#even though I have sooo many chapters to go through first

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

akdalfqkfqjafja this screenshot of Ratio with slitted eyes has me vibrating because of some stuff I have planned for the aventio snake hybrid au

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER FOUR | 18+

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

P.R.O.M.

"It’s like I was drowning, and you were a breath of fresh air."

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Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, masturbation (f), heavy dom/sub dynamics: dom!reader & sub!Hyunjin, oral sex (f & m receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, also i'm in a rush to post sooo prolly many typos IGNORE EM Word Count: 18k 😪

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

You hate monotony. You can always feel it swarming into your being and morphing you into another one of the robotic sellouts working in corporate America. You wake up at six. Shower, and another drab blazer. A bowl of cereal. The seventeen minute drive to work. The seventeen— or twenty, with afternoon traffic— minute drive back from work. Sleep. By the millisecond, it kills your creativity, along with all of that chaos that personifies you so truly, no matter how many problems said discord might cause you. Because you like color, you like danger. So, even though it’s an aspect of your daily life, you hate monotony.

But as you sleepily blink your eyes open, adjusting to your new surroundings, you can’t help but yearn for every other morning in your life to be exactly like this. An arm thrown over your waist, hugging you close. Covers carelessly cast over your body. Light shyly creeping through the part in the curtains. The feeling of belonging somewhere.

You turn your head slightly, focusing on the person nestled against you. Even in the morning, Hyunjin is gorgeous, with tousled hair flopping over his forehead, skin glowing where it has been kissed by the sun rays. His eyes are fluttered shut, and soft snores escape his lips. Your heart squeezes tight, and this time, it’s not of yearning, but of love, of how much you adore him. Corporate America may not be so bad, not if your days begin next to a sleeping angel on Earth. 

You watch Hyunjin doze for a little longer, reminiscing about the night before. Confessions that were returned, by the grace of some higher power deciding to have mercy on you. Calls up to said higher power in the urgency of pleasure. Hyunjin taking you home, torturing you with his teasing during the drive. Heated kisses between his sheets that smelled so overwhelmingly and perfectly like him. Closing your eyes knowing that you didn’t have to go to bed alone, for the first time.

You drifted off last night thinking that you’d wake up to real life, but now that the new day is here, your reality is much better than any dream you could have ever conjured up in your head. Cautiously, you try to lift Hyunjin’s arm off of you so that you could move to find your phone, but his hold on you subconsciously tightens, trapping you.

“And where are you going?” Hyunjin rasps into your ear, a tickle of breath against your skin. The flirtatious edge to it makes you flush, and you realize that neither of you are wearing any clothes, separated merely by a few flimsy folds of cotton. 

“Nowhere now,” you reply, looking into the eyes that are now wide with alertness, taking you in. And it’s true— there is nowhere else you would ever want to go, when you’re tucked in Hyunjin’s embrace. “Good morning.”

“‘Morning, beautiful.” Hyunjin leans in to give you a dizzying kiss, one that sends a little tingle through your limbs. He reaches his hands up to cradle your face in his palms, before pulling back to give you a tender look. “Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in ages,” you say, unable to keep the giddy feeling from bubbling up in your chest. You’re in the arms of Hwang fucking Hyunjin, and he just asked you if you slept well. What was life before him, anyway? “How about you?”

Hyunjin grins, pecking you softly on your lips. “Ditto.”

Both of you don’t say anything for a moment, just basking in each other’s warmth. The tips of Hyunjin’s fingers caress the line of your hip, simply exploring you in the light of the morning. You instinctively clench, his touch far too racy for it to be innocent. 

“Hyun,” you murmur, feeling the embarrassingly prominent arousal already pooling in between your legs. 

“Mm?” Hyunjin looks at you innocently, but you don’t miss the hint of a smirk on his face. His hand trails down even further, now tracing nonsensical patterns on your thighs. 

“Don’t start things you can’t finish.” You capture his wandering hand and bring it up to your lips, kissing it softly. “It would be really mean of you, especially when we both have work in just a few hours.”

Hyunjin groans dramatically. “Let’s just stay in bed. I don’t want to go.”

“Me neither but today is Thursday, the week is almost over, and Mark will have my ass if I bail. And I would not love it if Wonyoung murdered you either, so,” you laugh, thinking of Hyunjin’s secretary furiously spamming his phone, demanding his ETA to the office.

“Fine,” Hyunjin grumbles. “But I get to make you breakfast before you go. And we shower together first.”

“I guess I could clock in a little late.” You bite back a smile, carding your fingers through his hair. Hyunjin nuzzles into your neck, waiting for your answer. “But only if you swear to behave.”

“Scout’s honor.”

Hyunjin pulls back, expression so somber that you almost get surprised when he corners you in the bathroom just moments later, crescent moon eyes crinkling smugly when you let him have his way with you. Hyunjin makes you come with the shower head twice, whining that he just had to see if the water pressure was good enough, and that you were just the best way to check. You see straight through his lies, but you can’t complain, not when he diligently runs a soaped washcloth down your trembling legs afterward, praising you for being so forgiving. 

Hyunjin then takes his time taking care of you, shampooing your hair slowly and massaging your scalp, and before letting you do the same to him. For a blissful period, it’s just the both of you, enveloped in a cloud of lavender-scented intimacy. But the feeling doesn’t run out when you turn off the tap, and Hyunjin wraps you in a fluffy towel, leading the way out back into the bedroom, where you shiver in the blast of air.

Despite your numerous protests that you could just wear your clothes from the night before, Hyunjin insists on you wearing something of his. Of course, he ends up winning, when you walk out of his closet donned in a “silk Versace pantsuit,” the only words you remotely understood when Hyunjin had used a plethora of high fashion jargon to describe the androgynous beige number. 

He just chuckles, obviously pleased with his work. “You look ready to ruin corporate lives. Just stunning.”

The genuine compliment has you heating up, with how you were never good at accepting them in the first place, but especially now, when it comes from the most gorgeous person you know. 

But before you go overthinking, a tiny ball of fluff barrels into Hyunjin out of nowhere, exploding in a fit of tiny barks. Hyunjin holds the puppy up, letting it snuggle into him while it sizes you up over his shoulder. 

“Who’s this?” You nearly melt as the puppy wriggles out of Hyunjin’s hold and tentatively approaches your hand, sniffing before launching itself at you. 

“My best friend, Princess Diana.” Hyunjin laughs as she cuddles you, licking your neck curiously. “You know, Diana’s usually very suspicious of new people. But it looks like she likes you a lot.”

You smile, letting Diana go and run off to whatever she was doing before greeting you both. His words touch you, and make you realize something else. Hyunjin makes you feel special. You love who you are when you are around him. And you want it all, Hyunjin, Diana, and the feeling of being home with him. 

Hyunjin leads you into his kitchen and seats you at one of the high stools at the island, leaving you to do nothing but keep him company. You stay quiet for a second, just observing him exist, completely in his own element. He may be in the kitchen now, pulling bell peppers out of his blindingly shiny Samsung fridge, but the way he confronts the day and every task it brings with so much ease reminds you of how he is when in professional mode over at SeoulSpark. 

It’s no secret that you admire how his confidence resonates within everything he does, but what really strikes you is that other side of him, the one he’d bared to you the night before, in that stretch of vulnerability. It’s the part of him that he keeps hidden the most, the inevitable messiness of life. Knowing that makes you feel like you’re looking into a warped mirror everytime you think of Hyunjin; your problem has been that you’ve always been too quick to act on your convoluted emotions, too impulsive, while Hyunjin just seems to repress it all. When not staggered by your own thunderstorms and error codes, you feel like you can read him better than a simple parsing script in Python. And you love it, and him, for everything that he openly is and pretends not to be. 

“What are you thinking about?” Hyunjin asks you, looking up at you while whisking a ceramic bowl of eggs. 

You snap out of your thoughts, shrugging. You’ve decided that one day, if you allow this seed between you both to blossom, you’re going to tell him what you really think: how loved Hyunjin really is. But for now, you’ll take a page out of his book and deflect. “Just that you're a real life Barbie.”

He gives you a quizzically amused look, now folding chopped vegetables into the egg mixture before expertly tipping spoonfuls into a skillet. “Meaning?”

“I really can’t think of one thing you cannot do.” You gesture at the stove and wave your hand lightly, trying to convey how wonderful you find the spicy aroma that has now diffused into the air. “On top of everything, you have skills to rival the hopefuls on MasterChef.”

Hyunjin bursts out into laughter. “Well, I can think of a billion things I can’t do. I don’t know how to code like you. I really suck at juggling. And you will probably never win if I’m on your team for trivia night.”

“Okay, then. Maybe not Barbie.”

“Personally, I have always felt more aligned with Raquelle, seeing as we’re both Asian and have great style.”

Hyunjin gives you a cheeky look that has you giggling and blushing on the inside, but he doesn’t need to know that. You follow him to the dining nook that he has set up adjacent to the kitchen, helping him carry everything over. In the shadows of the night prior, you couldn’t take in Hyunjin’s penthouse, but now, you allow your eyes to roam.

Like any other average twenty-something working an average job, you feel that initial punch to your spatial ability while witnessing the abode of a clearly above-average lifestyle. The painting on the wall that’s definitely worth more than your mortgage. The crisp, ninety-degree angle to every piece of furniture in sight. The entire city of Los Angeles sprawled out below the gigantic windows. It’s jarring, witnessing the scarily pristine quality of Hyunjin’s place. It is very cool, of course, but it doesn’t feel real— at least, not at first.

However, you don’t skip over those quintessentially Hyunjin touches to the apartment, the add-ons that anyone else could miss if they don’t look close enough. The garishly pink chick flick CDs wedged in between the minimalist decorative books. The pack of strawberry jolly ranchers peeking out of the bowl of fruit on the coffee table. The crayon sketch of a llama that’s stuck on the fridge with a pizza-shaped magnet. 

Hyunjin follows your gaze to the last one, explaining before you can ask. “One of my client’s kids made that for me during art class. He said it’s a portrait of me as a spirit animal. Can you see the resemblance?”

You swallow down the urge to swoon at how fucking adorable he is. Any day, you prefer these little stories in item form, these quirks that represent Hyunjin. “Totally.”

Hyunjin beams and places a beautifully cooked gourmet omelet onto your place, sprinkling on a few green onions and coriander for a garnish. “I hope you like it. I know you do love eggs.”

You frown. “Wait. How do you know that?”

“You might have told me when you were drunk.”

You turn red, suddenly vaguely remembering a nonsensical rant about your favorite breakfast foods. Well, shit. At least, you can ponder over the fact that he’s remembered that miniscule detail about your tastes. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Hyunjin. I have a stash of granola bars inside my desk at work.”

He shakes his head adamantly. “Absolutely not. What kind of a monster would I be if I didn’t at least make sure you ate well before work? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

You relent, digging into your plate. “In any case, thank you.”

An easy silence follows, in which both of you just take the time to savor your food and each other’s company. But the unpleasant inevitable that you’ve been putting off for long enough works its way out of your mind. “So, we should probably talk now, though. About us.”

Hyunjin wipes his mouth with a napkin before setting it down, a determined look on his face. “I agree. I should begin with saying that I don’t regret a single thing.”

“I don’t regret anything either,” you respond softly, still taken with how steadfast he seems to be in his feelings for you. “I know I never actually came to you for therapy, but you were my counselor, before I transitioned fully into relationship coaching.”

He nods. “I know, it’s complicated. Since you are my client as well, there are some ethical guidelines that now might be jeopardized, and we’ll have to take a couple steps to prevent any potential conflict.”

“What kind of conflict?”

Hyunjin sighs, thumbing the edge of his plate. “Hypothetically, if we broke up, and you felt like you were taken advantage of in your counselor-client setting, you could sue for damages. And I wouldn’t be the only one bearing the lawsuit— it would be the entire company board for SeoulSpark, which is why they’re always skeptical of any romantic relationships with clients.”

“Seems ironically anti-romantic, taking into consideration what SeoulSpark does.” In spite of the ball of stress now accumulating in your stomach, you shoot Hyunjin a dry smile that he returns. “But if we did pursue a romance, I would never break up with someone like you. Never.”

That momentary passage of honesty has got the both of you surprised, Hyunjin flustered a little bit. A cute flush spreads across the apples of his cheeks, as he clears his throat. There’s a slight fragility to how he looks at you now, beyond that charming cockiness and suave exterior. “Do you really think so? You don’t know what the future holds. I- I feel like I still don’t deserve you, like I’m going to disappoint you somehow.”

“Never. Since forever, I’ve never felt like I was seen for who I was. You see me, you always have. And you don’t try to change me. What you’ve done for me transcends the abilities of a dating coach. Hyunjin, you are the best part of my days.”

“I am so whipped for you.” Hyunjin shakes his head a little, and it almost seems as if he’s speaking to himself, to affirm it out loud. 

You press your lips together in one last ditch attempt to not melt into a puddle right there. “So, we’re giving us a try, then?” 

“Yes,” Hyunjin confirms firmly. “We’ll take it slow, because I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll have to meet with H.R. and the board, but first, we’ll go on a few dates, get to know each other better.”

You sigh happily, practically glowing with relief. “Sounds good. Does this mean my contract with SeoulSpark is over?”

Hyunjin gasps dramatically, clutching at his heart. “Are you breaking up with me? Again?!”

You roll your eyes in a lovingly exasperated sort of way, smile widening nevertheless with Hyunjin’s theatrics. “Don’t worry. I’d rather have Hyunjin over the Love Doctor anyday.”

Hyunjin beams sweetly, reaching across the table to clasp your hands in his. “You have to let me take you out tomorrow night. Please?”

“That would be perfect,” you say, lightly running your thumb down the side of Hyunjin’s hand. “I can’t wait.”

You help Hyunjin clear and wipe down the table, trading comments on controversial fashion trends to your top artists on Spotify while doing the dishes side by side. The whole picture of you both, just talking about anything while trudging through the mundane, feels so beautifully and achingly domestic to you, something you never thought you would have.

After you both finish cleaning up— the reward of which was a solid nine minutes spent making out against the kitchen counter— Hyunjin gives you a disarming smile and subsequently pleads with you to let him drive you to work. 

“It’ll be so cute when I drop you off, and I definitely won’t linger around the NCT office building, trying to scope out the competition.” Hyunjin shoots you a sad set of puppy dog eyes that has you raising your eyebrows suspiciously. 

“What competition?”

“Well, I can’t have some handsome fool crushing on you,” Hyunjin scoffs, completely serious in a way that’s almost comical. “Gotta make it known from the beginning that you’re mine.”

The possessive address automatically makes you sigh dreamily inside, before you take care to assure Hyunjin that he has absolutely nothing to worry about. “Trust me, Hyunjin, the majority of the guys at the office are fools, but nowhere near handsome.”

“Sorry,” Hyunjin mumbles, a sheepish grin playing upon his lips. “I guess this is the part where I tell you that I am a very dramatic person when it comes to relationships. This is your time to run.”

“Not a chance.” You seal your promise to stay by leaning in for a kiss, which Hyunjin happily obliges you with. 

Giggling together like teenagers who have just done it for the first time, you and Hyunjin head down to the parking garage, lost in your own bubble. To anyone, it could seem like you were both obviously in the honeymoon phase of your budding relationship, that this phase would pass, but you know in your heart that life with Hyunjin could never lose its luster. 

Today, you forgo your morning NPR fix to sing along to Hyunjin’s playlist homage to one of his favorite artists, some funky underground band called Lost Children. You’ve always been more of a classical person, but the upbeat hip-hop music seems the most fitting when you look over at Hyunjin laughing at some dumb joke you’ve made, his hand casually slung over your thigh. The moment feels like a frame stolen out of a movie, something that you still can’t fathom to be your real life. 

Because on a dime, everything has changed. You used to walk into NCT with your gaze trained on the ground, trying to block out the world around you with your cheap headphones. Now, the dopiest smile known to man is plastered on your face, frozen in place even minutes after Hyunjin has dropped you off at the office; he had refused to leave until you kissed him goodbye, and subsequently, you watched him drive away until the convertible became a speck in the distance. Because little does Hyunjin know that he need not ask anything of you; for as long as you can, you’ll try your best to give him everything he could ever even dream of. 

Friday evening doesn’t come fast enough. But when it does arrive, Hyunjin feels like there is barely enough time to prepare himself. One second, he’s glumly sitting in his office, counting down those torturous minutes that he has left before he can see you. In the next, he’s flying around his penthouse at 5:36 PM, getting himself together in a panic. Shit, he has to pick you up soon; dinner jacket thrown onto his back. 5:37 PM. Crap, his hair looks too pretentious; sea salt leave-in product sprayed onto his hair, to texturize and style. 5:38 PM. And fuck, he’s missing something; a spritz of cologne on his neck. 5:39 PM.

Hyunjin nearly cries in relief when his reflection finally satisfies him, before he’s grabbing his keys and scrambling down to get into his car. He gets to your apartment exactly three minutes before six, and he was even able to afford a speedy stop at the florist, a bouquet of pink carnations now perched in the passenger seat. After checking his breath (minty and good-to-go) and using his rear-view mirror to scan himself one last time, Hyunjin gathers the nerve to knock on your front door. 

You open the door almost immediately, slightly out of breath like you had dropped everything just to dash over. After adjusting to that initial moment of awe that overcomes him whenever he lays eyes on you, Hyunjin takes his time admiring how beautiful you look. You’re wearing a wine-colored gown that hits right above your knee, a flash of your soft skin an insinuation to where exactly you’d want Hyunjin’s hands to wander. Your hair, tumbling over your shoulders like a waterfall, just begging Hyunjin to pull on. Dark red lips to bite onto, kohl lined eyes to gaze into. And a lovely smile that spreads across your face when you realize that it’s Hyunjin at the door, all for him. 

“Hyunjin!” you exclaim, and before he can say anything else, you’re pulling him in by his tie, kissing him deeply. That distinct smell of vanilla and gardenias invades his senses, and for a second, he’s temporarily debilitated by it.

You both pull apart for air much too soon, but he embraces you in a hug, because he’s too greedy to let you go, even though you’ve promised yourself to him this evening. 

“It’s great to see you too,” Hyunjin giggles, that warm feeling in his belly now spreading throughout the rest of his body. No matter the weight of it, love feels nice. “And these are for you. Not as beautiful as you, obviously, but a guy can try.”

“Pink carnations are my favorite flowers, thank you.” You accept the bouquet and stare at it in astonishment, making Hyunjin wonder if that asshole Park Jisung had ever once brought you flowers. But Hyunjin shakes the simmering fury away when you step to the side, beckoning for him to come inside. He’ll find every damn pink carnation in the world and lay them at your feet, to treat you as you deserve to be. 

After you finish placing the carnations inside a vase to adorn your dining table, you grab Hyunjin’s hand, pulling him out the door.

“So, where are you taking me?” You ask Hyunjin as he opens the car door for you. 

“It’s a surprise.” Hyunjin smiles when you playfully roll your eyes at him. “You’ll just have to see.”

You put on your seat belt and use the sun visor mirror to fluff out your hair, while Hyunjin just watches, completely smitten. 

“You going to start the car anytime soon, Hyunjin?” You eye him, propping the visor back into place and effectively snapping Hyunjin back into reality. “Or are you going to keep staring at me?”

You barely ever have to do anything to make Hyunjin fold, but here you are, putting in the extra effort to mess with him. Just like magic, you’ve switched into this flirty woman who speaks to him in a deliciously degrading way, and Hyunjin loves it. God, you know what you’re doing. And of course he wants to choose the latter option, to keep admiring you for as long as his heart desires, but he ends up glaring straight forward and jamming the key into the ignition. 

“It’s become a bad habit. I can’t look away from you,” Hyunjin mutters, a little mortified that you’ve caught him. The universe might as well stamp “SIMP” on his forehead in big, bold letters. He messes around with the touchscreen stereo in an attempt to keep himself occupied with anything other than you, flipping through the radio stations until he lands on a neutral jazz mix. 

You tilt your body towards Hyunjin, so close and yet too far. “I don’t think it’s bad… I like it when you look at me. It does things to me, you know.”

By now, Hyunjin’s knuckles that are gripping the steering wheel are bone-white. He needs you, and he needs you to use him now, damn it. And you’re not helping. But what is he, if not a glutton for pain? 

“What kinds of things?”

“You’ll just have to see,” you laugh, copying Hyunjin’s words from earlier and falling back onto your seat comfortably. Before Hyunjin can say anything else, you suddenly turn to the window, pointing at the sunset excitedly. “Oh my god, Hyunjin! Look!”

Hyunjin nearly misses it, the distinct green flicker that appears transiently above the setting sun’s upper limb. But he doesn’t, catching it before it fades in an instant. “Wow, I never thought I’d see one of those.”

You glance over at him, a dreamy look in your eye. “The green flash. The atmosphere makes the sun refract into different colors, and the one our eyes perceive is green. A lot of people think it’s a hoax. But it’s real. It’s just rare.”

“West Coast wonder,” Hyunjin says, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “It’s fate that we just happened to see it.”

“Hmm. It might be the coder in me, but I think it’s logic not fate.” You thread your fingers in through the gaps in Hyunjin’s. “Good things happen when I’m with you. I’m with you. And this is something good.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, just taking you in. The idea of being meant to be has always resonated within him, but perhaps you really are right. Hyunjin is well aware that he’s somewhat of a hypocrite, always encouraging others to be happy and be themselves, while the entire time, he would package his emotions deep inside, maintaining his facade of perfection. Even at home, when he was all alone, he would never truly be comfortable in his own skin, instead obsessing over routine that never did much to ease him on the inside.

Eat, sleep, work, train, repeat, until a certain variable threw his life off its borderline neurotic train tracks. Just like that, he felt like he could feel again. It was messy and hard to comprehend, but there was feeling. You make Hyunjin feel human, keep him tethered to Earth no matter how sky-high his defenses might be. You bring out the best in Hyunjin— you are the best thing that has happened to him. 

And here you are now, with a boundless smile that is Hyunjin’s own West Coast wonder. He’ll just have to try his hardest to keep it from ever fading away. There’s a breeze in the air that ruffles your hair, and the last of the sun’s rays shine onto you like a halo, dousing your skin a molten gold shade. The sky is a warm periwinkle stricken with pink and orange, the backdrop to the masterpiece that is you. Hyunjin can barely register the melodious croon of Adele above his heart beating to the roaring rhythm of the ocean hitting the jagged shoreline rocks below. 

Miraculously, Hyunjin has the capacity to park the car in the cramped lot hidden behind his destination, a charming restaurant called Moonraker that sits on the edge of a cliff that overlooks the inky sea. By now, the dainty colors in the sky have given way to a stormier front, ominous clouds already moving in, charcoal slashing through pale pink. But this little brick haven covered in rose vines perseveres, the thrum of lively chatter inside blocking out the roll of thunder in the distance. 

“Reservation for two, under Hwang Hyunjin?”

You don’t let go of Hyunjin’s hand the entire walk to the table, only separating to sit down. Hyunjin had specially requested this table for tonight, where it is situated on the far end of the restaurant. Here, the rustic red brick walls give way to a sleeker, glass paneling that curves inward like a makeshift gazebo. The design gives a perfect view of the ocean and the moonlight that is soon to illuminate it, as well as the gentle fall of raindrops onto the see-through half-domed ceiling. A suspended bird cage full of lit steel doves serves as a charmingly offbeat chandelier, and along with a small cluster of centerpiece candles, it provides enough light that Hyunjin can discern your features from across the table. 

“Hyunjin, this place is gorgeous,” you remark, taking in your surroundings with astonishment. “It seems so obscure, but it’s such a gem. How did you find it?”

“Remember Jin?”

“How could I ever forget Mr. Worldwide Handsome?”

Hyunjin tries and fails to cover up a snort. “His family owns Moonraker, and he actually works here as the executive chef. Dr. Jeon, his half-brother, works with us, and he suggested this place for a business dinner a few years ago. I fell in love with this place right then, but I never came again until now.”

“Why not?” 

“I wanted to enjoy it with the right company. And now I’ve found her,” Hyunjin says quietly, the urge to be honest winning over his inner critic who cringes at his sappiness.

You bite the corner of your lip. “Well, thank you for bringing me here, Hyunjin. And just so you know, I really, really like you.”

I love you.

“I really, really like you too.” Hyunjin reaches forward and takes your hand again. 

The waiter arrives to pour your drinks, a selection of Moonraker’s finest red wine, and leaves to give you both some time to decide on what to order. 

“What do you recommend here?” You duck your head into the menu, still unable to see the apples of your cheeks flushed that beautiful color. You’re prettier than any sunset. “Everything looks good.”

“The tangerine and pesto burrata is the best appetizer I’ve ever had. You have to try it.” Hyunjin flips through his own menu, scouring the various entrees. “And the lemon shrimp fettuccine? Life-changing. I think I may end up getting that again.”

“I’ll get the pasta too, then,” you say happily, setting down your menu. 

Hyunjin takes a small sip from his glass, reveling in the cherry and cocoa notes of the alcohol. That buzz finally sets in, enveloping the both of you in your own lovely world, any remnants of first date nerves vanquished. Hyunjin asks you about work, and you do the same, sparking the kind of conversation that Hyunjin would be fine partaking in for hours on end. There’s no break in your words, a new question or anecdote coming up everytime a potential lull could manifest, and Hyunjin is sure that he’s found his match. After all, he could listen to you talk forever, try to piece together your thoughts to the best of his abilities. 

“It’s called programmable read-only memory, or as I like to call it, P.R.O.M. It’s a type of computer memory, which is used to store programs for digital devices.” You hold out the microcontroller in the palm of your hand, showing it off to Hyunjin. 

“And you carry this around everywhere you go?”

You laugh, slipping the chip back into your purse. “Once it’s programmed, the information written is permanent and can never be deleted. It’s almost kind of beautiful, in a way. The power of forever, in your hands. And I know it’s kind of silly, but it’s just a tangible reminder of how much I love tech. Nothing can be erased forever. My good luck charm.”

Hyunjin shakes his head. You captivate him beyond anything else, and he’s not sure if at this point, he’s getting intoxicated on the wine or you. Probably the latter. “No, I think it’s cute. I have a heart-shaped plushie hidden in my office drawer, something to remind me of how much I love my job, especially when I’m stressed.”

“Really? In that case, we’re basically the same person.” You clink your glass against Hyunjin’s.

“Cheers to that.”

You laugh, tossing a loose piece of hair over your shoulder. The action should be inconsequential, but Hyunjin can’t help but be drawn to it, focusing on the smooth skin of your now exposed clavicles. His gaze follows the nearly scandalous cut of your dress to settle on the thin gold necklace that you’re wearing, but he doesn’t dare look down any further to find the pendant. You, however, have no idea of Hyunjin’s thoughts, so when you lean forward to grab the salt shaker, he receives the perfect view of your cleavage, so enticingly nestled in your bodice. 

Hyunjin swallows harshly, looking up at the ceiling as the waiter sets your desserts down on the table. After collecting the check, he goes quickly, leaving you both to dig in. Hyunjin doesn’t move for a moment, just hopefully watching your reaction to one of the best dishes he has ever tasted. He gets more than he bargained for when you take a bite of the tiramisu and close your eyes, making a small sound of pleasure.

Hyunjin clears his throat, trying to calibrate himself back to getting a fucking grip. He picks up his spoon in an attempt to be normal, but he can’t bring himself to eat, not when there’s something else he is absolutely starving for. And the new hard-on that the universe just gifted him with definitely isn’t helping either. 

“Hyunjin.”

“Yes?”

“Is there something you want?” You raise your eyebrow at him knowingly.

Hyunjin inhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment to convince himself to make a pass at maintaining his dignity. “I, um, sorry. That was inappropriate.”

“If it makes it better, I like your chain too. You’re good.” You smirk at Hyunjin, toying with your fork before deliberately dropping it onto the floor right underneath the table. “Oops. I really am so clumsy.”

Hyunjin shivers in his seat, shaking his head. “Oh, you’re trouble, aren’t you?”

“Would you be here if I wasn’t?” You smile sweetly at Hyunjin, even though your intentions are anything but. “Can you get that for me, darling?”

Without even bothering to take a look around and check for unwanted guests, Hyunjin pushes back in his chair and drops to his knees. Without breaking eye contact with you for as long as he can, Hyunjin lifts the tablecloth before crawling under the table. 

He has ideas, so many ideas, of what things he might do to you on the journey to retrieve the poor fork, but he doesn’t anticipate you facilitating it all for him; you aren’t wearing anything at all underneath your dress, your core bared to his unexpecting gaze. As if you notice how Hyunjin has automatically freezed, you spread your legs even further, completely exposing the sheen of arousal that decorates your inner thighs.

But before he can touch you, your cruel agenda manifests when you snap your legs closed. Hyunjin just knows that this is your plan, to play with him and have him going insane; he can picture the smug look on your pretty face, at having won this round. 

Clenching his jaw, Hyunjin pushes himself back onto his feet, haphazardly letting the stupid fork fall from his palm onto the table with a loud clatter. “Are you having fun?”

“Loads.” You smile sweetly, gaze dropping from Hyunjin’s face to where he’s already hard with frustration. “What’s gotten you all worked up?”

“You’re really something, aren’t you?” Hyunjin tries to sound serious, but his voice is thick with affection, and he can’t help but smile.

“Let’s have the rest to-go.” You purse your lips, eyes sparkling. “Take me home.”

Hyunjin opens the door to his apartment somberly, a maddening contrast to his breakneck speed on the highway, one that was augmented with the feeling of your hands all over him. He hears you shut the door behind yourself, and he doesn’t say anything, just closing his eyes in a minute of contemplation.

Reckless, that’s what he’s been. And he doesn’t care anymore. He’s been falling for you since the moment you stepped into his office, and this is his beautiful repentance. He’ll let you take complete control of him tonight, and maybe tomorrow, and the day after that. He just wants you to keep him for as long as you want. It’s why he turns back to look at you all of a sudden, every bit of desperation that he thought he had hidden from you manifesting in his expression.

“I want you to do whatever you want to me. Anything, I’ll listen.” Hyunjin takes your hands in his, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles to make up for what is about to follow. “Please, darling.”

Your lovely features twist in a fleeting moment of surprise, but the feeling is soon replaced by an ecstatic mischief. “Alright then.”

You move closer to Hyunjin at a tantalizingly slow pace, but just when your lips are but a hair’s breadth apart, you pull away with a devious grin that has Hyunjin’s knees going weak. You pat his shoulder softly, giving him a patronizing little look as you start to saunter around the penthouse with ease, delicately trailing your fingers on walls. 

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin stutters out, a pit of arousal building in his stomach. 

“Take off all your clothes and meet me in the bedroom.” You look over your shoulder at him, a small smirk curving the corners of your lips. “And leave the chain on.”

Hyunjin scampers to strip himself completely, finally kneeling in front of you in his room, shivering from both the air conditioning and the way your gaze slowly traces over every inch of his body. 

But what a sight you are, with your lipstick smudged from the kisses stolen at each red light on the road, hair tousled by the evening breeze. You lean forward and hook the chain hanging from Hyunjin’s neck with your index finger. You bring him closer to you by your grip, your lips brushing ever so slightly.

“You’re eager, aren’t you?”

Hyunjin inhales deeply, feeling himself harden immediately, knowing that you’re aware of it too, and yet, doing nothing about it. “Yes.”

“Good.”

You reel him in completely, grinning into the kiss as you playfully nip at his lower lip. Hyunjin prays you’ll deepen the kiss, but of course you never relent, pulling away with a laugh. 

With your hold on his jewelry, you bring Hyunjin up to his feet, guiding him back until his calves hit his bed. You push him back, and Hyunjin lands rather clumsily on the sheets, nevertheless raptured by you.

Because there you stand, tall and strong and breathtakingly beautiful. Hyunjin watches as you slip out of your dress, leaving nothing but a thin chain that circles your waste, flirting with the dip of your navel. That, combined with the fact you’re otherwise completely naked, has him going crazy. 

Hyunjin is nothing but awestruck. He knew you would have him at a loss for words with just a bat of your eyelashes, but you seem to outdo even the closeted thoughts he has of you, every single time. Before you, there had never been someone who could even cold a single fucking candle to the kind of woman you are. And Hyunjin realizes now that there never will be. 

From the elegant dip of your clavicles, Hyunjin’s eyes fall to lovely, full breasts that demand his hands and mouth all over them, to be lovingly reddened with his teeth. The curves of your hip look like they crave to be sculpted, to be captured in stone forever, twins to the delicate stretch marks that frame your pelvis. The dark curls of hair that cover your pubic bone are just the final touches to the last shreds of Hyunjin’s sanity, hiding his most favorite place from him.

“Fuck me,” Hyunjin accidentally says out loud as you turn, showing off the delectable curve of your backside.

You face him again, giving him a derisive smile. “I’m getting there, but someone’s in a hurry. So greedy, aren’t you?”

“I’m sor— holy fuck,” Hyunjin breathes out as you bend over more than you need to, picking up your dress. You brazenly flash your pussy from the back, perhaps completely aware of the dreams Hyunjin has had of having you in a position like this. 

“What do you think?” You carelessly toss your dress onto the armchair in the corner and give Hyunjin a knowing look, taking a step closer to him.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, running his hand through his hair. “Just look at you.”

You chuckle at his praise, placing your hands on his shoulders for support as you sit down on his lap. The feeling of you is overwhelming, from the seductive scent of your perfume to your heavy locks ensnaring Hyunjin in a silky curtain as you kiss him slowly. 

“Baby,” you sigh in between kisses, a sound that goes straight to his cock. “I’m going to get myself off now, and you’re going to watch. Okay?”

Hyunjin nods in anticipation, waiting for you to sprawl out on the bed, to spread your legs open for him and touch yourself. Instead, you straddle his thigh tightly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Hyunjin’s ears start ringing when you let out a soft whimper at the feel of his hard thigh against your clit, as you start to roll your hips against him. 

Hyunjin can feel all of you, how dripping wet your cunt is against his skin, how you’re completely soaking his entire leg without any care. Hyunjin places his hands on your lower back to help you gain friction, as you claim his mouth in a deep, lush kiss. Wet, hungry, and fucking starving for each other. 

As your movements quicken, Hyunjin can properly sense how slick and hot you are, how maddening your sensitive core is against his bare skin, like every part of you is a live wire. He lowers his hands to your hips, facilitating the way you shamelessly grind on him. 

“Spit on it,” you instruct Hyunjin, directing your gaze down at your pussy as you lift your hips higher. Obediently, Hyunjin leans down and does what you ask, letting you ride him with even more ease and fluidity than more. You moan at the sensation, and Hyunjin feels so free and unhinged at the sound. 

This time, Hyunjin’s the one initiating a kiss, sucking on your tongue as you work your cunt even harder against his skin. Wet, lewd sounds fill the room, complementing your breathy sighs like a symphony, and he moans into your mouth, digging his nails into your ass and helping you go faster. 

Hyunjin tilts his head back when your lips attach to his neck like a promise to refresh the marks gifted in your previous rendezvous. He can tell you’re close, with how your clit throbs with desire and a fiery warmth spreads from your core and out. You curl your toes as you bounce on Hyunjin’s thigh, your orgasm looming closer. You grip the nape of his neck and kiss him hard, gasping at the feeling of your body tipping over the blissful edge of euphoria.

You hold onto him as you climax, shaking and writhing, hips not letting up as you come. You cry out his name, burying your face into his neck and inhaling his scent, finally calming down as he raises his leg, massaging you as you come back down from your high. So devastatingly gorgeous.

You lift yourself off of Hyunjin, who whimpers at the sight of your essence all over him. You slide down to your knees to slot yourself between his legs, staring up with lulled eyes. 

“You’ve been so good for me.” Your cheeks and chest are flushed from your orgasm, your breathing heavy. Your baby hairs are stuck to your temples with perspiration from your valiant solo efforts. “You deserve something special.”

Without any warning, you lick a bold stripe up Hyunjin’s cock and suck at the head, wrapping your perfect lips around the tip. Hyunjin moans uninhibited, deep and from his chest, only spurring you on. You take him in further like you love his taste, how he pulses against your tongue. Hyunjin’s hips shift against the bed as you work your mouth all the way down, until your nose is pressed into the light dusting of hair at the base. 

"Fuck,” he curses under his breath. "Please—”

Hyunjin’s words cut off as your hand comes up to his stomach, smoothing over his chest and feeling the muscles ripple under your palm. You push his torso back fully onto the bed, smiling before kissing the base of his cock. Hyunjin lets out a low whine, tangling his fingers through the ends of your soft, soft hair, pulling you back onto him.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you sigh against him, the vibrations of your words flowing through Hyunjin’s nerves. Your lips travel up in teasing kisses, and Hyunjin nearly stops breathing, as everything else disappears. 

Hyunjin can feel you work him rapidly, keenly watching his thighs flex and shake as you take him deep. Hyunjin lets out a guttural sound— a sound that should be embarrassing but he can’t find it in himself to be— when you unexpectedly fondle his balls in your hands. He can feel it in his cock, intensified by the wet heat of your mouth wrapped around him. He’s losing his mind, and it’s all because of you. 

He cries out once more, twisting your hair in a way that is sure to have caused you pain. But you pay it no mind, Hyunjin’s legs caging you comfortably as you continue. Your rhythm is steady, with how you close in on him as well as your can, slightly gagging around his width and creating a delicious friction that has Hyunjin bucking up his hips. Your hand moves at a feverish pace to make up for the difference, and Hyunjin is a mess above you, groaning and head empty of everything except for your hot, wet mouth around his most sensitive area. 

“I’m close,” Hyunjin gasps as you run your tongue over the underside of his cock, before kissing his stomach.

You hum in agreement, pulling your mouth up his shaft one last time, as you momentarily release Hyunjin’s body from the tension you’ve put him through. You give the tip a wet, filthy kiss, and stand, tall and serene. 

“Good.” You take Hyunjin’s cock in your hands, working him with your fingers, and Hyunjin notices how you squeeze your thighs together to contain yourself. You’re just as turned on as he is, and there’s no hiding that. 

Hyunjin’s fingertips tingle in that last wave, a film of sweat forming across the expanse of the back of his neck. You get calmer and faster at the same time, and Hyunjin can’t bear to keep back his sounds of pleasure, louder and even more desperate as the pressure in his coursing through his body builds. He sees stars in the shape of your eyes behind his eyelids, and the air is thick and the room is on fire with his undoing. He can’t hold on anymore, letting go at last and unloading his release all over your breasts in hot spurts.

In the aftermath, he looks up at you in a mixture of fear and arousal, chest rising and falling raggedly. “I’m sorry.”

You grin, like you knew this would happen. “It’s okay to make a mess as long as you clean it up.”

Hyunjin doesn’t waste any time lowering his head to your breasts, licking all over your skin to clear up his own come. It’s filthy yet incredibly erotic, especially when he starts to circle his tongue around your nipple, sucking at the sensitive bud. You thread your fingers into his hair, hugging him close while he’s more thorough than he needs to be. He meets your eyes while looking up, giving you a mischievous smile before he lightly nips at the bud before kissing it innocently, finally releasing it with a wet pop. Immediately, you drag his head away from you, mock irritation all over your features. Your eyes sweep over his form, narrowing on his pitiful cock, where he’s getting hard again. 

“Baby, please,” Hyunjin can’t help but moan, taking your hands in his. "I need to be inside you.”

"I like the way you say that," you smirk. "Please. Say it again.”

"Just fuck me. Let me make you feel good. I love how fucking wet you get when you come for me. I want to fill you up and make you drip all over me." The words tumble out of Hyunjin’s mouth, yearning and desperate, mirroring every fiber of his being.

You click your tongue, tapping your finger against your chin in wait. "Where's that please?"

"Please. You're all I can think about, please, my darling. I'll get on my fucking knees if I have to, pleas-"

You kiss him, silencing him effectively because at this point, you have heard enough to give you both what you want.

“Take it.” Your control, your body, your pleasure.

Hyunjin flips you over and throws you back onto the bed, your giggles melting deliciously into the air. He runs his hands over your body, cold, firm hands against soft, warm skin. Over the smooth dip of your stomach, the valley between your breasts, that beautiful gap between your shoulders and collarbones. Every touch pulls Hyunjin further into the heaven you offer, your sighs his creed and your hips his altar. 

“Look at you. You take my breath away every time, don’t you know?”

You say nothing, doe eyes staring up at him with heavy-lidded lust. Hyunjin has officially lost every other thought that does not involve you. He squeezes your breasts once, before cupping your face, nothing but pure affection dripping from his tone. You are by far the most precious thing to him, and he’ll thank the higher powers for as long as eternity if it means he gets to keep you.

You scoot back a little, leaning up on your elbows and bending your knees, feet flat on the bed. Like a magnet, Hyunjin’s eyes are drawn to your core, where you’re shiny and soaking wet. You are absolutely beautiful, and he’s dizzy again, unable to function on anything but the thought of how much he wants you, even if he might have you right now. 

You run your hand down your body at a tantalizing rate, all the way down, sliding one finger over your lips, spreading yourself apart slowly, with how you’re still sensitive from the last time you came. Hyunjin watches in amazement like it’s the first time again, and he can’t help himself in that moment, even though he’s been promised something else. 

After all, that magnetic pull is stronger, and his hands slide under the bend of your knees so perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece. His head is already lowering towards your heat, where you smell like sex and peaches. Your fingers, which had continued to stroke over yourself, disappear, and your hips twitch up toward him. You are open, waiting, impatient. It completely clouds Hyunjin’s brain, and his only desire now is to put his mouth on you.

And he has to force himself to pause, with his face centimeters from your pussy, to absorb the sight of you, breathe you in, before pressing his mouth against you. You taste like a ripe mango dusted with salt, sweet with the slightest hint of something tart and heady. Hyunjin slowly slides up, gliding his tongue flat over your folds, lips lightly brushing over your clit, and you gasp, freezing.

Hyunjin smiles, letting out a wicked breath over your nub and flicking his tongue against it once more. He rotates the tip of it around your clit, and you choke out a moan, pulling at Hyunjin’s hair at even the tiniest movement of his tongue. 

The hot, balmy Californian air floating through the windows seems to make you shake as well, breathy moans mixing with the breeze like music. Your thighs grip his head, legs thrown over his shoulders, and Hyunjin’s breathing skips for a moment, a groan of satisfaction escaping his lips. 

And you love this, arching your back as your hips press even more up against him, and Hyunjin practically devours you, holding your thighs in a vice grip and licking deep into your delectable cunt. 

It almost sounds as if you’re in pain, but then your body melts into the bed, letting go of everything. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Even if Hyunjin had his own will in this matter, he’d obey your command. Hyunjin builds a rhythm, tracing patterns against the hood and your walls, his nose brushing against your clit. This is enough, when you rock against his face, your moans getting higher in volume and pitch. The pressure he exerts builds up to crescendo, and after some time, you quiet. 

Hyunjin opens his eyes, looking up at you, and you are the very image of sin. Your long hair is fanned around your body like a frame harboring art, body shining with a thin veil of sweat, back arched, head towards the ceiling. You still shake, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe, and Hyunjin slows down a little, taking in the moment. His own hair is a mess, clumped together in places from both the sweat of his effort and your arousal. Hyunjin’s cheeks are warm and red, and everything feels hot.

He pulls off for a second, teasingly, before diving back in, licking you through your pleasure. He drinks in your cream, thick and sweet, as you pulsate when the feeling washes over you like a riptide, crashing into you like a tidal wave. Against your pussy, he chants your name over and over like a prayer to mirror the way you do to him, and eventually, you slow the roll of your hips, releasing your hold on him.

Hyunjin gives a few more gentle licks across your cunt, cleaning you up even as you twitch in sensitivity. He kisses your thighs and your stomach, then both of your breasts, finally heaving his body up the rest of the way and pressing his nose to yours. You both giggle deliriously as he kisses you again.

“I’ll go get a condom really quick, it’s in my bedside—”

“Don’t.” You give him a sharp look that has him crumbling. “Take me raw.”

When he finally inserts himself inside of you without any barriers at all for the first time, it’s painfully slow, sliding out and back in. But even with how spent you are, there are those sharp intakes of breath and the small noises of pleasure, as if you’re surprised and confused by the ecstasy you’re feeling for the umpteenth time in the night. Hyunjin tries it again, and your pleasure sounds stronger, more sure of itself and its place. He does it once more, a bit faster, and something overtakes you. You are all desire, all-consuming, all hands in his hair, legs around his hips, and pulling him closer.

“More,” you whisper against Hyunjin’s lips, and he is all too happy to give it to you.

Hyunjin keeps himself steady at first, before working it up further, groaning into your neck, biting at your shoulder. He bends a bit, shifting the angle, and suddenly you are crying out louder, nearly screaming.

“There!” You cry out, eyes screwed close. “There, oh god, right there, please, again, again.”

Hyunjin obeys, giving harder thrust than before, and he lets out a ragged breath and picks up his pace. He latches onto you, hands in her you, on your skin, arms around you, marking himself on your neck. Your nails claw down his back, sure to leave fiery trails of the evidence of your activities, but it doesn’t matter. Your teeth drag along his jaw, his earlobe, and Hyunjin nearly crumbles.

“That’s my good boy,” you sigh into his ear, in a low, husky tone that goes straight to his cock. “My sweet boy, so good for me, so perfect.” 

It’s the most dirty, seductive thing you have said all night, dipped in sugar and coated in spice. Hyunjin is right there on the edge, bound to tumble over any second.

“Please, baby,” he huffs into your neck. “I need to...I don’t think I can for much longer.”

“Yes you can,” you encourage, breath tickling his ear. “I know you can.” Another moan disrupting your train of thought. “For me. Just a little bit longer. Do it for me. You can hold on for me.”

Hyunjin can feel you tightening up too, your sounds higher, quieter, and he knows you’re right there, your walls clenching against his cock.

“Let go now,” you order, and Hyunjin can’t hold himself back any longer, now that you’ve given him the agency to release.

And he is gone, shaking as the pressure is released into you, but he is still going, moving frantically inside of you, moaning your name into your neck. And you’re arching up into him, unable to keep your composure because you are so desperate for more even when your pleasure is already spilling over and out of you. Hyunjin knows you can feel him twitching, pulsing inside of you, and it only makes his orgasm that much stronger, and in turn, he holds you tighter, pounds into your cunt with everything he has. It’s an avalanche, a tsunami, a thunderstorm, the ultimate explosion of your desire, the ultimate connection between them.

Eventually, the lust gives way to exhaustion, and the strong thrusts transition into steady, slow rolls, which also subside to nothing. In a daze, Hyunjin lifts his head to press his forehead against yours. You both smile dumbly, and you laugh. Hyunjin, however, doesn’t know how he managed to even lift his head, because when you naturally shift your hips, and he tries to pull out, it’s as if he doesn’t have any muscles at all; pushing himself up above your body is nearly impossible. So he stays in that position, still inside of you, and you let him.

You hold him steadfast, one hand on his back and the other stroking his face. Hyunjin pillows his head on your chest, tucking it under your chin. His hands stay content on your breasts, thumb grazing your nipples softly, in a self-satisfying kind of way. There, he just basks in your warmth and the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin whispers, drawn out long. For letting him come, for letting him love you like this, for letting him be here, for the meaning you’ve brought into his life. You combs your fingers through his hair again and kiss his forehead, and he hums in delight.

“No, thank you,” you say. “Hyunjin. Baby, you were so good tonight, so perfect.”

Hyunjin smiles at the praise, hazy, loopy with happiness. Your words drift in and out of his brain, sounding more present and coherent than he feels, and he sinks deep into it.

This state of being, this space he’s in, is heaven— it must be. Nothing can be more perfect than this. He loves you. And maybe, you might love him just as much. He is yours. And you are his.

“Mine,” he whispers into the darkness.

“Yours,” you return. “Always.”

“This is going to change everything.”

“Uh huh,” Minho mutters, toying with the little cat plushie perched on the corner of his desk. “I believe you.”

“I’m serious! I emailed the event committee. I’m not planning it anymore, given that I just burned my job to a crisp, but it’s still happening. The party is two weeks away, and they will do everything to prevent me from entering it, but I’m going to pitch my idea no matter what. Somehow. I’m going to find a way.” You frantically pull out the hard copies of your outlines for the ITEM revival, spreading them out in front of Minho. “You’re one of the most talented engineers I know, and I can’t see anyone else taking the role. I need to know if you’re with me.”

Minho makes a show of scanning the documents while humming in deliberation, prompting you to roll your eyes in exasperation. But before you can scold him, pipes up. “The opportunity to get out of this hellhole working under Mark is too enticing. Imagine the look on his face when I tell him, ‘I’m ITEM Tech’s Chief Technology Officer. I quit, you S.O.B.!’ I’m so in.”

You give him a weary smile, the tight ball of stress in your stomach loosening a little. “I’m glad to hear that, but don’t be hasty to quit your stable job when we don’t know what’s going to happen with ITEM. Anyway, now that I have you, there’s only one other I need to get on board.”

Minho whistles. “Who?”

“Chan, my old classmate. The person who created ITEM Technologies with me.” You hum in thought, tapping your fingers against your arm. “I can’t move forward unless I have his permission. And his support would be even better, because he really was such a damn good strategist.”

“Did you reach out?”

You pull out your laptop and show Minho your empty inbox. “Yeah. I emailed him a few days ago, but no response yet.”

“I must be a good luck charm.” Minho glances up from the screen and shoots you a shit-eating grin. “‘Cause you’ve got mail!”

“What!” You exclaim while snatching the laptop back, expecting another one of Minho’s vastly unfunny jokes. But lo and behold, he’s not lying; there sits an unread message from the target sender. 

You scramble to open the email, nearly dropping the machine in the middle. Ignoring Minho’s snicker, you somehow regain enough coordination to read it carefully, taking in every word. 

From: Chan Bahng <chbahng97@gmail.com>

To: Y/N Y/L/N <yn05@gmail.com>

Subject: RE: ITEM Proposal

Dear Y/N,

How have you been? I was so happy to see your email… we haven’t talked in ages. I apologize for the delay in responding, there’s been a lot going on recently. 

But I loved working with you, and I am interested in hearing more. I still live in L.A., so it would be great to meet up with you in-person. I know you’re here too, and I am so stoked to hear about all of your work at NCT Corp!

This is also kind of an impromptu plan, but how about meeting up for lunch at noon? I’m actually going to the Indian place on 700 Ave, if you want to join me. Remember doing physics homework and brainstorming over their butter chicken? Good times. 

Anyway, if it doesn’t work out for you today, I totally get it. Let me know when you’re available, and we can find another time. I’m pretty much free these days. I cannot wait to see you!

P.S. My new phone number is 424-639-4922. It’ll probably be easier to communicate over cell. 

Cheers,

Chan

Minho tries to peer into your screen. “Well? What did he say?” 

“He’s asking to get lunch. In twenty minutes.” You hesitate, glancing over at Mark’s closed door. He would definitely strangle you if he found out that you skimped on work for just a lunch break. The horror!

Sensing your uncertainty, Minho pats your arm. “Don’t worry. This is important. I’ll cover for you.”

“How? Mark may be vile, but that man is very thorough and will murder both of us if he finds—”

“I’ll just tell him you got diarrhea. No one ever asks follow-up questions.” Minho cackles, while you watch him, unimpressed.

“Ugh, fine. Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Positive.” Minho nods solemnly, dropping all humor from his disposition. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t find out. Just take notes and ask all the necessary questions. I’m rooting for you.”

You exhale in relief. “You are a lifesaver. The actual best.”

“I know.”

After you dismiss Minho’s ludicrous escape plan that involves parachuting off of a nearby construction crane, you unceremoniously exit through the main entrance, thanking your lucky stars that Mark doesn’t manifest out of nowhere from behind a decorative plant.

You quickly get into your car and hightail out of the building garage, navigating out of the corporate hub and into a more breezy, down-to-earth sector of the city. After paying a terrible price for parking and checking your watch, you slow your pace while walking, just taking in your surroundings. The young, bustling crowd alive in the streets remind you of the days you would frequent this place, trying new activities with friends or just soaking in the zest of your life. As you near the Bombay Bistro, you realize that you’ve missed this, just enjoying the moment you’re in. 

You follow the delicious, spicy aroma into the little restaurant. For a minute, you just gape around at the place, remembering everything. The rounded chairs with the fraying upholstery, the beautiful paintings of lithe dancers and bengal tigers, the sound of some old Bollywood song playing over the chatter of everyone dining. After you collect yourself, you scan the interior for Chan, but fail to spot him, even though it’s already six minutes past noon. 

You: Hi Chan, I’m here. Where are you?

Chan: Hey! I’m in the back, at our usual table

Chan: I see you!

You look up from your phone, squinting your eyes at the dining area in confusion, before your gaze lands on a man sitting at your favorite booth. At first, you remain utterly perplexed at why this complete stranger keeps waving at you wildly, but vague recognition kicks in as you make your way towards him. 

“You haven’t changed at all, have you?” Chan stands up from his seat to give you a hug, while you just stay there in place, frozen.

The Chan that is standing in front of you right now looks nothing like the awkward, shy kid you knew during your college years; he looks confident and has finally grown into himself. The heat damaged side part that he once sported has been traded for a luscious head of his natural curls, to go with a freshly aligned smile that nearly blinds you. And obviously, he must have gone premium at his gym, judging by the look of his biceps in that black compression shirt. In your entire time you had known Chan, you never saw him out of his daily uniform of khakis and a collared shirt that was far too big for him. 

“And you changed… a lot,” you let out an astonished sound. “How are you, Chan?”

Chan gestures for you to sit down. “Let’s just say we have a lot to catch up on. You look amazing, by the way.”

“Not as much as you,” you say automatically, before immediately clamping your hand over your mouth in mortification.

He laughs, and you’re transported back into senior year, to the midnight study all-nighters and early mornings tinkering in the lab. Deserting your friendship instead of turning to it, when you both needed it the most, was one the few things that you truly regretted about the past few years. At least that laugh hasn’t changed, and neither has his accent, an homage to his western Sydney heritage. 

“I missed this. Feels like old times.” Chan grins, the dimples on his handsome face deepening. 

You both give your orders to the waiter before you sigh, shaking your head. “Chan, I shouldn’t have left things like that. You deserved a better goodbye than some lame text and me just dipping. I’ve been so ashamed of myself that all this time, I didn’t reach out. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Chan reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. “You were going through a lot back then, and I’m just happy that we can go back to the way things were.”

“Me too.” You smile at him, hope blossoming in you. “Does this mean you considered the proposal?”

“More than considered. I’m accepting it.” Chan grins, leaning over your mango lassis like you’re both in on a secret. “No one could be the COO to your CEO like me.”

“That’s true.” You both clink your glasses together, and you sip your drink, reveling in the delightfully fruity flavor that has suddenly turned a thousand times sweeter. “Welcome back, Mr. Bahng.”

“We can iron out the details maybe this weekend, since you basically planned most of our presentation for the event. So for now, let’s just enjoy ourselves. Spill everything on NCT, go.”

The next few minutes are spent discussing your not-so-dream job over appetizers, and you have to admit, talking in detail about NCT is not your favorite thing to do at all, but it’s worth it to see Chris’s expressions as you speak. Indignance at Mark’s machinations, delighted curiosity at the mention of Minho, and sympathy for your carpal tunnel syndrome as a result of being overworked.

“And what about you?” 

Chan turns serious, the light drowning out of his expression. He starts picking at the slice of naan in front of him, tearing it into little pieces and arranging it on his plate. Another old trait that never died. “You know that swanky restaurant on the fifth? The Terrace?”

You raise your eyebrows, your thoughts going straight to the Golden Trio. How could you not know the place, after haunting it every Saturday afternoon for years? “Mhm.”

“Well, I was working there, until last night.”

“Wait, what?” You sit up in surprise, mind flashing back to the last time you visited the restaurant. Sana had left the table to go annoy one of the staff that she had her eye on. You didn’t recognize him back then, but you remember now. “Oh my god, you were the bartender that Sana was obsessed with? Chris?”

Chan winces, nodding. “The funny thing is, Sana didn’t remember me from college. Back then, I was just another nerdy loser to her. But then again, even you didn’t know who I was, all those times you walked past the bar. Like you said, I changed.”

You shake your head slowly, trying to digest his words. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Well, I was a little hurt, and far too proud to talk to you first. And I haven’t exactly been my best self, all this time.” Chan swallows harshly, looking away.

“Chan… what happened?”

“JYP had given me an offer that I accepted before graduating, but soon after everything that happened with CODA, I was laid off. I mean, JYP was going through a merger, and I guess I just didn’t seem like a special asset anymore, after the losses incurred with ITEM.”

“But… but you could have found another job.” You stutter, the guilt manifesting like a pit. “You’re one the smartest, most capable people I know. You’re so much better than me.”

“I’m going to write down that you said I’m better,” Chan chuckles, but there’s no real humor in his voice. “Y/N, you know how oversaturated this industry is. And especially with helping Mom recover from her relapse, I just couldn’t keep up with it anymore. It took me forever to find a job in retail, and that was only after I changed my ethnic name to something more socially acceptable. Hence, Chris.”

“I’m so sorry about everything, Chan. CODA. The job. And Mrs. Bahng too. I didn’t know. I— is she okay?” You say, chest hitching as you think of Chan’s lovely mother. She had treated you like her own, bringing you homemade meals because your parents lived far from campus, throwing you a party when you got that one summer internship you’d been stressing over for so long. 

“It’s not your fault, stop apologizing.” Chan squeezes your hand. “And the cancer is long gone, she’s good now.”

“But it is. It is my fault. If I had just gone to CODA and secured our funding—”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t blame you. I never did,” Chan cuts you off firmly. “But we get a second chance now. I quit that terrible job and now I’m ready to find my passion again. Let’s make the most of it.”

Chan always had a way of getting you to agree, to accept his word like a decree. It wasn’t that he was particularly forceful or persuasive with his rhetoric. Rather, even in his most determined rants, he had a certain warmth to him, like you could trust him. And you do.

You secure your revived relationship with another lassi toast, and any remaining tension fades away when it’s time for dessert. The waiter sets down twin cups of saffron rose ice cream, and you both dig in, the mood returning to something friendly and lighthearted.

“Hey, this might sound crazy,” Chan says between mouthfuls of the ice cream, prompting you to look up. “But, would you maybe want to get dinner sometime? Someplace nice. And in a non-work-related way. No pressure at all, of course.”

“You mean…” You blink in surprise. “Like, a date?”

“Yeah.” Chan shrugs with a smile. “Figures I’m shooting my shot years later, but I need to get it off of my chest if we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other now. I’ve always had a giant crush on you, I thought you knew.”

“Chan, I’m flattered, and you’ve always been so sweet to me.” You set your spoon down. “However, I’m actually already with someone.”

“Oops, never mind. Crush deactivated.” Chan jokingly lifts his hands up as if in surrender, and you sit back. You like how easy things are with him, how he always laughs it off. “So, who is he? Boyfriend? Or, husband?”

“His name is Hyunjin. And um, it’s pretty new, so definitely not at the latter stage. Or really, any? I don’t know, we haven’t really put a label on it yet.” You explain, a little flustered, a little dazed, at the thought of Hyunjin. “But it’s good! It’s really good. He makes me really happy.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You deserve someone who makes you happy.” Chan gives you a genuine smile. “I’d love to meet him one day.”

You return it. “Thank you. And yes, you definitely will.”

But there’s now something else that pulls at you. The fact that you and Hyunjin still haven’t made things official between you both. Does he not feel as serious about you, as you are about him? You shake the thought away, focusing on something else. “Can we circle back to how you had a crush on me? I had no clue!”

“I thought I was making it obvious—”

“It’s all about the eggs,” Hyunjin says, turning the knob on the pasta machine as you watch him. “You have to make sure they're at room temperature, or else they won’t mix well with the flour.”

“I’ve never had homemade pasta before,” you reply. “Delicious.”

Hyunjin looks up from the machine, smiling at you. The tip of his nose and tops of his cheeks are dusted in flour, and his flowery little apron is covered in splotches of pesto sauce. For the past twenty minutes, you’ve been perched on the counter, leaning on your elbows and following Hyunjin’s every movement, just enraptured by him.

“I’m honored to be your first,” Hyunjin quips, making you roll your eyes in mock irritation at the innuendo. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good. I met up with my old partner over lunch to get him on board the ITEM proposal. And he’s accepted, thankfully.” 

Hyunjin places the strips of dough into a pot of boiling water, before turning around with his eyebrows raised. “Partner, huh?”

“Okay, okay. It’s not like that. Chan and I never had anything between us going on, never will. Purely platonic,” you explain. “I mean, he did admit he had a crush and asked me out, but I rejected him. Still on friendly terms though, obviously.”

Hyunjin sighs, wiping his hands. “Well, I can’t blame the poor guy for liking you. But you did tell him you’re taken, right?”

“Yes, I did, but…” You purse your lips in thought, thinking back to what had bothered you earlier at the bistro. “Hyunjin, can I ask you something?”

He sets the pan of sauce back down on the stove, the space between his eyebrows crinkling in concern. “Of course, darling. You can always talk to me, you know that.”

“Well, when Chan and I were talking, I didn’t know how to describe us. I just want to know, what are we?” You bite your lip nervously, deciding to just continue rambling on, judging by the surprised look on Hyunjin’s face. Oh god. “I Googled when couples should go from dating to making things official, like, ‘boyfriend girlfriend’ official, and most forums say that it’s a minimum of nine dates. We’ve gone only on one official date, two if we’re counting this one. And you don’t have to answer any of this, obviously.”

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are?” Hyunjin walks over to you, an amused little smile spreading across your face. “First of all, I’ve been wanting to make things official since before we even had our first kiss. I just didn’t want to scare you away. I’ve always wanted you, and only you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, relaxing your shoulders from their tense position.

“As the Love Doctor, I think I’m qualified enough to say that we are free to be whatever we want. Like I said, our lives, our rules. I know you, and you know me. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want to be with you. And I’m ready to make things official when you are.”

“I’m more than ready,” you say quickly. 

“Are… are you sure, love? I don’t want you to feel rushed, or anything.” Hyunjin earnestly looks at you. “And I know you saw Jisung the other day, like you told me, so if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed, or if you’re having mixed feelings about this—”

“Hyunjin. Seriously. You are a dream come true, but can you seriously not see how completely gone I am for you?” You stroke the side of his face lovingly, realizing how clearly you two are so alike. “I’ve been stressing over this for so long, because I felt the exact same way. I didn’t want to blindside you with how I felt, but I want this too. I want to be with you only, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Hyunjin grins, kissing you sweetly on your lips. “Soo, will you be my girlfriend then?”

“Yes.” You giggle. “I like you very much.”

“Well, not as much as I like you.”

“That’s not possible.” You bite back a smile, as Hyunjin corners you against the island, caging you in with his arms.

“Wrong, I can prove it to you.” Hyunjin smirks mischievously, before leaning in.

As you kiss each other fervently, Hyunjin lifts you with extreme ease and places you on the counter. The candles that he so painstakingly lit are blown out with your harried motions, and the dinner set on the table, along with the lychee sorbet in the freezer, is long forgotten, in favor of a different kind of sweet satisfaction. Hyunjin roughly pulls off your cardigan and unzips your dress, accidentally knocking over the half full glasses behind you. Neither of you care, however, saving the mess for tomorrow morning.

“This one.” Hyunjin holds up a slinky black dress that looks like it would cost you a whole year of rent. “Show stopping.”

“Hyunjin, we only stopped by the mall because you said you wanted to look at the perfumes, and only the perfumes.” You playfully chide him, fingering the sequined material. “Besides, I already bought a dress for the party with Yeonjun. Remember? I sent you a picture.”

“I know, I know.” Hyunjin sighs. “I just can’t hold myself back though, this vintage Valentino would just look gorgeous if it was on you.”

“You just know how to talk to a woman, don’t you?” You grin, grabbing his hand. “Either way, I wouldn’t have anywhere else to wear the dress; it would just wither away in my closet.”

“We’ll see about that,” Hyunjin says mischievously, prompting you to suspiciously look him in the eye. 

“...What are you planning?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see!” Hyunjin thrusts the dress into your hands. “Come on, just this once! Then we’ll leave, I promise. Please?”

You smile, shaking your head in defeat. “I can’t say no when you ask me that.”

“It’s one of my talents.” Hyunjin quips, pulling you over to the dressing rooms. 

But then maybe you should have really kept your foot down and hightailed it out of the store when you had the chance, because you see her, strutting around the shoe displays like some kind of a top model gazelle. 

“Irene.” Her name leaves your lips before you can help it, but the charred disdain in your voice is completely intentional.

She looks up, surprised for a moment, but then she smooths out face, pursing her blood red lips and sizing you up. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. How have you been?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say, before Hyunjin takes your hand in his, quietly reassuring you. You clear your throat, deciding to be honest but reserved. “I’m great, actually. And what about you?”

Instead of answering your question, however, Irene turns her gaze over to Hyunjin and then down to where his hand is clasped in yours; this time, she is unable to conceal her shock. “Dr. Hwang? Why are you here with Y/N?”

Hyunjin shoots her a seemingly charming smile, but you’ve mastered his body language enough to see the contempt hidden under it. “It’s a beautiful day, Ms. Bae, why would I not be here with my girlfriend?”

If the revulsive look tainting Irene’s perpetually poised, rehearsed exterior wasn’t enough for you, Hyunjin’s words, filled with confidence and ease, are enough for a warm feeling to spread throughout you. You don’t at all sense the frigid blast of mall air conditioning, but rather, feel like you’ve just downed the sweetest, toastiest hot chocolate known to man. 

“G-girlfriend?” Irene chokes out, clutching her mother of pearl necklace rather comically.

“Yeah. We just started dating.” You giggle, glancing over at Hyunjin, who matches your gleeful expression. “Isn’t he so cute?”

“Aw, baby. We’re so cute.” Hyunjin plays along, slipping his hand out of your grip so he can completely engulf you in a big bear hug. Usually, you’d be averted to such a touchy public display of affection, but you absolutely enjoy it at this moment.

“Explain, now!” Irene snaps loudly, causing a few other shoppers to look up from their browsing in irritation.

You frown in mock confusion. “But Irene, you don’t seem very happy for us. After all, you’re the one who recommended me to visit Hyunjin.”

“I told you to get an appointment and fix yourself, not to fuck Dr. Hwang!” Irene retorts, rubbing at her temple frustratedly in a way very unlike herself. “But then again, I don’t expect any less from an ungrateful brat like you. Here you are again, embarrassingly whoring yourself out to another man, just like you did with—”

“How dare you speak to her that way—” Hyunjin starts, voice full of fury as every last ounce of playfulness melts away. But before he can finish, you calmly cut in, placing your hand on Hyunjin’s elbow.

“Hyun, it’s okay.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, I got this.”

Hyunjin looks like he wants to say something else, but he stops, nodding as he moves aside. You take a deep breath, looking Irene in the eye. “I have nothing to be grateful to you for, except for showing me that I deserved better than people like you. I met Hyunjin as a result, who saw and accepted me for who I am. I’m thanking you for this one thing, for giving me the push I needed to leave you and find him. Otherwise, I have nothing left to say to you.”

Irene scoffs, crossing her arms across her chest. “You have changed, haven’t you?”

You just smile, looping your arm through Hyunjin’s once more. “Goodbye, Irene.”

You and Hyunjin finally make your way over to the dressing rooms, leaving behind Irene and your past. Before, you may have lost every time when it came to her, but this was the only win that really mattered to you, anyway.

“That was… wow.” Hyunjin looks down at you with wide eyes. “How do you feel?”

You shrug and smile. “Liberated.” 

“And… you meant it all?”

“Every word. Her one redeeming quality is that she’s the one who led me to you. Or maybe it was fate. Either way, I have you now, and nothing else matters.” You lift Hyunjin’s hand up to your lips and kiss it.

“You’re so cool, you know that?” Hyunjin shakes his head in awe. “I’m your biggest fan.”

“And just for that, maybe we can stay here a little longer.”

After you try on the dress and buy it— no, you did not end up paying, not when Hyunjin wrestled your credit card out of the cashier’s hands to replace it with his own black card— you both leisurely stroll through the mall at your own pace, basking in the moment, before you suddenly have an idea.

“Hyunjin?”

“Hm?” Hyunjin turns back to look at you. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing at all. There’s just something I really have to do.” You smile, taking his hand in yours. “Can you please drive me back to work?”

The adrenaline from your big confrontation is maintained as you burst through Mark’s office door, gearing up for another one. Mark immediately lifts his head from his computer, eyes filling with surprise and irritation at your interruption.

“Well, good afternoon, where the hell did your manners go? Usually, you knock before coming inside.”

“Save it, Mark.” You take a seat in front of Mark, crossing your legs pompously. “I quit.”

Mark scoffs skeptically. “Yeah, and I’m the tooth fairy. How dare you blast into my office, and so arrogantly—”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes, laughing with no mirth at all. “I’m so over your childish games, your constant need to put me down to feel good about yourself. I’m done, and I have better opportunities than this job.”

Mark’s expression turns sour, like he’s just bitten into a piece of moldy bread. You’d be amused right now, if you weren’t so serious. “You have no prospects at all. Nada. You’ll be nothing without me.”

“Screw you. Just wait and watch me bring you to shame.” You give him a venomous smile, slapping your resignation letter on his desk, which makes him cower back a little. “You’re nothing without me.”

You stand and walk over to the door, but before you can leave, you hear Mark’s voice over your shoulder. “If you think your position will remain unfilled, when you come crawling back to me, you’re sorely mistaken.”

You chuckle, not even glancing back. “Goodbye, Mark.”

The door slams shut behind you, and you can hear the muffled sound of something being thrown across the room inside Mark’s office. You triumphantly march over to your desk, boxing all of your belongings and preparing to get the hell out of here, and never look back. 

“Damn, I always knew you were my evil twin.”

You look up from where you’re crouched under your desk, rolling up your charging cord, to see Minho standing in front of you, arms crossed. “Please, you are one-hundred percent the evil one in any scenario. And what do you mean?”

“I’m quitting too.” Minho chews on a Twizzler, as you nearly fall back on your backside, hitting your head under the desk. “Surprise!”

You lift yourself up with a groan, tossing the wire into the box. “What? Minho, you didn’t have to.”

“I want to. I can put all my effort into ITEM with you now.” Minho shrugs. “Either way, from now on, I have to be a good example. I can’t stay at a job where I don’t feel fulfilled.”

“A good example? For who?”

Minho clasps his hands together loudly, making you jump. “Oh right! I didn’t tell you the secret yet. We’re having a baby!”

A couple people look up from the tops of their cubicles in curiosity, and you turn back to Minho, reeling back in shock. “Probably not a secret anymore! And your wife is pregnant?!”

“Yup.” Minho nods proudly, and you notice he’s a little teary-eyed. You decide not to call him out for it, just this once. “I’m going to be a father.”

“I’m so, so happy for you, Minho.” You shake your head in disbelief. “But I can’t let you do this. You can’t quit, not with a baby coming. And your wife is still a resident. We don’t even know if ITEM is going to succeed—”

“Oh, brother,” Minho laments dramatically. “I already quit, first of all, after having a long talk with the missus. And would you look at that, she believes in you almost as much as I do.”

“Minho.” You close your eyes, trying to find the right words to articulate yourself. But you can’t, so instead, you just grab your friend in a giant hug, hoping that would be enough to express your gratitude. “You’re going to be the best dad.”

Minho makes a show of squirming in your hold for a moment, before he properly embraces you in return. “That means a lot to me, thank you.”

You pull back, swiping at your eyes. You notice Minho trying to inconspicuously do the same. “Are you getting all soft on me, you menace?”

“Shut up,” Minho bites back, with no real malice in his words. “Besides, after my lovely, amazing, smart wife’s residency is over, she’s going to make bank as an attending surgeon. So if anything does go wrong with the company relaunch, I’ll just become a house husband. Easy.”

You elbow Minho, to which he responds with a silly bow. Minho helps you carry the rest of your boxes out back to your car, packing them up for you in the trunk. 

“Thank you, Min, really,” you tell him in full earnest. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“Ugh, I’m not.” But with the way he smiles at you, eyes crinkled at the edges, you know he feels the same way. “And for the record, I was wrong. About Hyunjin.”

You cock your head at him. “Hyunjin?”

“A few months ago, when I told you that he was probably just some temporary thing.” Minho sighs, looking at you apologetically. “I was wrong. You really love him, and I can see that now.”

“It took me a while to figure it out myself, but I really, really do.” You get into your car, rolling down the window. Minho watches quietly, kind eyes crinkling with understanding. “See you tomorrow, Minho.”

And with that, you drive away to the one person you really want to see right now. 

The lobby of Oasis, with its expansive marble walls and grim receptionist, feels imposing until Hyunjin waltzes in, lighting up the room like the sun. 

“So? How was it?” He scoops you up into his arms with a smile, kissing you without a care for any distaste on the faces of uppity passersby. 

“Amazing. I shouldn’t have waited this long to tell off that jerk.” You laugh, humming against Hyunjin’s lips in contentment. “Thanks for driving me back to work, by the way. That was the best ever use of my lunch break.”

“Of course. I’m just happy it all ended up working out and that you can now focus all of your energy on your pitch. You got this.”

You melt into Hyunjin’s touch as he offers his hand to you, leading the way back up to his place. The short journey up to his penthouse has now become familiar, filled with stolen touches in the elevator, pressed up against the metal panels in short yet heated kisses, giggling in the hallway as you both dodge curious glances. 

People wonder who you are, you know that. To them, you are simply the woman who had suddenly taken up this space in Hyunjin’s life, manifested out of nowhere. To them, you don’t belong here, your clothes clearly snatched out of clearance and the deep circles around your eyes a testament to the luxury facials you never received. 

One unfriendly neighbor had even ventured so far as to directly question Hyunjin in front of you one time, as you both happily hugged in the lobby. 

“What is this?” The Upper Side Karen tossed her platinum blunt bob in the air, reprovingly thrusting a sharply-manicured finger in the space in between you and Hyunjin. “Girlfriend? Hook-up?”

For being so seemingly affluent, it was definitely a cheap thing to ask. Classless, for sure. But how could you care at all, when Hyunjin basically ignored her, flashing you the widest smile in the world. He answered her question as if he was speaking to you, his eyes staying on yours. 

“I’m her boyfriend.”

God, you’re utterly besotted.

It’s evident in the way you know you look at him; you feel the fondness in your gaze as he now pulls you closer to him, dramatically guarding the space between his door and you. 

“Close your eyes.” Hyunjin grins wickedly. 

You close your eyes, smiling. Days of allusion building into what you are sure has finally come to a reveal. Hyunjin swings the door open and carefully leads you in, buzzing with anticipation. It’s something sweet, for sure. Maybe a little silly, but oh-so-very lovingly and quintessentially Hyunjin. A wall of flowers. Hot air balloon tickets. The limited edition Birkin that Hyunjin was rambling about. 

So perhaps you both have very differing tastes, but that doesn’t erase the meaning or intention behind whatever Hyunjin is about to give you.

“Can I open them now?” You huff jokingly.

“Almost,” Hyunjin trills, the sounds of him puttering around punctuating his excitement. “Okay! You can now!”

“Finally…”

You open your eyes gingerly, prepared to see something probably worth a year of rent, but you’re met with an unexpected surprise. Rose-colored streamers dangling from the ceilings in delicate, swirling streams. Glowing, silver confetti lies on every surface in sight. A literal disco ball hangs in the center of the living room, casting all colors of the rainbow throughout the apartment, the spots bouncing off of the walls. 

It’s extravagant, for sure, but in a different way. 

Hyunjin rapidly taps on the screen of his phone, and immediately, a playlist that you recognize as the top hits that dominated your final year of high school. “Adore You” by Harry Styles blasts through the speakers in the penthouse, and you look at Hyunjin in awe, your expression conveying your question. 

Hyunjin clears his throat, turning the music down so that it lingers as a pleasant buzz in the background. “It’s um, your high school prom.”

“My prom?”

He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, but you can tell he’s stiff. “I remember you saying you never got to go.”

“I know, but you didn’t have to do all of this.” You take his hands in yours, relishing how warm he is. “I’m over it, I promise. It’s not a big deal.”

Hyunjin frowns, and it’s so endearing that you just have to smile. “It is to me. I hate how you’ve been treated before, and in a way, this is to make me feel better about it. I want to fix all of the ways you’ve been wronged, no matter how cheesy and stupid it might be. I’m recreating your prom, because you deserve to feel cherished in all aspects of your life— past, present, and future.”

“Hyunjin—”

“And you know, I really took what you said the other day seriously. Back at Moonraker. I may not understand tech like you, but I think it’s safe to say that the way I feel about you is my version of a P.R.O.M. The thought of you will never be erased from my mind. I can’t ever go back to the way I was. And I don’t want to.” Hyunjin blushes, turning his gaze up to the ceiling. “Except, maybe, I wouldn’t mind losing these cheesy metaphors. My mind just goes so blank whenever I’m around you. And—”

You finally break his nervous ramble with a kiss, looping your arms around his neck and forcing him down to your level. “Thank you, Hyunjin.”

“Really? You’re not completely cringed out? I didn’t do too much?” Hyunjin whispers, still in a daze from the kiss.

“Absolutely not.” You press another kiss onto his soft, soft lips, trying your best to support your words. “You could never be too much. I love how much you care, how seen you make me feel. When I’m with you, I feel so safe, yet free. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

Hyunjin chases your lips, and you’re only too eager to oblige. “Really?” 

“Really,” you murmur as Hyunjin’s kisses trail down from your lips to your neck.

“I feel the exact same way. I think I was a shell, an empty husk, before I met you. My life was great, yes, but it never felt enough. Something was missing. And then you walked into my office, and everything suddenly clicked. It was always you.” Hyunjin lets his lips linger over your pulse, kissing you there.

“I still don’t understand,” you say, closing your eyes. “Why me? There must be so many pretty girls you see everyday.”

Hyunjin pulls back, cupping your cheeks gently. “You know, I’m probably one of the most neurotic people on this plan. I have— had— a daily routine that I never strayed from. Wake up, work, eat, sleep. It was fine, and most people would call it healthy. Maybe it was. But it was barely a life, when at the end of the day, this terrifying emptiness would haunt me. My clients all end up finding love or some kind of satisfaction in their lives, something I ironically never had. I tried covering it up, but I couldn’t.”

“And then what happened?”

He laughs softly. “I met you. You were unlike anyone I had ever met. A sun shower, an aurora. Most people put me on a pedestal— apologizes if I sound conceited. They either expect me to solve their problems or want me to spectacularly fail at it, proving that they’ll stay miserable forever. It’s the typical woes of someone who’s in my line of work, I suppose. But this is what my entire life was, I didn’t have any balance. There was no authenticity.”

You purse your lips, unsure. “You were like, the most secure person I had ever met.”

“Secure? Sure. But that’s it. Secure. Stable. There was just no spark. And I have friends— lovely, wonderful friends. But I never had someone who I was so wholly devoted to. And I won’t lie, I also felt chemistry. I’m inexplicably drawn to you. But I feel so human, around you. I can be normal. I feel normal. I know you came into SeoulSpark with a goal, but I never felt like you had these expectations for me. In a way, I felt like you were supporting me, not the other way around. With you around, I started having fun. Real, true fun. Like there was a new reason I had to live.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “No one has ever spoken to me like this. You make me seem so valuable, Hyunjin. There is no way. All I’ve caused is problems for you, I’m sure.”

“Oh for sure, you have caused many problems in my life,” Hyunjin teases, eyes playful. “You’ve made me chaotic and messy, and I’m all over the place, but in the best way. My life before? Stuck, stagnant. It’s like I was drowning, and you were a breath of fresh air. Maybe you might not understand now, but I don’t mind, because it only means I have all of this time to prove myself to you.”

“I look forward to it,” you accept, pure, unadulterated joy spreading throughout your limbs. He’s like your liquid sunshine, impossibly brightening up every dark room you walk into. He’s like a clover in your palms, a fortune that you can’t even fathom stumbling upon. But you have. This is your reality.

It’s why you let Hyunjin tug you into the living room for a dance. He pulls you into his arms to the croon of “Lovesong” by Beabadobee, your head resting comfortably on his chest. It’s a little clumsy, but you both fall into rhythm, rocking together slowly. 

The tune encasing the room is a little melancholy, the fondness in Bea’s words tinged with sorrow, the fear of the unknown. It should be a sad song, but it doesn’t feel that way. Because maybe this is what it means to devote yourself to someone. To always be a little afraid of what might happen, of being a fragile object in someone else’s hands. But loving them anyway, having faith in spite of it all. Persevering and trying, anyway. 

It’s terribly romantic knowing that, as you feel the beat of his heart against you. Sun and moon. Two doves sitting on a windowsill. Twin flames. You never much believed in soulmates, but maybe you were meant to be intertwined in some way or the other, in this universe or the next. 

“Hyunjin?”

“Mm?” He looks back down at you, eyes shining with a world’s worth of affection. It powers you to be brave, to say what you’ve been keeping down for so long. 

“I lo—”

Your declaration is cut short by the shrill ring of your cell phone. You want to ignore it, so bad, but it’s an incessant sound, one call after the other. 

“Someone is very desperate to reach you,” Hyunjin jokes, unaware of what you were about to say. “You should answer it. I don’t mind.”

You really don’t want to. But Hyunjin steps away, smiling, saying that he’ll go check on dinner. With a sigh, you pull your phone out of your pocket and hastily answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N!”

You make a confused noise. “Chan? What’s up? We’re still good to meet tomorrow to discuss the plan, right? Is everything okay?”

“We’re more than good,” Chan says, and the tension dissipates, leaving just curiosity. You tune in properly. “You know that huge networking party you told me about? I finally found us a way to pitch our proposal that doesn’t require James Bond level antics to sneak in.”

“Really? How?” You grip your phone tightly, bubbling with excitement. 

“My friend is on the organizing committee, and I gave him the draft of the proposal that you first emailed me. He thought it was incredible and that we deserved a fair shot to present.”

“But, the committee hates me, especially after I quit under a month before the event.”

“Well, they did hate you.” You can hear the grin painting Chan’s accent over the phone. “But you know how charming I can be. We have another chance.”

“Chan.” You inhale, barely containing yourself. “This. Is. Insane. You are insane!”

“I know, right?” Chan laughs. “So have a good night’s rest. Because tomorrow, we’ll be working like dogs to finalize this presentation. And I also want to introduce you to a buddy of mine. He’s one of the best computer engineers I know, and I think he’ll be a fine fit for our team.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” you sigh, completely overwhelmed with everything.

“‘Goodnight, see you tomorrow’ works.”

You chuckle. “Goodnight, see you tomorrow, Chan. Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You hang up the phone, still shocked. One less thing to worry about. One big thing that has been removed from your gargantuan checklist. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You can feel that familiar excitement coursing through your body, that old passion you had for your work that had festered inside you for so long, untouched for so long. 

Hyunjin sneaks up behind you, caging you in a hug as he nuzzles into your shoulder. “Was that Chan Bahng?”

“Calling about work,” you clarify, smiling at the envy in his tone. 

“Hm.” 

“He got us a slot to present at the party in two weeks. It’s all coming together. ITEM is coming back, it really is.”

Hyunjin beams softly. “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

“I’m just so happy.” You say gleefully, letting Hyunjin twirl you in his arms. “It really does seem like only good things have happened since I’ve met you.”

“That’s probably not true. You’re just the coolest person I know, and good things are bound to happen to you. But I’m not going to shy away from the compliments. Let’s celebrate.”

To match the mood, Hyunjin whisks you away to his closet, where he dresses you in a show stopping lavender Atelier Versace gown, your “prom dress,” in his words. He dons a matching suit, and it’s one of the many things you admire from across the table while you eat dinner. Unabashed flirting over spicy vodka pasta and fancy little bruschettas, all that Hyunjin has cooked himself. You both drink too much wine and giggle as you stumble into the living room, tripping over each other’s feet while attempting a round two on Hyunjin’s makeshift dance floor. 

And then the inevitable. But it’s different this time, the way in which you both have each other. Hyunjin leads you into the complete privacy of his room, and he strips you of the dress, dragging the zip down with a maddenly slow pace. He places kisses onto every new inch of skin exposed, making up for the tease. And he lays you down on his bed, velvety rose petals tickling your back, both of you completely bare. Hyunjin gazes down at you, the flickering candles placed around his room casting shadows on the planes of his lovely face.

This time, he makes love to you slowly, cherishing nothing but the presence of just each other. The hunger is still there, with the way he sinks into you so deeply, with the heated kisses peppered lovingly over your skin. But it’s quiet, giving you the space to just enjoy the moment. There’s no rush at all, as he whispers promises and earnest praise into your hair. He touches you like he has all the time in the world, but looks at you like you’re the last thing he’ll ever see. 

You both finish at the same time, sighs washing over each other like morning mist. And you both fall asleep at the same time, cloaked in the heady scent of belonging so intimately, matching smiles on your faces, before the night steals you and Hyunjin away.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

AUTHOR'S NOTE Hi guys 🤡 I know I always say I'll update but I never do... but at least I did this time! But on a serious note, thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient. I really, really appreciate your support. I love writing so much and I missed it even more! This year has been really stressful for me (i.e. school, family, friends, LIFE), so I just never had the time. But I'm back for real, and I really will try the best down the line to update. I can't say when I'll release the finale, but I'm hoping it'll be sometime in July. I will let y'all know if that plan changes! Anywayyyy... about the actual chapter! This all so disgustingly domestic that it hurts my own head. The fact that I'm about to turn 20 and I'm STILL single is terrifying; maybe I write romance because I'm trying to fill the void :P This chapter was comparatively uneventful, because I wanted to deeper explore the relationship dynamic and tie up some loose ends before the finale. And that brings me to the next chapter, the LAST CHAPTER?! I can't believe it. But I'll save the waterworks (for now). I'll just go stream Lost Children and be emo for the rest of the day because I have terrible post-concert depression (yes I finally saw skz live, no I'm not okayyyy). Please leave your thoughts, I really don’t mind if you leave a whole essay ;) -Dreamy

TAGLIST @skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel @hwangjuhong @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahsspider @8makes1scream @jetblackbelle @143hyunes @raginghellfire @sinforsuccubus @lixiesw1fe @chartrucewhore @freckleboilix @cheesytangerine @leyknowsbin @stay278 @strawberry-dreamland @lvrgrl-xo @hyunnielix @httphansol-blog @chaotic-world-of-the-j @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @imasimplol @1clickawayfrominsane @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @hyunjinsamdl @heavenhannie @moasworld @ultimatestayandminoronce @kykeu @sxlxna @writingkills @boomfrogg @tyongyuta @levislifeline @hyunzerolv @starlost-andfound @browniebearr @hanniemylovelyquokka @ardef38 @loveemmy08 @anyhow-everything @liillii @sweetpickledjins @insertsomethingaboutanimehere @kylielovesu @moon0fthenight @seukijeuxq @jinniedumpling @extrhotjne @hwangjoanna @firelordtsuki @mnwrld @splat00z @missseoulite @oddracha @seungminindabuilding @blueberryhyunin @hamburgers101 ***The people that I could not tag are written in pink, please check your blog settings to allow tagging/let me know if you changed your username!***

If you'd like to join the taglist, click here!

NETWORKS @kflixnet @k-films

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

[13tinysocks]

hello,, I absolutely adore your stories and art for them. going through your art tag and seeing the fun doodles or extra tidbits makes me so happy, and they're just so funny... I get surprised when I see a TikTok reference, like the "until I found out there are other ways to score," I was like wait I know that one!! I've been using MDGF as a reward system to make me study for coursework and get things done by saying when I'm done I'll read newest chapters, and after certain accomplishments I'll let myself reread the whole thing 😭 it is so special to me, it feels like being 13 again and reading fanfics until 5am knowing you have school in the morning buy you just can't stop... I was surprised you're a BTD fan too, I remember I just got out of an intense BTD phase and moved back to Invincible and read your story, then saw a Ren body pillow and it was like a crossover of two media I never thought I'd be able to see next to each other. it's also gotten me out of an art block lately, it's so inspiring.... im kind of worried my favorite is going to die soon though LMAO I feel like im starting to see death flags 💀 but honestly I like all of them so much that if one or even a few died I'd still be perfectly satisfied LMAO. I drew how I imagined Mohawk killed Dregs, as well as Viltrumite Mark.... the self insert is just me so I tried to give each dimension a different hairstyle I've really had to differentiate them, so in Viltrumite Mark's she never got out of her bangs phase.. I'm sure neither probably cried as they did it, but it's nice to imagine them feeling sad over it in the moment 😔 anyways, I can't wait to catch up - thank you for this wonderful story truly this shit means something to me man!! 😭 (srry for burner - I'm very shy 😔)

First of all, your yn is such a baddie. Your art is fucking awesome. We are besties forever one million billion years. This is going on my wall.

Second of all, so many people are using mdgf as a reward system. You guys are like my hamsters. Im going to give you sooo many pellets. By the time im done with you people you will be dead. Hamster overfed with pallet and fucking DIES like-

Oop!!! Thats a spoiler for way later in the arc. I will say the next death is a long while away.

But i will spoil something for you my newest shy bestie. Screenshot redraw strade style hashtag swag

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii!! could i request for a kiyora jin fic?

── WICKED GAME

Synopsis: The first time you see him, Jin Kiyora spits blood at your feet. That is when you are sure you will love him.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Kiyora x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: alcohol/hangovers, reader is drunk and at a party in the first part, mentions of drug use and smoking but NOT by reader or kiyora, blood and violence, sooo much swearing at one point, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…, kiyora is down to punch an mf at all times, he’s probably ooc (if it’s even possible for him to be ooc??), he is NOT bestie approved but like he’s actually a cutie i promise, open ending, implied to be a college au but there’s nothing scholarly or collegiate about it except for the party and the sports mentions, many liberties are taken with kiyora’s backstory and character alike

A/N: hiiii omg i’ve never written kiyora before!! i hope i kinda did him justice?? EEK LMAOAO okay also i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to go in a specific direction so i picked one at random and left it kinda (very) open ended so that way if you/anyone else likes it i can write a pt2 but if not it’s nbd!! it’s just that as you can see it’s already kinda long and i didn’t want to write a ton if people weren’t fucking w it yk 😭 ANYWAYS rambling aside i hope you enjoy!!

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

There is a man screaming at you. You know that he is screaming because his voice pierces the drunken haze settled over your mind, shame shooting through that spinning, floating sensation, and you know it is at you specifically because he is glaring and it’s not at your best friend or the other girl you came with, it’s at you and only you. He’s glaring and saying something over and over again, but all you can do is tilt your head at him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he says. “Get the fuck out. Why the fuck are you still here?”

More of his sentences than not are just that word. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s unnecessarily angry. You try to think — what did you do? Your best friend places one hand on your arm, and you’re pretty sure she’s telling you it’s not worth it, that you all should just go, but your drink is still half-full and you want to finish it before you leave.

“Why are you mad?” you mumble, fascinated by the pinkness of the alcohol, the way it contrasts against the white plastic of your cup.

His eyes are open and wild, and before you know it he is reaching out for you. Your best friend pulls you back just in time, and she shrieks for help as his fingers close around nothing, but the music is loud and the crowd is thick and there’s no way anyone will hear her.

You’re still confused. The man is still angry. You try to recall the conversation you’ve had with him up until this point — well, it wasn’t really much of a conversation to begin with. What had even happened? 

“He’s on something,” your best friend hisses in your ear as she ushers you through the crowd. “No way this is just a couple of beers talking. All you did was ask him if his watch was real, and he totally flipped out.”

Right, that does sound familiar. You giggle as she shoves you outside, because it’s altogether hilarious. The other girl is hanging onto your best friend’s other arm and whining about how you had to leave the party early, and your best friend’s face is pale, her hair sticking to her forehead, but you’re not thinking about any of that. At least, it’s not at the forefront of your mind; instead, you’re wondering why that man has followed the three of you.

“I’m going to call the cops if you don’t leave!” he says, and it’s all you can do to lurch backwards as he stops on the porch. He’s intimidating, you can see that better in the light, and even though you’re more lost than anything, you’re pretty sure you should be afraid, too.

“Is this even your house?” you say sleepily. “Won’t the cops shut down your party first?”

It’s not his party or his house. You know that because the person who threw it is the one who invited you and your friends, but for some reason, this man is dead-set on the fact that you are some kind of intruder.

“The only ones that’ll be getting in trouble if the cops come are you guys, for fucking trespassing,” he snaps. “You’re not invited here!”

“We are,” you say. “Wanna see?”

You’re about to pull out your phone, but your best friend slaps your hand and shakes her head. The man is flushed now, and slowly, you put the phone back in your pocket, pursing your lips and avoiding his gaze.

“I’m serious. Don’t make me say it again, you fucking—”

“Woah, dude. Didn’t know that was your new thing,” a new voice says. You don’t recognize the speaker, but you can tell that he’s pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes that shimmer in the flickering porch light. He’s sitting on the porch swing, his feet kicked up on the railing, and there’s an unlit cigarette in his hands. When he notices you staring at it, he shrugs and flicks it to the ground. “It’s not mine. Some girl asked if I wanted it and left before I could say no.”

“Kiyora,” the man sneers. His attention has been diverted entirely, and the newcomer — Kiyora — stands casually, lazily. He’s slouching, but you can tell despite his posture that he’s a slip of a person, with needle-like features and a scowl that somehow resembles a grin. 

“Sup,” he says. “You into bothering girls now?”

“Stay out of this,” the man says. “You weren’t invited, either.”

“Eh,” Kiyora says. “I don’t need an invitation.”

“I’m being serious,” he said. “You don’t get what a fucking bitch she is.”

Kiyora glances over at you, and it’s like he’s weighing his options. And although it would be just as easy for you to run — it’s what your best friend is urging you to do, it’s what you should do — you can’t help but wait. You can’t help but want to know what he’ll decide.

“Y/N,” your best friend pleads. “Come on, let’s just go while we can.”

“I want another drink,” the other girl says. “Just one more shot? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“No more shots tonight,” your best friend says. “Y/N, I’m being serious.”

That’s when Kiyora smiles slightly, and then he’s drawing his fist back and punching the man. Your best friend gasps, and even the other girl yelps, but you are enthralled by it. The man howls, and then he’s charging at Kiyora and they’re falling down the porch stairs and it’s a whirlwind of blows and shouts and cursing as they rip up the grass of the front yard with the fury of their spat.

It’s over almost as soon as it begins. The man’s collar is clenched in one of Kiyora’s fists, and his eyes are glimmering with tears at the way Kiyora looms over him, the other fist prepared to hit him again. The hollows of the man’s face are all blue and bruised, and he slaps lightly against Kiyora’s forearm in surrender. Kiyora gives him a measured look that’s somehow mocking, and then he lets him go. He stays on the ground, lying prone and motionless, and your best friend — she’s always been so empathetic, even though hardly anyone ever deserves it — tells the other girl to sit and wait before she rushes inside to alert the owner of the house.

“There we go,” Kiyora says, dusting himself off and springing to his feet, rolling his shoulders like he’s waking up from a long nap. “What a wimp. Can’t be talking that kind of shit if you don’t even have the skills to back it up.”

“You stood up for me,” you say. “Thank you.”

He raises his eyebrows, and then he makes a face. You realize he’s not escaped unscathed at the exact moment that he spits a mouthful of blood into the grass before you, his lower lip shiny and split, the same angry color as the crimson in the grass. You gaze at the way it dissolves into the dirt, and then you step over it, meaning to embrace him but mostly just collapsing into his arms. He catches you by reflex, not out of desire, and then he snorts.

“It’s not like I really did it for you, so don’t thank me,” he says. His nose is bleeding, too. You’re sure of it, because something warm dribbles onto your shirt, the stain blooming like rust against the lacy left strap. It’s a white top, thin and deep in the front, and it’s one of your favorites, but shockingly, you’re not angry that it’s been ruined.

“Why’d you do it, then?” you say.

“Couldn’t tell you,” he says. “I guess I just thought that your side was the right one to pick this time.”

To you, it sounds like the same thing, but it must’ve meant something different, because he sounds incredibly sure of himself. You hum in agreement, and then Kiyora nudges you off of him, motioning over to where the other girl — she’s your best friend’s new roommate, and you think her name might start with a C, but you can’t really recall — is sitting on the curb alone.

“Go sit with your friend,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, though you pause before you can join her. “Wait. Is your name Kiyora?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Y/N,” you say. “I’m Y/N.”

“’Kay,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Nice to meet you, Kiyora.”

He finds this funny, chuckling as you stumble over to the curb, sitting next to the girl, who’s texting someone with a big red x in their contact name. That probably means she shouldn’t be talking to them, but all you do is lean your head against her shoulder. You’re not the type to reprimand anyone, not when you’re like this. Maybe a few drinks or a few hours earlier, you would’ve said something, but at the moment, your mind is preoccupied with your newest fixation.

Your best friend comes out with the owner of the house, and then she makes a beeline for where you are sitting. Helping you to your feet, she drags you back in the direction of her apartment, plucking her roommate’s phone out of her hands and ignoring her arguments, instead turning to you.

“What the hell happened to your shirt?” she says. “Did that — did they hurt you too? Are you okay?”

“What?” you say. “No, I’m fine. Hey, listen. I want him.”

“Want who?” she says.

“Kiyora,” you say. 

“The dude who beat that other guy up?” she says. You nod. Her brows knit together, and she shakes her head. “You need to sober up.”

“I’ll still want him when I’m sober,” you say.

“Then you’re sick in the head,” she says. “But I guess that’s nothing new.”

The next morning, you wake up on your best friend’s couch. Your makeup is blurred and messy on your face, the remnants of your mascara forming dark shadows under your eyes, and your clothes are rumpled. You are close to throwing up, and your head is pounding, so you trudge over to the bathroom, which is thankfully empty. 

In the mirror, things look even worse. Your once-white shirt has remnants of your drink splashed on the front, and the left strap is a flaky sanguine, the color bleeding into the place where your heart beats behind your breast. It’s frightening at first, but dimly, you remember that the blood is not your own. It nearly could’ve been, but it isn’t, because you were saved. Someone took your side, and he saved you, and it’s his blood that you’re covered in.

“Damn.” It’s your best friend’s other roommate, the one who didn’t go out with you three last night. You don’t remember her name, either, or maybe she just never introduced herself. “What kind of night did you have?”

“Not my best,” you admit with a yawn. 

“Yeah, no shit,” she says, going to the other sink and running her toothbrush under the water. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say, because anything more makes the knife in your head twist more and more. “Just need a shower. Some dude freaked out on us last night.”

“Is that what happened?” she says. “D’you need a doctor or something?”

“It’s not mine,” you say. “Some other guy fought him off for me. His nose bled all over my shoulder when I tried hugging him afterwards.”

“What a hero,” she says, running a washcloth along her face. “Was he cute?”

“Does that matter?” you say. She winks at you in the mirror.

“Obviously. If he’s good-looking, you should try to find him and thank him while you’re sober. If he’s not, then you can just let it go,” she says. 

“Yeah, he was cute,” you say after thinking about it for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I liked him. Last night, I mean.”

“Yeah?” she says. “Did you get a name or some other way to contact him?”

“Uh, his name is Kiyora, I think,” you say. 

“Kiyora?” she says. “What does he look like?”

“He’s not that tall,” you say. “Dark hair. Pretty eyes, though I can’t quite remember what color they were.”

“I can’t say I know him,” she says. “Maybe you can try social media, though.”

“I think that might be my best bet,” you agree, taking off your shirt and tossing it to the ground, stepping out of your pants and reaching into the cabinet for a spare towel. “Do you mind if I just shower in here?”

“No worries, I’m almost done,” she says, squeezing sunscreen out of a small tube and massaging it into her cheeks. “You know how to work the shower?”

“Yup. Spent more nights here than I’d like to admit,” you said. The girl laughs at this, patting you on the shoulder.

“Happens to the best of us. Better you’re here than with some random guy, though, right?” she says.

“Right,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Hope you can find him!” she says, and then she’s shutting the bathroom door behind her. You reach out and lock it before stripping fully, turning the faucet so that the water is as hot as you can bear and then sighing as it streams onto your face and body, rinsing off all of the proof of the previous night.

You kick your dirty clothes into a pile in the corner, wrapping a towel around your body and leaving the bathroom in a rush of steam. Your best friend is waiting in the kitchen, sipping coffee from a chipped mug, her hair in a messy bun and an untouched bowl of cereal in front of her. When she notices you, she smiles.

“Good morning,” she says. 

“Good morning,” you say, ducking into her bedroom and pulling on the clothes you’d left in her closet weeks ago for times like these. 

“How are you today?” she says.

“I’ve been better,” you say. “But I’m alive.” 

“Want breakfast?” she says.

“I might throw up if I eat,” you say.

“You’ll definitely throw up if you don’t. Just eat something light,” she says, gesturing in the direction of her pantry, as if to say take what you want.

You sit across from her, a random snack with bears on the packaging in one hand and your phone in the other. There’s a litany of unread text messages that you need to go through, so you squint your eyes against the glare of the screen and begin to read them.

Most of them are just people from the party asking you if you’re doing alright, since to their knowledge you left abruptly and without explanation. There’s one from your own roommate, asking you if you’ve watered the plants on the balcony in the past few days or not. You give one-or-two word answers to the majority, but there’s one message that catches your eye.

‘Hey, Y/N. I’m really sorry about last night — apparently that guy brought a whole cocktail of drugs with him, and that’s why he went all crazy. I hope you’re okay, and that you don’t think badly of me now.’

There’s a crying emoji followed by a praying one. It’s the guy who invited you and your best friend to the party; ordinarily, you would’ve blocked him, but now you need his help, so, with a frown, you type out your response.

‘Honestly, it was pretty scary, but luckily that other guy was there, so nothing too awful happened. Speaking of which, do you know anything about him?’

There’s a pause that you can only imagine is him typing out his response, and then your darkening phone screen lights up with a notification.

‘Kiyora? He’s on the soccer team with a couple of my other friends. He’s not really close with any of them, but he’ll show up to our parties every now and again if they let him know where the address is. He’s kind of weird, but I guess it’s a good thing he happened to be there last night.’

‘Hm.’

‘His first name’s Jin, and apparently he’s addicted to grape candy — everyone makes fun of him for it. That’s about all I know.’

‘Thanks anyways.’

‘Anytime! Hope to see you at another party :)’

You consider blocking him now that you’ve gotten everything you can out of him, but there’s no point, so you just turn your phone off without responding, laying it face-down so you can ignore whoever else tries to reach out to you. Your best friend finally takes a bite of her cereal; you don’t know if she’s inspired by you or if she’s finally finished with her coffee. When you look over at her mug, you find it’s the latter.

“How much do you remember?” she asks you.

“Enough,” you say. “I’m going to find him.”

“Kiyora?” she says. When you nod, she can only pinch the bridge of her nose. “I should’ve known.”

“What do you have against him? He helped us out,” you say.

“Besides the fact that he beat that guy’s face into a pulp?” she says.

“That guy would’ve done the same to me,” you say.

“Not if you had just left when I told you to,” she reminds you. You can’t rebut this, and she knows it, because she tries her level best to avoid sounding condescending in the ensuing statement. “That’s the kind of person that you’re supposed to avoid, you know.”

“We don’t know anything about him,” you say. “We can’t judge him based on one night, especially given the circumstances.”

“That’s true,” she says. She’s like that, always quicker to give allowances than you are. You’re sure she’ll forgive him before he even realizes he’s done anything to forgive. “So, what, you just want to see what kind of person he is and go from there?”

“Basically,” you say, even though the more you mull it over, the more you’re convinced that there’s not really much that’ll change your mind. She wipes at a droplet of milk that lingers on the corner of her mouth, and then she exhales heavily.

“Yeah, alright,” she says. “I don’t think anything I say is going to stop you, so why bother?”

“You know me so well,” you say. “Want anything from the convenience store? I need to get some aspirin. My head is killing me.”

“Mine, too,” she says with a groan. “Can you get a pack for me? I think we’re out.”

“Sure,” you say, slinging your purse over your shoulder and shoving your feet in a pair of slippers. You’re pretty sure you look horrible, all lumpy and formless in an outfit that’s about two sizes too large for you, but you can’t be bothered to change, and at least you’re clean, which is more than you could say an hour ago. Waving at your best friend, you leave her apartment, careful to shut the door slowly, so as not to wake up her final roommate, who is still sleeping soundly. You envy her a bit, but then again, if you had woken up any later, you’d have had to add grogginess to your list of complaints, so maybe it’s for the best.

The convenience store is fairly empty. There’s a cashier dozing off by the checkout station, and a television showing the security footage — you stop and wave at your reflection, as you always do — but other than that, you’re the only one in the building.

As you’re browsing through the medicine section, weighing the merits of buying the generic version or if you should just get the name-brand, there is the swooshing sound of the automatic doors sliding open. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so you pick up two boxes of the generic kind and make your way to the cashier, but then you freeze, because the figure which has slipped into the candy section is one you wouldn’t normally pay attention to but has suddenly become one you are particularly concerned with.

“Kiyora!” you hiss, ducking into the candy aisle. To your delight, he spins around at once, and he looks much the same as you remembered him from the previous night, which means it really is him. A violet mark stands out angrily against the paleness of his cheek, and his lower lip is still a bit swollen, but he wears it well, like some kind of badge of honor. 

At first, he narrows his eyes at you, but then they light up with recognition, and he smiles imperceptibly. It’s barely there, barely enough to be qualified as a smile in the first place, yet you know that that’s what it is.

“Hey,” he says. “Hangover hitting you bad?”

He’s talking about the medicine in your hands. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Pretty much,” you say. “What about you?”

“I didn’t drink last night,” he says. “It’s bad for your body, and I’m supposed to maintain mine. Top athlete and all, you know how it is.”

This is accompanied by a subtle roll of his eyes, and you snicker at his impudence.

“Naturally,” you say. “But I was referring more to, ah…that.”

You don’t really know a more graceful way to refer to it, but he seems to pick up on what you’re talking about.

“I’ve had worse,” he says. “He really was all bark and no bite. Wasn’t a big deal.”

“Still, thank you again,” you say.

“Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t for you? Don’t say thanks. It’s embarrassing,” he says.

“On my part or yours?” you say.

“Both,” he says.

“Alright, sorry,” you say. “But wait. What do you mean, you’ve had worse?”

“I dabbled in boxing for a while,” he says.

“You played two affiliated sports at once?” you say. “That’s impressive.”

“Well, one of them wasn’t affiliated,” he says, stooping over and picking up a box of grape candy — of course, he was reputedly obsessed with it, so you shouldn’t have been surprised by his presence in the convenience store at all. “I guess a better name would be street fighting. My older brother got into it after he didn’t cut it as a soccer player, and he convinced me to try it out for a bit. It was good money.”

“That’s cool,” you say, somewhat at a loss for words, finding it all too easy to imagine him in that kind of situation.

“Lame as hell, actually,” he says. “I’m better at soccer, anyways.”

He says it so nonchalantly that you have to laugh. He’s taken aback, and he doesn’t laugh along with you, but he’s clearly not upset, because that same not-smile remains on his face.

“That’s good to hear,” you say. “I don’t know if my best friend would approve of me talking to an underground street fighter.”

“You can safely tell her I’m reformed,” he says. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“You remembered?” you say.

“I told you I didn’t drink last night. Why would I forget?” he says. 

“That’s true,” you say. “Yeah. Y/N.”

“Got any reason to be talking to me against your best friend’s wishes, Y/N?” he says, walking by your side towards the cashier. The way your name sounds coming from him is different. He says it like it’s the final piece to a game that he’s been wanting to play, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but if it’s the latter, then it’s too late. Somehow, he’s made it so that this game is one you want to play, too, or maybe it’s that you’re playing it already, have been playing it since before you even knew of its existence.

“I guess our ideas of what’s in my best interests just don’t align,” you say.

“Is that so? What does she believe to be in your best interests?” he says.

“Staying away from you,” you say.

“And you?” he says.

“The opposite,” you say, swiping your credit card and putting the twin boxes of medicine into the wide front pocket of your sweatshirt. He does the same, opening the box of grape candy and popping a piece into his mouth. You notice that he does not offer you one, but you weren’t hoping he would, so you’re not disappointed or anything. Just amused.

“Interesting,” he says. “What about me makes you sure that being around me is in your best interests?”

“I’m sure my chances of getting hurt will be a lot less, for one,” you say. 

“Not necessarily,” he says. “Maybe I won’t take your side one day. Maybe I’ll be the one to hurt you. Then what happens?”

“Hm,” you say. It’s such a bizarre thing to say to someone who you’ve only met one-and-a-half times — the meeting last night only counts for half, considering how out of your mind you were — but he does it with a straight face, like it’s a serious dilemma. “I don’t think you’d do that.”

“You don’t?” he says.

“Nah,” you say. “I’d never provoke you into fighting me.”

“How can you be sure of that?” he says. You tear open the aspirin’s cardboard packaging, swallowing the pill dry and praying it works quickly. It catches in your throat, so you swallow again in an attempt to dislodge it. Kiyora watches you, and once you are successful in the endeavor, he silently hands you a piece of grape candy.

“People tell me I’m easy to get along with,” you say. The candy is sour and sparkles in your mouth; you do your best to savor the taste, but it’s gone as soon as you’re aware of it, melting away into air on your tongue.

“That guy from last night didn’t seem to think so,” he points out.

“He was mad that I asked if his watch was real. Normal people wouldn’t care about that,” you say. “I doubt you would.”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” he says. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you say, though you don’t quite know what you’re agreeing to. He gives you another piece of candy, and then he actually smiles; the tip of his tongue is purple, too, just like that bruise of his. You wonder if yours will turn the same shade, and then you accept the candy regardless. It’s kind of delightful, the thought of matching with him in that secret way.

“You’re kind of funny, Y/N,” he says. 

“I do my best,” you say. “You’re not bad yourself.”

“You’re probably the only person who thinks that,” he says.

“Then maybe the others are missing out,” you say. He glances at the ground, but you think he seems happy, not upset.

“Maybe,” he says.

“Anyways, I should probably get back,” you say, because you’ve reached the intersection where you have to turn right, and it seems he has every intention of going straight. “But I can see you again, right?”

He cocks his head at you, and then, magically, he produces a pen from the pocket of his sweatpants, which are of that infuriating depth that supposedly only men deserve. Scribbling something on the box of grape candy, he presses it in your hand.

“Later,” he says, because the light has changed and he has to cross the street now. You watch him go, and then you peer at the small box. His handwriting is cramped and spiky, but you can make it out without too much trouble.

The box is empty, devoid of anything sweet, but he’s given you a much greater treasure, so you hold it close to your heart as you scurry to your best friend’s apartment, trying to fight back the grin that threatens to split your face the entire way back.

“So, let me get this straight — he gave you his phone number?” your best friend says. She had showered in the time you spent at the convenience store, and now that she has an aspirin in her system and moisturizer on her face, she looks like an entirely different person, a brighter and more cheerful one who isn’t going to judge you for whatever you say next.

“Yes,” you say, incredibly focused on creating a new contact for Kiyora. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Depends on who you’re asking,” she says. 

“Me,” you say.

“Then yeah, I’d say so,” she says. “He’s obviously into you.”

“I hope so,” you say.

“Who wouldn’t be?” she says. “You know what this means, right? It’s time for us to do reconnaissance.”

You grin, because you know exactly what that means. She pulls out her tablet and opens it to a random social media site, and so begins your investigation into the enigma that is Jin Kiyora.

“What the fuck?” you say. The two of you have been working for longer than you’d like to admit, yet you’ve learned frighteningly little about him. He plays soccer, and he seems to be quite good at it, given the few blurry highlights you managed to dredge up from his high school days. He has two brothers, both of whom post a ton but never about him. He once made the news in his hometown for breaking the mayor’s son’s nose — your best friend clicks her tongue at that, but you are sure he had a reason for doing it, so you remain unfazed. Otherwise, though, there’s nothing. He’s inactive on social media, which makes you doubly glad that you ran into him earlier, and if he has friends, then none of them seem to want to make that information public.

“It’s like he doesn’t exist,” your best friend says. “Honestly, I kind of fuck with it.”

“That’s a change of tune,” you say. She hums, typing something into her tablet and then shaking her head when the search results come up empty.

“Well, you know. It’s always nice when a man isn’t active online. Although, then again, in this case it could be because he doesn’t want a digital footprint that incriminates him or something,” she says.

“He’s not a criminal,” you say. She taps her finger against the article about him breaking the mayor’s son’s nose, and you cringe. “Okay, but he wasn’t arrested for that, so I’m technically still right.”

“Uh, sure, but this is the second account we have of him getting in a fight. Who knows? Maybe it’s like a hobby for him,” she says. At that moment, you decide to omit the fact that it actually was a hobby for him until an indeterminate amount of time ago. 

“We don’t know why he did it,” you say. “Maybe the mayor’s kid was a bully. The guy last night definitely was. Come on, you can’t say you’re not at least a little grateful to him for stepping in and sticking up for us.”

He has insisted twice now that he didn’t do it for you, but you’ll take anything that endears him to your best friend, so you don’t mention that, either.

“That whole situation was terrifying,” she says, hugging herself tightly. “For one, it was scary that that guy flipped out on you, but it’s not like seeing Kiyora beat him up was particularly soothing.”

“You’re nicer than me by far,” you say, for probably the thousandth time. “I found it pretty gratifying to watch. I mean, he had no trouble threatening us; why shouldn’t he have had to back up his words with action? Obviously, he wasn’t expecting us to be able to fight back, so he ran his mouth to his heart’s content, but he had the misfortune of doing it in front of the wrong person, and he got what was coming for him. That’s his fault. So, in a sense, what Kiyora did was just a form of justice.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” she says. “I still kinda feel bad for the other guy, considering he definitely wasn’t in his senses, and after all Kiyora did punch him first, but it was a tense atmosphere. Who knows how another person might’ve reacted? It’s wrong to judge when things were so precarious and prone to snapping at any second. Of course, what he did wasn’t perfect, but you can’t really expect perfection from anyone, can you?”

Again, she’s better than you. You don’t know if you will ever feel bad for the man from last night, or if you could ever forgive someone as quickly as she has forgiven Kiyora. But if you count all of the times she’s proven to be the gentler of you two, it’ll take you ages, so you just add this occasion to the list and internally celebrate your good fortune.

“I’m going to text him,” you say, showing her your phone screen.

“What are you going to say?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Maybe hi, to start?”

“Make sure you add your name, since he doesn’t have your number,” she says.

“Oh, good idea,” you say, typing out your initial message and handing it to her so she can proofread it. She nods, and you hit send, a pit forming in your stomach as you wait for a text back.

‘Hi! This is Y/N from earlier!’

It’s almost immediate, his response, and you high-five your best friend when your phone vibrates, deciding to forget the whole play-it-cool advice that’s so predominant online and opening it immediately.

‘Hi Y/N.’

A second later, there’s another buzz, and another text. You laugh when you see it, because it’s very tongue-in-cheek and already, you can imagine the kind of expression that he’s wearing as he’s typing, although you hardly know him.

‘This is Kiyora btw.’

“He’s not afraid to joke around,” your best friend says, reading over your shoulder. “That’s a good sign. Imagine he was super dry and boring over text. You’d have to ghost him.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “What should I say now?”

Before she can respond, he’s sent another text. This earns a round of applause and a whoop from her, albeit a quiet one, since the roommate you went out with last night is somehow still asleep.

“Triple text!” she says. “This is great! Ah, I mean. It’s great if you still want him.”

“Of course I do,” you say, heat rising in your face as you realize what’s he’s just asked you.

‘So. Are you free next Saturday?’

The restaurant Kiyora tells you to meet him at is the opposite of fancy. You almost mistake it for a gas station, because it’s right next to one and located at random on the side of the road, but luckily you stop the car in time and manage to pull into the parking lot. You’re a little overdressed, but at least you’ll make a good impression, or so you hope, because the last few times you’ve seen him haven’t exactly shown off your greatest assets.

He’s already inside, though he hasn’t sat at a table yet and you’re ten minutes early. The place is almost empty save for him and a few employees, and the lights are a harsh, fluorescent white that throws his features into greater relief, but the effect’s a little angelic. A bell chimes to announce your entrance, and he glances over his shoulder, his furrowed brow relaxing when he sees that it’s you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say. A cheesy ballad from either the late 80s or the early 90s plays from the radio at the counter, and a ceiling fan whirs in the background, but it’s otherwise pretty quiet.

“It’s my uncle’s place,” he says, leading you to a table without waiting for the hostess — a girl of probably about sixteen or seventeen, who’s playing on her phone and doesn’t look up at either of you — to do anything. “Got him to close early for the night so it’s just us.”

“Oh, wow,” you say. “Thank you. That’s actually really sweet.”

He hands you a menu. “I don’t like being around that many people. It’s a little claustrophobic.”

“I get it,” you say. “I think every time I’ve ended up in a big crowd, it’s ended kinda badly for me, so it’s nice to not have to worry about that.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says. For a moment, neither of you say anything, though probably for different reasons — he’s busy reading a menu, and you’re trying to think of a way to bring up his past grievances, especially the ones of the punching-a-mayor’s-son variety, without sounding like a stalker.

“What made you quit street fighting?” you say.

“Do you want appetizers?” he says, at exactly the same time. Then he pauses, your question registering. “Oh.”

“Appetizers are good,” you say.

“It was just too much,” he says. “I don’t know. I never liked it. I only stayed because I got paid well, but it became more trouble than it was worth.”

“What’s that mean?” you say. He’s obviously a bit uncomfortable with the line of questioning, squirming in his seat, but your best friend is right. That’s the kind of thing you should probably know about him before you let yourself get any deeper.

“The mayor’s jackass son started showing up, placing bets and all. He was a real dick,” he begins. You’re surprised that you’ve ended up at your end goal already; you were sure it’d take a bit more prodding until you reached the heart of the story, but it seems you’ve chanced upon it without even trying. He rolls his eyes and scoffs as he continues. “One time he asked if he could try fighting himself. Picked me as his opponent because I was the shortest and, therefore, the weakest. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you say, though not without a snicker, because from what you know of him, you doubt he could be considered the weakest in any company. “Then what?”

“Then I did the world a favor and broke his ugly fucking nose so he had an excuse to fix it, that’s what,” he says. “His dad wasn’t too happy.”

“That’s to be expected,” you say.

“Yup. After that, he told me I had to get my act together or there would be real disciplinary consequences, so I gave it up and focused everything I had on soccer instead,” he says. 

“I’m glad,” you say.

“Are you?” he says.

“You probably don’t get hurt quite as much playing soccer,” you say. “Even though it’s possible to get injured, it’s not as common.”

“True,” he says. “Most players are just faking it, anyways, so it’s definitely not common in the slightest.”

“Well, that’s all. I think it’s better that you don’t get hurt,” you say. “I don’t want you to. So stick with soccer.”

His lips form a thin, hard line, but there are dimples in his cheeks that make it obvious what he’s trying to suppress. Clearing his throat, he reopens his menu and points at one of the appetizers.

“Is this one alright with you?” he asks.

You’re looking at him when you answer, not the menu. Whatever it is, you’ll eat it, or if it’s really horrible, you’ll leave it for him. You’d rather spend that precious second admiring his features when he’s unaware of your gaze. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes flick up to meet your own, and then, impossibly, a pale pink blush dusts across his nose and cheeks.

“I’ll tell my uncle that that’s what we want, then,” he says, standing up and darting off towards the kitchens without another word. He walks with a kind of intrinsic rhythm, like he’s dancing, though there’s nothing about his gait otherwise that suggests any sort of musicality. It’s fascinating. He’s fascinating. 

You are certain, before he even returns, before you even eat, before you even part ways, that this will not be the last time you see him. At least you pray it won’t be, because you think you’re like a moth, and he’s like a flame, and there’s enough stories about moths and flames that you know how these things typically end, or at least you’re pretty sure you do. It doesn’t matter, though. None of it matters, because you’ve never been so utterly taken by anything the way you are with Jin Kiyora and his bruised face and his split knuckles and his grape-colored tongue.

There’s another thing you’re certain of now, or have been for a while: you don’t love him yet, of course you don’t, but you will. Inescapably, inevitably, you will.

[plor-bindery]

Bound: Truth to Materials

It’s done!

I have a colour printer now. Can you tell? Lol.

This is, of course, a bind of my own co-authored fic with lately, who is not on Tumblr much/at all, and not under that name. (Apparently I continue to have the idea that I must try out new techniques on my own work first?)

The fic features artist Draco, so I went with that theme for the book design. I also used Canva for the first time, which was a mix of frustration (“whyyyy doesn’t it do this thing Illustrator does???”) and joy (so! much! stock! art!!!) I actually wound up banging the cover doc back into Illustrator because I didn’t trust the lack of guides and dimensions for measuring the cover, but the export was fairly seamless, so that was fine.

Back cover blurbs feat. @moonflower-rose because their comment made me lol so much when I went digging for gold in the comments. Also @thehoneybeet! (I feel weird putting my own reviews on the cover but I’m pretending they’re all directed at lately.)

More blathering under the cut.

For the wrap cover: glossy legal photo paper laminated in a matte legal 3mil pouch — two covers back to back so only the front gets laminated. I actually tried this first on plain paper but the ink bled in spots from the glue moisture and the whole thing delaminated as the glue struck through. I think the glossy coating provides a better barrier between ink and glue. I also used straight PVA on the second go, reasoning that it carries less water. Seemed to work?

Ran into some troubles with hinges delaminating, though, I think more from flexing and the bone folder than moisture? I can see why the IG Dramione binding girlies use the soft touch laminate — less than half the thickness. I haven’t bought any yet though, not sure I am that keen?

The endpapers are foiled but I was annoyed with the folding obscuring the words — might have to be more cautious with that in future.

All the chapter headers are artworks pulled from the bestmuseumbum hashtag on the bird site. It was very fun finding them. (This fic started with a Louvre visit in which lately and I very maturely admired many sculpted arses so there’s a theme.)

Endbands are sewn with embroidery floss and they came out sooo shiny and neat. One strand of floss per wrap is the way to go, even though it’s slow and fine work.

The rest of the bind is unremarkable — legal quarto, sewn French links, bradel-style case.

The cover came out quite 90s which I kind of love. As I’ve said before, and at risk of dating both of us, co-author lately and I met in our young teens, and that was…in the 90s. The earlier part. So a 90s vibe cover for the first fic we managed to co-write since that time? Perfect. Saved by the Bell goodness.

So… cover wraps… I am not sure! I think it’s probably cheaper than even homemade book cloth, but I imagine the archival quality is not great with all the plastic involved. But then same with HTV. I will almost certainly do it again, especially if I want to do something like a book that’s disguised as a textbook or magazine. While I love the artwork available in Canva, I definitely felt like my own creativity was less present? Hard to describe.

One little technical problem that I’m solving: endpapers didn’t stick to the hinge insides fully, not sure if the wrapped spine is too wide or it’s a lamination not liking glue thing or… but the problem is minor. Something to troubleshoot next time.

[windmill-for-the-land]

Some parts of Deltarune feel like a huge love letter to gaming urban legends and myths and i love that about it sooooo much Noelle's interest in searching for creepy easter eggs, secrets and glitches in video games hits so close to home that it might make her my favorite character.

LIKE???? Look a her blog??? She's just like me when i was kid fr. I remember looking for bigfoot, sea monsters, and stuff like that in gta 5 with my cousin when i was a kid or i'd be watching people trying to find Herobrine and the 17th Colossus, or i would go looking for the Lumiose city ghost and the "secret Missingno easteregg" that you could find in an alleyway in Lumiose city(does anyone remember this one?).

This story from her blog hits even harder than the others though

Im sure many kids got into situations like this as a kid, going out of bounds, being softlocked, and generally getting so scared at a video game that you'd end up turning it off, either by accident or intentionally. Like, when i was like, 10 or something, i did that "Void" glitch in Pokemon Diamond to try to catch Darkrai without hacking, but ended up softocking my game and making my character be permanantly stuck wandering in the endless, dark, and empty void...

(This kind of haunted me as a kid, because i kept thinking about my character stuck in there, even after deleting the save file.)

And Deltarune doesnt reference the myth and glitch hunting culture only through Noelle. The secret bosses, eggs and the "weird route" all capture the feeling of looking for secrets(usually with some creepy feel to them) in a video game SPECIALLY in chapter 3 The secret room you get teleported to alone without warning after putting exactly 1225 points into the prize machine, that is clearly unfinished and let's you walk on air. Having to wander aimlessly until you find the machine that gives you a strange triangle and a really creepy message about not being able to find your own hand, this gave me chills when first getting to it, and i only found out about it thorough word of mouth of someone saying "Something interesting happens if you input 1225 into the machine"

This whole game segment had me on edge on my first playthrough, it does such a good job on feeling like something you're not supposed to find, something that is so different from the game's usual tone that it REALLY shouldn't be here. With so many glitches, having to go out of bounds to progress, and getting creepier and creepier as you go on(I even found some easter eggs in it on my second playthrough.) When the game started referencing the snowgrave route, and Noelle's blog stories, i was creeped tf out, i though the game knew i played snowgrave and was breaking the 4th wall on my regular save to get me on edge. IT EVEN ENDS WITH A CHARACTER COMING OUT OF THE SCREEN AND ATTACKING KRIS IN "REAL LIFE"

It feels like i was playing as someone literally playing through a creepypasta if that makes sense. And speaking of creepypastas, the Snowgrave route is constantly described as one, and i totally agree. You have to go so out of your way and break the game in weird ways, that most people only heard about it from word of mouth, i wish i was in the fandom in the day, as far as i heard, most people didn't believe the first reports of the weird route, and i cant even blame them! Its sooo unexpected, you could write what happens and what you have to do to trigger it and post it in the gaming creepypasta wiki and i wouldn't even bat an eye! And then you have chapter 4.

This scene got me SOO bad, the weird route does so many creepy things that sound completely insane when put to text but are actually in the game. This is why i think maybe the Deltarune fandom should just make things up when a new chapter comes out lol. At this point, i think the weird route and some of the other secrets might start to lose some of their magic, because you're no longer wondering if they're true or not, you know they are, this game already has so many unexpected secrets that most people dont doubt anything. Whats the fun of searching for Bigfoot in Gta if you know it isnt real, or searching for the 17th Colossus in Shadow of the Colossus if you know it isn't in the game's code, that Herobrine isnt actually watching you in your world? Same goes for myths you know are 100% true, part of the magic is gone, its not some creepy unexplained sighting, its just something added by the developers, it becomes normal, expected I know that most of this is the experience of growing up, games become less magical in general, everything has to have an explanation. But in a game like Deltarune that already embraces myth and easter egg hunting, and even hides secrets in the games code, anything could be real without an obvious explanation. Maybe it would be fun to spread some rumors during the first few days of a chapters release, it would be pretty harmless, and it since the chapter would have just released, it wouldn't get ruined by data mining, you'd have to get out there and hunt for the mysteries like back in the day, to try to debunk or prove them.

Though that maybe would be annoying to some people, specially wiki members, but i think it'd be worth it for the whimsy and mysteris it'd create!

[milfjuulpod]

Guidance Ch. V

Melissa makes you dinner, and the both of you finally get what you've been wanting.

A/N: sooo I know I kind of abandoned this series, but I was motivated by my new friend @schemmentisimpasours to finish the series. if you need to read the previous chapters, you can find them on my master list here. thank you so much for all the recent support and feedback, it really does mean a lot. i'll be back to writing again soon. enjoy :)

You sat alone in your office for a moment, just after Melissa had left. Sitting with the realization of what you had just agreed to, your thoughts began to spiral. Dinner. At Melissa’s. Cooked by her. It was somehow everything you wanted and your biggest fear.

The coffee shop was nerve wracking enough, being with Melissa outside of school for the first time gave you butterflies, and you silently hoped that you would make it through the evening without embarrassing yourself.

The rest of the day went by quickly, almost too quickly. The entire time was spent thinking about Melissa and what this interaction would look like. You couldn’t stop thinking about how genuinely apologetic she was, and based on what you knew, you figured that wasn’t normal for the woman.

In your own home, it was a bit easier to relax before the inevitable. You took your time getting ready, opting for leggings and a cuter sweater you had lying around. It was perfectly cute and comfortable, hoping not to be too over or under dressed.

The anxiety reared its head again on the drive over to Melissa’s. She had sent you her address, and as soon as it was in the GPS, the nerves began to start. Was she going to be just as sweet as she was earlier? Just as beautiful?

You shook your head immediately at those thoughts, you couldn’t possibly start to have genuine feelings for Melissa. The two of you have known each other for about a month, and dealing with those emotions certainly would make your job harder. Not to mention, she couldn’t possibly feel the same way. She was guarded, feisty, hard to win over.

Right?

Before you could get too in your head, Melissa’s house was in view. You could instantly tell it was hers, if the car in the driveway and “Go Away” doormat was anything to go by.

The time on your phone read 6:04 p.m., just on time. You took a moment alone in the car to breathe and come back down to Earth before facing the redhead again today.

Nervously, you grabbed your bag and headed towards the front door, knocking gently a few times. After a few seconds, you heard multiple locks click and the door swung open to reveal Melissa, in essentially the same outfit as you. Black yoga pants and a green Eagles sweater adorned her body, her hair messily pulled back in a ponytail while she got ready to cook.

“You made it,” She said softly, fighting a small smile.

“I did. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” You responded, following her lead inside. Melissa’s house was so…Melissa. Family photos covered nearly every inch of some walls and tables, the lights were low and warm, and the kitchen smelled wonderful.

“Well I’m glad you came, would’ve felt really bad otherwise,” Melissa chuckled before walking back towards the kitchen. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you trailed behind her and sat yourself at the bar counter, watching as she so effortlessly moved around her kitchen.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You asked curiously. Melissa didn’t look at you as she spoke, focusing more on her many tasks at hand instead. You didn’t mind though, it gave you an opportunity to look at her. Really look at her, at that.

“I…I don't know,” She shrugged and huffed out a nervous laugh. “Didn’t want you to think I was mad at you or anything.”

You digested her honest words, taking note of how nervous she seemed at the topic. Deciding to drop it, you hummed in response and left it at that. Melissa stayed silent as well, and a silence fell over the two of you, save for the sound of occasional boiling from Melissa’s area of the kitchen. You couldn’t tell if it was awkward or comfortable, and that was enough to fuel a desire to change it.

“You mentioned you had wine?” You asked, shifting away from the previous conversation. Melissa didn’t respond, instead she moved away from her post at the stove and reached into a cabinet to pull out a couple of glasses.

“Red or white?” She finally spoke, turning to look at you this time.

“I- Uh, depends. What are you making?” You asked, trying desperately to ignore the embarrassment you harbored from stumbling through your words. God, all she did was look at you.

Melissa’s lips turned upwards ever so slightly at your behavior and complimented you, “Smart one, you are.”

Luckily for you, Melissa turned back around to get the wine and missed the light blush appearing on your cheeks. You watched as she searched and eventually pulled out a bottle of white wine, pouring each of you a hefty glass.

She passed your glass over and muttered a quiet “here,” watching and gauging your reaction. This would be the first of many times tonight Melissa does that, you just didn’t quite catch on yet.

You thanked her, just as quietly as she spoke. Looking up from your glass, her green eyes were already on you. Melissa just looked at you for a moment before inhaling rather sharply and turning back to the stove.

After the two of you had a few sips of wine, you felt more at ease. The silence was no longer questionable, just comfortable. You watched in awe as she practically danced around the room, knowing exactly what to do and when to do it. It was almost as mesmerizing as watching her teach.

“You’re staring,” Melissa’s voice broke through the quiet suddenly. She didn’t seem upset though, in fact one could argue she was teasing you a bit.

“Was I? Sorry…” You sheepishly apologized, acting as if you weren’t committing every second to memory. “You’re just…You know what you’re doing here, clearly. How long have you been cooking?” You asked.

Melissa told you all about how she learned to cook, her favorite things to make. You knew she took her food very seriously, but seeing it in person had your heart beating just a little bit faster. Listening intently as she spoke, it wasn’t until she practically pushed a plate into your hands did you realize it was done.

“Come on, dining room’s this way,” Melissa offered a soft smile and led you to the next room. You tried to focus on how delicious the food smelled, and not how special you felt for being here.

Following her lead, you chose a seat across from her at the table, looking over the pasta she made for the two of you. It looked and smelled perfect, excited to try it would be an understatement. You’ve had Melissa’s cooking a couple of times previously, but not like this.

“I did something simple, I hope you like it,” Melissa told you, trying to appear nonchalant as if she wasn’t studying your every move and expression.

You couldn’t stop the small giggle from coming out. “Of course I’ll like it, thank you for making me dinner,” You said with a smile, reaching out your wine glass for a ‘cheers’ before eating.

As soon as you took your first bite, you fell in love. With the food, of course. The flavors were balanced so perfectly, Melissa picked the best wine for it, it was all so perfect.

“Holy shit, Melissa,” You said after finishing the larger second bite taken. Melissa seemed pleased with your reaction, while you stared at her in bewilderment. “Yeah?” She said through a chuckle.

“Mhmm,” You hummed through another bite. “This is fantastic,” You complimented her earnestly. Melissa smiled at that, finally pulling her gaze away for a moment.

The redhead ate slower than you did, focusing more on the conversation and watching your reactions to her food. Needless to say, Melissa was a bit proud of herself when you finished your plate of pasta.

At that point, Melissa let you tell her about yourself while she finished her own dinner. Her green eyes rarely looked away from you. The direct attention would typically make you a bit nervous, but it was flattering to have it come from her.

Once Melissa finished eating, she stood up to take your plate, but you denied her. “You did all the cooking, let me do the dishes,” Pulling the plate out of her reach, you insisted on doing something for the woman in front of you.

“You can help with the dishes,” Melissa smirked, and quickly got the empty plate from your grasp. Without saying another word, the redhead walked back into the kitchen, expecting you to follow. You did, of course, and stood beside her at the sink.

“You really liked it? Dinner?” Melissa asked, sounding a bit more shy than before. Surprised she even asked, you didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Are you kidding? It was perfect, Melissa.”

She just chuckled at your response, which made you think she wasn’t convinced.

“I’m serious!” You fought your own laughter through your words. “I’ve never had anything like it.”

Melissa hummed in response and glanced at you from the corner of her eye, smiling to herself. “Shut up,” She mumbled.

“No, I can’t. I mean seriously, what did you do to that pasta? I’ve eaten at many places, cooked by so many people but that? That? Melissa, I-”

Your words were cut off by a swift movement from the redhead you were endlessly complimenting, her lips suddenly on your own. Just as quickly as they were there, you felt Melissa pull away.

Before she could get too far, you pulled her back in for another gentle kiss, your hand lingering on the back of her neck. Melissa’s hands gently pulled at your hips, running up and down your sides desperately.

Finally, you had what you wanted, what both of you have been craving since day one. It felt like forever, but it was finally here. A slight whimper from the older woman grounded you, and you pulled back for some air.

“You believe that I liked your dinner now?” Your breath lingered against Melissa’s lips, earning yourself a smile and quick peck from her.

“Yeah, I do.” She kept smiling, only getting wider by the second.

The dishes were long forgotten about as the two of you made way to the living room for some cuddles and a movie. The movie was forgotten about as well, the two of you talking over the tv until you inevitably fell asleep against Melissa. It seemed when you were together, nothing else existed.

[archivemyfic]

Positive aspects of Mel Medarda's character ending in Arcane (and things to look forward for her, in the next Arcane spin-off) ♡♡♡

Context : As we know, it's already basically confirmed that Arcane first spin-off is going to take place in Noxus. With Mel heading there to take over after Ambessa passing, I'm pretty sure she is going to play a HUGE role in that next show (if not the main character). Now, let's get into it!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Firstly, Mel is FINALLY free from Jayvik! In season 1, the fandom treated her as a sole love interest (even though I personally think her character had already so much depth, back then). People always revolved her whole existence around being Jayce's partner (or she was dragged about Jayvik, only mentioning her because she was "getting in the way" of making their ship canon). To be honest, at first, I didn't really care about Jayce at all. It was nice to see a black woman depicted being loved tenderly in fiction, but I wasn't really interested in him as a character to ship them that intensely. However, eventually, their relationship grew on me, and I ended up loving them so much. However, Jayce and Viktor dying together was a good thing. It allows Mel to become more than the "girlfriend" and her character can finally be explored/expanded beyond and properly. Jayvik dying is probably going to drag their supporters into disappearing with them. Which is good since they (only the problematic shippers) will finally leave her alone.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Secondly, we might still get closure about Meljay. As I said in a previous post, act 3 was rushed. The writers didn't have time to offer us a proper goodbye. But if Mel is the next protagonist in the Noxus show, I'm CONVINCED they will pick up that story and show her entire grieving process of Jayce (and her mother) through flash-backs and unseen moments. Hell, we might even learn crazy revelations about their relationship! I'm looking forward to these tender moments of them together, to finally close the Mel x Jayce chapter properly (or keep shipping them as an eternal angst ship, separated by dead).

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Thirdly, she gets a chance to be properly loved. With a whole new show, so many new characters are yet to come. She could get a well fitted partner who will be devoted to loving her. While she is more important than her relationships, she deserves romance. Mel shouldn't be the disposable-black-girlfriend trope or the independent-strong-black-woman-who-we-can't-imagine-being-loved trope. Since she is my queen, I'm sure I will end up loving any new canon ship she end up in (yay, new couple to obsess about!).

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Finally, I'm just SOOO happy that Mel Medarda gets her time to shine after years of not always being treated right. I can't wait to see her new adventures and her character growth. Like, i don't think people understand how she is the key towards the expansion of the Arcane/LoL cinematic universe. Which I think is ironic because toxic JayVik shippers kept trying to downplay her importance/presence in the story but in the end, Mel gets to thrive and be a main protagonist in the future, while JayVik turned to dust and their story ended there...(don't get me wrong, I love these two, but I hate the way their TOXIC fans treated her). Mel enthusiasts, don't be sad she had a sad end in season 2, there is so much more coming...

Be on the look out! See you soon ~~

[riofann]

5. tempestuous

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Previous Chapter

Trigger warning: Violence, Arson

Tuesday December 31, 2019

The bar is alive, it's expected it is New Years Eve after all. There's sooo many people it makes it difficult to maneuver with drinks and food in hand, it felt like the entire city was convened at your bar even though you knew it wasn’t true.  Thank goodness for your staff being willing to pick up extra shifts all hands-on deck  was the moto tonight and they were going to get compensated for it. You had triple the amount of people helping. You gave a limited menu today as well, no way were you having your team  frying up and grilling all types of food. Finger food: fries, sliders, sandwiches, dips, chips, mixed nuts, you name it things that wouldn’t matter if they fell on the floor or were lost due to the commotion. 

At first you didn’t see him because you were so busy running around delivering food, picking up glasses arguing with drunk customers. You felt like someone was watching you and that's when you paused to scan the bar, and your eyes met. He lifts his glass to you before turning his attention to the TV ahead. 

Why was he here? Shouldn’t he be with Marcus or Nick and family? You didn’t have time to worry about him because your bartender was arguing with a customer.

“I ASKTH FOR ANOTHER FUCKING SHOTH OF JAGERBOMBS AND THIS DHICKH WON’T GIVE THEM TO MEE!” he screams slurring his speech

You smile and nod clasping your hands “That is because you are at your limit you are slurring your words you can’t stand straight so we are closing your tab” “I AM A LHOYAL CUSTOMEH YOU BITCH! YOU GIVE ME MY FUCKING SHOT NOW!” You make a face and smirk before picking up your walkie talkie “Sean I need you at the bar rear entrance” In less than 1 minute Sean arrives

“What’s up boss?”

“We have closed this gentleman’s tab because of his current state, I want him out of the bar please” “Oh come on you don’t have to do that listen he is our friend we will watch him we know he gets testy when drunk” his friend defends You give a half sympathetic smile “You’re friend called me a bitch at my own bar he’s not welcome anymore” “Come on listen we will leave a good tip” You shake your head “Nooo, I’m sorry but that won’t do, you can go with him if you would like” The group remained silent “I am happy to close out your tabs and let you enjoy the rest of new years but I don’t tolerate disrespect to my staff or myself so what’s it going to be?” “Fucking bitch men” you hear from behind “Excuse me?!” You lean forward over the bar “I didn’t hear you speak up” you talk directly to the one you know said it   “It’s nothing name on the tab Taylor” another friend speaks seemingly embarrassed by the situation at hand You beam at him “Perfect lets close you out so you can enjoy the rest of your evening!” You turn to Sean “Don’t leave until they are gone” “Yes ma’am” 

You turn to find Rio gone, you needed to speak to him. You urgently leave the bar running onto the parking lot to see if you can spot his car. You don’t. You make it back to the bar defeated. 

The time reaches when the countdown begins, you have the staff pass out champagne flutes to everyone 3 minutes prior to the count down. You on the barstool by bar along with the rest of your bartenders, your staff surrounds you. You even have the kitchen staff join in. 

“10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!” The crowd erupts in celebration as Auld Lang Syne blasts through the speakers! You take a few shots with your staff before the party continues. Time moves by faster now and you and your staff are focused on getting people home safely and making sure nothing nefarious is taking place. 

“Have a good night, remember we aren’t open till Friday” “Oh so you guys get some days off?”  A customer comments “YES FINALLY” one of the waiters comments laughing along with the customers

“She got y’all working on tight schedule” one customer comments “Nah we love her” they hug you 

“Yea yea yea” you joke around with them. When the last customer is gone you all work together to clean up all the bar so that the only thing that needed to be done was opening back up on Friday and get into the swing of the new year.

“Thanks guys, drive safe please! If you’re gonna party please be safe!” 

“We will” “Sean Gracie (bar managers)  thank you so much your hard work I’ll see you guys Friday be safe okay” “Will do Y/N” 

Sunday January 5, 2020

You wake up groggy from the night before you had picked up drinking as a coping mechanism to nurse your stress. Slowly you make your way to your kitchen. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty” You hear his voice which makes you drop your mug with a scream. He snickers behind you. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask him 

“Well seeing that you made a scene last week” He speaks to you going to his warehouses and demanding to talk to him 

You turn to face him “I have to talk to you” 

He smiles “what could be so important?” “Where have you been?” He smiles at you “I’m a busy man I’ve been working” Your phone rings and you look down at it 

“How’d you get in?” You had upped your security recently, for sure you thought if someone was breaking in you would be alerted

“Gonna pick that up?” It was Alejandro calling you

“I need to talk to you” “I’m here, better hurry up before your man shows up” 

You roll your eyes “He’s not my boyfriend” 

Your phone rings again “I think you should pick up” “I have to talk to you” “I’m listening” Before you can say anything there’s a knock on your door that makes you jump again. “I’ll get it” he smirks before standing up to open the door 

One of Alejandro’s goons barges in with gun in hand pointing it at Rio 

With hands up Rio says “I’m leaving, I’m leaving” Your phone rings again you watch as Rio walks out before picking it up 

Saturday January 25, 2020 

“Hey boss” you hear Gracie call to you while knocking the door “Rio and Mick are back!” she beams “Ohhh.... that’s great!” you force a smile

“Wanna take the food out to them?” You shake your head “just pass my hellos” “Oh okay, Rio asked for you” 

“Tell him I’m busy” “Okay” 

You resume the task on hand 20 so minutes later there’s another knock 

“Hey, he said he really wants to talk to you” You sigh “okay” you feel your hands shake but put your best poker face on and leave the office

“Hey” He smiles at you as Mick shimmy’s he’s way out of the booth. You don’t protest like you usually did

“We got interrupted last time what did you want to talk to me about?” 

You shake your head “Nothing, no longer relevant” He snorts “Oh your man got you on a tight leash” “He is not my man” you speak defeated He hums taking a bite of his food “You good?” You nod vigorously “Yea! Just working” “Y/N” You feel your phone vibrating  “I have to go” “You just got here” You take a deep sigh and mutter out “He threatened to kill Marcus, thought you should know” You glance at your phone Alejandro was calling 

Rio laughs throwing his head back “I’m not worried about that” and you knew if anyone had security it was his family no one could get close without one of his men running interference “Yea see not important, figured I just panicked for nothing initially” He glances at you “nah.… that aint what you wanted to tell me” “It’s all I got excuse me” You don’t give Mick the option, instead you practically push him out of the booth before you very quickly find your way on the other side of the restaurant. 

(A/N: when I wrote this I envisioned pushing Mick out the booth and it made me laugh, because the man doesn’t say much so you know he huffing and puffing while you got hands pushing him out)

Wednesday February 5, 2020

You proceed opening the delivery boxes to find a burner phone with the words “call me” written on the paper. You stare at the box and the cell phone before placing it to the side gently as if it was a bomb. It adds to your paranoia. It could be Rio or Alejandro or someone else and you weren’t willing to take the risk.

Monday February 17, 2020 

“What’chu doing here lady I already told you we don’t know a Rio!” the very scary looking man comments as you attempt to make your way into the warehouse “They know where everything is stashed” The man scoffs “They are gonna hit all of them at the same time” “Lady you must be on that shit huh? I don’t know what’chu talkin’ bout!”

“Just warn Rio” with that you leave 

Friday March 13, 2020

“Hey mama” You hear as soon as you walk into your office at 9:00am that morning “Why ain't you....” you slap your hand on his mouth to shut him up 

Your phone rings “Hello” “Buenos dias Carino? Who’s at the bar now?” “No one” you turn to look at Rio and put the phone on speaker

"Sounded like a man, is Cristobal there?" "No!" you clear your throat to sound more convincing "No he is not here, seeing how you chased him out of town"

He chuckles arrogantly "Eso perro didn’t stand a chance just checking, I’ll keep in touch"

"Listen before you go I need to be able to do payroll so i need money for my workers"

He chuckles "si si si carino, yea you will" you don't believe him

You hung up with your hand still on Rio’s mouth, “sorry” you mouth removing it. “I can’t talk” you mouth to him pointing out your headphones 

He nods understanding your situation, you slowly remove your hand from his mouth hoping you two would remain silent and communicate via pen and paper

"What do you want?" You write on the note pad

He looks down at the paper then up at you, there's a pause you can't tell what he is thinking

You motion with your hands opening them up and mouth "what?" to him

He throws his head back laughing “Nah I'm not doing this, you might not be able to talk but, I can though, so what you wanna talk to me about?” Your mouth hangs open, your phone rings and it's Alejandro again “Why?” You ask with tears in your eyes He stands up and looks at you “I told you to pick wisely, see you around yea?” He smirks leaning close to your ear  “hola Alejandro, mi amigo” 

You look down at your ringing phone 

Thursday April 1, 2020

You wake up body sore groaning internally wishing for 2 mores hours of sleep or 1 more at least. You were starting to look and feel like a shell of the person you used to be. You sit up on your bed and notice Rio sitting on the corner chair bloody and bruised. Gun aimed at you with a deep scowl. The instant fear makes you freeze in place, making sure your eyes didn’t deceive you. Damnit what is going on with your new system? It’s supposed to be alerting you. Why was Rio the only one slipping by it?

You both sit staring at each other it feels like hours have passed by when he decides to speak. You have a death grip on your gun although if you move you know he would know and shoot you instead.

He adjusts sitting up straight “How’d you know?” he asks. You swallow not wanting to reveal the secret. “Better start talkin’” he warns aiming the gun at your head

“I heard them”

“Heard them say what?” “They were gonna attack your family, a planned attack all at once” you whisper

Your phone rings, its Alejandro, you had a specific notification to know it was him

He nods “Gonna pick that up?” You shake your head 

“They knew everything” 

“I know” you confirm

He mugs you “You told them!” You shake your head “It wasn't me Rio” “They knew where my safe houses were, they attacked Marcus, my kid, my son Y/N!” He pauses to gather himself

“Is he okay?” you ask

He nods slowly “He will be” 

Your phone rings again

“Gonna pick that up?” 

You shake your head “I’m good as dead anyway so no” 

“How?” “You have a mole” you comment

“You!” he accuses 

You shake your head “I didn’t know everything, someone high up, someone close to you. You gotta go it takes them 5 minutes to show up” you advise

He stands up and limps away out the door 

Wednesday April 15, 2020

After the attack on Rio things had been extremely tense. It felt like the city was a war zone the amount of shootings/mutilation of bodies increased exponentially. For some you were sure they had Rio/Alejandro attached for the others you couldn’t tell if it was just a bi-product of the issues happening or a random act of violence.

Your head is throbbing, no literally it feels like it has it’s own heart beat. You go to touch it but your hands are tied.

“Rapido cabron!” you hear

There's splashing and sloshing sound around you, droplets of the liquid was getting on you and try to look around 

“CHINGA TU MADRE!” you hear before intense pain, and you’re blacked out again 

“Y/N! Y/N!” 

You groan 

“Get her in the ambulance now!”

“Y/N, Y/N, It's Jasmine can you open your eyes?” 

You try to cover your eyes but your arms don’t move again “the light is bright”  you close them again as you fade in and out of consciousness 

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback do you like it do you hate it?, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

XOXO Rose

Taglist (are you guys getting notified? Can't tell):

@katymae12344, @yinmaggiorebass , @flirtyjen, @wnbweasley, @meadows5, @ffenthusiastt, @rio-reid-whoreee, @belezaya, @meera10

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F! Reader - Part 8

a/n: heyy loves! if you’ve stuck around for all 8 parts, thank you SOOO much. writing this series and receiving so many kind comments and love has really made the past month and a half so enjoyable. i cant believe i’m concluding my first fic already!! it’s been so fun and i definitely want to write more. shoutout to my friend @avessss who encouraged me to start posting even though i was really nervous. i couldn’t have done it without her 💕 but anyways enjoy the last chapter! not sure when i will post next but until then… message me, give suggestions, etc!! love you all SOO much 💌

word count: 4.6k words

masterlist

playlist

warnings: MDNI 18+, afab reader, smut, oral (reader receiving), p in v, making out, language, angst for like one second, FLUFF, mentions of alcohol, not proofread

“A pint, please. Thanks.” You smile at the bartender as you slide forward five pounds. You stand and wait patiently, leaning against the bar as he shuffles away to go fill up a tall glass of beer.

You hear your name being said from next to you. You turn to see a familiar girl with olive skin and long, silky black hair. Your brain takes a few seconds to compute who it is.

“Sasha! Hey,” You grin and she smiles brightly. “Hi. I didn’t know if it was you or not,” She chuckles and you stand there awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

“How’s life?” She asks. “Uhh, good. Can’t complain.” You shrug as the bartender slides you the beer across the counter. You take a sip as she nods.

“Same here. Just a little terrified of the fact that we are going to be seniors in a year,” She runs a hand through her hair with a sigh. “Me too, girl.” You nod in agreement.

“How was your summer?” Sasha asks. You let out a sigh unintentionally before fixing your facial expression.

“It was… good,” You nod slowly, almost trying to convince yourself. “I don’t know if you know but…There’s a rumor going around that you and Farleigh had somewhat of a summer fling,” She winces after she says this.

“Oh God,” You press a hand to your forehead and shake your head. “Who told you that?” You groan.

“I’m assuming it came from Felix. I’m not sure, but I just wanted to tell you…” She places a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “If you ever need to talk or anything like that, let me know.” She says, her English accent soft and elegant.

She seems almost too nice. You’ve never seen Sasha like this, so it’s hard to believe.

“Thank you.” You dip your head and take another sip of beer. “I know I was never the nicest to you and we were never close, but I’m here for you.” Her hand falls from your shoulder gently.

“I think I was honestly just threatened by you,” She continues. You jerk your head towards her quickly and furrow your eyebrows.

“What? Why?” You scoff as if it’s absurd. “I always had this… gut feeling that he was in love with you or something. He would talk about you nonstop, about how much you annoyed him and how much he ‘hated you.’ I knew better,” She shakes her head.

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry,” You feel bad, suddenly. Like you were the cause of their relationship problems.

“But that whole thing is over now,” You wave your hand dismissively. “He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” You both giggle at her words.

“He is. I can see why you broke up with him,” You nod, feeling no remorse for talking about Farleigh this way. It’s all true. But you also know Sasha had a lot to do with the shitty parts of their relationship.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” She grins and holds up her hand, giving a tiny wave. “Yeah. See you,” You watch her walk away before turning back to your drink, grabbing it and heading to find an empty table.

You sigh, leaning down and fishing your textbook out of your bag. You still have four chapters to read before tomorrow. The first term of your junior year is kicking your ass, even though it’s only October.

Sooner or later, you see Felix walking through the entrance of the pub. You immediately crane your neck to search for any signs of Farleigh, since he usually follows Felix around. But thankfully, he’s not anywhere to be found.

You turn your attention back to your textbook, and when you glance back up, Felix is sitting across from you.

“Hey.” He smiles and you notice the cigarette between his fingers. “Hi. How are you?” You reply, not exactly in the mood to talk to him right now.

“Oh, you know. Just drowning in work,” He sighs and leans back in his chair, throwing his head back slightly.

“You and me both,” You chuckle lightly and close your textbook, knowing you won’t get anything read so long as Felix is here. He leans forward again and takes a drag from his cigarette.

“So…” He starts, trailing off. You raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“Are you and Farleigh ever going to make up?” He asks suddenly. You cough, surprised by the abrupt question.

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t even try it, Felix.” You roll your eyes and he groans. “Please, we don’t even get to hang out much anymore because you’re avoiding him,” He whines.

“Then just… arrange a time to hang out with me when Farleigh isn’t there.” You grimace at the feeling of his name in your mouth. Felix facepalms. “C’mon. Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but…”

“It sounds like you think you know what happened.” You narrow your eyes and he seems confused. “What?” He tilts his head.

“Lola told me you’re spreading rumors. Like, that Farleigh and I had some fling over the summer,” You explain, and he glances down like he’s been caught, before looking back up with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“What, you thought no one would hear you two fucking at one in the morning? You guys were so loud, it’s like you wanted to be caught,” He chuckles and shakes his head. Your face burns beet red with embarrassment.

“I don’t judge you for it. I just didn’t expect it,” He says. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you go telling everyone about it,” You reply.

“I didn’t mean to. I told one person in confidence.” Felix says. “You know you can’t trust these people to keep things to themselves,” You shake your head in disappointment.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But I think Farleigh really wants to talk to you.” He says, his tone persuasive and you immediately cringe.

“I’m not talking to him. Nothing will come of it,” You finish off your beer and set the glass on the table decisively.

“I just don’t want our friendship to be messed up because of this.” He says, sounding a bit sad. You look back up to him and see him glancing down at his lap.

“We’re good. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” It comes off harsher than you meant it to, but Felix doesn’t seem to mind. “I can’t just forgive and forget, you know?”

He nods. “Yeah. Alright, then. Just consider talking to him. I’ll see you later, mate.” He drums his fingers on the table before standing up and walking to the bar. You sigh and decide to pack up your things after checking your watch and seeing the time. It’s getting late.

You stand up and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You walk out of the pub and down the cobbled streets while looking around and just observing the several groups of students, chatting loudly or laughing. The chilly autumn breeze tosses around crimson and golden leaves.

You go over your plans for the remainder of tonight in your head. You’re going to get back to your dorm, take a shower, then get the rest of your work done. That is, if you don’t procrastinate like you usually do.

You enter your dorm building and then stop in your tracks when you see him standing there, at the bottom of the stairs. It’s like you have a full body reaction to him standing in front of you, sending a chill down your spine and making your stomach churn. He doesn’t speak, he just stares at you. You step forward, walking up the stairs and completely ignoring him. “Can we please talk?” Farleigh calls your name.

“No, we can’t.” You respond, your tone harsh and bitter. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs behind you and you increase your pace, trying to get to your door and unlock it before he can catch up to you. But it’s no use, he’s already standing there behind you.

“Please. Just let me talk to you,” He begs. You shake your head. “Farleigh, I already know how this is going to go. You don’t talk.” You can’t even stand to look at him, even addressing him is difficult after all these months of not speaking.

“I’m going to talk. I swear. Please,” He pleads. “Fine,” You groan with exasperation as you unlock your door, although you’re sort of curious as to what he’s going to say.

He closes the door behind him and you go to sit on the edge of your bed after setting your things down and kicking off your shoes, looking at him expectantly. “Okay, talk.”

“I’m sorry. For everything.” Farleigh says, and it surprisingly sounds sincere. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you all these years. And those things I said at Saltburn, I didn’t mean any of it.” His voice is quiet and he looks down at the ground as he speaks. You blink a few times and take a moment to respond.

“Why would you say those things if you never meant them?” You ask, your own voice timid as you remember all the harsh and cruel words he said to you that one night.

“Did you mean it when you said you hated me and you wished we never met?” He fires back. You bite the inside of your cheek and avoid his gaze as regret washes over you. “...I never said–”

“Yes you did.” It’s silent and the tension in the air is palpable. It seems like you’re both waiting for who is going to speak next, but you aren’t exactly sure what to say.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to apologize when you’ve literally hated me since the day we first met,” You chuckle sarcastically and shake your head. He falls silent, and when you glance back up to him, he looks nervous, like something’s on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s not… exactly true.” He mutters. “I never hated you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. That night at Saltburn, when Felix introduced us to each other. I saw you and I just felt… Something just came over me. I’d never felt it before. I mean, I was so captivated by you. I couldn’t sleep that night because I was thinking about you every second. And I was scared. I was so scared. So I was mean to you.”

He lets out a breath after his confession and you stare at him in disbelief. You’re barely processing anything he’s saying. Is this real? You feel like you should pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

“And Felix never kept his friends around for long, so I knew I couldn’t get attached to you. I thought you were just passing by and that I would never see you again. But when you came back the next summer, then the next, and then you got into Oxford, I knew I was fucked.

“I just kept pushing my feelings down and instead of dealing with them, I was just… a bitch. I was trying to push you away and I was hoping that would get rid of my feelings. But it didn’t. And I regret it so, so much. I wasted all this time and I was being so stupid. I was just scared of love. I was scared of loving you.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. You swear you can see tears in his own eyes.

“What about Sasha?” You ask when you finally gather yourself. “Really? You don’t know why I dated Sasha?” He chuckles a bit like it should be obvious. You shake your head no.

“I just needed someone to distract me. I got with all those people to fill the void. I mean, Sasha and I’s relationship was purely based off of sex. And every single time, I pictured that it was you instead of Sasha. I would close my eyes and imagine it was you. I think that was the only way I was able to get off,” He laughs. Your eyes widen at his words and your stomach flips. So that was why he was always moaning like a bitch?

“So when we finally… I freaked out. It was getting too real, and so I pushed you away again. And I said some shitty things.” You blink and a few tears fall. You don’t even know how to describe how you’re feeling right now. So many emotions are building inside of you, and they’re so dense and heavy, you’re not sure how to comprehend them.

“I’m so, so fucking sorry.” Farleigh seems to notice that you’re crying. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m a fucking idiot,”

Before you know it you’re off of your bed, crashing into him and sobbing against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, locking you in a tight embrace and enveloping you in his warmth. Your shoulders shake as you feel all the emotions pouring out of you. He holds you like he’s never going to let go. You don’t want him to let go. Ever.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers your name into your hair. “I’ll never do that to you again.” He continues muttering these things to you as you let him hold you, melting into the hug.

You look up at him and his brown eyes are illuminated with affection. Something about him is different. He’s softer, unlike his usual cold and teasing personality.

He gently moves some hair out of your face and kisses your forehead, causing you to blush and smile softly.

“Why did we waste so much time when we could have been together?” You ask timidly, more of a rhetorical question. He sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Cause we’re stupid,” He chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t matter now. We have the rest of our lives to make up for it,” He grins down at you and you smile against his hand that cups your face. He leans down and you tilt your head up to meet his lips. The kiss you share is slow and sensual, like you’re both trying to savor each other for as long as possible, like you’re making up for all those years of fabricated hatred. You can’t deny that you missed his lips and the way that he kisses, the way his tongue licks into your mouth. He pulls away after a minute.

“But I still feel like I need to make it up to you,” Farleigh’s expression changes and his voice lowers to that familiar deep and gravelly sound. You can see the lust in his eyes and you feel butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“What should I do for you, baby?” His hands snake down to your hips as he lowers himself slowly to the ground until he’s on his knees. Your heart races and you feel chills racing across your skin.

He looks up at you and you swear your knees almost give out from underneath you just at the sight. “Far..” You giggle shyly and feel your face burn red.

His fingers fiddle with the waistband of your skirt, almost teasing you and waiting until you ask him to take it off. But after a moment he’s pulling it down gently, and you step out of it gingerly and nudge it to the side with your foot.

He groans and his hands roam up and down your thighs. “You’re so perfect,” He mumbles as he hooks your lace panties under his fingers and pulls them down as well, almost hurriedly this time like he’s just that eager to eat you out until you’re sobbing for him.

Without any warning or time to prepare, his mouth is already on you, tasting you passionately with his tongue and moaning, the vibrations going straight to your core.

You moan breathlessly, your hand reaching down to tangle in his curly hair for something to ground you, and he seems to like this. He keeps letting out these small, needy whines like he’s the one getting devoured.

Every swirl and flick of his tongue has you whimpering like you’re in pain, your legs feeling unstable and weak. He sucks on your clit and you feel two of his fingers already inching their way inside, curling inside of you deliciously. It’s all too much and your breath has turned into short, high-pitched, desperate huffs.

“Please- Shit, Farleigh,” The third finger he inserts draws a long moan out of you. You don’t care if your neighbors hear you. You’re too lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you, with no drawbacks or regret looming in the future. When you think about how he just confessed his love for you, it only brings you closer to the edge of your beautiful release.

He laps up your slick, his tongue getting dangerously close to your entrance. You gasp for air as his fingers leave, only to be replaced by his tongue. You whine at the new feeling of his tongue deep inside of you, his thumb circling your clit. You feel your climax approaching, threatening to make you crumble and beg for mercy.

A deep and guttural groan leaves him as he continues fucking you with his tongue. “Far, I’m close-“ Your hand twists in his hair and you roll your hips against his face absentmindedly, almost like you’re stuck in a trance.

His tongue slips out of you, his nose nudging against your clit. Then, you’re gone. You feel like you’re floating, like you’re the only two people in the world right now, all your thoughts disappearing as that divine ecstasy shoots through your veins and melts your muscles and your bones.

He stands back up and takes you into his strong arms, cradling you as he brings you over to your bed, with occasional kisses along the way. You both pull away to tear off your clothes. You hurriedly pull off your sweater and your bra and toss them aside, hearing them land somewhere on the floor. Farleigh takes his own shirt off and his jeans, revealing that beautiful body you’ve subconsciously been dreaming of.

“Lay down,” You tell him with some sort of newfound confidence. You’ve never been on top before, but right now you want to pay him back and give him all that you have to offer.

“Mmm,” He hums in response, laying down on your small, twin-sized bed. You climb onto the bed and straddle him, feeling slightly nervous as his hands rest on your hips. You keep your hands on his chest as you grind your hips down onto him, feeling the form of him through his boxers.

He’s rock hard, and it only encourages you to continue to grind against him, rolling your hips smoothly and slowly. He whimpers and grips your hips harder, biting his lip. “Fuck, baby,” He moans, his hips bucking up slightly to meet yours.

You can’t wait anymore. You reach down and maintain eye contact as you slowly pull down his boxers, shuffling them down his legs.

It’s definitely intimidating, but you’re determined to ride him. He looks up at you. “Is this okay?” He asks, his hands returning to your hips. You nod. “Yeah,” You reply before rising up on your knees and adjusting yourself before sinking down onto him.

You wince at the delicious pain as your teeth sink into the plush of your bottom lip, his hands guiding you further down his length. A string of curses leave his lips once his whole cock is inside of you. He definitely missed this.

You place your hands on his chest again as you begin to drag your hips back and forth. He whimpers and whispers your name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck-“ His grasp on your hips tighten and you can already guess that you’ll have bruises.

You rock your hips back and forth, creating a better pace for the two of you as he thrusts up into you. That pained look crosses his face again as you make eye contact. You’re completely enthralled by the sight of each other, a sheen of sweat forming on both of your foreheads. Your head falls back once you finally find the perfect angle that brings you such satisfaction, your jaw going slack. “Baby,” He begs, breathing heavily.

You feel yourself growing tired from the fast rhythm, and you slow down, still circling your hips on top of him. He seems to sense that you’re growing fatigued, so he flips the two of you over, switching your places. You’re dizzy and caught off guard, but you focus on his eyes as he takes over, slowly thrusting into you with long strokes.

Farleigh reaches down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers together and holding on tightly. He lowers his head to pepper kisses across your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. He brushes some hair out of your face.

“I love you,” He mutters, his nose rubbing against yours. Your eyes widen at his words and your heart skips a beat. You squeeze his hand weakly and grin.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. “I love you so much,” You tell him, and he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck as he moans desperately, his thrusts faltering. Your other hand rests on the top of his head, stroking his curls. You both finish at the same time, whispering each other’s names and more confessions of love. It’s meaningful, beautiful, and sweet. Something you’ve craved but never experienced. That is, until now.

He collapses next to you and eventually pulls out of you, causing you to grunt just a bit. You lay there, your legs entangled with his and his arms around you protectively. He pulls the sheets over the two of you and continues to kiss you slowly with so much passion and affection.

Farleigh pulls away and swipes the tears off your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. You take his hand in yours once again and press your forehead against his.

“I could get used to this,” You whisper with a cheeky grin. He laughs softly. “Really?” He responds sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

“Really.” You giggle quietly and he presses another kiss to your cheek. “I would consider spending the rest of my life with you,” He shrugs nonchalantly and you can’t seem to stop smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your life.

“You’d consider it? Woah, thanks,” You say with fake awe, gasping. “I’ve been considering it for a while, actually,” He mutters, running his fingers through your hair. “Have you?” You whisper, suddenly feeling sleepy. Everytime he holds you like this, it puts you right to sleep. You feel so safe and loved in his arms.

“Mhm.” His other hand rests on the small of your back and you feel your eyelids growing heavy. “I love you, Farleigh,” You whisper. “I love you too.” He replies, and with that, you drift off to sleep, with no cares or worries in the world, now that you’ve finally solved your problems with Farleigh. You’re so glad you gave him a second chance.

The next morning you wake up to Farleigh pulling you closer to him, nuzzling his head in your chest and groaning. You yawn and glance over to your bedside table, checking the time on your alarm clock. 9:42 AM.

Shit. You forgot about your class. It started at 9:30. Oh well. You groan and let your head fall back onto the pillow, rubbing your forehead.You pat Farleigh’s head, his curls sticking out at awkward angles but still managing to look cute.

You shiver and reach down to pull the duvet over yourself. He stirs at your movement and eventually, his dark brown eyes open.

A grin immediately appears on his face as he looks at you, taking in your appearance. Thank God you hadn’t worn makeup the day before. You were in your natural state, besides the messy hair. He traces his finger along your jawline and you smile, tilting your head.

“Good morning,” He wraps you up in his arms again, desperate to be close to you. His voice is deep and raspy. You’ll never get tired of his morning voice.

“Morning,” You reply, snuggling up to him and breathing in his scent. He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back soothingly.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about waking up next to you?” Farleigh asks. You giggle quietly. “Well, your wish came true,” You reply with a quick raise of your brows.

Suddenly, you remember what Lola said that one night at Saltburn as you think about you and Farleigh’s relationship over the years.

“Lola told me something a few months ago,” You start. “Mmm, and what was that?” He responds.

You inhale slowly. “She said that you were looking for me one morning and you came by our dorm, and you seemed very worried about me,” You smile at the thought, knowing what you know now.

“Oh. Yeah, I remember that. I was always worried sick about you. Whether you got home after a night out, if you drank too much, if some guy took advantage of you…” He trails off and sighs.

“Really?!” You ask, gazing up at him in shock. “You’re so confusing,” You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head.

“Do you remember our first night at Oxford? The very first party we went to?” He asks. You nod. He fiddles with a strand of your hair.

“After our little… argument, I stayed away from you the rest of the night. But then it was getting late, and I couldn’t find you, and I didn’t know if you knew the way back to your dorm. When I went into the bathroom I found you passed out on the floor. Black out drunk.” He explains, his voice soft.

“Anyone could have found you, or taken advantage of you. So I picked you up and carried you back to your dorm and tucked you into your bed.” Your eyes widen as your brain registers his words. Lola never told you about that.

“And when we were talking that night on the steps outside at Saltburn when we couldn’t sleep, the first summer you were there, you fell asleep on my shoulder. So I carried you up to your room.”

It’s silent for a minute as you process this. Was it a common theme for Farleigh to carry you to your bed when you were passed out?

“I never knew you cared that much.” You whisper, reaching up to play with one of his curls. “I don’t think I knew, either.” He mumbles.

You kiss him, slowly and gently, smiling against his lips. He grins, breaking the kiss, before holding the back of your head and guiding you back to him.

And you really believe that in this moment, you could die happy. You want to spend the rest of your life with him. The hot August nights, the freezing December mornings, the summer days under cerulean skies. The good days and the bad days. You can’t even remember how it felt to hate Farleigh. Every single trace of dislike for him is gone, erased completely from your heart. All that’s left is a love too strong to comprehend.

taglist: @isla-finke-blog @ibimbogrl @drunkmysticsquirrel @alonia-olivia @novemilady @saltburnsworld @florkt @i-love-ptv @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 45)

“Sooo Hal, what exactly do I do here?” N asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs as they walked through the halls.

“I’ll be giving you a shortrange frequency that you’ll monitor, our office takes reports from concerned citizens, and Khan, Dale and I take the ones most suited for our respective teams.”

“Crime here is usually pretty tame, petty theft, b and e’s, vandalism. Occasionally we’ll get more serious calls, domestic violence, occasional homicide, though that’s gotten rare thankfully, or an odd “crime of passion”. Hal continued, N listening intently, he understood most of that, but “crime of passion” seemed to escape him.

“Crime of passion?”

“Couples getting too frisky and damaging one or both of them. Usually young ones who dunno what their doing. Most of the time they just dunno how to disconnect and panic, not too big a deal.”

Except N was still lost, he knew what all those words meant separately, but together they made little sense in his processors. He blinked. He wanted to ask what he meant by “disconnect” but at the same time it felt like a private question, not one he should be asking to his boss on his first day of work. Maybe he’d ask Uzi, or Thad, whichever was less embarrassing.

“How’s your daughter doing by the way? Khan mentioned she was having mobility problems when she was first transferred.” Hal asked turning yet another corner to go down yet another hallway, it always surprised him how large the bunker actually was, even if over half the rooms seemed to be empty. A pang of guilt entered his core, how many of these empty rooms were his fault? Or V’s?

“She’s fine now, she was just a little stiff, now she’s clinging to Uzi like a little monkey.” N gave a soft laugh thinking about his family at home, he always missed the both of them even if he wasn’t gone for very long, he supposed that just came with having a job though.

“Ah, yeah, sometimes that happens… when my son was printed into his toddler body we had to take him to the medical wing and they had to do surgery on his neck for him to start moving.”

“I didn’t know you had a son, I’m sorry, I’m sure that scared you both.”

Hal seemed to slow down for a moment, like he just caught himself doing something he shouldn’t before sighing.

“I did have a son. He’s… agh, nevermind that, we’re here.”

He banged his fist on the steel door, sending the grating noise through the hall, they waited for a few moments, only for nothing to reply back.

“She probably has her damn hearing aid turned off again.” Hal grumbled, before knocking as hard as he could, enough to send a vibration through the floor that N could feel through his feet.

“I heard you the first time! Go away!” A croaky, static filled voice called back, sounding irate and just a little bit scared. Hal rolled his eyes.

“It’s Hal, Mrs. Hopkins, you called us in to check out a break in.” Hal put on a very practiced customer service smile, N felt a minuscule shiver go up his spine, being reminded slightly of J, before it dissipated, here, it actually made sense for someone to have that kind of forced smile, and it wasn’t being used exclusively to make him uncomfortable.

The door opened quickly, the drone responsible being so old her casing had started to yellow, her eyelights were white, behind a thick pair of glasses. And she leaned on a cane, she shook with just the effort it took to stand and she adjusted her glasses as she looked at them.

“Good morning Mrs. Hopkins, what seems to be the problem today?” The way Hal asked the question alluded to his multitude of visits, she didn’t immediately answer, instead looking up at N squinting.

“You’re a tall one. Are you new?” She asked, prodding him in the stomach with her cane, he grunted, still trying to keep his polite smile even as he glanced over at Hal for assistance.

“She can’t see very well” He whispered up into N’s audio receptors, covering his mouth with his hand. “Probably a good thing, don’t give yourself away.”

N nodded and smiled again, extending his hand to shake the old woman’s hand, having to crouch down slightly to do so as she was hunched over her cane. She took it, her casing was freezing and felt like sandpaper, N made a internal note to not live this long.

“Hello Mrs. Hopkins, I’m N, it’s nice to meet you ma’am.” He said, and the ancient drone looked at him again, before her face grew into a kindly smile.

“How polite! And such a handsome young man. I hope Hal here doesn’t ruin you.”

The man in question’s eye twitched, before the moment was gone and he cleared his throat, clearly wanting to be done with this as soon as possible.

“You called us in for a break in?”

“Hmm? Oh yes! I was woken up last night by some footsteps. Above me! Someone was clearly trying to steal my fortune!”

N looked around her apartment, the couch was antique, plush and covered in so many blankets and throw pillows that it was hard to see the color of the actual seating underneath, the coffee table was decorated with a lattice of lace, making using it as an actual coffee table near impossible. The same could be said for most the the apartment, nothing here screamed “valuable”.

“Right, okay.” Hal replied, tense but still playing nice, N decided to help him out, he may have been tired of dealing with this lady, but N wanted to make a good impression, to both his superior and this lady.

“Where did you hear the footsteps Mrs. Hopkins? I could go and check for any signs of forced entry.”

“In my bedroom of course, how else would I hear it?” She answered, and N nodded, turning to Hal who seemed to be asking what he was doing, N gave him a smile before leaning over to whisper at him.

“Even if nothing happened, she believes something did, let me just check out her bedroom and the vents, then we can tell her that nothing was there.”

Hal nodded, seemingly agreeing with this plan, he sighed, before adjusting his posture.

“Well we take every report seriously, may we investigate?”

“Be my guest, and if you find the little hoodlum, tell them to get lost!”

Both officers made their way to the bedroom, which at first glance, had nothing amiss. Aside from the abundance of rather creepy porcelain dolls, all staring at them from various angles, N felt unease, and also the need to voice it.

“Whyyyyyy….” He whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Hal to hear it and he snorted in response, giving him an amused smile.

“I’d be paranoid too with all these eyes on me while I slept.” Hal whispered back, sighing and scanning the room, running his hand over one of the only clear spaces on the large wardrobe that held the vast majority of the dolls.

“Seems clear to me, any difference on your end son?”

N scanned the room in both infrared and thermal, but neither showed anything out of the ordinary, but even still his eyes locked to large vent in the corner of the ceiling, he didn’t know why something felt off with it, but it was giving him some weird vibes.

“Lemme check the ventilation, she did say she heard it above her.”

Hal nodded, looked into the doorway to ensure Mrs. Hopkins hadn’t entered the room and have a thumbs up to N, who let loose his wings and zipped up the shaft after carefully removing the grate in his way.

He had always hated climbing through the vents, not only was it dusty and he’d have to spend an hour cleaning out his olfactory and audio receptors later, but it was a tight squeeze, even without his wings, his shoulders scraped the sides of the ventilation shaft uncomfortably.

It was almost impossible for a normal drone to get up in here unless they had a ladder or also had the ability to fly, so he doubted he’d find anything accept a colony of robo-roaches.

When he got further in however, that feeling of unease watched over him again, like something or someone was aware of his presence and he was disturbing them, but rationality still won out, the chances of somebody being in these vents were astronomically low.

Then, the vent opened up a little, allowing him to crouch instead of crawl, to his left was a slowly rotating fan, his front the vents continued forward, but to his right, there was indeed something out of the ordinary. Caught on one of the seams of the welded metal was a ripped piece of red cloth, stained with multiple layers of oil, the freshest layer though, smelled of iron, and seemed to create a glaze of crimson on top of the multiple layers of dried oil. Blood.

He plucked it from its resting place, dread mixing in with confusion, the oil made some sense, maybe whoever had been here had been injured and using this scrap as a bandage, but the blood made less sense. The only time he’d seen blood recently was when that weird fleshy thing under Doll’s bed bled when he poked it, well, and Uzi’s… head… injury.

He looked back down at the red strip, before he remembered what Doll usually wore, that red cheerleading outfit.

His dread grew, becoming a cold weight around his core, Doll was here? In the bunker? Sneaking around the vents doing who knows what and clearly some type of organic based on this blood. What did he do? V was here, she wouldn’t be expecting Doll if she just dropped down from the ceiling one night and tried to off her. And what about Uzi? She was home alone most of the day, taking care of Tera. Oh Robo-God, Tera, she’d be completely defenseless if the Russian decided to come after her as well.

You must go home, your family is in danger!

He wanted to, his worry sinking it's claws deep into him, but he couldn't just leave, Hal was still waiting for him, and he was on the job.

Who cares? Their safety is more important!

The voice was loud and demanding, far more then it had ever been before, it caused ringing in his ears, but still he had to control himself.

Then he got an idea.

He simply called his girlfriend, he was a phone. And even though his hands were shaking and the urge to go home was strong, the voice ceased, seemingly content with his choice.

“N? Why are you calling me through my system? Are you okay?” At the sound of her voice his worry lessened and his core soared, she was okay, Doll hadn't already come for them.

“I-I found a scrap of cloth in the vents. It's Doll's. S-she's somewhere in the vents, please warn V.”

There was silence on the other end, enough of it that he could hear his daughters light giggling through the other side.

“I fucking hate it here!”

Next ->

[nanoa1foryou]

I'm sure you're familiar with more of the other vain elämää participants than i am, sooo what songs of theirs do you think would be great for johannes to cover? and also vice versa

(only the ones whose songs you're familiar with ofc)

I think I know more songs from the participants than I can think of on the spot, so there are probably plenty of good options I'll miss out on. Still, looking through it all makes me even more excited for the season.

Several pages of pondering under the cut

Now the easiest for me is Riippuvainen by Lauri Haav. There's something about it that has that kind of melancholy that works very well for Johannes, but it's still quite different from his style. There'd be a lot of room to make it his , and over all I'd just love to hear it. However, I think Johannes could pull off almost any Lauri Haav song. They have some very similar elements in their music.

For Viivi, I wouldn't be surprised if Johannes went for Aina. However, I'm not sure if Aina would have been out long enough to get picked, so that's in the air. I'm not really familiar with Viivi's discography, But I'd also say USA has the kind of humours lighthearted touch with hard hitting lyrics that would be Johannes' style.

Niw, Jonna Tervomaa is the first in the list with the kind of expansive discography that is really hard to pinpoint what one might gravitate toward. Skimming through it, I can safely say Johannes would do well on many of these songs, especially on the more recent ones. There's a lot of really lovely melodies and soft tomes, exactly the kind of stuff that Kuumaa works with a lot, but still a really different sound. Not so streamlined to the pop format. I know I'll love wwhatever Johannes picks from here. Listening to Kirkonrotat I'd like to hear that one though. I can hear how the violin would fit there. Or maybe something more hard hitting like Strippaa mulle taas. That would make for an amazing cover.

Now Vesta is one of those artists that I have heard a lot about but heard nothing from, so I can really make any guesses as to any song. However, she also has a softness to her music that Johannes will be easily able to work with. What will really make any cover interesting is how anyone is able to take, twist and interpret the very experimental choices and styles of her music. There are a lot of wild things there, and I hope all the others will take inspiration from it when arranging thier covers, because it would be a shame to do something plain with her music. Something like Kesäwau should not be reduced in it's style.

Pelle Miljoona is also a challenge to pick from, for two reasons. 1) he also has a massive discography under his name, which gives a lot of options. Number 2) he has been in a lot of bands and lineups, so a lot of music listed under him is not written or composed by him, and so out of the question. Over all, I do hope whatever Johannes does with his music, he challenges himself to lean into the alternative rock elements Pelle Miljoona is so famous for. Or at least do something out of the realm of what Hotband would do.

Then we have Mikki Kauste of Egotrippi fame. Egotrippi has a lot of very nostalgicc music for me. Whatever Johannes picks, I'll die. And if it is Älä Koskaan ikinä, I may get revived too in one go. If it's Matkustaja, everyone is obligated to read Some things are still unknown, especially chapter 15. You can also keep in mind that that cover will be official soundtrack for the fic. I'll just leave this comment from the author's notes here:

"Guess who had to scroll through the Finnish Wikipedia page for SingStar to see all the song selections just to confirm if Matkustaja by Egotrippi was in fact there or not. It is. And by God could Johannes sing it well."

And then there's Käärijä. As I already said, People's champion is likely. However, withJohannes wild streack, I'd love to hear any song off fantastista. Kiertävä sirkus would certainly fit for how things are going for Hotband. Aikuinen or Micmac could also make for interesting covers, especially if Johannes gets to rewriting lyrics.

Now, for most of these artista I'm not familiar enough with their styles and artistic visions to actually say what they might want to go for, which songs they like, or what'd be a challenge for them, making picking songs for them to cover simply guesswork.

I do want to hear Luotan Tulevaan covered. It is such a simple song, but I also know a lot of artists already love it (Sexmane coming to mind, as well as Käärijä himself). It is a song that resonates with people, but moving it away from the piano tune and into new territory could really make it something special.

I'll be a bit dissappointed if at least Tulipalo or Ylivoimainen isn't picked. They're the big songs, but they're also so very Kuumaa. What would they sound like from any other performer?

And since we have musicians with a lot more experiemntal, alternative sounds to them, really any hotband song could get completely turnedon its head. I'm really interested to hear any and all covers Vesta and käärijä do whatever they pick.

So yeah. This season is stacked.

[theoneeyedgoldenwolf]

The cruelty of illusions, chapter 12

The chapter 12 of my @whumpril 2025 story! =D

Whumpril 2025, Day 12: Dislocation

CW: Sorrow, worry

In AO3

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Chapter 12: Living in the wrong time

“Time?”

The call of his name got the Chain’s leader to snap his gaze up into Wild. He smiled a bit while swiftly drying his tears. “Hey.” He half whispered before trying to get back up to his feet.

“Whoa! Hey! Wait up!” The Champion shouted and dashed to support his oldest brother. Time gave a grateful smile to him while still trying not to put too much of his weight on the younger male. “What happened?”

Time sighed a bit and shrugged. “Bad fall.”

“Yeah, I’ve had quite a few of those.” Wild chuckled with a slight smile.

“You’re still alive so those can’t have been too bad.” Time commented calmly while heading forward in the Temple with the master archer’s aid.

“So are you.” Wild countered with a slight grin. Yet, that vanished with a heavy sigh.

“Rascal? Something wrong?” The one eyed male queried worriedly. Yet, he fully dreaded the upcoming conversation since none of the earlier ones had gone well for him.

“Just feeling dislocated.” The Champion whispered quietly while looking around the hallway of the Temple.

Time sighed heavily. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He grumbled bit annoyed but he seriously hadn’t waited for his boy to take those words literally.

“I mean, I died over hundred years ago.” Wild began and bit waved his hands in wide arc. “The time I woke up into wasn’t mine anymore. And now I’m going through timelines and eras. Most which I have nothing to do with. Just… Not where I belong to.”

The Chain’s leader was bit startled of the revelation even though he knew he should’ve seen it coming. He sighed and nodded. “I might not be able to fully comprehend your situation but I’m in similar position.” He confessed quietly.

“What do you mean?” Wild titled his head bit to side with a frown.

Time sighed again and slumped slightly. “I haven’t told this to too many but…” He hesitated for a moment before sighing again. “During my first quest I was forced to sleep for seven years. Traveling between ages of ten and seventeen several times really messed up my head.” He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. “And just so that wouldn’t be enough, I was stuck in a time loop for several years. Didn’t age a day but the world went forward outside it.”

The Champion stared at his mentor’s mentor quite baffled. “Sooo…. How old are you?” He queried with a raised eyebrow.

Time partly laughed, partly chuckled and shrugged. “Honestly? I’m not entirely sure.” He confessed and grimaced. “Where I lived my childhood the age didn’t matter. I only learned that counting one’s age is important after I left my childhood home.” He sighed bit sorrowfully. “But, I can understand what you mean about feeling like being in the wrong time and place.”

“It’s still different between you and me.” Wild pointed out bit sorrowfully.

The Old Man sighed and nodded. “True. I lived far longer than what my age gives out.”

Wild snorted and grinned. “Well, that’s something we have in common.” Time chuckled and matched the grin of his boy. Yet, that grin died soon from the Champion’s face and he sighed. “Yet, the way our shared secret has come to be is different. I slept those years through while you lived them. Just because we’re both too old for the time we’re living, our experiences, knowledge and lives differ greatly.”

Time sighed and nodded. “Yeah…” He half sighed out before shrugging. “Yet, consider it as second chance and make the best of it while you can.”

“Sounds like a good advice.” The cook of the Chain mused and bit smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

The one eyed male smiled and kissed the top of the younger male’s head. “You’re welcome.” He whispered while feeling like he had done at least one thing right since they entered the Temple.

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Time: Secret of not being in the right time or of right age

[ottiliere]

read the first chapter of the grief complex a few days ago and i can't stop thinking about it. i love how much characterization was packed into just the first chapter-- yr usage of colors is also sooo unbelievably gorgeous. i really like cam and lynn both, i'm very interested to see more of them (i have listened to both their playlists several times and i must say.. excellent song choices. pinback!!!) does lynn make any friends at raves? what does he do for work?

Thank you! I keep seeing iterations of the "can't stop thinking about it" kind and it's so exciting that this has resonated with some people so much. The playlists were all dane, though! I only suggested two of the songs that wound up on Cam's playlist (Eels + Guided by Voices). You didn't ask, but those playlists are diegetic. Cam's was a present (he's not really the music type...) and Lynn's was self made.

Lynn considered many professions before going to college. He was talked out of most of them by both his therapist and father. These include:

Nursing: Lynn is too temperamentally sensitive for it; poor outcomes would drastically affect him in a way he'd take with him outside the workplace, and besides that... belligerent patients would hurt his feelings too much! Nursing also requires too much quick-thinking + an ability to adapt to/perform in high-stress situations. Lynn is not smart, nor is he the type of guy you should depend on in case of an emergency; he doubts himself too much. Patients would have loved him, though. He is very sweet.

Programming/SWE: while comparably more knowledgeable in computers than his peers at the time, lynn has always been very poor with language/grammar and would not do well in a job that requires writing, even if it was conceptually understood as "writing with (a lot of) math." he has been in remedial reading classes from when he finally got an IEP in elementary school through college graduation.

Joining the Clergy: lynn is not incredibly religious, but he did briefly consider being a priest. this was more of a passing thought for him. it seemed like it would be nice, helping people like that. his faith has fluctuated and changed throughout his life, largely depending on who he's spending the most time around, but he's always been fond of the social aspect of religion.

Lynn makes tons of friends at raves! He's very social online, especially for his era, and he has a little long-distance friend group that he often links up with at raves. He's also been known to DJ on occasion...he's quite good at it.

By day, though, he is a junior accountant at a local oil company. A little less "cool", possibly morally debatable, but his bills are paid and his apartment is quite nice.

[onigavi]

[ayo big warning I'm about to rant here for idfk how long it'll take you to read this ngl-]

Sooo like..your boy was scrolling through Twitter..like an idiot, and got caught up in reading people complaining about strives look and character design n shit and just..did they not like...idfk play the game?! Like I'd get it if it's about the damage or gaining an insane amount of meter off of blocking and being passive, or yk just season 4 in general (I still love you dizzy but wholy fuck when u dropped I wanted to kms) but it's the art style and the direction he went with strive this time... And the way everyone talks about the change is just all "oh he selled out" and dumb shit like that but that just doesn't really make sense to me ig... Cus like thematically there design changes make sense to me. At the start, the games following the original story was dark&weird, and everyone had so many fucking issues (both mental and physical) , so their designs were edgy and dark while still having some life in them, and it made sense for everything that was going on! But in strive, everyone kinda has their shit together.

Sol has jack-o and at the end of strives story, he gets it through her head that he loves her for her and not just the fact that she was a version of his (sorta) dead wife, he stops being the flame of corruption do to asuka [that man for those of you who've only played the older games] and has come to love himself.

Ky steps down from being king, and starts relaxing more, hell that was the blatant reason for his deign that HE says in game! He's no longer the king, why does he need to dress like that anymore! He's trying to relax, love his wife, and be an actual father for once to his son! That he had to give up to protect!! Yes their relationship is still rocky but ky&sin openly care for each other now, and have actual father and son conversations!

The old cast story is over. It generally is. Yes there are still unexplained things, mysteries to be explored and more, but that isn't the older cast story, that's the worlds.

Fuck even in the second dlc story we got, it was about baiken being a basically adoptive mother to Delilah, and giving up on her revenge for not just herself but for the girl shes now basically raising!

Zato is still edgy and that's cus he's dealing with the aftermath of literally being dead! And milia is dealing with self hate, lingering love, and desperate redemption. Fuck the two people who I think still have that edge or people who also need more exploring (aka Leo and pot) Leo for his PTSD and extreme survivors guilt that leads him to rash suicidal fighting and pot, cus well.. idfk I just wanna see him get bigger.

With dual rulers dropping it's becoming apparent that the next generation are the main characters. (Specifically Sin here ngl-) And they aren't born into a world as dark as theain cast, Sin has solved most of his emotional baggage with ky, and is generally a very happy kid, ramlethal is just chill tbh- elphelt (I forgot how to spell her name) is romance obsessed and is chilling, fuck even new characters are mostly chill (i.e the biggest Leo simp giovanna, who's theme song is just her chilling and saying she's got her shit worked out, girl probably has a therapist too) fuck the most interesting character to me is goldlewis cus we don't know much about him. (Giovanna too but yk-)

Needless to say all of this huge thing just boils down to one understand, the main characters have changed, and the world is changing, I personally think that this change in style is very thematic to this change. But I do understand that some people just don't like it, for the sake of not liking it. Though please be kind, and don't call the creator a sell out for making changes.

Thank you for reading this stupid rant! I really should be typing out that fanfic instead, I promised 11000 words out the first chapter and it took me a week to type 1000 T^T

(edit- I reread this to check for errors so here's a little bit more while I'm here)

Outside of the characters lore itself, the change in story's, perspective's, lore and more. The author, the creator. The man himself has changed friends, he went from making an alter ego in high school with a dark backstory and an interesting concept. To making a whole world! A semi-vast story, games that have fun combat, he experimented and is having fun. But did y'all forget he's human? He'd learn and grow from his own stories too. He's changed from the kid making a cool game based off of a rad OC of himself. And the story is shifting based off of his new way of thinking...and truthfully, I'm excited to see what's next

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (Mockingjay, Ch. 20-21)

(there's so much chapter 21 about the old peeta resurfacing and it feels like a reward for suffering through what this book has made me suffer through so far)

i take bogg's telling katniss to kill peeta as him just saying "do whatever you have to do to get the job done"

katniss being like um surely he doesn't think i can just kill peeta? like surely not. and then her literally being like i'm just gonna do the first two things he said and ignore the third

finnick putting on and adjusting peeta's mask while he's unconscious. the fact that katniss notes this. i cry

peeta realising he's killed mitchell hurts a lot. the capitol really turned him into something he's not. and he's fighting it so hard still

the compassion the other members of the star squad show peeta is actually very heart-warming, they're so understanding. finnick looking after him. holmes automatically going to carry an unconscious peeta so they can start moving again without being asked to. finnick reassuring him; actually everything finnick does. them refusing to leave him behind even though he is an actual threat to them

katniss thinking of the hanging tree while contemplating peeta's request that they kill him. the fact that she realises it might even be the more compassionate thing to do at this stage to give him nightlock. but the same way he says he can't let her take it at the end of the book, she can't do it here

"i feel the arena all around me... once again i'm battling not only for my own survival but peeta's as well"

i personally don't think katniss could have ever killed him. there's just no chance. when his survival is so intricately linked to her own. they're a package deal. and they fight so hard to keep each other alive.

peeta holding out the can of lamb stew to katniss. so mad we didn't get so many important moments from this book in the movies. they did a terrible job of showing the moments where peeta was coming back to himself. all his comments to the others, this moment

"the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting and the aroma of my favourite capitol dish in the chilly air. so some part of it must still be in his head too. how happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave."

OUR cave. like it was their first little home. first little intimate space just for them.

the fact that she paints this time in their cave as romantic and sentimental and picturesque. she's romanticising tf out of it. like she was in a death arena but in that moment, she was happy and close to him and that mattered so much to her

her hope at him returning to himself dripping off the page. that he remembers this.

(an aside: katniss being snarky about snow's puffy lips and saying his prep team need to be lighter with his blush is sooo funny)

in my catching fire summaries, i noted that katniss's desire to save peeta is actually a very selfish one. she's saving him for herself. because she wants him so badly to live. she wants him to be able to live more than herself. and the thought of him living while she doesn't is a personally comforting/happy thought for her. yes he deserves to live and he's a wonderful person but she's doing a lot of the saving of him for herself. because she NEEDS him to live. so her line here is interesting: "if it's true, it would be kindest to kill peeta here and now. but for better or worse, i am not motivated by kindness." - i think this is her essentially confirming what i believe or have gathered so far from what she tells us. saving peeta is not her showing him some great kindness. it's for her. she can't let him die for her own personal need and reasons. (and this isn't me criticising her, i don't think her reasons for saving him are selfish in a bad immoral way. just that she is a teenage girl in love with a boy and she desperately can't let him go)

she does the whole 'am i saving him because i care for him or because i don't want snow to win' but like it's been clear why she's been saving him thus far and continues to

"why can't i just let him go?" because you love and need him sweetheart. and you literally would not be able to live without him

and it's funny that despite all the emotion behind her reasoning, she comes out bluntly and says: so are you coming yourself or do we have to knock you out

"i slip it into my pants pocket, where it clicks against the pearl"

ugh. the key that keeps him restrained is now with katniss. her taking control of that part. the fact that it clicks with the pearl, reminding her of her boy with the bread who gave her this pearl that she's inseparable from. reminding her of exactly why she can't let him go, let him die.

peeta's comment to pollux when no one else can think of anything to say!! why didn't they include these things in the movies? auihfuaedhfufkeadh

the fact that his words are able to make castor laugh and pollux smile. he is so charming, so good-hearted, so good with people. and it's coming back. the boy with the bread is there, behind all that fog. he's there.

and again, katniss's hope at realising this. her glancing back at him. i can feel her emotions even though she's not always forthcoming with them

her wishing she could read his mind and go inside it to help him. settling on making sure he's eaten. taking away the lid so he can't hurt himself.

him saying mockingjays need wings to survive kinda feels like flirting/charm idk

"slowly, as i would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. he freezes at my touch, but doesn't recoil. so i continue to gently smooth back his hair. it's the first time i have voluntarily touched him since the last arena" - never forget what the movies took from us!!

them smoothing/playing with/brushing back each other's hair has been a constant since the first book. an intimate thing, a comforting thing. and here, after all that's gone on, katniss knows what might help him sleep and she takes the risk of touching him. it could've gone so badly. but she still did it, for him. and for her.

him whispering "you're still trying to protect me. real or not real"... i want to hug him so bad. but he feels it. he feels her wanting to still protect him and he needs the confirmation.

protecting each other is what they do guysss

he has horrible circles under his eyes from not being able to sleep but, as katniss smooths his hair back, he falls asleep after a minute. do you understand how important this is?????