how you do it. I think Seo might yell at you just because he’s irritated he’s got nothing on you. Half of the people hate you for how well you manage.”

“Gee, thanks,” you scoffed.

“My point is,” he bumped his shoulder with yours. “That it’s indicative of how much this place fucking sucks if they got you breaking. A Michelin kitchen, or any kitchen for that matter, shouldn’t burn out their best chefs.” 

“Jongho is so brave for junioring here,” you deflected, allowing his words to soothe your burning wounds. 

“Hey, we did that too!”

“Yeah, and look at where it got us,” you giggled, smiling for the first time tonight. Seonghwa huffed out a laugh. 

A beat of silence passed. You were glad for Seonghwa. Even though you often joked he was just your favorite coworker, you considered him a dear friend. One of your only friends for the matter. 

“What are you gonna do?” 

“I’ll quit,” you heard his surprised gasp and chuckled. “And I’ll refuse the position. I know head chef sounds better but I know them. Manager Na and Mr. Hwang will only hire straight up assholes and I’d have to deal with it, and not even as executive chef.”

“We’re not assholes!” his hand sat on his chest in mock offense, you giggled.

“We look like assholes and do our job quietly and damn near perfectly, that’s why we’re here.” 

Mumbling something along the lines of I guess so, Seonghwa accepted the heavy truth. In the quiet alley, sitting with your friend, you felt okay. The murmur of the busy city filled your heart as you quietly giggled and remembered your first days working at Hwang’s. Goodbyes were always hard on you, but not this time. You expected gut-wrenching pain and tears and the heavy burden of failure on your shoulders as you accepted your decision. But none of it manifested, not when Seonghwa had snuck one of the most expensive bottles of wine out of the kitchen and launched himself in a perfect rendition of Chef Seo’s latest meltdown. Maybe taking a step back didn’t mean failing, something you never would’ve believed mere months ago. 

-

The sound of freedom equated to the one of your blaring alarms each morning. It had been two weeks since you had quit your job, but you still refused to get a good night’s sleep. Well, except the night you told Seonghwa and you ended up drunk off your faces. 

You rolled over, turning off the annoying alarm, ready to start another day of not knowing what to do. There were few things you enjoyed doing, apart from cooking, when all you were left with was free time and silence. It was nice getting out of the house in the early spring morning to buy groceries, go for walks, and swing by your friend’s flower shop, but it got old quickly. Mostly, you didn’t like how sometimes, while cooking, memories you tried to never think of seemed to resurface on their own. 

When you finally got to the kitchen and there was nothing but eggs in the fridge – it was shopping day – you settled on an omelette for breakfast. Only, halfway through cooking, your mind wandered back there. 

When Chef Berrien asked you to make an omelette you wanted to laugh. You didn’t though, not when you saw the serious frown he was sporting. He was being serious? The absurdity of the situation made you question if dropping everything you had back at home just to fly to Paris to master your craft had been worth it. Maybe your mother was right, maybe you were crazy. 

“Omelettes are the easiest thing to spoil,” he stood resolutely in front of you all. “Only good chefs make good omelettes.” 

Oh god, your mother was right. 

“Good luck,” a smug voice sounded from beside you. 

If there was someone who could push you over the edge Chef Berrien shoved you to, it was Jung Wooyoung. In just two weeks of sharing your working station with him, you discovered that his bubbly personality clashed with your silent brooding. You preferred to work in silence and, apparently, he thrived in chaos. 

“You too,” you grumbled, getting your few ingredients ready. How in the world were you supposed to prove your worth with a fucking omelette? You closed your eyes and sighed, getting to work. 

“That definitely looks… simple,” Wooyoung mumbled as Berrien walked through the cooking stations, pulling faces at every dish. You looked down at yours - a plain, french omelette - then at his - all prettily plated and definitely cheese filled - and bit your tongue.

“He asked for an omelette, not a Michelin star worthy breakfast,” you hastily whispered, wishing he would just shut up for once.

“Aren’t we training to be Michelin star worthy chefs?” came his rebuttal, getting on your last nerve with that pretty smirk of his. 

Pretty? 

You scoffed and shook your head, straightening your back and clearing your throat as Berrien came close to your station. When the chef’s eyes landed on your omelette, a slight frown pulled his lips downwards. As he walked away, you did your best to ignore Wooyoung’s silent snicker and the burning in your cheeks. After the evaluation, you kept quiet for the rest of the day. 

It sometimes happened that you would close off to the rest of the world, and focused only on what you were thinking and the task at hand. Most often when you were cooking, which both helped and hindered your work. As much as you needed to focus on what you were doing, you also needed to listen to orders while doing it. You hoped to get better at managing it, it was why you were here, after all. Though, for now, after a full day surrounded by people, you were happy sitting alone with your back resting against the backdoor to the kitchen. 

“Is the silent treatment payback for beating you today?”

The door flew open, making you lose balance for a second, then came his question. 

“You didn’t beat me, Wooyoung, this is not a competition,” you sighed, keeping your eyes set on the wall in front of you rather than on his figure sitting down beside you. 

“Sounds like something a sore loser would say,” he bumped his shoulder with yours, no doubt with a shit-eating grin on his lips. That did it.

“Just because your omelette got a nod and mine got a frown, it doesn’t mean yours was better!” You all but exploded, finally looking at him. Indeed, he was wearing a smug grin. 

“Well, Chef Berrien would disagree,” you scoffed as he looked at you with shiny, distracting, eyes. Was it the light from the lamppost reflected in them or had the lack of sleep finally got to your brain? You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thought.

“Fuck you too, I guess,” you finally said, turning back around, earning a laugh from him. 

You didn’t want to stop and think about why his laugh pulled a snicker out of you, making you feel so light and at ease. 

“Does this mean you’ll go back to talking to me then?” He asked, sounding a little small. “You’re not mad?” 

Something pulled at your heartstrings, hearing him ask something like that. Did he really think you were mad at him? You probably looked like an asshole for the rest of the day after Berrien barely passed your omelette. 

“I’m not,” you said much faster than you anticipated. “I never was.” 

“That’s good,” he smiled, and you weren’t sure you liked the warmth that blossomed in your chest. 

You avoided thinking of your training in Paris with all your might, and he was the reason why. But it seemed that now that your whole world had turned upside down, your brain could do nothing but. Add that to the list of things you hated about unemployment. A funny smell pulled you from your thoughts, eyes focusing back on the almost burned omelette in front of you. Mumbling curses under your breath, you turned off the heat and plated it. This was why you never let your thoughts take over. 

You ate your spoiled breakfast in silence, deciding to get started with your day and your grocery shopping, mentally listing all the food you’d need. Anything, really, at this point to keep your mind occupied with something that wasn’t him.

It was still hard for you to wrap your head around what Jung Wooyoung meant to you. Or rather, you knew perfectly well and tried to avoid it like the plague. He was a closed chapter you didn’t want to revisit simply because it hurt. Because there was a point in time where he meant the whole world to you, where he was your whole world, and you decided to burn it all down only to choke on the ashes of what it used to be. 

You left wondering if he was still writing pages or considered the story closed and done as you did. Like you had to not to drown in guilt. 

While walking down the street, warm sunlight caressing your face, you asked yourself why it was all coming back to you now. A hollow of confusion had opened up in your chest, and of its own volition your heart chose to fill it with such memories. When Wooyoung came into your life, he did so by taking it by storm; randomly, upsetting all you had ever known, and maybe at the wrong time. That didn’t mean he didn’t leave a sign, a permanent one, on your heart. And now that you were crawling in confusion, he was barging in once more.

Wooyoung was late. It was teamwork evaluation day and your project partner was nowhere to be seen. Chef Berrien had sent daggers flying your way upon seeing the empty side of your workstation, not waiting a second longer to start the class. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole and also to strangle Wooyoung on sight. There must’ve been a logical reason why he still hadn’t shown up when you were supposed to finish your three-day project. If the fucker left you alone to finish cooking lièvre à la royale, you were seriously going to give him the scolding of a lifetime.

Anxiety started to claw at your stomach, twisting it in knots and tugging at them in a way that made it harder to breathe. Under the chef’s pointed gaze you could only stay as still as possible, hoping he’d prolong his very unsubtle speech about tardiness until Wooyoung got here, praying he would, and yet cursing him in your head. 

He still hadn’t shown up when he gave the class permission to start working. You sighed in frustration, walking to the fridge to retrieve the hare you’d cooked the day before with trembling hands. Back at your station, you realized that working while checking the door every three seconds would get you nowhere, and you weren’t about to fail the assignment even if half of your team was missing. 

When the meat was finally cleaned of the jellied liquid it had sat in overnight, and you were preparing to cut it into exactly eighty grams slices - not one more, not one less, Berrien's voice sounded in your head -  the door to the kitchen burst open.

In came a panting Wooyoung, his white chef jacket buttoned up a little crooked, who tried to make his way to your station unseen. It didn’t work.

“Jung,” Berrien’s voice resonated in the hot hair of the kitchen, making everyone stop working for a beat. Too bad no one had time to spare. You started slicing. “I don’t appreciate tardiness.”

“I’m very sorry, Chef-” he held his hand up next to his face, shutting up your partner. 

“You may start cooking,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding the whole time, shoulders almost sagging in relief. “But don’t think I won’t keep this in mind during evaluation.” 

The frustration you’d tried to keep at bay so far flared up once more, and your grip on the knife tightened. Wooyoung silently made his way next to you, washing his hands carefully and using the time to assess how far you’d gotten into the process. You didn’t utter a single word, fuming quietly as you focused on your task and he picked up on his. 

You couldn’t afford to lose time bickering now, and for the first time in a while, you cooked in complete silence, the air around you tense and devoid of the usual jokes he would throw around to lift your spirits. No banter, just instructions and cooking for the next five hours. 

Despite everything, Chef Berrien couldn’t hide how pleased he was with your dish, which didn’t end up at the top of the class only because of Wooyoung’s mishap. As soon as the chef dismissed you, you fled the kitchen.

“Wait!” Wooyoung’s voice called after you, who were already outside and determined to escape to your apartment to avoid cussing him out in front of your fellow chefs, who had already thrown confused glances at you the whole day. 

“Hey, hold up!” He caught you by the wrist, spinning you around. If he wanted to do this here, who were you to deny him? 

“What.” Wooyoung almost flinched at the harshness of your voice. 

“I’m sorry I was late, I really am, I just-”

“Save it,” you cut him off. “Day’s over, damage is done, and we ended up with an alright grade. I don’t want to fight.” 

It was true. For how mad you’d been, you didn’t want to make it worse. You could tell he was sorry by the way he’d cooked in silence, waltzing around you as if you were a bomb ready to go off at any minute. It had taken all your strength not to. You made to turn around and walk away, but he was determined to make you listen to what he had to say. 

“Can you come with me?” He sounded defeated despite the determination in his eyes. All you really wanted was to go home, wash up and rot in bed. You were tired, physically and mentally drained by the day. But your friend – because how could you deny that Wooyoung had become more than a simple classmate in the last month? He’d quietly snuck up on you, surprising you with his cheerful smile and awful jokes, and slowly but steadily carved his own spot into your heart, now beating to the rhythm of his screechy laughter and kind words – was pleading you with his brown, burning eyes and how could you say no? 

Sighing in defeat, you nodded, readjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder and watching as his frown turned into a soft smile. Wooyoung took your hand in his, going back into the building, and guided you up the stairs. Transfixed, you stared at your hands; his felt slightly rough from all the cooking but still soft. You ignored the warmth the simple gesture sparked in your heart and followed quietly; you could only hope he wouldn’t get the two of you expelled. 

Finally, you got to the last flight of stairs, legs burning and chest heaving. You hoped he had a good reason to be dragging you up six flights of stairs and potentially getting you in trouble for trespassing. He ushered you to the small balcony, apparently mostly used for storage, and nodded to a shaky ladder perched onto its wall, leading to the roof. You often did this at your apartment too, the one perk of living on the last floor, but suddenly your mouth went dry.

“How did you even have the time to find out about this-'' you climbed the small way up, thanking your lucky star that the building at least had a flatter roof compared to yours. But the words died in your mouth when you finally got your bearings and looked around.

Wooyoung emerged as well, now leaning against one of the chimneys. You sat down, amazed at the view all around you; as the sun set in the West, tinging the bluish sky with hues of warm orange and golden light, you spotted the Sacre Coeur sitting North and the Eiffel Tower immersed in a pink blush down South. A light breeze passed by, blowing a strand of dark hair into Wooyoung’s eyes, taking your breath away. Paris was quite the show from up there. 

“I really am sorry,” slowly, he made his way over, sitting down next to you as he cast his eyes onto the breathtaking view in front of you. “I overslept, couldn’t find my keys, then had to rush here and… I’m sorry.” 

You scoffed, not believing he almost failed the both of you because he didn’t hear his alarm in the morning. Actually, you could believe it, because it was such a Wooyoung thing to do. You couldn’t stay mad for long though, not when you turned to look at him and simply seeing his face bathing in the golden sun made your heart stutter in your chest. Not when his sorry eyes were melting like honey in the light. 

“I wanted to punch you in the face when you came in late,” overwhelmed by his gaze, you looked away. Faintly, you heard him scoff beside you. “But I was also relieved. I didn’t think Berrien would let you cook.”

“I was ready to beg on my knees,” you snickered, Wooyoung elbowed your side. “No, really, lièvre à la royale is a bitch, I wouldn’t have let you cook it alone.”

“Then why did you sleep through your alarm? I was seeing red and had a knife in my hand, do you have a death wish?” You joked, heart singing when you made him laugh. 

“Hey, I had trouble sleeping last night,” he defended himself, hands up as his laughter died down. With a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes, you finally looked back at him, studying his face. Only then you noticed the purplish circles under his eyes, just a bit darker than usual.

“Why?” You asked, trying to sound less worried than how you felt. It was Wooyoung’s turn to avoid your eyes and look out at the Parisian skyline, starting to twinkle in the fast-approaching night. 

“I- well,” he sighed as you kept looking, feeling the air around you shift. The way Wooyoung was struggling to come up with an answer had you feeling like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, buzzing with expectation, hanging onto his every word. You didn’t ponder too long on why your heart was racing or why you felt like you could barely breathe. Finally, he looked at you.

“I like you.” 

Now you truly did find it hard to breathe. 

“I like you so much I can barely focus when we cook, and it’s never happened to me before because I love cooking and I always pay close attention to what I’m doing. I also don’t want to lose a finger, you know? But now you’re around and it’s like I can’t help but look at you. You’re so bright and so passionate, and when you’re chopping vegetables you scrunch your nose a little and it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen-”

In seconds you had your lips on his, pulling him closer with a delicate hand on the back of his neck. Wooyoung froze for only a millisecond before kissing you back. His lips were so pillowy and soft, you kissed him slowly, like you had all the time in the world. Lightly, his hand traveled up to rest on yours, which had moved onto his cheek. Kissing him felt like coming home after a long day. Warm and pleasant like the flame that swallowed your heart, chasing away the menacing grip fear had on it. 

Wooyoung pulled away first if only to plant a small peck onto your lips before smiling. 

“I was speaking,” he said.

“You were rambling.” 

You both started laughing, hearts singing. 

“What I wanted to say is that you shine in your own light and I can’t help but bask in it.” 

The way he was looking at you, in ways no one ever could, could have melted you right then and there. You felt the flush rise to your cheeks, the hand that still rested on his cheek trembling lightly.

“I like you too, Jung Wooyoung,” you smiled. “More than I think I should.”

The quaint flower shop came into view, dispelling the memory, and a soft smile opened up on your lips. It didn’t look like there were any customers, so you stepped in. The colors of the pretty flowers that covered every inch of the walls always managed to put you in a better mood. You walked up to the counter, ringing the bell.

“Coming!” You heard from behind it, somewhere in the back, with a little shuffling and a loud thump. You jumped on your spot, giggling.

“You okay, Sang?” You asked, trying to peep. Your friend emerged a second later, clad in a white shirt, jeans, and his green apron, blowing a piece of his black fringe out of his eyes, a vase full of sunflowers in his hands. 

“Oh, hey, what brings you ‘round?” He smiled, setting the vase on the counter. 

“Just dropping by before going grocery shopping,” you shrugged, smiling back before you started playing softly with the leaves of the flowers near you. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m good, I should be asking how you are,” he raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, “it’s the fourth time you visit this week.” 

You rolled your eyes, used to his antics, standing to help when he nodded at you to follow him. The quietness of the shop eased your thoughts more often than not, plus, you enjoyed the company of your friend. Yeosang lived in your same apartment building and opened up his shop early in the morning, around the same time you had to leave for work. Oftentimes you shared a coffee before your obligations called. He complained about horrible customers and you complained about your horrible coworkers. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” busy with an arrangement, he nodded you to the water lilies to his right. You reached for them with an arched brow, passing them. “A restaurant is opening down the street, if you’re interested in paying rent this month.” 

You huffed a laugh, pretending to be offended. 

“I’ll have you know I save my money, thank you very much.” He stood again, having finished his composition, watching you with an amused expression. “But I appreciate it,” you conceded. Yeosang smiled now, going back behind the counter as you followed.

“You should really check it out, even if it’s just temporary. It’d do you good,” a customer walked in, interrupting your chat. You nodded, leaving him to his work, shooting him one last smile before walking out. His cheerful Have a good day followed you out of the shop and into the now busier street.

Yeosang was right, you knew that much, but you still hesitated as you left the flower shop. There was uncertainty in your steps as you dared to walk down the street, looking ahead to spot the restaurant. Maybe you could go later that day, you could start with something easy like the grocery shopping you needed to do, to ease your nerves. 

That was better, you decided, easing yourself into the day with your routine before upsetting it by facing something new. With newfound vigor, you resumed your walking, headed to your favorite greengrocer. A walk that lasted barely five steps, before you collided against another passerby. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-” 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

As apologies spilled past your lips, your eyes finally caught sight of the person you so rudely slammed into. When you did, you stopped talking, just as your lungs stopped breathing for a long second.

His dark hair looked a little longer, and his smile was just as you remembered, if not a little softer. Breathtakingly dashing like the first time you saw him, even in his worst moments. Because the last time you saw him, things weren’t pretty. You threw around words you didn’t mean only to disappear from his life. Both of you were crying, eyes red and puffy, voice broken as you spoke. You thought you’d never see him again.

To your dismay, you realized right then and there that you weren’t ready to face him yet. You never prepared for the moment it would all come back, simply because you never thought it would. 

“Thought I’d never see you again,” Wooyoung huffed, his polite smile falling in seconds.

“Yeah, me too,” you croaked, still in shock. 

The moment stretched on for what felt like minutes, and was only probably seconds, as you desperately tried to come up with something to say, something that’d make sense. But your brain came up empty-handed, because what if he hated you? He should hate you. What if he just told you to fuck off and left? Just like you did years ago. 

“So, what are you up to?” 

And yet, here he was again, taking your life by storm. There was no way he was standing there, in front of you in the middle of a busy sidewalk, asking what was of your life. You blanked, producing a sort of confused and surprised noise. He had to be joking. You watched as a little amusement flashed in his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. 

“Would you like to catch up over coffee?” 

Your eyes must’ve been wide as saucers, not a single second of this was making sense to you. 

“U-uh… Sure,” you shrugged, despite yourself. 

Was this his way of showing you he was unbothered and had moved on? His long-awaited chance to brag about where he was in life? You didn’t know him as someone who would do that, but perhaps you deserved it. Maybe this was karma. 

Awkward. It was all so painfully awkward: walking in tense silence beside him to the coffee shop down the street, trying to make small talk about the weather, stumbling over your words when ordering coffee, waiting for him to join you at the table near the exit. Just in case. 

“You’re back home?” You finally asked as he sat down in front of you, desperate to find something, anything, to talk about and fill the silence that hung menacingly over your heads. After all, he wanted to catch up. Wooyoung nodded, slowly sipping his drink.

“Oh, you’ve been traveling then,” you mumbled, playing with your coffee cup, not daring to look up at him again.

“I was, yes.” It was hard to wrap your head around what was happening. In another life, this would all have been familiar. It could have been. Sharing a cup of coffee on a Thursday morning, talking about whatever, sharing cool recipes, and planning how or when to try them out. His presence wouldn’t make you want to simultaneously vomit and run and hide. Dug your own grave, huh? 

“Only big names I imagine,” you forced a smile. He shrugged with a huff, a little bashful perhaps. It was all you needed to know you’d guessed right.

“What about you? What brings you here?” Wooyoung asked, pulling you out of your reverie. Despite the small, polite smile on his lips, his eyes were unreadable. Though, deep down, you knew the answer he wanted to hear. That you traveled all around the world and did big things - still were - and worked for big names. Achieved your dreams at the expense of his. The lump in your throat made it hard to swallow, to speak. 

“Worked at Hwang’s for a while…” you managed to say through the bitterness. Wooyoung’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, jaw hanging open.

“Really? Wow, that’s… amazing! Doesn’t it have two Michelin stars?” Some of your guilt evaporated at the surprise and excitement in his voice, a lightness that was quickly crushed by your own disappointment. 

“How’s it there?” There it was, the million-dollar question. You scoffed, bitter, looking at him, watching his face fall a little. 

“I quit.” You shrugged. 

“You? Quitting? What happened to the Y/N I knew?” Wooyoung was surprised, that much you could tell, but there was something else brewing in his brown eyes. 

“Dead, gone and buried, apparently.” 

Your words were nothing but bleak, with a little bitterness still in them. Sure, you did what was best for you and you were proud, but you couldn’t help but feel like you had let him down. And wasn’t that absolutely, wildly foolish? 

“They offered me a job as head chef in their new restaurant, but I turned that down as well,” you rushed to explain, feeling like you had to, missing his furrowed brow. 

“That’s…” 

“Crazy?” You offered, cutting him off. Wooyoung scoffed. 

“Well, yeah, but there must’ve been a good reason,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to justify your choices to me, Y/N.” 

Your breathing faltered at his words and the fragility they held. Wooyoung had muttered them so softly, you could’ve lost them in the bustling atmosphere around you, and somehow both stabbed and healed your heart’s wounds. 

A moment passed before he cleared his throat, speaking again.

“So, you’re unemployed,” you almost couldn’t fathom how quickly he got back to bubbly and upbeat. You nodded, still stunned.

“Great, me too.” Wooyoung smiled while you blinked repeatedly. Was he… happy? 

“My friend told me about this one restaurant opening down the street-”

“They’re not opening,” he said, watching as your face fell. “Not yet at least.” 

You furrowed a brow, confused, about to ask what he meant when he cut you off again.

“I still need to find a co-owner.”

For a moment, you didn’t hear the car, just outside, honking at a group of teenagers crossing the street despite the redlight. You missed the way a barista made a glass fall and shatter eliciting surprised gasps around the shop. You only saw Wooyoung in front of you, his expression between smug and daring to hope, eyes shining with a little fear. All you heard were the words that left his mouth and what they implied, along with your heart ringing in your ears.

“What do you want to do? Why did you decline the head chef position?” You blanched, head spinning, brain scrambling to form coherent words. His eyes burned with a fire in them that screamed determination, one you were used to seeing as he challenged a dish he was afraid to ruin. A fire you used to love so much and that, you found, still made your breath hitch. 

“I-I just want to make good food and not run a kitchen of overworked, stressed, miserable and spiteful people,” you settled on, not daring to look away, not even when he leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips.

“How’d you like it to open a restaurant?” 

“Let’s open our own restaurant,” you laughed at his words, turning your head to catch his enthusiastic smile and bed hair all over the place. He was so beautiful, bathing in the morning light of your room, that your heart jumped and hurt and sang all at once. 

“What?! Is this post-nut clarity?” Wooyoung laughed, pulling you with him.

“Way to ruin the moment, love,” he quieted down. “I’m serious, though,” he was looking at you with amusement dancing in his eyes, and such adoration that sometimes it was hard to fathom it was directed at you.

“Mixing feelings with work is the recipe for disaster, Jung,” you found yourself saying, giggling when he pulled you into him, his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was quiet for a while and you reveled in the warmth of the moment. Wooyoung often made you feel like anything was possible, like right now, huddled in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets despite the impending class you needed to leave for. 

“I think we’d make it,” he whispered, quite believing the words he was saying. “And if it all starts falling apart we can hire chefs to cook and be the owners. Live somewhere tropical, rebuild our relationship…” 

“That’s so sad, we wouldn’t be cooking at all!” you laughed, hiding in his chest and hearing a fake offended hey! from him. “You dream too big, Woo.”

“And you dream too small, my love.” He guided your face in front of his with gentle hands, bumping his nose with yours before kissing you until you were left breathless. When you pulled away, you finally saw the stars dancing in his eyes.

“I do have dreams,” you almost whispered, treading lightly on your own aspirations, opening up your heart for someone else to see. Someone who would understand and not call you crazy. Wooyoung nudged you, an expectant smile on his lips. “I want to travel all around the world and learn from the best of the best. Life’s a classroom, I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop.”

“Never?” he asked, not quite surprised, but more like impressed. He understood. You let out an elated giggle, almost cursing yourself for behaving like a schoolgirl. 

“Never.” unable to resist, you pecked his lips once. 

“That’s a wonderful dream, love.” 

One of his hands came up to rest on your cheek, cradling it gently, looking at you as if you were the most prized possession of his. All over, warmth wrapped you up, and rose to your cheeks that he was still grazing his thumb over, light as a feather.

“I want to open a restaurant someday, ” he whispered, so close to you, looking into your eyes and sending sparks flying in your chest. “But I think I might just follow you to the ends of the world.”

His lips crashed on yours once more, sending your heart racing more than his words had. This might’ve been the closest you’d ever felt to heaven, with Wooyoung wrapped around you, canceling any and everything else. You knew, right then and there, that the fall was going to hurt like nothing had ever before. 

Consommé was the most devilish dish you’d ever had the displeasure of cooking. And yet, its intricate cooking process demanded every last bit of your undivided attention. That was why you were sweating away in the kitchen, trying to achieve the perfect result through your rusty memory of the process, although you had no need for it. Well, except not thinking of your morning. You’d rather remember Chef Berrien’s voice as he dictated the recipe and the endless ways you could ruin it, than your encounter with Wooyoung. 

A shiver ran down your spine, tingling all the way, when his words, the ones from earlier and the ones from back then, echoed in your mind; clashing, fighting, and leaving behind scorched earth. 

You could hardly believe this was your life right now. Accepting would mean tying yourself down to this place, to Wooyoung. You let the thought simmer in your head, waiting for the familiar claustrophobia to bloom in your chest, suggesting you to run and never come back.  

It didn’t come. 

Instead, the thought of leaving pulled at your heartstrings. You liked it here. You liked your morning coffee shit-talking sessions with Yeosang, you liked meeting up with Seonghwa on his days off, you liked your greengrocers and the walk back through the park near home. You liked your apartment, you finally liked the disposition of your tools in your kitchen. You liked the thought of working with Wooyoung. 

You dropped the ladle, splashing your skin with the hot soup. You hissed in pain, clutching your hand to your chest before assessing the damage. You walked the short distance to the sink, running your hand under cold water.

Well, you thought, there goes the clarification process. 

-

You skipped breakfast with Yeosang that morning. For one, you were late despite the alarms, and, most importantly, you needed to talk yourself into actually meeting Wooyoung at the restaurant. The day before you’d left him with the promise of letting him know about the offer. You preferred not to think about how, for just a moment, you could see the determination falter in his eyes. Again. Wooyoung saved his number in your phone before letting you go. 

After taking care of your slightly burned hand, you stared at your phone for all of twenty minutes before finally crafting the perfect text saying you’d meet him at the restaurant at ten. 

And now, five minutes to ten, you were running down the street, dodging people left and right, trying to get to the closed-down restaurant. You couldn’t count the amount of sorry’s you’d thrown around when accidentally running into someone. Finally, the sign came into view, and so did Wooyoung. 

“You made it,” he sounded vaguely surprised and you tried not to let it get to you, or to let it show on your face. 

“So,” you cleared your voice after nodding. “How’d you find out about this?” He gestured for you to follow towards the entrance, producing the key from the back pocket of his black jeans. 

“I used to like this place,” he easily opened the door, leading you inside the empty restaurant. From the outside the restaurant didn’t look like much more than a hole in the wall, but the inside was spacious enough. A small restaurant, fitting maybe twenty tables at best, but you liked the idea. By the looks of it, it must had been recently renovated. Wooyoung switched the lights on, allowing you to see better. “When I got back the owner told me he was thinking of closing, and I asked if he wanted to sell. He made a pretty good offer.” 

“Huh,” you were still looking at the anonymous white walls and the few sleek black tables left behind, making your way to what you knew to be the kitchen. Stepping in, you gasped. It was perfect; an island kitchen slightly bigger than you’d imagined. Almost gleaming in its silver glory it stared back at you, inviting you in. You didn’t even mind the checkered floor as you walked across the space and took it in. Wooyoung stood by the door, leaning against its frame with his hands in his pockets, watching. It looked like he was holding his breath, and you knew why. 

“What do you think?” his voice was just a little bit hesitant. You turned around with a smile. 

“I love it,” you offered, noticing how he seemed to ease up the slightest bit. 

“Ah, I knew you’d fall for the island kitchen,” Wooyoung scoffed, walking into the space as well.

“Not my fault it’s the best type of kitchen,” you raised your hands, hearing him snort.

“Debatable,” he muttered, now standing in front of you. There was amusement dancing in his eyes, a spark you realized just then how much you’d missed. 

It hit you then, square in the chest, how much you really just missed him. He still seemed to know what you wanted even before you knew yourself. It happened then and it was happening now. Being in the kitchen with him felt electrifying, your hands itched to start cooking. You looked around once more, seeing yourself bustling around in this kitchen, Wooyoung at your side.

Never once did you regret the choices you’d made; your love for food had brought you all around the world, learning and cooking in the most beautiful kitchens, earning your praise felt like the biggest reward. Believing in yourself and your skill, your craft, and being able to perfect it was all you really needed. Maybe it was time to stop and breathe for a while, and put your experience to use. Because, no, you never regretted where your choices took you, except losing Wooyoung. Your compass, the one who never lost sight of your heart. 

“Let’s do it.”

Wooyoung looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, letting out a surprised sound.

“I saved quite a bit in the last few years and we could ask for a loan. Quite frankly, I’ve always wanted to run a kitchen on my own terms,” you could hear it in your voice, the ambition faintly coming back to it, something you hadn’t heard in a while. You smiled seeing Wooyoung straighten up. 

“We’d be running it together,” he lifted a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. You mirrored his stance.

“That’s good with me,” Wooyoung smirked. 

“Then let’s do it.”

-

Oftentimes you asked yourself how you ended up here. You believed it almost impossible that you were, once again, sitting in front of Jung Wooyoung at an ungodly hour of the night, eating food you’d made as the radio softly played in the background. What was even less credible to you was how you were sitting in your restaurant, yours, discussing menu plans. 

A month strong into the planning and designing, you were proud to say that you and Wooyoung were… friendly. Like coworkers were. Almost like long-lost friends would be. But it was fine because you got to stress Yeosang nearly every morning about how sometimes you both would slip into old habits and bicker like you used to and how that would confuse you. Then you’d talk Seonghwa’s ear off one night a week in front of your drinks, rambling on and on about how you’d catch yourself staring at him, blushing like an idiot, stumbling over your words. 

Safe to say that your friends were tired, but deep down it surprised and comforted them to see you come back to life bit by bit. 

It was all hard to wrap your head around because the last time you saw him still burned in the back of your mind. It was the giant elephant in the room you could never address, you could never pretend to not see. But Wooyoung was great at turning a blind eye, you realized. And you couldn’t really blame him either. You never expected to be in this sort of situation, you had quite literally run from it. 

But you were afraid of misstepping, of crossing a line.

So, now, there you stood, at a crossroads; talk about it and watch this newfound truce crash and burn, or pretend like everything was fine. For now, discussing the menu with your co-owner would have to do. 

“I think we should add that!” Wooyoung all but yelled, slamming his chopsticks down. 

“And I’m telling you that I know the area!” You rebutted, swallowing your bite, before carrying on with your point. “There’s at least three other restaurants that do that, what’s missing is a gourmet place.”

“Will you let it go?” He sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. “If we get there, we get there, if we don’t, then we’re still making fantastic food!” 

Wooyoung had a point, you knew he did. A valid one at that. 

“You’re insufferable,” you conceded, rolling your eyes and resuming your eating, trying to hide the smile pulling at your lips. 

“You love it,” he winked, picking up his chopsticks. 

And just like that, he threw you back into your loop. How could you simply let it go when this felt so familiar? When it reminded you so much of how you were? Light and carefree. Happy. You hadn’t noticed your eyes roaming around his figure, taking in his long dark hair pulled back by a ponytail, the way his eyes seemed to shine in the dull light coming from the stupid lamp he’d insisted on bringing in. 

This was his dream, wasn’t it? You remembered, because how could you forget the endless hours he’d spend talking about his own restaurant, managing his own kitchen, creating dishes, and cooking his favorites? You could tell by the small smile he sported as he ate, looking around the room with star-filled eyes. 

You didn’t know quite how you fit into this. You never amounted that one conversation, years ago in your Paris apartment, up to anything more than daydreaming. Though, right now, the moment felt tangible, you could grasp it in your hands if you wanted to. He'd given you a new dream to chase right when you thought you were over. 

“You’re looking at me weird,” Wooyoung waved his chopsticks in a circle around your face, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry,” your eyes fell back to the almost empty plate, moving the last bites of food around. 

“I didn’t say it was bothering me,” his voice was lower, almost a whisper, and you felt your heart drop. When you looked up, you didn’t know what to make of his expression. It looked like he was contemplating his following words, and you were all but hanging from his lips. He stayed quiet, eyes downcast on his plate, and shot you a short smile. 

You let the radio fill the silence between you, allowing the thoughts to pester your mind. Though, like a cup overflowing, there was little you could do to cage them and push them down.

“Wooyoung, were you-” his eyes rose to meet yours, and you stopped for a second, mulling the question over, savoring its bitter taste in your mouth before spitting it out as if it were a seed that ruined your bite. “Who were you going to open the restaurant with?”

His wide eyes told you all you needed to know, and yet his stunned silence pulled another set of words out of your lips.

“You said you needed a co-owner first…” you rasped, almost shocked you were still talking through the cotton in your mouth. Wooyoung set his chopsticks down, trying to hide the way his hands started trembling, sighing.

“We made a good team, didn’t we?” his voice was quieter, wondering. He shot you an uneasy smile, so short and so small you almost missed it. “I know you’re a great chef and we want this to be a great restaurant.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, feeling the weight of memories unloading on both your shoulders, their presence demanding the unwanted plunging into deep, murky waters. “Does it have, uhm… does it have anything to do with-”

“Let’s not open that can of worms, mh?” He cut you off immediately, sounding a tad harsher than he had before, rubbing salt into your matching wounds. 

“I just-” It felt like you were gasping for air, grasping at any lifeline you were afforded, lost in the swirling sea that were his pained eyes. 

“I know.” 

A mangled victory, or a loss, the way his voice sounded resolute. It allowed no space for you to counterattack, to try and pry any other thought out of him. And you accepted it, simple and plain, with no complaints. You had no right to. Nodding, you averted your eyes, affording him space. 

“I-” Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. The conflict in his mind was reflected on his face clear as day. Before his eyes were back on you, they looked around the room. “I missed you.”

Bearing his heart, that was what he was doing. It felt like, despite everything, he was still offering you a small piece of it. Your breath caught in your throat. Three words that held huge implications and a heavy past. One right answer, a truthful one, that could sound highly hypocritical of you. But you had to say it.

“I missed you, too.”

Wooyoung smiled, small and tentative, but still as warm as sunshine. You smiled back. 

The night was as cold as you felt despite having his arms wrapped around you, offering you shelter from the biting wind. Tonight the twinkling lights of the city below you couldn’t offer their usual comfort. You knew what was going to happen as soon as you opened your mouth to speak; you’d be breaking his heart along with yours. But you had to, hadn’t you? Wooyoung would understand. 

“Don’t you want to stay here forever?” He mumbled in your ear, his warm breath making you shiver. You kept staring out at the Parisian lights, heart sinking with every beat. 

“I-” you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing there was a way to prevent the hurt you were about to put him through. Never mind about yourself, all you cared about was him. Always him. Then why are you doing this? Sounded something in the recess of your mind. You shushed it. The lump in your throat formed out of the blue, making it hard to utter the next words.

“I wish I could,” you whispered, hoping your words would get lost in the wind, bracing for impact when you felt him tense and pull away from you. A gust blew by, chilling you to the bone now that he wasn’t holding you anymore. The look in his eyes sparked burning regret in your heart, setting it aflame.

“What do you mean?” 

He had taken a step back, confused eyes searching for yours. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when you were about to break all the promises you’d made right along with his heart. What a coward.

“I was offered a job in New York,” you began, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “I took it… I leave next week.”

When you finally mustered enough courage to look back at him, you saw betrayal shining clear in his eyes, swirling in disbelief, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. It was almost as if you could hear his thoughts, and each of them cut a deeper wound. 

How could you? Why didn’t you tell me? I would've been happy for you. We could’ve made other plans. 

“Were you just going to disappear from my life forever, then?” He spat, a little angry, a little sad. 

“No, Wooyoung, I-” you tried to reason, knowing very well that no excuse would hold. He scoffed bitterly, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jacket like a hurt kid. Already hard to talk through the burning in your throat, the tears springing in your eyes didn’t make the task any easier.

“Save it,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “I should’ve known. I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for there,” he made to go, but you couldn’t let him, not yet. 

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” He stopped dead in his tracks; you’d said the wrong thing. But you couldn’t hide your hand now that you’d thrown the stone. “Is it not our dream to learn and travel when all of this is done?”

Wooyoung shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, and to some extent, you couldn’t either. 

“No, I wouldn’t have, Y/N. It may be your dream but it isn’t mine. Not anymore, not since I met you. So, yeah, I would’ve given it all up,” he all but yelled, each word was like a punch in the gut. Despite the noise of the city below, the beat of silence that lingered sounded louder than any of it. 

“Go to New York, love. It’s your dream after all,” he conceded, voice dying down and broken, softer, like some sort of realization had dawned upon him. He blinked away his tears, still, you refused to let yours fall. 

In a second he was close to you again, his smell and warmth engulfing you once more. A sob broke through you when you felt his arms wrapping around you tight, and another was pulled from you when one of his hands came to softly rake through your hair. Wooyoung surrounded you with all he was, holding you tight, almost as if he loved you. Almost, you thought, because you knew the difference, for you had felt what it was to be loved – truly loved – by him. But you went and broke it. Now, you had to put love out of the question, and think only of duty. You had made your choice, after all, and he knew it too. 

“Goodbye,” in an instant you were left on your own, cold, and watched as he walked away from you, his whisper resonating in your soul, breaking it with each echo.

If you chose to follow your dream, then why did it hurt so much?

-

Sundays used to be your day off. You’d wake up at midday, usually to a ray of sunlight harshly shining into your face until you could no longer bear its warmth. You’d roll out of bed and lazily proceed to tidy your apartment and rot on the couch for the remainder of the day. Now, though, you were a restaurant owner and Wooyoung insisted you should stay open on Sundays because two out of three of the restaurants in your area were closed. So, you rolled out of bed, taking just one second to admire the first rays of sunlight shining through the fading, dark night sky. You sped through your routine and breakfast, having sacrificed that slot of time in favor of five more minutes of sleep. 

Despite the fast-approaching summer, the morning air was still rather chilly, and much quieter than the rumbling of cars and city rustle that you were used to. You didn’t have to squeeze past sleepy teenagers and angry old ladies on the bus and got to choose which seat to sit in. You didn’t mind early Sundays. 

In no time you’d open the restaurant. Today you’d convinced Seonghwa and Yeosang to drop by for lunch; you needed them to test out the menu you and Wooyoung had carefully crafted. Of course, at the mention of free food, both of them agreed, so there wasn’t much convincing involved after all. A sort of test run before the grand opening. 

The restaurant stood before you in the quiet street, looking close to the eye. You smiled proudly, producing the key from your bag, opening the door, and closing it behind you after walking in. The room was quiet, the only indication of someone being in there was the rustle and faint light coming from the kitchen. 

“Hey, Woo,” he was already there, setting out pans and pots. You walked in, reaching for your jacket. 

“Hi!” Although his head was hidden in a cupboard, you could hear his cheery voice loud and clear. “Are you ready?” 

When he emerged, he was sporting a happy smile, contagious enough to make you chuckle.

“As I’ll ever be.” 

Wooyoung smiled at you, beckoning you over to the station where a copy of the menu lay. You sure had your work cut out for the day. Up until then, between the furnishing and taking care of the more bureaucratic aspect of opening a restaurant, cooking together hadn't been common. You were thrilled to finally share the kitchen with him again. 

“Hey! The rolling pin is there to keep you off my half of the counter,” you huffed, trying your best not to let your irritation show. Not while you were trying to close dumplings perfectly. 

“Oh, come on!” He protested, “I can’t believe you’d still do that, look at how much space we have!”

“Yeah, and somehow, you’re still taking up most of it,” Wooyoung grumbled under his breath, finally moving a few of his bowls and pans to make space for you. 

“Gee, thanks,” although you weren’t trying to rile him up, you still ended up falling back into old habits.

“Oh my-” he rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, moving a couple more things, “You’re the bane of my existence.”

“You literally asked me to be your co-worker!” You laughed, shocked, but amused.

“And there’s not a day I don’t regret it,” with his nose in the air, trying and failing to hide a smile, Wooyoung resumed his meat slicing. You scoffed, not really offended. It was so easy to breathe when things felt as light as they did. A smile threatened to open up on your face, but you had an act to keep up. 

Silence used to be rare between the two of you, yet you liked it now. There was no awkward space to fill anymore, not a single word to be wasted. You worked in tandem, like a well-oiled machine, chuckling at Wooyoung’s occasional jokes and exchanging instructions. It felt good. It felt like it used to. 

“Are you nervous?” You asked him as you finalized the prepping for the second course. Wooyoung looked up, flashing that smile of his that could rival the sun.

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Are you?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and focusing on the bowl under your nose. The sauce you prepared to marinate the fish had a pungent note it shouldn’t have had. You didn’t notice him slipping closer to you, right at your side. Wooyoung was leaning on the counter, facing you. 

“You’ve got nothing to be worried about,” his voice aimed to soothe, and it did, sweet like honey. “Are you or are you not one of the best chefs in town?” 

You looked up at him, scoffing, ignoring the heat on your face that his closeness brought along. 

“See, now you’re exaggerating!”

“I’m not.” 

“Are, too!” A soft laugh escaped the two of you, and when he looked at you, eyes so full of hope and happiness, your breathing stopped for just a second. “But you’re right, it’s gonna be okay, I’m just… I don’t know, I want them to like what we made.”

“They’re gonna,” he shrugged. Only when you gave him a questioning look he answered. “Because we made it.” 

It looked like Wooyoung still knew what to say and when to say it to put your nerves at ease.

-

“Can I have some more?” 

“Me too!”

“You can’t ask that!”

“Says who?” 

“Alright, we’ll make it,” Wooyoung quelled the discussion that was about to start quickly, coming back into the kitchen with empty plates.

Two of his friends had joined yours for lunch, not that the food was lacking, but it seemed that Yeosang and San had promptly bonded over their love for one particular dish. Gamjatang, which wasn’t even on the menu, the two were just bottomless pits, apparently. The only one coming to your aid with restaurant etiquette was Seonghwa, whose reprimanding went unheard. Hongjoong stuck to silent side-eyeing, which barely helped. 

“Should we consider adding it to the menu?” Wooyoung joked, coming over to the stove where you stood, already heating up what was left of the broth from the previous batch. You thanked your lucky star you had some ready, or else they’d had to wait hours to eat.

“Let’s make it available only after eleven, though.”

He laughed, reminding you how you closed at midnight while washing and cutting up the mung bean sprouts, crown daisy leaves, perilla leaves, and green chilies you needed to add later on. You went for the pork bones, potatoes, and cabbage leaves.

Wooyoung set his bowl of vegetables close to the stove, ready for you whenever.

“Do you need more seasoning base?” He asked as you put your portion of ingredients into the pot. 

“Yeah, there’s not much left,” you looked at him, waiting for your word to start. “Thanks.” 

He smiled, getting to work quick.

As everything simmered and cooked, the two of you stood in front of the stove, silent, side to side. Outside, you heard your friends all talk and laugh, but they sounded miles away. Once again, you thought you knew what was running through his head. The night when he taught you how to cook the dish, the way he followed your every step with an encouraging smile. How your heart fluttered when he kissed your lips right after his first bite, saying that there was no way he was ever going to cook it again if yours tasted much better. How one night you tipsily tried to cook it together, almost spilling the batch of broth you saved in the fridge and ruining it all, but could only laugh until your stomachs hurt because somehow it was the funniest thing ever. After all, they plagued your thoughts as well. 

When the timer went off and he looked at you like a deer caught in headlights, you smiled, trying to ease away the tension that had bubbled up, going to kill the flame and plate the dish. 

You passed him a full bowl with shaking hands, praying he didn’t hear the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

“Maybe you should take away the wine,” Seonghwa sported a light frown on his lips when you made your way to the table with the other bowl in your hands. You furrowed a brow, noticing the way San and Yeosang were giggling a little too loudly, and how the former was particularly flushed, only after setting the dish in front of him. 

“Good idea,” Wooyoung snickered, scurrying back into the kitchen with the bottle. You watched him go, debating if to follow or give him space. You decided to stay, asking your guests how they liked the food. 

Seonghwa ended up giving you precious input and feedback, over the laughter coming from the opposite end of the table. It made you smile. Despite how interested you were in your friend’s recap of the things he appreciated the most about appetizers, you couldn’t help but glance a little worriedly at the kitchen doors from time to time. Wooyoung was still in there.

“Alright, we should go,” Hongjoong, who had simply complimented your cooking with a polite smile, spoke up after a while. San protested a little but stopped his efforts to stay pretty quickly when his friend said he was going to have no ride home. 

The two made their way to say their goodbyes to Wooyoung in the kitchen, leaving you with your friends. 

“We should go, too,” Yeosang stood, walking over to the doors with you and Seonghwa. 

“Thank you guys for coming,” you quickly hugged them both. “Drop by whenever.”

“You know I will,” Yeosang giggled, making you smile. 

“Keep it up!” Seonghwa said, walking out first. You waved them both off, and when you turned around, you were faced with San and Hongjoong. The former complimented your food, saying he’d bring over friends and family, rambling a bit. You giggled as he spoke, thanking him. 

“Thank you for having us, the food was delicious,” Hongjoong watched over San making his way out of the restaurant after saying his goodbyes, turning to you with a small smile. “Can I ask one thing of you?”

Your brow furrowed, but you nodded quickly. He sighed.

“I know you two have a complicated past,” he started, sending a jolt of anxiety through you. “And I see you’re doing great despite it, so, please, just… don’t hurt him again.” 

“I would never,” you were furiously nodding, suddenly your throat felt a little dry, hands all clammy. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong smiled, walking out as well, leaving you dumbfounded and staring at their disappearing figures. 

You waited in silence for a while, mulling his words over in your head. When you turned around and saw Wooyoung leaning against the kitchen door’s frame with a bright, wide smile adorning his lips, the sight almost gave you a heart attack. He laughed loudly seeing your spooked reaction, making a smile appear on your face. His laughter only served to make your heart stutter like butterfly wings, having barely recovered from the surprise, making you giggle as well. 

Wooyoung looked so happy that you felt you could burst at the seams. 

“They liked it!” You could barely contain your excitement as you locked up and started to make your way over to him, almost with a skip in your step.

“They did,” he smiled back, eyes scanning your figure until you were right up in front of him. Not even thinking twice, you let your arms sneak around his shoulders, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. You even swayed side to side. Wooyoung laughed happily, his own arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“I’m so happy,” you murmured when your excitement quelled. Your chin was resting atop his shoulder, and his on yours. When he spoke, quietly, you could hear the smile on his lips right against your ear.

“I’m glad,” he said. “Me too.” 

It was quiet. For the first time since that morning there were no friends laughing at the table, no bickering in the kitchen along with the sizzling of the pans, chopping on the cutting board, and rumbling of the pots. 

Just you and him. 

Your heart was still racing, over the moon for the success of your menu, but also quickened by his close proximity. Once realization struck that you’d pulled him into you, you were quick to let go, though his arms around your waist wouldn’t let you wander far.

“Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” the look in his eyes was enough to send your heart to your feet, air stuck in your lungs, and take you back in time, just for a second. It was all it took for you to want to pull away from him as if you’d gotten shocked. You found that you couldn’t. Not when Wooyoung held you a little tighter, searching for anything in your eyes that would prompt him to stop leaning even a breath closer. 

Frozen in time, in your spot, your grip on his kitchen jacket grew impossibly strong. 

When his nose softly brushed against yours, as if he’d sensed your mind wandering far and wide and wanted to bring you back to him, and you saw how his half-lidded eyes were holding a simple question, you pulled back.

“Should we get to cleaning up?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes closed, for a fleeting second, before he started nodding.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be here all night,” he cleared his voice, arms falling from around you. He offered a smile so small that it barely showed, the moment gone as soon as it came. You watched as he disappeared behind the kitchen doors, shoulders dropping and eyes falling close. 

You gave yourself a moment, just one, to relish in his closeness. The closest he’d ever been to you in years, something that used to be so familiar and still sparked the same goosebumps, the same erratic heartbeat. You sighed, following after him. 

-

You couldn’t sleep. You hadn’t for a good week. 

Between the imminent opening of the restaurant and the newfound awkwardness between you and Wooyoung, your head was so full of swirling thoughts that, as soon as you closed your eyes, it prevented you from enjoying one singular night of rest. They just kept going, growing into a never-ending spiral of what-ifs and exploding into a hurricane of beating yourself up. 

By now you’d given up on trying to make sense of your feelings. All you knew was that you wanted to keep Wooyoung to your side, co-worker, friend, or lover, it didn't matter. Now that he was back into your life, you didn’t want to risk losing him again. Though, it got increasingly hard to ignore how you wished he would stay with you once you closed the restaurant. How you wanted him to hold you like he used to, how you wanted to tell him every day just much of your love and devotion he had. 

It was still dark outside when you closed the door to your apartment behind you. Almost without thinking, you’d thrown the covers off of yourself and gotten out of bed, put on the first clean clothes you found, and got out of the house. The cold, crisp air of the night hit you right in the face, waking you up like an icy splash of water would have. You pulled your jacket closer around your body, starting the walk to the restaurant. The keys jiggled in your hand, one of the few sounds in the lonesome streets. 

Your heart had decided the way for you before your mind could catch up.

You’d always found solace in cooking. It allowed your mind to relax, and think about what was right in front of your nose, slicing through all your doubts and worries like a knife. With each step you followed, each accomplished passage towards the perfect result, you felt lighter and lighter. Then Wooyoung came along. Never could you have predicted that something else in your life would’ve been able to bring you the same comfort and brightness as cooking. 

Whatever peace and happiness you’d found in your passion, you’d also found in him. He set you alight. You’d been dumb and wrong enough to think that the feeling that came along with him could be replaced. 

But how could it? Once you let go if it, of him, Wooyoung had haunted all of your what-ifs. All of your darkest nights could only brighten up if you thought of his infectious laugh, his soft kisses, and his kind words. 

Reaching the restaurant brought you back out of your thoughts. You were here now, by some fateful design, with him again. You’d do anything not to lose your brightest star again. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You closed the backdoor behind you with a jolt, not expecting Wooyoung to be sitting at a table, illuminated only by the light coming from his beloved lamp. 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Ever so slowly, you made your way to him, trying to calm your racing heart. He raised his shoulders, avoiding your eyes a second later, shrugging as if he had no answer to your question. You sat with him, noticing just then the few papers scattered on the wood. 

“What’s on your mind?” The question fell from your lips in a quiet whisper, almost afraid to disturb the silence hanging in the air. You still knew him, after all, maybe even more than you gave yourself credit for. He sported that furrow in his brow, the one that lightly creased his smooth skin, that only showed up when something had been bothering him. 

“I-” he sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they didn’t waste a single second to find yours. Your mouth went dry. 

“You know what I hate most? That sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but always I miss you. And I never stopped torturing myself with the same questions over and over, why would you go? Did our dreams mean nothing to you? Did I mean nothing to you?” A bitter, void laugh fell from his lips. “But you’ve gotta move on, right?”

Oh.

Oh.

Heart in your throat, you were left speechless in front of his innermost thoughts. Thoughts you never imagined could be plaguing his mind still. But how could you miss it now? His eyes were begging for answers, after all this time, as if the dam had finally broken. You couldn’t bear to see them be so pleading, so misty. 

“That’s not true, I,” the words died in your mouth as you choked on them. “You must know it,” reduced to a whisper by the weight of truth, you tried to salvage what you’d so carefully rebuilt.

“Do I?” He sounded so helpless, your brain scrambled in all directions to find a way to convey how so untrue it all was. “You left me, Y/N, and sometimes I'm still there.” 

A gasp left your lips, his words squeezing the air out of your lungs. 

“We’re doing it now, isn’t it enough?”

Wooyoung shook his head, shoulders dropping in disbelief as he scoffed. Despite the dim light, from across the table, you could see his red-rimmed eyes begging you to catch on. You did, you had the second he started speaking, but you’d still said the wrong thing. 

“You’re so dense,” head thrown back, hands on his face, you waited for him to speak again. “Tell me why did you go.”

Not a question. Up against the wall, you felt the way your heart fell to your stomach, how nerves were tugging at it painfully. He needed this, and you were willing to give answers.

“I didn’t think,” you started, feeling so small under his gaze. “The only thing on my mind was that I’d made it. Selfishly, I thought you’d understand. I… I never meant to hurt you, and I know it sounds like bullshit, but it’s true. And when you told me to go, for a split second, I thought we could make it. I realize now how stupid I was. How there were at least ten ways in which I could’ve handled it better. I wish I’d fought for us,”

“I’m sorry. I really am, I-” Unshed tears started to run down your cheeks, wetting your mouth with salt. “There’s nothing I regret more than letting you go.” 

“We were meant to be, love,” his broken whisper was a sinking stone in your chest. Lifting your eyes to meet his, you saw the tear tracks on his desperate face matching yours. 

“But we were not meant to last,” there were few ways you could describe how your heart was hurting as you muttered the words, hand reaching forwards on the table. You didn’t think Wooyoung would hold on to it until he did. Fingers intertwined, you both held on painfully tight as if by letting go you’d get lost in the current the sea of your words had provoked. Each other’s buoy in a storm of unsaid words and unresolved, muddy feelings, so strong that with nothing they could tear you apart. 

You cried immersed in the dark silence of the restaurant hall, the place that crowned your dreams, listening to the other’s quiet sobs. 

“I’m sorry, forgive me,” you choked out again, trying to find his face past your tears. Wooyoung reached out to brush them away, his hands just as soft as you remembered, if not more careful. The moment his skin grazed yours, a shiver ran down your spine, electrified by such simple contact. His hand lingered for a long second, cradling your cheek before all you felt was its cold absence.

He stood up first, only to walk around the table and stamp a kiss on the crown of your head, his hand holding your shoulder. You froze, barely hearing how he murmured something about seeing you in the morning, barely breathing. What you did hear was the closing door, a sign you’d been left alone with your thoughts in the dimly lit room, knowing your ignorance had broken his heart again.

-

You didn’t know how to fix it. 

Standing and cooking side by side felt off again. You were walking on eggshells, treading on a fine line to avoid ticking off another bomb. If the weight of apologizing had been lifted off your chest, something much heavier now resided upon it. Knowing something had changed yet again, all because of how you’d acted. What you’d said. 

“You want to make ramen noodles? From scratch?” 

In the middle of cleaning up part of the station, you couldn’t help but let surprise seep into your voice. Wooyoung stared, nodding. 

“I thought we already made enough to last us at least two days…” You let your words fade out, not wanting to start an argument. His jaw set and you realized your efforts had been in vain.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry, at least until our new hires come in,” he shrugged, going to preheat the oven. He really was serious. 

You wondered why he was going through with this; you ran out of kansui, which was already hard enough to find, let alone expensive. In its absence, you’d need to prepare a substitute for it: baking soda that had to be baked in the oven for at least an hour to act properly instead of the kansui. It was such a waste of time when you had more pressing matters to attend to. Ones that didn’t need the help of your brigade. 

Breathing in deeply and deciding that keeping peace was essential, you assessed how Wooyoung was just lining the baking sheet with parchment paper and spreading the baking soda over it. You went to retrieve the whole wheat and bread flours you’d need in an hour, trying to keep frustration at bay. You’d think about the salt and riboflavin later. When you came back with the sacks, Wooyoung was already cleaning the rolling pins and pasta machine. With a grunt, you set them down on the counter, watching as he jolted in surprise.

“I’ll go call our supplier while we wait on the oven,” you really didn’t mean for your voice to sound so clipped. He seemed not to care, simply giving you a nod and going on with his task.

You left the kitchen almost stomping your feet in frustration, sitting down at the table furthermost from it. Whatever game Wooyoung was playing, it needed to stop now. You had tried time and time again, in the last few days, to get anything out of him. To try and patch things up and salvage them as best as you could. But you guessed he needed time, and with the opening just around the corner, you decided it was best to let him be. As long as you could work well together, everything would be fine.

Except the wall he’d put up was so high that you felt it was impossible to climb it or break through. 

The sound of the door opening brought you back to reality, reminding you that you needed to find the supplier’s contact and call, murmuring something about being closed to whoever had just come in. 

“I figured,” the voice made every hair on your skin stand, plunging you back into prickly, cold, anxious times. As you looked up, you could barely believe your eyes.

“Mr. Hwang,” his name left your lips in an incredulous whisper. 

“It’s been a while,” he looked around, coming in. His eyes were inspecting thoroughly everything they could lay themselves on, scrutinizing all that might be out of place, or all that wasn’t, and had the ability to spark envy in an enviable man. “Nice place.”

“How may I help you?” 

“I have an offer to make you.”

Wooyoung nearly stumbled on his feet. When he’d walked out of the kitchen to see if anything had come of your call with the supplier, the last thing he’d expected was seeing you sat at a table with your old boss, having a chat, exchanging laughter. He’d quickly retreated, leaving you to it, seeing red. He didn’t need to know what was going on, nor did he want to. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself as he stared, unable to do anything else, at the timer of the oven ticking by. Every second you sat out there, was a second he needed to reason with himself and find out what the menacing grip that held his heart was. All Wooyoung knew was that he wished you’d walk through the kitchen doors, a bright smile on your face, ready to get back to work. 

And when you did, he couldn’t quite figure out the look on your face. He was dying to ask what Hwang wanted, no matter what it was, he needed whatever words you’d utter to soothe his burning curiosity. But you never spoke, keeping up your diligent work even past the timer dinging, through the kneading of the dough, its thirty-minute rest, and the several compressions through the pasta machine. He observed you carefully, like he always had, as you used a long knife to cut the noodles by hand as he was occupying the noodle cutter of the machine. Were you slipping through his fingertips again? His eyes on you had always felt like an encouraging, gentle caress. Always looking after and out for you. Wooyoung never noticed or wasn’t fully aware, that sometimes they still did. More often than not you felt the need to step away, or look away, under his gaze, caving in under his affection. 

You felt that you didn’t deserve to be looked at so tenderly, not anymore. 

He searched for words to say as the several pieces of dough were turned into noodles, but nothing came to mind. Nothing sounded right, not even in his head. Wooyoung let silence win this battle, preferring to let the whirring of the machine and the slicing of your knife talk, trying to work out all the tangled threads that were his thoughts. It was easy to mess up the noodles and have them stick together in an unsalvageable way; then you’d have to make them into dough again and put it through the machine, compressing it until it was ready to be cut up. He tried to treat his thoughts with the same care as noodles to avoid starting over. But Wooyoung wasn’t having the same luck. 

Your muttering from the other side of the kitchen prompted him to look your way, struggling to find some space in the refrigerator for your sheet-pans. He hid his smirk, tossing the last of his noodles with cornstarch.

“Why?” You turned around, hands on your hips, irritation barely at bay. Wooyoung raised a brow, doing his very best at pushing your buttons.

“Why did we make so many fucking noodles when we are stocked full?” 

“Because we need them,” he shrugged. “They’re tedious to make from scratch, it’ll make our lives easier.”

“Then you make space for them,” you huffed, hastily walking over to the dishwasher to start filling it with the utensils you’d just finished using. 

“What did Hwang want?” 

Wooyoung bit his tongue, watching how your back straightened at his question. He’d tried to sound casual, but the question turned out to be anything but. He couldn’t keep it in anymore, the longer he did, the more his nerves tested his peace of mind. Wooyoung watched as you froze, halting your movements, before turning to face him again. The furrow of your brow as you raked your eyes over him accelerated his heartbeat in mysterious ways, waiting with bated breath for your answer.

“Nothing important,” but it was to him. Wooyoung’s thoughts had taken him places he didn’t want to revisit. His heart had been swallowed with an all-consuming and unkindly familiar pain at the idea of you leaving him behind. Hwang had offered you a lot in the past, afforded you to realize your dreams, he knew that much. What could he give you, then?

“Then why did you take so long talking to him?” One way or the other, Wooyoung had to exorcize the sinking feeling in his chest along with the overpowering green monster resurfacing with all its might. The only way afforded to him now was to venomously spit his words to you.

“I’m not trying to put us in a hard place with our number one competitor,” you closed the loaded dishwasher behind you, coming closer to him, clouding his senses. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes and you lifted a brow, crossing your arms. 

“Fine, be that way,” you carelessly threw the towel that was resting on your shoulder upon the counter. “He came back to try and persuade me to work for him again.” 

And there they were, the words Wooyoung had feared the most. Someone who would whisk you away from him again as he watched helplessly, feeding into his fears. 

“I said no, Woo…” your voice put a halt to every thought drowning him, your eyes full of the same softness your voice was. Giving up the fight, extinguishing the fire of his worries, at the cost of your disappointment. You swallowed the bitter bite. “Did you really think I’d go back, that I’d leave this? That I’d leave you?”

His silence was answer enough. You nodded, pressing your lips together.

“Well, I wouldn’t.” 

You weren’t going to let him think like that, not now. 

“I wasn’t happy there, and there’s not a single thing he could offer that would make me as happy as you do.”

Wooyoung watched, stunned into silence, while you got rid of your jacket and murmured something about still having to call the supplier. The timid smile you gave him, eyes full of warm hope, moved something inside him that had been slowly waking up ever since you bumped into him down the street months ago. 

-

For so long, he’d tried to move on. In the end, it turned out that you wanted different things from him, and he had to accept that. Wooyoung couldn’t convince you to stay if you wanted to leave. So, with his heart aching and bursting at the seams with the hope that eventually you’d be back, he let you go. There was no way he could describe how he felt when he saw you again. Surprise struck him, leaving him disoriented for a long moment before his mouth spoke for him. As if his body had reacted to the presence of yours, remembering what it felt like to have you close. 

No, Wooyoung wasn’t surprised that he so readily welcomed you back into his life. You were trying, that much he could see, but he was, too. There was a battle going on inside his head that left him frustrated and confused when it came to you, to his feelings for you. His thoughts laid their armor down only in your presence. His heart knew you were the only one he’d ever truly loved. A love that bloomed at the wrong time, a fragile flower that didn’t survive the winter. Wilted and withered, you’d left him to mend the gashes. 

He did, only if it meant learning how to be without you, burning with the hope that one day, if the time was right, together you could grow flowers anew.

The chance was right there for him to take, and yet. It had taken him just a couple of hours after closing the kitchen to decide he needed to see you, and set things straight once and for all. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The sun was just about to set, gilded light flowing into your apartment from the window, bathing you in its gold. Wooyoung’s breath caught. For a fleeting instant, nothing else existed besides your confused pout and his erratic heartbeat. 

“Can we talk?” 

You nodded, opening the door wider to let him in, gesturing for him to follow to the kitchen. The sweet aroma hit him first, enveloping him, and he saw the cutting board in the sink after. It didn’t take him long to figure out you were making blackberry jam. 

“You’re stressed,” the words left his lips before he could realize he’d spoken them, your head jerking in his direction as you kept stirring the pot, only to nod right after. 

“Well, yeah, the opening’s just around the corner now and we-” your eyes fell back on the stove, briefly avoiding his. “What did you want to talk about?”

Wooyoung hesitated. He didn’t know. Rather, he was sure he needed to make things right. Clean the suffocating air of uncertainty when it came to you and what you were to him. What he was to you. You two were always good at dancing in the dark but now, in the light of day, it was hard to fall back into rhythm.  

“I’m sorry about the noodles,” he bit his tongue. Way to start. 

How could he say what he wanted to when his head was on fire? Still, you were there, waiting, occasionally stirring your jam, making his heart skip. Wooyoung sighed.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving.” 

Your hand halted its gentle movements, he saw your knuckles turning white. 

“Wooyoung-”

“No, let me say this,” he was pretty sure his lungs almost failed him when you turned to look at him, wide eyed, hanging onto his words. “I don’t really know how to act around you. At first, I wanted to be mad. Just a little bit, but found out quickly that after the anger was gone, there wasn’t much left. Just the part of me that wondered if you’d ever come back, if you missed me like I missed you. And if I push all the confusion back, it’s as easy as breathing. I never expected to want you with me as much as I do.” 

You turned off the flame, walking closer. 

“I never meant you any harm,” you were picking at your fingers, almost subconsciously, just like Wooyoung’s hand reached out to twine with yours, halting your nervous motions. “I‘m sorry that I let you down, and that I hurt you.”

“I know,” he squeezed your hand with a small sigh, eyes cast on them. “We weren’t meant to last.”

The words bitterly echo in the quiet kitchen, almost lost in the burbling coming from the stove. Wooyoung was tempted to let go of your hand and walk out the door, fragile like a house of cards, as if it cost him his whole heart to tell you the truth. To expose his confusion in fear it may be an imposition.  

“No, Woo, not when I was so confused and only put my dreams first. Not when we had so much that we would’ve held each other from,” your watery smile hit him square in the chest, your words feeding his worries. “But I think we were always meant to be. I still… I’ve always held so much love for you.” 

Wooyoung stopped breathing, letting the sweet taste of your words wash over him.

“Can we start over?” you asked, tentative, searching his face for any sign that you may have crossed a line. “I want to be by your side, at your pace, we’ll be whatever you want us to be. I wasn't ready then but I am now, and I know it'll take time but I want you to know that I'll be there. No matter how long, I'll always be there.”

The unruled hope, that he’d been fighting to keep at bay, finally broke free and sparked a fire in his chest that swallowed up his heart, holding it in a fierce grip, burning. Your hopeful, misty eyes told him more than words could, more than he could ever dare to imagine. He had longed to see them from this close again. 

“Didn’t you say that mixing feelings with work is the recipe for disaster?” 

Behind the carelessly amused shrug of your shoulders, your untamed smile shined with bright happiness. The hand that wasn’t holding his tentatively rose to cup his cheek and Wooyoung wasted no time in leaning in and basking in its warmth.

“I think we’d make it.” 

Your promise was enough for him. Wooyoung rested his forehead against yours, finding home in your sweet perfume once again. You were finally back into his arms, to hold and to love. Once your lips met his hesitantly, almost afraid at first but feverishly at last, the sweet and pleasantly tart taste of your kiss assured his head and heart that everything would be alright.

[dd122004dd]

Sweet Melodies and Seafoam Eyes

Request: Fem reader is a tribute in the quarter quell and is in love with Finnick. Instead of Katniss breaking the arena the games go like normal and it gets down to the final 2, her and Finnick. They can’t kill each other and want the capitol to allow both to be victors but after the Katniss and Peeta thing they have to show the capital that they really love each other and that its not a rebellious thing so they have sex in front of the cameras. It works and both are made victors but snow watched them and wants her to sleep with him.

A/N: It didn't 'feel' like old Snow would have sexual feeling at that stage for me personally. And also I felt a little creeped out writing a sexual scene with Snow, so I changed the ending.

Warnings: Voyeurism (suggested), Hunger Games, Bried descriptions of death and bodies, smut

Her labored breaths reverberated around the arena as the pair stared at each other. The other tributes laid dead across the arena, only the two of them were left, the last two. She glanced at him, Finnick Odair, the Capitol’s sweetheart, his once clean and polished face was matted with grime as he stared at her with his green eyes, reminiscent of their home, their district. Lost in his gaze she recalled the sound of the sea as it crashed against the shore, she recalled sleepless nights spent along the sandy shore as they stared at the murky stars, clinging to each other as if the next moment they’d be ripped apart. In those hidden moments she fell for him, with whispered words in the dark, with stolen moments their love grew. Through blurry eyes she approached him, a small dagger in her hand, the same hand he once held, the same wrist he once kissed, promising the world.

“You know what to do,” she said, her voice trembling.

“No!” he exclaimed, tears running down his cheeks as he grasped her wrist, pulling the dagger away from her.

“It has to be me, there can only be one winner, you need to live, to go on,” she said.

“No, please, I can’t lose you. I need you; you can’t leave me. I’ve lost everyone, I won’t lose you,” he said desperately, grasping her arms as he held her against him, as if, if he held her close enough, she’d be safe from the looming sword of fate

“There’s no other option. They won’t trust us, not after Katniss’ farce.”

“There has to be another way- something- we’ll both come out of this alive or not at all.” He said, a determined look in the eye as he glanced at the camera recording the them. He glanced back at her, his beloved’s tear-stricken face as he glanced back at the camera, an idea emerging in his head, “If they won’t believe us, we’ll just have to force them to.”

She tilted her head, looking at him in confusion, “How?”

“Like this,” he said before crashing his lips to hers. Their lips molded together in a familiar dance of passion. His hands gripped her back as he pulled her closer to him, melding their bodies into one. He broke the kiss after a few moments as she stared up at him, a dazed look in her eyes as she slowly realized where they were. She glanced at the camera as his idea finally clicked into place, he wanted to prove that they were one, and there was only one way to do it. She looked at him with wide eyes as he slowly cupped her cheek, whispering, “Look at me, its just me, me and you, no one else, we can do this, we have to.”

His desperate eyes convinced her as she slowly nodded her assent. He slowly lowered her onto the soft grass of the arena, leaves sticking to her back as he kissed her, kneeling over her smaller form. She gasped as she removed his shirt, her hands raking down his golden skin, his warmth penetrating her fingers as she marveled at the man before her. Desperately her hands moved to his trousers, tugging at them till he finally broke from her, pulling his pants down. Gazing into her eyes, he found himself transfixed by her, her courage, her beauty, her, her, her.

Rolling her hips against him, she prompted him to touch her, his large fingers encircled her clit, gently massaging as he felt her slick against his fingers. He slowly inserted his fingers, taking his time to explore her for what could possibly be the last time. Before he could control himself, he pressed his tongue against her, barely able to contain his moan as he tasted her, her familiar tart slick coated his tongue as he lapped at her. Her breathless whimpers and moans drove him further as he lapped at her heat, his fingers pressing deliciously inside her as they moved.

Her body knotted tighter as his fingers quickened, her back arching as he brought her to the edge, her body shuddering under his, her breathless moans reverberated around the arena, as thousands viewed her flushed face.

Soon, her face was once again covered by blonde hair as Finnick kissed her deeply, the taste of her essence smeared across his lips as she tasted herself, moaning at the taste as she ground her hips against his, silently begging him to take her.

He was about to progress when a voice rung out within the arena, “I present to you, our winners of the 75th Hunger Games!”

The pair looked at each other through glassy eyes, they had done it! They’d both made it out alive. They were soon removed from the arena, a barrage of people congratulating them on their victory and cooing at them, telling them they were a gorgeous, if not sensuous pair together. Finnick accepted the compliments through gritted teeth as he pondered on what Snow would possibly say about their audacious display.

~

They were summoned to Snow after being cleaned and dressed. His office was the same way it had always looked, pristine and grandiose, it reflected the personality of the man who occupied it, it radiated cold, as if the warmth that channeled through their bodies was zapped out of them the moment they set foot into the room, it also reminded one of a doll house, a place where everyone played their roles according to the master that pulled the strings.

Snow sat on his seat across his desk, barely paying any attention to the two. After a few moments he broke the silence, “Quite a show you put on.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said awkwardly.

“It was no show-” Finnick tried to defend.

“Enough. I must admit, it was certainly more believable than Katniss and Peta. A tragedy, what happened to our young friends.”

“Yes, sir,” Finnick said, gritting his teeth as he forced the words from his mouth.

“You are the Capitol’s new sweethearts,” Snow remarked, after a moment of silence.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, sir, just that I adore this woman,” Finnick replied stonily.

“She has a certain charm about her, doesn’t she? Your precious pearl,” Snow said, looking at the woman, almost as if he was analyzing her worth in a single gaze.

Finnick glared into the cold calculating eyes of the man before him, dreading what he would say next.

“Perhaps her beauty should be shared, after all, a pearl is meant for everyone to admire,” Snow said, rising from his seat and approaching the young woman, “…for everyone to touch,” he said, lightly grazing his fingers over her shoulder as he walked around her as if appraising her worth, “for everyone to taste,” he said, standing in front of her.

A resolute ‘No’ reverberated around the room as Snow snapped his head towards Finnick, tilting his head slightly he repeated mockingly, “No? You forget yourself, Finnick.”

“Would the Capitol not prefer to see their new sweethearts together, married with adorable babies for the Capitol to fawn over, rather than have them in their beds?” she asked, breaking the tension between the two.

Snow looked at her, thinking her suggestion over, “Perhaps.”

“Well then, perhaps we ought to give the Capitol what they want, after all, it would be a true tragedy to deny the citizens, don’t you think so, President Snow?” she asked, furthering her point.

“Your pearl has wit, perhaps I underestimated her,” Snow remarked.

“Perhaps,” Finnick said, looking at her affectionately.

“I look forward to seeing you again,” Snow said, silently dismissing the pair.

As soon as they were in the safety of their transport, she let out a breath, shuddering as she felt fantoms hands touch her as she recalled Snow’s revolting fingers against her skin. She struggled to breathe as she recalled his words. Her body shook against the seat as she wrapped her arms around herself, rocking slightly as she tried to calm down, to no avail.

Slowly she could here the faint sound of someone telling her to breathe, slowly she regained her breath as warm arms enveloped her form and pulled her against a chest.

“Shh, you’re safe here, you’re safe now, we’re going home,” the voice said as he continued to soothe her. He slowly began humming a lullaby that he’d heard her hum on countless sleepless nights.

As the melody filled the air, she found herself slowly relaxing, her body slumped against his as her mind was lost in the sound of crashing waves, sweet melodies and seafoam eyes.

[alxtiny]

Game Night | Song Mingi x Reader

Synopsis: where mingi teaches you how to play valorant

Pairing: Song Mingi x gn!reader, domestic au

Genre: fluff, crack

Word count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

Notes: this one’s a little rushed but I hope y’all like it

masterlist

You glanced at the computer screen, a mixture of excitement and confusion swirling in your eyes as you stared at the colorful characters and fast-paced action of Valorant. Your boyfriend, Mingi, had been talking about this game for weeks, practically bubbling over with excitement every time a new update was released. Today, you had finally agreed to give it a try, even though you were more of a casual gamer yourself.

"Okay, so first things first," Mingi said, his deep voice full of enthusiasm as he scooted his chair closer to yours. "These are the different characters, or agents, you can choose from. Each has unique abilities."

You nodded, trying to absorb the information as he explained the basics of the game. But truth be told, you were feeling a little overwhelmed. The controls, the abilities, the maps – it was a lot to take in.

"Here, let's start with something simple," Mingi suggested, leaning over to adjust your hand on the mouse. "Move your character using the W, A, S, and D keys. Good. Now, try aiming your crosshair at that target over there. Left-click to shoot."

You followed his instructions, your shots going wide and missing the target completely. Mingi let out a chuckle, a warm sound that made you smile despite your embarrassment.

"I... I think at this rate I might end up shooting at our own teammates," you confessed, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips.

"Don't worry, it's totally normal to struggle at first," he reassured you. "Let me show you something."

Mingi's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently into his lap. Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden proximity, feeling his warmth radiating against your back. He positioned his hands over yours on the mouse and keyboard, guiding your movements with a patience that amazed you.

"See? You're getting the hang of it," he said, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned in to offer guidance. "Now, let's try using one of your agent's abilities."

As he explained the unique abilities of your chosen agent, his deft fingers danced over the keyboard, demonstrating the combinations you needed to use. With each passing moment, you felt your confidence growing. Maybe this game wasn't so intimidating after all.

Time flew by as the two of you played round after round, the evening melted into the night, stars coming out and lighting the sky. You went from struggling to shoot a target to actually getting kills in the game. Mingi's encouragement and guidance were instrumental in your progress, and you were having a blast despite the occasional frustration.

Surprisingly, after a few more rounds, something incredible happened – you managed to beat Mingi in a one-on-one duel. Your character's shot hit him right on target, and the announcer declared you the winner.

You let out a triumphant cheer, unable to contain your excitement. Mingi sat there with a stunned expression, a mix of disbelief and a playful pout gracing his lips. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter at his reaction.

"Hey, no fair!" he protested, his pout deepening as he crossed his arms mockingly. "I've been playing this game for months, and you beat me in one night?"

You leaned over, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "It's just beginner's luck, Mingi. Plus, I had an amazing teacher."

He let out a dramatic sigh, still maintaining the pout. "It took me so long to learn and be good at this game, and you just come along and steal my victory."

You grinned, cupping his cheeks and turning his face toward you. "Well, you know what they say about student surpassing the master, right?"

He huffed, but his pout was slowly turning into a smile. "Is that so?"

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a sweet, tender kiss. "Don't worry, Mingi. I might have beaten you in a game, but you're still the best teacher and the most amazing boyfriend."

His pout finally gave way to a smile, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug. "You're too good for me, you know that?"

You laughed, nuzzling into his chest. "And you're too silly for words."

His smile widened, and a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "Oh, is that so? Well, if I'm so silly…"

Before you could react, he started to tickle you mercilessly, his fingers floating over your sides and under your arms. Laughter erupted from your lips as you squirmed in his lap, trying to escape his playful onslaught.

"Okay, okay, I give up!" you gasped between giggles, breathless from the tickling.

Mingi finally relented, a triumphant grin on his face. "That's what I thought. No one can out-silly me."

You rolled your eyes affectionately, your heart full of warmth and love for this playful and wonderful man, as you snuggled deeper into his embrace.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist: @sushi0517

[carolmunson]

eddie munson x fem!reader | steve harrington x fem!reader

COMING SOON TO THEATERS. A FANFICTION ADAPTION OF ACADEMY AWARD WINNING FILM 'TITANIC' WRITTEN BY:

@loveshotzz @newlips and @carolmunson

ORIGINAL SCREEN PLAY + FILM WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JAMES CAMERON. ALL OF THOSE ICONIC SCENES AND LINES ARE, OF COURSE, CREDITED TO WHOM CREDIT IS DUE: JAMES CAMERON

PREVIEW:

Wednesday, April 10th, 1912 Southampton, London

The blare of the fog horn is unmissable, rattling the conversations in a small pub off the White Star Dock. Even through the dusty windows she was clear as day, big as anything anyone had ever seen. Large black body met with a red base, multiple decks, and four large smoke stacks. The ship seemed to go on forever, her beauty unmatched to anyone who had seen it – a behemoth on the seas. A glory – a masterpiece.

The doors of the pub fluttered open and closed all morning as it edged closer and closer to noon. Pints poured by the dozens, the hundreds – half the country coming to the piers to see off the Ship of Dreams and its passengers. The bar was alight with chatter, mixing in with the roar of people from outside — hundreds of people halfway to boarding, waving and kissing goodbye. Beer glasses clinked and people cheered while they watched a long line of high end cars gleam in the spring sun as they rolled down the dock. Precious cargo full of Europe and America’s elite. 

Reporters and bellhops alike flock to them like flies, pub patrons ogling through the dusty windows while they exit their buggies.

Among the commotion, the endless chatter and screeching of pub seats, sat four men oblivious to the spectacle. They’re sitting around a small table with sweat on their brows as the April sun pours golden over them. Eyes burning over their cards as cigarette smoke wafts over their heads — the players lost in the fog during an intense round of poker.

The pot was mostly meager — a few pounds and swaths of change, a pocket watch, a penknife. But in the center was the crown jewel, a prize that would change the winner’s life forever. Two pieces of pressed parchment reading: 

The men leer over their hands, not a friendly face between them — the tickets were not the dealer’s, but two of the players who had bet the wrong guys. Guys who had been beyond the break and back again, meeting in Morocco, then Paris, and traveling together back to London — guys who had never lost a game of poker. 

Eddie places his bet, pulling a small silver ring off of his right ring finger and tossing it in the center. 

“Are you kidding?” Jeff asks from his left, “That’s everything we have.” 

Eddie grins at him, taking a drag of his cigarette. The sun dances in his big brown eyes like he knows something the rest of them don’t, “When you got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose.” 

The two other players speak to each other heatedly in Swedish after one of them hits for a new card. The outburst makes it clear that things aren’t looking good for the Swedes — it makes Eddie’s heart leap. Maybe this is it, maybe he’s finally gonna get back to the states. “Sven?” he asks the man next to him. “Hit,” he replies, putting down a card and taking another. Eddie follows suit, furrowing his brow while his bangs meet his eyelashes. Sweat collects on the nape of his neck where his dark curls are twisted up in a graphite drawing pencil – a trick he picked up from women he met in France. He puffs the smoke from his mouth, eyes meeting the Swede across from him who looks like he couldn’t be having a worse day. 

“Alright,” he says, putting his cigarette down on the ashtray between then, “Moment of truth. Somebody’s life’s about to change.” 

He leans back in his chair and looks at his friend, sweat beading at the edge of his hairline and glinting off of his deep skin, “Jefferey?” 

Jeff throws his cards down with a roll of his eyes. “Nothing,” Eddie nods. 

“Nothing,” Jeff says curtly through a grit in his teeth. His heart pounds in his chest while he looks at the last of their money on the table – they can’t afford to lose. 

“Olaf?” Eddie asks, the Swede throws down his cards in a huff, “Nothin’.” 

“Sven?” 

Sven puts down his cards and Eddie frowns, “Oh…two pair.” 

His shoulders droop while he looks at his own cards, eyes lingering on the silver ring in the middle of the table, “I’m sorry, Jeff.” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” You idiot! You bet all of our bloody money! You imbecile, you–”

“I’m sorry, you’re not going to be able to visit your cousins in Paris again for a long time,” Eddie says with a serious edge. Jeff quirks his brow, triggering Eddie’s winning smile behind plush pink lips. 

“‘Cause we’re goin’ to America!” he exclaims, slamming his cards down on the table, “FULL HOUSE, BOYS!” 

Jeff leaps from his chair in the back of the pub, reaching for the tickets on the on the table, “WE’RE GOIN’ TO BACK TO AMERICA!” 

“I’m goin’ home!” Ed exclaims while the boys hug tightly. The pub cheers for them, pints still flowing — men and women with red cheeks having no idea what they’re cheering for until a fight breaks out between the Swedes. 

Eddie laughs, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder and Jeff does the same — their white shirts dirtied with the stains of the day before.

“I can’t believe it,” Jeff says, teeth shining in a grin across his face, “Goin’ back to America!” 

“Titanic’s going back to America, boys,” the barkeep says, pointing at the clock, “In five minutes!” 

[vampire-kiing]

The Winner is Staticmoth!

On Vox's birthday after years of asking and asking Valentino finally caved dress up as a sexy Han Solo from Star Wars, best sex of his after and human life

Vox love's being rapped in Val's wings, he says its like a "built in fluffy blanket"

When Val is pissed off he takes Vox's stuff like his phone, keys, charger, or wallet and hides them up high on shelves and cabinets where Vox can't see or find them

Val has mentioned blowing Vox under the talk well he's doing the news but Vox just simply thinks he can't fit under the table, I mean he's 10 ft tall

Val does not like Sci-Fi movies at all but if Vox is having a really bad week sit with him and watch them (even if he doesn't get it)

Vox Hates Angel Dust with a burning passion, not as much as Alastor but its still up there (no he will not admit he is very jealous)

Val can pick up Vox like he weighs noting it and both upsets him and turn him on at the same time, its very confusing

They're both switches

Val doesn't pole dance since he became a overlord but he'll do it for Vox on occasion

Vox finished so hard he cause a blackout that lasted hours

[cialovesklopp]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — in which newsletters and the internet react to amara imani finally revealing her man

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — @aechii @lorarri

masterlist

The 66th Edition of the Grammys was held yesterday night and if you missed them, let me tell you, you probably missed the most eventful soiree of the year (and it’s only February!) Luckily for you, we have made a summary with the biggest events. And the biggest revelation: THE QUEEN HAS FINALLY FOUND HER KING. You heard correctly — singer Amara Imani and star French footballer Kylian Mbappé are dating and went public last night. And let us tell you, we’d all probably be dying to have a relationship announced the way they did.

They didn’t just show up on the red carpet like ex-boyfriend Henderson had done back then with girlfriend Kaia Gerber — the singer decided to show up at the Grammys alone, steal all the spotlight and leave the red carpet with her beau. THE BIGGEST WINNER OF THE NIGHT WAS CERTAINLY HER.

Next to stunning the audience with five different (and absolutely dashing) dresses, Amara Imani was also the big winner of the ceremony, sweeping off the most important prizes such as record of the year, album of the year and four more. Her biggest surprise though was singing an unreleased song during her performance where she dedicated all to her love, shocking the world.

And she certainly did more than just that. With winning six grammys in one night, Amara Imani set herself next to artists Beyonce and Adele, who are the only other artists to win six grammys in one night. But to be honest, we are still all mesmerized by her last performance.

Imani opened and closed the grammys with her two performances (wild side/hrs&hrs, while we’re young) but the last one will probably be the one to go down in the history of the grammys. The one we’ll still talk about in ten years. She started — of course — with a thank you speech after winning ‘album of the year’ but not without giving the credit not only to her team and family but also to her new muse, who, we quote, “not only inspired me to keep going but also helped me write this whole love letter to love.” When she was then set to perform, the african singer changed tracklist and asked her boyfriend to join her on stage, who with a little persuasion joined her up there. The couple danced together as Imani sang, swaying to the soft tune of the music.

We can all agree that they were the attraction of the night with the way paparazzis and journalists were launching at them as they walked out, hand-in-hand. and of course the Grammys were carried by the french star striker.

And their looks were certainly enough. If that is not love, we truly do not know what is. Let’s all give praise to love and hope these two will last very long.

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

liked by liyah_clark, amara.imani and 11.038.564 others

graceywood grammy night 💋 @amara.imani @liyah_clark

view all 12.599 comments

username why are all of amara’s soo hot and gorgeous?

username they brought the gang back again

username the white dress looks so sweet

graceywood aww thank u sweetie

username pls release the grammy vlog soon

username omg yess i love them, she’s soo funny in them

amara.imani we look amazinggg

liyah_clark somehow all of our pictures came out perfect

graceywood probably because i took them

username i can’t believe she and liyah hid it soo long

username why didn’t you tell us???

graceywood wasn’t my place, sorry

graceywood but lemme tell you, be happy you didn’t witness them in their love sick puppy era

username okay but why is no one talking about her management— like grace deserves manager of the century with how she handled the press and everything with amara

username i just know she’s the reason why evan went quiet after the lawsuit

username kris jenner and the devil may work hard but grace yvonne woods works harder

username facts

𝐥𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐡_𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤

liked by amara.imani, charles_leclerc and 18.246.350 others

liyah_clark the afterparty’s always better than the party itself @amara.imani @graceywood

view all 73.521 comments

username trying to like a post from liyah before charles is literally impossible

username charles having every notification on for when his girl has posted

username he’s putting all our standards too high again

username but can we please talk about the way liyah was bragging that she has known for ages

username her drunk live yesterday was way too funny

charles_leclerc 😍

charles_leclerc t’es magnifique

charles_leclerc hope you had lots of fun

liyah_clark definitely not as much as you 🤭

landonorris where was the rest of your dress? did they run out of fabric?

liyah_clark where’s your win? did they run out of gps?

charles_leclerc liyah, we talked about this

liyah_clark baby, if he fronts, i front. and how do you want me to take him serious if he hasn’t even lost his babyface?

danielricciardo she does have a point

lilymhe omg the matching outfits>>

liyah_clark love of my life! i miss you so much, alex keeps hogging you the entire time

liyah_clark tell alex he needs to share

alexalbon she’s literally my girlfriend

lilymhe alex, liyah is my girlfriend too

charles_leclerc 😑

amara.imani 🫶🏾

amara.imani how much did you drink after i left?

liyah_clark idk anymore, two or three more drinks?

maxverstappen1 that’s a lie. she called charles at five in the morning and told him she wants a puppy

graceywood she fell asleep in the bathtub

liyah_clark snitches

username their trio>>

username early fans will never know how painful amara’s influencer phase was

username so glad she, liyah and grace made up

kendalljenner so true

justineskye next time out when?

liyah_clark two weeks in monaco and then i’m all yours

username love her and amara so much, i need a friendship like theirs

username the fact that they held hands yesterday because amara was nervous when they announced album of the year

username ^^ this, like that made me so emotional

𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚.𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢

liked by k.mbappe, liyah_clark and 26.037.488 others

amara.imani made history in style last night and that next to the people that mean the world to me. a big thank u to @dior and @versace for supplying me with all those gorgeous dresses. thank u @beyonce for literally believing in me and thinking i had it in me. huge thanks to my family who always backed me and thank u to my gorgeous besties @graceywood and @liyah_clark for always supporting me whenever i needed you. and the biggest thank u ever to my love for loving me unconditionally. this is all because of you

view all 210.038 comments

k.mbappe je t’aime

amara.imani jusqu'à l'éternité

username why did this just make me cry

username i’m still not over the fact that she’s dating kylian mbappe

username i cried when they were dancing together on stage

cynthia_e this was all you. no one but you and your talent and we just encouraged you to take it to the top. love you

amara.imani 🫶🏾

liyah_clark this was all you, we just went along with you

graceywood you’re our sister, we’re family

amara.imani 🥹 stop making me emotional

liyah_clark you cry at everything

amara.imani not true

graceywood you cried at frozen

username omg the flowers, the kiss on the head 🥹

username did kylian take the sixth picture?

amara.imani right when we got home

username when is it my turn?

username she slayeddd so much yesterday

beyoncé so proud to have been your mentor and being able to witness this journey

amara.imani 🫶🏾 thank you so much

versace it was an honor for us to dress you and design those gorgeous dresses

username amara imani and kylian mbappe, a couple the world is not ready yet for

paulpogba you made sure kylian pulled out the big moves last night, didn’t you 😂

jkeey4 i don’t think i’ve ever seen him look so out of place

amara.imani he wasn’t that bad, it was beautiful

antogriezmann notre bébé a grandit

k.mbappe 🙄

username that dress is ethereal

username soo unreal, i’d literally sell my soul to wear it

danielricciardo thx for the shoutout yesterday night, we had lots of fun

maxverstappen1 you performed lovely last night

pierregasly merci beaucoup, beyoncé knows who i am now

username the fact that she’s so close with f1 drivers that they stayed up for her

lewishamilton wishing you and kylian all the best

amara.imani sir, i’m single (me and kylian signed that in your presence i get to be single)

k.mbappe when did we agree to that?

amara.imani i forged your signature

k.mbappe 😕

charles_leclerc bienvenue dans le club

username if my relationship isn’t like that, i don’t want it

username preach

username i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone look this much in love

username forget ballon d’or, i think amara is the most important thing in his life now

username and the way she looks at him (i mean picture six is just 🥹)

liyah_clark soo.. about that dress, when can i burrow it?

amara.imani bitch, how about never

carlossainz are you trying to kill charles?

pierregasly get him thrown out of every public space?

maxverstappen1 arrested?

username why are they all ganging up on charles?

danielricciardo because liyah and charles are like animals and can’t keep their hands off each other

pierregasly and we all know if liyah wears this dress, charles will very likely get arrested for public indecency

charles_leclerc 😑

liyah_clark you’re all just jealous we’re getting laid

username that bouquet 😫 like how??

amara.imani i assure you i had the same reaction, he’s spoiling me so much 🤭

k.mbappe you deserve to be treated like the queen you are

username ladies and gentlemen, the couple of the century

𝐤.𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞

liked by amara.imani, jkeey4 and 8.082.367 others

k.mbappe 🏆🫶🏾

the user turned off the comments

[koisuko]

The winner of the pole, The Hobbit series! Time for some fluffy bilbo action. Bilbo is so adorable, gotta protect him at all costs❣️

Tw: none, fluff, gn reader, use of “you”, aimed to be platonic but can be whatever you’d like

An early nights rest, that’s all you wanted. On top of the nightmares, a grueling several days constantly walking and fending for your lives, all for the sake of bringing the king back to his mountain. You signed up for it, you suppose, but you certainly didn’t sign up for the heavy snores and coughs of Bombur blissfully unaware of the moths he was inhaling.

The constant tossing and turning was futile, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips as you finally flip on your back. You stare up at the stars, sinking ever so slightly into the bed roll beneath you, the fabric providing just a little bit of cushioning from the cold hard ground. Yet another night where sleep seems to escape you, slipping from your grasp like an empty promise. As you squint up at the sky, you could almost see the nightmares taking shape. The darkness of your half lidded eyes harbored flashing images of orc raids and troll kidnappings, it made you shudder at the core.

The images seem to vanish with a huff of frustration sounding beside you, breaking you from your fear ridden trance. Your gaze lands on the company burglar, Bilbo Baggins, sat beside the fire, on a stump of a long forgotten willow tree. You couldn’t quite make out what he was doing, his back facing you and posture hunched. You were too curious to ignore it, and much too restless to even try and sleep now. With a stretch, you stand from your bedroll, quietly approaching as to not wake the others. The closer you got, the more you picked up on the brittle sound of something being cut with a crude knife. You also caught a glimpse of flashing reflections from the flames dancing on the metallic surface. Now, you stood just behind him, peaking over his shoulder to reveal a pair of shaky hands attempting to whittle what looked like a small animal.

“Can’t sleep?” You whispered, watching him jump and nearly drop the items in hand. You giggled at how jumpy he tends to be, watching his eyes go from big, doe like orbs and back to normal again. “Not at the moment,” he replied, patting the seat beside him, to which you obliged. “What’s on your mind Bilbo?” You didn’t look at him, instead, looking to the stars once again. “Home sick, I suppose,” he paused for just a moment, staring down at the wood in his hands. You could see him caress the texture of the bark, skimming over it with his thumb whilst deep in thought. “I feel like I was wrong to come along,” he kept his head low as he spoke, “I don’t belong here.” You halted your fixation on the stars to shoot him a look of confusion. Your brows knit together, letting the words hang in the air for a moment in silence. “Bilbo, you belong more than you believe,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before dropping it back to your side. “We all need you,” you give him a gentle smile, watching him mirror it as his own. “You really think so?” He asked, his voice became a little more confident, and a light tint of red spread on his cheeks. You nod, “I know so.”

You sat together in a peaceful quiet for a moment, soaking in the heat of the fire to fend off the chills of the night air. A thought popped into your mind, remembering the task he had previously been doing. “You whittle?” You asked, jerking your head to the knife and wood he held. He looked down, as if forgetting he was even holding anything before gently pressing the blade to the surface of the wood. “Learning to, although it’s a lot harder than I believed it would be,” he twisted the wood in his hand, probably envisioning the completed artwork. “What were you aiming to make?” You questioned, your head tilted slightly to portray your curiosity. He shrugged, averting his gaze to the bright flames of the campfire, “A sheep, it reminds me of home.” He smiled at the thought, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. “There are plenty in the Shire, perhaps you can see them someday,” he looked to you for a reaction, grazing over the features of your face before looking back down at the fire. “That sounds pleasant,” you felt your eyes grow heavy from just the thought of the Shire, the friendly halflings and bountiful sheep population combined with the smell of freshly grown crops. He nodded in agreement, looking back to the stars ahead, “I hope to show you after all of this.”

[mirimiramiri]

A story about a king and his koi

Happy belated Tanabata everyone!

Here is a picture I did about half a year ago. I always thought it stayed behind its potential, so it got a recent make-over.

Hitomi invited Van to spend this years celebrations with him.

Now a snapshot from my work-in-progress story „Star-crossed lovers“ for which I’ll include the link at the bottom.

******************* The colors of tanabata danced around them, mingling with cheerful sounds and delicious smells to a true ode to life. It was overwhelming, magical, wonderful, and if he had not had his faithful companion by his side, the visitor from a distant star could easily have lost himself in the foreign spectacle.

Then, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity in this strange strange world, Van saw something that reminded him of home. People had kept a respectful distance around one of the attractions. And with good reason, for it was dangerous here. Lined up side by side were seven structures made of sturdy straw, each the size of a wagon wheel. A circular cardboard disc was attached to each one. Concentric circles were drawn around a black dot in the center. At that moment, an arrow hit one of the targets with a hiss. The spectators applauded politely, even though the archer was standing quite close. Nevertheless, the performance was not to be scoffed at, for it was a young boy who was now visibly proud to receive a yellow stuffed mouse as a prize. The cuddly toy was almost as huge as the boy himself and was grinning a happy, slightly psychotic smile. The little winner ran back to a woman and a man who proudly patted their offspring on the head. "Do they hunt with bows and arrows here too?" Van wondered curiously and walked over to the stall. An elderly gentleman with a round face like a pancake and dressed in a shimmering robe was picking the arrow out of the straw target.

"Ah. That was a long time ago," Hitomi replied. "Hardly anyone goes hunting anymore, let alone with a bow and arrow." "With what then?" "Uh, with modern weapons," Hitomi pressed. That wasn't her specialty and certainly not a topic she liked to talk about. She could google it quickly, but she didn't feel like it at the moment. "Nevertheless, the tradition of archery is kept alive here. More as an art and for entertainment than out of necessity." Van nodded. "To preserve the ancient knowledge." "That's right!" Hitomi smiled in relief. The man in the extravagant garment scurried around, showing off the longbow in his hands, challenging people to test it. "I've never tried it, though…" Van finally turned back to her. "Did you know that archery is one of my rather sparsely sown talents?" He smiled mischievously, just to the left, as if to express a challenge. "Would you like to try your luck?" she guessed in surprise. Van raised his eyebrows. "Not my luck, my skill." She vaguely remembered him firing a single arrow at the dragon's eye with a crossbow embedded in his armor. Somehow, she had always assumed he would use something like that on the hunt for food. More precisely, she had deliberately never questioned how exactly he killed animals to gut and eat.

She had found it immensely creepy, back on their trip through the wilderness towards Freid, every time he and Merle had slain rabbits and snakes without batting an eyelid to later roast them over the campfire. Even though it was necessary and important for their survival, she preferred to look the other way. "Okay." She reached into her tiny bag and pulled out one of those colorful printed pieces of paper that served as currency here. "Just give this to the dazzling, loud man. I think he'll understand." He accepted the 1,000 yen without argument, reverently and with both hands, as if it were much much more. He even bowed slightly to acknowledge this huge sacrifice. They had already had enough discussions about whether it was appropriate for her to invite him to everything today and to fulfill his every wish, no matter how small. With the result that his resistance was finally broken and he surrendered to her hospitality. "Then show me what you can do. Conquer one of the stuffed Pikachu for me," she urged him. "I'll prove myself worthy of your trust and won't let you down," he promised, marching off confidently. The crowd magically made way for him, expressing something that was more than just politeness. As if frightened by his extraterrestrial presence, a few half-grown men stepped aside, though he didn’t even notice them.

"Ah. Would you like to try, young man?" the booth operator understood correctly when Van offered him the money with a polite bow. "How many shots? One? Or seven times?" "Sumimasen," he replied for lack of alternatives. The man looked surprised. He had mistaken the teenager with the shiny black hair for a countryman. But this stumbling pronunciation gave him away in an instance. How peculiar, he had Japanese features at first glance, anything but at second glance, and when you looked closer, it became increasingly unclear where he might have come from. Apparently, his family tree was rooted all over the world. Anyway, the youngster had enough money for a shot, wanted his fun, and was going to get it. "So, let's see what you've got," he cackled good-naturedly, handing the boy his bow and arrow. "You may choose any of the targets, but none of the spectators, please! Ganbatte!" "Arigato." Van mumbled the second of the words whose meaning and pronunciation Yukari had painstakingly taught him. Then he inspected the weapon in his hand. The arrowhead was rather blunt. No wonder, since it was only used for ceremonial purposes and not for killing. The bow was about the same size as Fanelia's. It was a bit worn, but fit well in his left hand and weighed little more than a fistful of feathers.

By now, a crowd of onlookers had gathered around the scene. At least two dozen pairs of eyes followed the boy in the dark red yukata as he examined the possible targets and finally strolled decisively to the right. He took aim at the farthest straw body, then stepped back a few feet. "Pretty brave," someone commented next to Hitomi, who was watching the spectacle as intently as everyone else. By now the arrow had a long distance to overcome before it would reach its goal. But Van seemed to be absolutely sure of himself. He stood with his legs apart, put the arrow in place, drew the bow in one quick movement, nestled the feathers against his cheek… and closed his eyes. Hitomi opened hers even wider. What was he doing?

"Oh!" shouted those nearby. "He's shooting blind!" "He really wants to know!" someone sneered, and a group laughed. As usual, Van didn't understand a word. And even if he had, at this point nothing could break his concentration so easily. Over the past year, he had almost perfected the art of blocking everything out. Even himself. Often enough there was no other way to cope with reality. Hitomi watched in complete fascination as his muscles worked under the thin, red fabric. He smiled only minimally, but she saw it anyway. The neckline of the yukata had opened a little, revealing the hint of a sun-kissed torso. Just below his prominent collarbone, a pink jewel shone peacefully. Hitomi had seen him demonstrate his skills as a warrior more times than she would have liked. On the battlefield, in the Colosseum of Palas, against Dilandau, in seemingly hopeless situations. As far as she could tell, he wielded his sword skillfully. But never with enthusiasm, only out of necessity. Now, for the first time, she saw him doing something he was not only good at, but clearly enjoyed. Hitomi felt the butterflies in her stomach dance wildly again.

He was graceful. He had never been as beautiful as he was now.

But the sight did not last long. He released the arrow, which immediately soared through the air, and the crowd held its breath for a moment. There was a hiss and a soft, very satisfying sound as the tip hit the target. A collective "Ooooh!" traveled from spectator to spectator. The archer opened his eyes. The arrow was dead center. Van smiled serenely. He turned his head and saw what he had hoped for: Hitomi, looking at him with huge eyes, overflowing with admiration. His smile widened even more. He had reached his goal, in more than one way. "Someone fry me a stork! Right on target! Incredible!" "A true master!" "A trick!" someone squealed. "But he did it anyway!" The bystanders applauded enthusiastically for the young man, who seemed to consist of nothing but pure confidence at that particular moment. Hitomi had never seen him so radiant. What other secret talents would he reveal to her? The thought made her blood boil, her hormones spike, and she had to hide a broad grin behind her hand. Meanwhile, the center of everyone's attention was confronted with completely different problems.

"And here's the prize! Well deserved." The cheerful vendor handed the young man a clear bag instead of a fluffy Pokémon. His victorious smile immediately faded. The bag was relatively heavy, which was not surprising. It was filled to the brim with water. Which was absolutely necessary. Inside, a strange creature was making its monotonous rounds, looking out at the world in constant amazement. It was white, speckled with orange spots, and proudly wore a thin moustache that reminded a bit of the licked lackeys of Astoria. The similarly hollow look in his eyes also matched that comparison. His new owner stared back, much more puzzled. His companion had to stifle a laugh. He came back to her. Now people were staring after him in fascination, but he payed them no attention. "That was great!" Hitomi greeted him with bright eyes. Unfortunately, he barely noticed because he was distracted by the thing in his hand. "What kind of creature is that?" asked Van. "Well, a fish. A baby koi, to be exact. Don't you know?" He looked at her and she had to grin again at his confused expression. "I know fish. Grilled over the fire or drowned in greasy sauce in Astoria…" "It's certainly not for eating. They are kept for pleasure, to enjoy the sight of. As a pet, a house animal.“*

"House? Animal?" Individually, the words made sense, but together? Somehow, Hitomi liked the idea of the king keeping an ornamental fish from now on. Would there be room for the aquarium in his tiny, spartan quarters? How would Merle react? "Do you want it?" Van held out the poor, orphaned animal. Maybe he had a gift for her after all. But she put her hands up defensively. "That’s sweet, but my father doesn't allow pets." As Van became more and more desperate, she suggested: "We'll set him free. There's a pond over there." "Agreed," he said, relieved, and hurried after her. Away from the hustle and bustle, a dark surface of water lay still in the starlight. Only now and then could white shadows be seen passing beneath it like ghosts. Together they tipped the contents of the bag over the pond. The bright orange of a sleek fin flashed in farewell… then the animal was free and among its own kind. The girl in the blue yukata and the boy in red knelt on the bank and simply watched for a while, enjoying the wonderful moment of mutual silence in a way only very close friends can. "Sayonara, Klausu," Hitomi whispered, "I hope the other fish are nice to you." "Klausu?"

"That's what I named him…" He looked at her intently. Here in the shadows of some old maple trees they were all alone and unobserved. "Thank you, Hitomi," he said solemnly. "For showing me your world." "Gladly." "I apologize for not being able to bring you the Pikachu trophy I promised." "Oh no, don‘t worry about that! Seeing you shoot that arrow is much more important than any Pokémon could ever be," was her reply. She waved her hand defensively, and the small bag attached to the wrist flew wildly through the air. Was he mistaken, or did she become just as nervous as he felt? In any case, her sudden flow of words was another indication. "You know, there are always archery competitions here at the temple in the fall. And there's a lot more to win than just fish. Kamakura is famous for this spectacle, and the art is called Yabusame. However, the competitions are held on horseback, which makes it quite difficult." "I'm very good at riding, too." "Really? Maybe you'd like to come back and we can watch the tournament together?" "I would welcome the opportunity to come back." A pink glow rose in her cheeks and her smile grew even brighter. All the colors of the night gathered in her beautiful eyes. The sight tempted him to take her delicate hand and finally move closer to her. Was this the time and place for one long overdue first kiss? While he was still sorting his thoughts to plan the next steps, her mood suddenly changed.

If she had been nervous before, she seemed almost anxious now. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time," she blurted out. "I'm sorry, Van. I'm so sorry."

* Foot Note: sadly the joke gets lost in translation. The German word for pet is Haustier, so house plus animal, therefore the thing with the two words combined make no sense to Van.

Anyway, I love the short scene in Freid where we see Van practicing archery. It’s so calm and peaceful. A lot of episodes later we see little Van returning with Vargas (Balgus) with bow and arrow, probably from a hunting trip. See how happy he looks? He seemed to really have enjoyed that so I guess it’s his favourite hobby.