#eyes on their websites which was a win-win

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

Man I tell you, another heavy day in my production job. And on top of that, pollen season. There goes my allergies smh. Well, at least I get bit of a break, have some food with me, and I can finally watch today's episode. Let's see what we got! *sees thumbnail* 😶 .....I haven't even pressed on the video and my theorist senses are tingling already

"wait what?"

Alright, so I'm going to need you to follow along with me here, cool? Now, doesn't 4's pose seem familiar to you? Well, it should because that's exactly the same pose as the ringmaster 4 render from the early version of the WOTFI website. We all know it was really Mr Puzzles behind it all.

And now look at the ads! It certainly feels very similar to what happened in the "Mario PC Virus" episode, and y'know how I already pointed out how it could connect to the goop!4 theory. BUT y'know what other video had ads?

That's suspicious. That's sus. 💅 /ref

"Don't you think it's Ben trolling again? Or just taking creative liberties?"

No bc the thing is, it's the thumbnail and it's the Team who gave him the prompt in the first place. Ofc Ben can take creative liberties, but essentially it has to follow the prompt. How have I not started the episode yet?! *turns to the Team* I'm watching you.... /silly

(the following is my live reaction:)

and there's our beloved intro *claps like an excited lil kid*

A convention? oooooh

LOOK AT THEM AAAAA

ofc 3 talking about his villain self 😌↕️

Clench being a VTuber was not on my bingo card but honestly, good for him (and I do love Tari sticking out from the table hehe)

and MELONY! you got what Axol's been working on, Two Piece. Gotta love the continuity, dude. The cover looks great!

Melony: "At least, I hope so..." 🥺 Oh honey, Axol would've been so proud of you and what you've done. I can already imagine him singing praises to it and say "look at what my girlfriend and I have done! :D"

YES, let's spread the word!! ofc Mario and 4 would help, they care so much about their friends

ngl Mario's got a good tactic.

and there goes 3's eye lol (don't think about goop!4 don't think about goop!4 don't think about goop!4)

*wii sports theme plays*

YES YES YES oh I'm so here for it

look at them go :D

nahnahnah, Team. You think you can do a speed-up moment and for me not to pause it frame by frame? smh /silly

luckily for the rest of yall, I got you:

and yes, it did have some repeats that I think they're very interesting: "turns you muscular SUPER chad", "makes you rich", "become SWAG", "get your a bunch of friends", "become a member of society", "become a SIGMA", get a romantic partner ("girlfriend" (the one with Mario) or "boyfriend", "you WON'T NEED SLEEP", "become AWESOME"/"RESPECTED"

Ofc it could just be how much 4 wants to emphasize the benefits of getting the manga. But it certainly feels strange, doesn't it? *writing notes down like a madman*

also a win for the skittle squad

and ay, it's got 4's stamp of approval!! (curious that the Team used the old model instead of current one 🤔)

hehe look at 4 pouting while he sits 💙

SMG4: "This is how it works!" 4, bud, are you ok?

ok first off, WE GOT THE OG 4 MODEL BACK?! WHAT? and two, Mario has a point. 4 is taking things too far and really needs a wake-up call. I have a feeling as to why 4 may be acting this way....

oh. oh okay.

So they decided to bring parallels to show how much 4 and Mario's fighting is affecting her/reminding her of her family separating. Hmm. Alright, Team, which one of you decided to strike that dagger into my heart? 😭 /lh

And Mario walked away just like Melony's mom did *head in hands*

and that's 4 alright. He would say that "everything's fine" when it's clearly not smh

4, buddy no :(

SMG3: "The real villain is society..." Well you ain't wrong, 3

Wait a second. Enhance..... enhance.....

I see what you did there, Shadow 😔↕️

love that Toad's like right here too

OMG was that 4's "date" from the "Find Luigi" episode? IT IS.

I'm tell yall, 4 has a secret art account and is selling his work as merch/prints. I mean, c'mon

NO 4, people were waiting for Silksong for decades naurrrr

oh Melony, my girl :(

*pauses episode* ........they did not just do that. I'm rewinding that moment 2/3 times now, what do you mean I was right about my suspicions? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY JUST BROUGHT BACK IGBP?!

I need to walk away. I need to leave the room, do a cartwheel and dive into a lake, bc HUH?!

okok, let's breathe. goop!4 is gonna happen, and this is not just a "haha Ink is a crazy lil theorist wishing for this to happen". The fact that he said "nowadays" means that the situation is affecting him too. Ofc it would, that's his livelihood, his WHOLE PURPOSE as a meme guardian. But, other than that, it makes sense why he's doing this (I'll talk about it soon)

Mario: "SMG4, you're better than this! You've done enough damage." 😨 holy shit. it's like I got shot through the heart WTF. I might just cry in this episode

who keeps punching me in the FEELSSSSS 😭 poor Melony, those guys were absolute jerks smh (desperate times do call for desperate measures *ready to make swiss cheese*)

*head in hands* :(

at least they can apologise

*points at screen* hehe that's me :) I'm just a reporter

did I hear the peanut gallery audio from ace attorney? 👀 (<- ace attorney fan, don't mind Ink)

The Crew came? 🥹

EVEN SHROOMY?

OUGH that got to me, dude. They all came to support her and enjoyed the manga. I'm tearing up, dude.....

what did I say? Melony may have not had both parents as they were separating, lost Axol to the events of the Genesis/Revelations arc, was betrayed by who she thought was a friend who understood her, and despite it all, she's been so strong. Having friends, her found family...

man, this hit me hard and it's not even from the allergies, I tell you that

the truest supporters are the ones who care

this episode wants me dead /very pos

what's the lesson, Mario?

SMG4: "Is that we shouldn't care so much about fame and profit and instead be proud of our friend's work? No matter how successful it is?" yeah pretty much... "No"? wydm "no"?

....nahnahnah, you can't end the episode there, what the hell do you mean by that?

You can't close it off like that! What about my suspicions!? You can't just move on like that in front of my theorist self, c'mon!!

sitcom laugh track and everything, smh /silly

Congrats to SteveAlexAri12 for your art being featured in the end credits for this episode 🎉 cool art of WPNZ

um. Team, any particular why? just asking /j

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Wow, this. This was absolutely fantastic omg. The writing in this was so good and I loved the tidbits of animation we got, like when Mario and 4 were picking up the pages to clean! This was somehow brilliant, and this is coming from a long-time viewer.

It' crazy's awesome that they brought Wolfychu back to do some lines this episode, and I was right about the Waggy cameo from Shadow (YES!). Also, EVAN! You make the cover of the manga? It looks SO GOOD, dude!! As always, great work with the writing on your end 👏

I've already mentioned Melony but we have to talk about the boys. Both Mario and 4 had good intentions to help their friend out. "I would do anything to not lose my friends" and that's exactly what 4 did. The algorithm has been affecting him so much that he didn't want Melony to go through it either. So, he went overboard with the crazy advertising and such, but he still cared for his friend. And a touch of self-doubt and insecurity from IGBP is back because he thought he wasn't doing enough. What good of a friend is he if he can't help out? The savior complex in him would say that he isn't good enough to help Melony, to "save" her from the low viewer retention. That he isn't enough, so he went desperate to have anyone take a copy of the manga. This isn't just about selling a book, it's that he's worth the friendships he has and they can always come to him if they need anything.

He doesn't want to lose them.

Ofc Mario cares so much about 4, they've known each other for years. Best of friends. If anything, Mario would know everything's not fine with 4's actions and thoughts in general. It's why the line, "SMG4, you're better than this! You've done enough damage" from Mario to 4 hits so hard. 4 was back to the "None of you understand the work I do" moment from Mar10, relapsing, and Mario needed to remind 4 of his true self, the one that cared for his friends without perfections. That instead of helping as 4 sees it, 4 was hurting Melony unintentionally, and he has to open his eyes to see that. Two sides, indeed.

Curious that the episode ended with the not "go cuckoo crazy" lesson instead of what 4 said. Goop!4 would eventually happen, bc at this point, yes. But what Mario said is exactly what 4's mindset is rn. 4 is bottling up his emotions and trauma and as long as he doesn't think about it for too long, everything's fine. As long as he doesn't reach that breakpoint, he's fine. In some way, he learned his lesson after IGBP but not quite. For one, he still doubts himself with the guilt of IGBP on top of it. And two, nothing is letting him move on from his trauma. His in-universe audience isn't letting him, Puzzles during WOTFI wasn't letting him, the memories he's been suppressing wasn't enough.

Why does he go through the extreme? Bc he thinks that it would solve everything for him. Like how he locked Puzzles in prison, thinking that Puzzles would remain there when we all know a prison escape is bound to happen. Like the Meme Factory itself was an elaborate trap. Whatever it takes to protect himself emotionally, as he's under the line from having a meltdown, he's fine. But what is that line? What is his breaking point? The thing is he wouldn't known, as shown in this episode, thinking he would still fix it. Everything's fine, he's fine.

And y'know what the cherry on top is? That, other than 4 and Mario enjoying the manga, Boopkins and Luigi were the first to be interested in Melony's creation, regardless of popularity. Very representative of Kevin irl and the deeper significance of IGBP.

....whoops sorry, I went on rambling for too long. I mean, c'mon, you should know the drill by now *points at bio*. If anything, this episode is the biggest piece of evidence for the goop!4 theory, I'm sure our local co-CEO of the theory Funkii (hey moot!) and other goop!4 enthusiasts would agree, YESSIR. Overall, this was such a sweet episode and I can't wait for more. That's all from me, and remember: numbers always go first!

*taps mic* ...well chat, how do we feel knowing that the star trio all canonically wore maid outfits? (well technically Madoka outfits from 4 & Mario but still)

[faunandfloraas]

rubbing my hands together like a grubby little fly anticipating the rest of the elle japan shoot

[kylieastro]

© KylieAstro All Rights Reserved, do not copy, reword, rewrite on any social media or website without consent from the original creator.

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

I'm not a professional astrologer yet, nor a native english speaker

☆ Sun in the 1H may have some downsides which many people tend to overlook: high ego and egocentric behaviour. These people at worst may be enormous attention seekers, drama kings/queens and can't stand being away from the spotlight for long.

☆ Aquarius Mercuries hate being silenced for having different opinions, they're the ones always ready to fight for their ideals and it's very difficult to make them change an idea, they can be very stubborn about their beliefs.

☆ Moon Square Venus people may tend to have conflicting relationships with women/feminine figures, their inner feminine energy is often a bit repressed and they struggle to embody it healthily.

☆ Taurus Risings very often carry a fascinating contradiction within their personality, they ooze a calm, serene and collected demeanour lookin' all cute and warm while having an impressive amount of boundaries, strength, determination and hard working spirit. They carry the "silent strength" aura very well, and they often get to be perceived as more fragile than they actually are or even "babied" from other people.

☆ Capricorn Risings in most cases aren't actually "cold and intimidating" looking as descriptions claim them to be, they tend to have very large doe and dark eyes and cute cheeks, yet an aura which exudes mystery and boss vibes.

celebs examples: Damiano David, Kylie Jenner, Ariana Grande, Monica Bellucci, Jeon Junkook, John Legend, Aishwarya Rai, Naomi Campbell, Dakota Johnson, Charlie Puth, Lorde, Olivia Rodrigo

☆ Pluto in the 10H may face a lot of changes within their public image throughout the years, and they often tend to have people who have polarised opinions about them, people either love and obsess over them or completely hate them for no reason, they may go from being seen as the hero to the villain and vice versa in 3 days straight.

☆ Scorpio Rising always wins the award as the "Most Sultry, Seductive & Mysterious Rising Sign" hands down in my opinion, along with Pisces Rising

☆ Gemini Moons are one of the most overlooked moon signs along with Virgo & Taurus Moons. No one ever talks enough about how disgustingly smart and quick minded they are, most of them aren't actually "cheerful little clowns" as descriptions claim, they're way deeper than that and hugely intellectual and calculative, great strategists.

☆ Mars in the 11H/3H tend to face a lot of hardships and arguments around their friends, they may have friends turn to enemies real quick or a very teasing relationship with their friends. On another level they're the ones always ready to speak up and defend their beliefs, this one is a great placement for lawyers and debaters.

☆ Jupiter/Sagittarius in the 4H may come from very large families, they may be the ones having lots of brothers/sisters/uncles/cousins or their parents got married more than once. They may come from very religious homes/economically well-off/funny families.

☆ Saturn/Capricorn in the 4H on the opposite side, may indicate a small family, being an only child or just having few cousins/uncles, at worst it may even indicate not having a good relationship with their own families or a very cold/business like relationships with them.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified

A.N: So it's been a while my loves 🩷 Thank you so much for your wonderful support while I wasn't active, and here's a fun and flirty Congressman!Bucky oneshot! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think 🩷 Love you! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Working overtime has its surprising moments.

Word Count: 1917 (like his bday:)

There were many things one could say about working in politics.

It consumed your whole life, for starters. It wasn’t the type of work that you could leave at the office and go home to relax, you had to be informed and ready to work at any hour of the day. It was stressful, it was chaotic, it was insane, but God damn it, you loved the adrenaline rush.

You stormed into Bucky’s office, waving your phone in the air like a flag.

“Bedford Avenue!” you exclaimed. “Bedford Avenue!”

Bucky exchanged glances with Sam who looked as clueless as he was, and turned to you. “Hm?”

“Bedford Avenue!”

“I heard what you said, what’s happening there?”

You grinned and held the phone to your eye level.

“After the news article uncovering the CEO’s donations to the city council member, the construction in Bedford Avenue has been halted—”

“Can I see that?”

“I’m not reading anything, this is a video of cute foxes,” you admitted, turning the screen to him. “I just saw the article on my laptop and rushed here like Paul Revere. I figured it would make me look more professional if I pretended to read it from my phone.”

Sam raised his brows. “You could’ve found the website on your way here?”

“I was in a hurry.”

“You could’ve printed the article out, there are like one hundred computers out there,” Bucky said and both you and Sam turned to look at him better.

“Print it out just to show you?” Sam asked as if he wanted to make sure he heard him right and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, why not?”

You heaved a sigh. “No wonder why we have to get phishing training every week if this is the pace you keep up with the technology.”

“I was born in 1917.”

“And I was in a hurry,” you insisted. “Besides, you can’t judge me for my actions in the past, I put that behind me.”

 “The couple of seconds you spent walking here from your desk doesn’t count as the past, and there’s nothing wrong with printing things out, for the record.”

“I’ll just send you the articles as handwritten letters.”

Sam let out a chuckle and stood up.

“Good job on the Bedford Avenue.”

“Why thank you,” you said with a bright smile and he nodded at Bucky.

“And we’ll see you tonight?”

“Absolutely, tell Sarah I said hi.”

“Will do,” Sam said and walked out of the office while you plopped down on the chair across from Bucky’s desk, your eyes glued to your phone before a laugh escaped your lips.

“Another article,” you said. “This feels better than actually having sex, do you know what this means?”

“I know it doesn’t mean anything good for your boyfriend.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“Shut it—this dude is one of the biggest donors for the opposition. If they shut down the construction, they’ll drag him to court.”

“Seems that way.”

“Which means he will be dragged through the mud and then we’re going to win—” You slapped the coffee table. “Bow down bitches!”

Bucky repressed a smile and you took a deep breath, leaning back on the chair.

“People seem to think his wife is also involved,” you said. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they got a divorce.”

“Are you always this delighted at others’ misfortune?”

“When they’re pouring money to our opposition, yes I am,” you said. “I’ve been competitive ever since I lost that first grade spelling bee.”

“No wonder you didn’t put that on your resume.”

“My point about not being judged for my past,” you told him, making him chuckle.

“Fair.”

“So you’re meeting Sam and Sarah tonight?”

“For dinner, yeah. It’s been a while since I saw Cass and AJ.”

“Aw, they’re the cutest!”

“How about you?” he asked. “Any plans with the uh-with the boyfriend?”

 You pursed your lips, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I did, but he’s too busy for tonight so we postponed it.”

He tilted his head, frowning in confusion and you sat up straighter.

“It’s nothing,” you said. “It’s just, one of the senior partners at the firm he works at, apparently he’s dating an ex-employee so it’s a shit show.”

“Why?”

“Boss and employee. Doesn’t matter how in love they are.”

“You said an ex-employee.”

“Oh yeah, she started working somewhere else a while ago, but it doesn’t matter,” you said. “Ex or not, dating an employee or your boss is like, the worst thing anyone could ever do. It’s business suicide.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” he said. “Yeah that makes sense. Because who would—I mean you’d never.”

You grimaced, thinking about Bucky’s campaign manager who happened to be your boss at the moment.

“I’d start screaming,” you said. “And also, apparently he’s older than her? Which, don’t get me wrong, I love listening to Lana Del Rey as much as anyone but a ten-year age gap?”

Bucky blinked a couple of times, then nodded again.

“Right,” he said. “That’s a lot. That’s a decade.”

“Exactly.” You crossed your fingers and looked up at the ceiling. “I keep Pedro Pascal out of that generalization, universe. I do not care how old he is, he is the exception, send him my way.”

“Do I want to know who he is?”

“Everyone should know who he is,” you told him and checked your phone again. “I need to get to the bottom of this CEO thing, doesn’t hurt to be well-informed.”

“Have you taken a break today?”

“I’ll take a break in DC—” you started but turned your head when the campaign manager knocked on the door, and peeked his head in.

“Hey, got a minute?”

Bucky looked at you as if asking for permission and you jumped on your feet.

“I was just leaving,” you said. “But hey, you owe me one.”

“I owe you plenty,” Bucky said with a small smile that made your heart skip a happy beat and you lingered there for a moment before making your way out of the office, biting back a grin.

*

 Fine, maybe you were a bit of a workaholic but in your defense, the campaign was going so well, so this was the least you could do to make sure Bucky would win.

You repressed a yawn, stealing a look at the city lights shining in the night before turning your attention to the screen, but your head shot up when you noticed someone entering the bullpen. Your stomach did a pleasant flip and you sat up straighter, taking your earbuds out.

“Hey.”

“You’re not going to listen to me if I tell you to go home, are you?” Bucky asked and you stretched out your arms, making a face.

“Nope,” you said. “What are you doing here? I thought you left.”

“I did, but I forgot something in my office,” he said, leaning back to the empty desk across from yours and you hummed.

“You do realize you could’ve asked someone to bring it to you?”

“I’m not gonna do that,” he said as if the idea was ridiculous before looking around the empty bullpen. It was mostly dark, illuminated by only the light of the screens and the city outside, and you couldn’t help but notice just how handsome—

Objectively, that was.

He was objectively a handsome man.

“Hm?” You snapped out of your daze when you realized he had asked you a question and he shot you a look.

“Did you take a break today?”

“Yeah I stepped outside for five minutes,” you said. “It’s plenty.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “I’m begging you to go home.”

“I will after I’m finished with this.” You gestured at the screen and then snapped your fingers. “Before I forget…”

You grabbed the printed out news article on your desk and handed it to him, making him let out a chuckle.

“Seriously?”

“Mm hm.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“And your speech for tomorrow—the edited version, I printed that out and Caleb took it to your place so that you can go over it after dinner, I know you like adding stuff in the margins,” you said. “You sent a fruit basket and a personal get well soon card to Commissioner Michaels, he had a small accident, nothing important, and also you sent flowers to Ellen Cooper, she wrote that nice article about you and apparently her daughter just graduated college.”

Bucky tilted his head. “I did all that?”

“Well no, I did all that,” you said. “But I can fake your signature and your handwriting, so as far as they’re concerned, it’s from you.”

“How do you do all this?” he asked and you wiggled your brows.

“I’m a genius,” you said and paused for a moment. “My psychiatrist has a different theory but I like mine better.”

 The smile on Bucky’s face was soft, a gentle gleam playing in his piercing blue eyes as he stared at you, then frowned to himself.

“I uh—I got you something.”

You could feel your heart slamming against your ribcage. “I’m sorry?”

He reached into his jacket to pull a tiny fox figure out of his inner pocket, a burst of laughter bubbling in your chest before it spilled from your lips and he put the figure on your desk while you covered your mouth, a warmth dripping in your chest.

“You mentioned you like foxes so…”

You pressed a hand on your chest, smiling wide as you took it to your hand to see it better.

“Aw, thank you!” you said. “You know, I’m gonna adopt a fox one day.”

“I don’t think you can do that.”

“I work in politics, I’ll just bribe a politician or something,” you brushed him off and put the figure on the desk again. “He is so sweet! I’ll call him Bucky.”

 “Please don’t.”

“Buchanan.”

“Also no.”

“I do not take constructive criticism at this point in my life, shut it,” you said, pointing a finger at him and he held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Fine, fine…” he said and you let out a giggle.

“But seriously, thank you,” you said. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky said with a shrug of his shoulders and you nibbled on your lip, still staring up at him. He held your gaze in his before he took a deep breath, and cleared his throat.

“I should—I should go,” he said and you tried to ignore the disappointment at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh right, tell Sarah and Sam I said hi,” you said. “And kiss Cass and AJ for me.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll send Dave here, he can drive you home when you’re done.”

You shook your head. “Bucky, I can just—”

“You’re not going home by yourself at this hour.”

“I’ll be fine—”

“I won’t because I’ll be worried about you,” he said, making your heart skip a beat. “Please?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Sure,” you said. “See you tomorrow.”

Your eyes followed him as he walked out of the bullpen and you heaved a sigh before taking the fox figure into your hand again, a smile warming your face. You stared at it, then swallowed thickly and put the figure on the desk again.

“Get your shit together,” you muttered to yourself, brushing a hand over your face. “You have stuff to do.”

Chapter 2

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi, Sorry for bothering you but I just read your stories, and they are wonderful. Do you mind me asking if you post these on any of the reading websites? Like Archive or Wattpad. Also I have a prompt for you if you would mind to please write a story on this at your convenience. Its Max with his daughter Eloise (I just created this name here) and well if you could write angst, anything like but a bit angsty. If you cant then no problems at all. I have a fluff one as well, Lando being a young father hiding his daughter till his first win in 2024. He got his daughter at an young age like in 2020. And he is a single father.

I hope you didnt offend by any of my words, and if I did I am sorry. It was unintentional. Hope you have a nice day. ✨

Lando's daughter?!

Lando never thought his life would change so drastically at twenty-one. One day, he was a rising star in Formula 1—barely an adult, living his dream, and surrounded by fans who hung on to his every word. The next, he was holding a squirming, pink-faced newborn in his arms, her tiny fingers curled around one of his. His daughter. Yn.

He still remembered the weight of that moment. The sheer panic flooding his veins when he first read the letter the mother left behind, explaining that she couldn't do it. Couldn't raise their child. She hadn't even wanted to meet his eyes when she handed him the baby carrier. And then she was gone, leaving him with a helpless infant and a heart full of confusion.

At first, Lando doubted himself. How could he, a twenty-one-year-old who could barely keep houseplants alive, take care of a baby? His career demanded everything from him. He had no time for diaper changes, midnight feedings, or learning how to soothe a crying baby. But then he looked down at her. Yn. With her soft, dark curls and big, curious eyes. And in that instant, his hesitation melted away.

He was her dad. She was his world. There was no turning back.

The first year was chaos. Sleep deprivation became his new normal. His apartment was overrun with baby supplies. His friends barely recognized the version of Lando who spent more time researching baby formulas than playing video games. But none of that mattered when Yn gave him her first smile, or when she clung to him like he was the safest place in the world.

Only a select few knew about her. His family, of course. His best friend Max Fewtrell, who had been there since day one with jokes, support, and emergency diaper runs. His team at McLaren, who adjusted travel schedules and provided quiet rooms for Yn during race weekends when necessary. And then there was Dolores.

Dolores had been an unexpected blessing. She lived across the hall, a warm-hearted Colombian woman in her sixties with a booming laugh and a soft spot for babies. The first time she found Lando on his doorstep, frantically bouncing a wailing Yn at six in the morning, she took charge without hesitation. “Ay, mijo, give her here,” she'd said, scooping Yn into her arms with the confidence of someone who had raised three children herself. “You need to sleep before you pass out. I’ll take care of her.”

From that night on, Dolores became Yn’s second family. When Lando had to travel for races, Yn stayed with her. She taught Yn Spanish nursery rhymes, cooked meals that filled Lando's apartment with mouth-watering aromas, and spoiled Yn with the kind of love only a grandmother could provide. Yn adored her.

And through it all, Lando kept his daughter a secret from the public. He didn’t want her life overshadowed by his fame. Yn deserved a childhood untouched by paparazzi or invasive fans.

Which was why, four years later, no one batted an eye when Dolores and a bright-eyed little girl took their seats in McLaren's VIP section during the Miami Grand Prix.

Yn's curly brown hair was pulled into two lopsided pigtails, and her big, curious eyes scanned the bustling scene below. She swung her legs back and forth, the tiny McLaren hoodie she wore swallowing her frame.

"Dolores! Did you see Daddy's car?" Yn gasped, her voice bubbling with excitement. "It's so fast today!"

Dolores chuckled softly beside her, her wrinkled hands folding neatly in her lap. "Of course, mija. Your daddy is very fast. But today, I think he is also a little bit magic, no?"

Yn giggled, leaning against the older woman. She loved Dolores like a grandmother. The warm smell of her lavender lotion always made Yn feel safe, even when Daddy was away.

"He's gonna win," Yn declared confidently. "I just know it."

"I hope so, mi corazón," Dolores said, brushing a stray curl from Yn's forehead. "He works very hard. And I know he wants to make you proud."

Yn nodded vigorously, as if there was no question at all. To her, Lando was already the best. He gave the best hugs, made the silliest pancake faces, and always kissed her forehead before bed, even when he was tired. Winning a race? That was just another thing he could do.

A few rows away, Max Fewtrell leaned casually against the railing, his sunglasses shielding his eyes as he scanned the crowd. He was there to support Lando, of course, but also to keep an eye on Yn and Dolores. It wasn’t that he thought they needed babysitting — Yn was a handful, sure, but Dolores had handled far worse in her years — but Lando had made one thing clear: protect his daughter. Always.

The world didn’t know about Yn. Not really. To the public, Lando was the cheeky, carefree McLaren driver who loved gaming and laughing with his friends. No one knew about the nights he stayed up with a teething baby or the mornings he tiptoed through his apartment to avoid waking Yn before breakfast. And that was how he wanted it.

She deserved normal. And as long as Lando had a say, she would get it.

The race was a blur. Yn squealed and cheered every time she caught a glimpse of the papaya-colored car speeding down the straights. Her tiny fingers clutched a homemade sign that said "Go Daddy Go!" in wobbly, marker-scrawled letters.

When the checkered flag waved and Lando crossed the line first, the entire McLaren garage erupted into chaos. Mechanics cheered, hugging each other as the engineers pounded their fists against the monitors. Dolores clapped softly, a proud smile spreading across her face.

Yn, however, had no such composure.

"He won!" she shrieked, jumping up and down. "Dolores, he did it! Daddy won!"

Dolores laughed as Yn pulled at her hand. "Sí, sí, mija. Calm down or you will fly away."

Yn didn't care. Her heart pounded with joy. She wanted to see him — needed to see him. Daddy always told her winning was special, but it wasn’t everything. But to her, this moment felt like everything.

Lando stood on the top step of the podium, heart hammering in his chest as the British national anthem blared around him. The weight of the winner's trophy felt surreal in his hands. He’d dreamed of this day for years.

But only one thought consumed his mind.

Yn.

As soon as the celebrations wrapped up, he bolted from the podium. He barely registered the cheers from the crowd or the flashes of cameras. His legs burned, but he didn’t stop. He needed to get to her.

The McLaren VIP section was quiet compared to the chaos outside, but when Lando pushed open the door, Yn was already rushing toward him.

"Daddy!"

The sound of her voice hit him like a lightning bolt. He dropped to his knees just in time for Yn to throw herself into his arms. She clung to him tightly, her little face buried against his neck.

"You did it! You won!" Yn said, her voice muffled but filled with pride.

Lando squeezed her tighter, pressing kisses to her temple. "I did, baby. I did it for you."

Dolores, watching the reunion with quiet warmth, stood back respectfully. She had known from the moment Lando took his daughter into his arms for the first time that this boy — no matter how young or unprepared he might have been — was meant to be a father.

Lando pulled back just enough to cup Yn's face in his hands. "Did you watch the whole race?"

Yn nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Every lap. You were so fast!"

His heart melted. "I wanted to make you proud."

"I am proud," Yn whispered. "Always."

He laughed softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "I love you so much, you know that?"

"I love you too, Daddy."

For a moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist. It was just the two of them, and the love that bound them together.

But outside the VIP section, murmurs began to ripple through the paddock.

"Did that kid just call him Daddy?"

"Wait, does Lando have a kid?"

"Since when?"

Lando didn’t care. He had spent four years protecting Yn from the spotlight. He wasn’t about to let a few rumors take away the joy of this moment.

Max slipped into the room, a wide grin plastered across his face. "Told you she'd be your lucky charm."

Yn turned in Lando's arms, spotting Max. "Uncle Max! Did you see? Daddy won!"

Max laughed, crouching down to their level. "I saw, mini. You must be magic or something."

Yn giggled, and Lando shook his head fondly. "Thanks for keeping an eye on them," he murmured.

"Always," Max said quietly. "But hey, maybe next time warn me when you're about to blow your own cover."

Lando snorted, standing up with Yn still perched on his hip. "It was worth it."

And as Yn snuggled against his shoulder, her soft breath warm against his neck, Lando knew with every fiber of his being that no trophy would ever mean more than being her dad.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoy this story. My requests are always open for you!

-💙🦋

[neeeooon]

Good afternoon, elle. I'm here with my second request. May I request: The Blue Lock men propose to you on camera. Cue their fangirls' broken hearts. (Characters: Chigiri, Yukimiya, the Itoshi brothers)

of course!! thank you for the request 🫶🤍

when they propose to you on camera ;

aged up bf bllk x gn!reader

chigiri hyoma

-> you met on camera… sort of. chigiri just so happened to look up at the screen during one of his games, where you were randomly displayed and waving with your friends. he fell in love after that

-> it only makes sense for him to propose to in the same manner, right?

-> he planned it perfectly, even got the stadium staff to edit a “will you marry me?” logo onto the screen as you appear on one half and he shows up with your ring on the other

-> chigiri just so happened to score the game-winning goal (he may or may not have had help from his teammates), but when he appears on the big screen, you show up right next to him

-> you aren’t even looking, all of your focus on your boyfriend, but when people start screaming, you look up to see the ‘will you marry me, y/n?’ typed out across the screen and gape

-> there are tears as you nod enthusiastically, one’s of happiness from you, and heartbreak from the fangirls (and guys) throughout the arena watching the proposal

yukimiya kenyu

-> he plans everything to the t. the pathway, the flowers, the candles… the camera

-> it’s silly and cliche and romantic, but that’s the kind of guy your boyfriend is. when he asked you to meet him at the spot where you had your first date, you knew something was up. the “hidden” camera guy only confirmed your suspicions

-> “y/n—“ “what are your fangirls going to think?” you tease lightly, causing yukimiya to smile before taking your hand in his. “whatever they want. i’m a taken man.”

-> “just taken?” you say as you eye the small box he’s trying to hide in his coat pocket. knowing his cover is completely blown, yukimiya to reveal the box and hold it out to you. “will you let me ask?” “hmmmm, i suppose so!”

-> while most fans find your banter adorable, others spam about their broken hearts now that yukimiya kenyu is officially engaged

itoshi sae

-> he wanted to surprise you, which means he had to go all out on the cheesy cliches. you’d never in a million years see that coming from sae

-> you were only expecting a little drive with your boyfriend when he suddenly pulled over to a spot overlooking the city, the sun setting over the horizon

-> when you spotted the blankets, strings of bright fairy lights, rose petals, and mini camera crew, you panicked. “sae, we should go. i think someone’s getting engaged.” “someone is.” “??”

-> but your “??” quickly turns into “?!” as sae leads you to the spot, where your name is spelled out in flowers. “this.. what?!”

-> the whole thing filmed, sae gives you his awkward little speech before you interrupt him with a kiss and a million yes’s. flashes decorate you as he slips the ring on your finger, but all you can do is laugh at how extra itoshi sae was for you

-> the video spreads like wildfire, and you can’t help but cackle are your fiancé’s face every time you read a comment from one of his heartbroken fangirls out-loud

itoshi rin

-> the cameras were not planned. he didn’t want them there, but he wasn’t going to let them ruin your moment, either

-> you were enjoying your date with rin, blissfully ignoring the paparazzi following you, when he suddenly stepped in front of you and collected your hands between his. “y/n, there’s something i want to ask you…”

-> your photo, rin on one knee, one of your hands cupping your mouth as the other holds his, is all over magazines and websites the next morning

-> “look at how pretty we look!” rin just grumbles, “they always have to ruin everything.” “come on, look on the bright side! we’re together, and i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

-> you won’t tell rin, since he’s never on social media, but his fangirls were trending for the next two days where they’d post images of themselves crying and sliding down their walls. it was beautiful <3

[wondrluv]

୨୧ one more ; cb98

➪ summary: connor is a perfectionist, he's determined, he always gets what he wants... or 3 times connor says "one-more" because things didn't go his way

➪ warnings: none i don't think !

➪ word count: 1.4k

➪ emma's notes: um hello? me writing an nhl x reader fic? guys it's been like three months. anyway. um- yessss this has been sitting in my google drive since the hawks posted that video of the guys trying to stop the stopwatch at 3.12.

© wondrluv ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

1. the time with the tiktok trend

“Connie?” 

Connor looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, his right leg popped up on the coffee table, biting his thumbnail as his right hand stopped mid-scroll. He raised an eyebrow, eyes surveying her up and down, taking notice of the sweatshirt that hung to her mid-thigh, the Blackhawks logo plastered on the front. 

“Hmm?”

“You know how you love me?”

His lips turned into a smirk, placing his phone beside him as he sat up, “I might be aware. Why?”

She shifted closer to him, her knees barely brushing his leg. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, nerves flowing throw her as she tried to form her question, “I- Do- Can you do a TikTok with me?”

He smirked even more at the blush on her cheeks, standing up and slipping his arm around her waist, “Which one?”

She handed him her phone, Sabrina Carpenter’s Slim Pickens, playing softly as he watched the video. She leaned into his touch, a subconscious habit she’d picked up on since the two of them started dating, her body seeking the warmth he emanated. 

It was the third time around of ‘A boy who’s jacked and kind’ before he finally paused the video, looking at her with a certain look of fondness in his eyes, “I think I can arrange that to happen.”

She couldn’t help the grin that was now on her face, plucking her phone from his hand and placing it against her water bottle that sat on the counter. She looked back at him, “Do you want to practice?”

He shook his head adamantly, “No, I got this.”

“Cocky.” She started the timer anyway, backing up as Connor’s hands found their place on her hips like it was where they belonged. 

The music started playing and with ease, Connor lifted her up, placing her on his shoulders, an embarrassed but happy expression on her face. He slid her off with just as much grace, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she stared up at him, eyes soft.

The two of them watched the video, Connor’s eyebrows furrowing when he saw how he stumbled slightly, and his lip pouting, “No no, one more. It makes it look like I can’t lift you up.”

“Baby, it’s fine.”

“No one more.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, propping it back up and stepping back into his arms. They repeated the same movements, Connor lifting her up without fault and placing her back down with a kiss on her cheek. And this time when they watched the video, he groaned softly, “My face looks weird. Please can we do it one more time? I promise it will be the last one?”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

It was in fact not one more time. The two of them recorded the video 5 more times after that, each time Connor critiqued something in it; whether it was the way he was standing or the way it made it seem like he didn’t love her enough to pick her up, he made her redo it. 

And now, almost thirty minutes later from when she initially asked him to film it with her, he was grinning and nodding along to the final take, “Perfect.”

“The first one was perfect.”

“Just because you looked perfect in all of them, doesn’t mean I did.”

She blushed at his words, letting her forehead fall to his chest, “Shut up.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

2. the time when he loses (constantly)

Game nights were always something she had dreaded because watching four boys argue whether or not stacking was allowed in Uno was not her idea of fun. 

She’d stopped playing thirty minutes ago after winning three times in a row and Kevin had all but made her stop so they could “have a chance to win”. So she’d resorted to watching them play, her feet tucked beneath her as she sat on the couch, eating some pretzels. 

Connor groaned as Lukas placed down another +2 on top of Alex’s, “Sorry, Con.”

“This is rigged.”

“You can’t be the best at everything.” She reminded, taking a sip of her water. 

“But I can try.” He retorted, reluctantly picking up six cards. 

She rolled her eyes, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, focused on the game happening in front of her. 

“Uno!”

She jumped at Lukas’ voice despite knowing he only had one card left. They all ran a hand through their hair as if they were playing the last five minutes of a tied game. One by one, Alex, Kevin, and Connor set their cards down, Lukas beaming with excitement when he placed his last card down. 

“Y/n: 3, Lukas: 1. Alex, Kevin, and Connor: 0.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Kevin threw his cards down, scattering them across the coffee table. 

“One more. C’mon.”

“No, I’m tired of losing,” Kevin whined. 

“You’re such a baby,” Y/n claimed, moving to sit next to Connor, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Says the one who won three games in a row.”

“You guys win hockey games-”

“Barely.” Connor interrupted her, scoffing. 

She glared at him, hitting his arm, “As I was saying. You guys win hockey games, I win board games. Maybe game night is more fun than I thought.”

“One more time.” 

“I’m down.” 

“Same.”

So, Lukas shuffled the cards, passing them out to the other three. She sat contently, her head somehow burying itself further into Connor’s hoodie with each card placed down. 

She was about to drift off when Connor’s voice made its way to her ears, “Fuck!”

“Maybe y/n could help you next round.”

He glared at Kevin, resting his head on his girlfriends, “You guys are cheaters.”

“Just because you’re ass doesn’t mean we don’t.”

“Shut up.” 

A beat passed before he spoke again,  “One more?”

“NO!”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

3. the time with the kisses

It was late when he came through the door, exhaustion noticeable with every movement he made. He kicked his shoes off, almost stumbling over himself as he walked to his room, pushing the door open and freezing at the sight in front of him. 

He was sure he’d never seen something, someone, as beautiful as she was; her hair messy, glasses on her face, knees pulled up and a book resting on them, her fingers turning the page every so often, eyes trailing over the words. 

Her face was illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp from the nightstand next to her, a candle burning next to it, creating a cozy atmosphere that welcomed him with open arms. 

He sat his bag down at the entranceway to the room, her head snapping up, her eyes meeting his, a smile making its way onto her face, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Connor returned the smile, shuffling over to her, pressing a kiss to her head. “Wasn’t expecting you to be awake.”

She flushed slightly, “I started a new book and then I figured I’d just wait for you.”

He nodded, kissing her cheek and walking towards his closet to change into some shorts and a sweatshirt, the one she loved when he wore it. He collapsed on the bed moments later, eliciting a giggle from her as she placed her bookmark between the pages, moving to rest the book on the nightstand, blowing out the candle. 

She settled back on her side, the two of them facing each other, “Good goal tonight.”

“Mm, thank you.” He murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her closer to him, his eyes fluttering closed at her closeness. 

“Proud of you.” She kissed his jaw softly. 

“One more.”

“One more what?”

“Kiss.”

She smiled, kissing his cheek this time, pulling away. His grip on her tightened, not allowing her to stray too far, “One more.”

She didn’t say anything this time, kissing his other cheek. 

“One more.” She kissed his forehead. 

“One more.” She kissed his nose.

“One more.” She kissed between his eyes.

“One-” She kissed his lips, cutting off his sentence, her fingers tangling in his fingers. 

He grinned, kissing her back, his one finger resting beneath her chin and his other hand still tugging her closer despite there being no space between them any longer. When she pulled away, he gave her an innocent look, peering at her with curious eyes, “One more?”

She huffed but kissed him again, each kiss met with another “one more” from Connor until she shook her head, laying back against the pillows. 

“Fine just say you don’t love me then.”

“Connie, I’ve kissed you like 15 times in the past two minutes.”

“Sue me for wanting to kiss my girlfriend.”

“Go to sleep.”

And he would, but not without kissing her again. 

꒰ CHICAGO BLACKHAWKS TAGLIST ꒱

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @petite-potato4 @absolutelyhugh3s @dyslecticdutchman @this-ass-is-eikonic @winterbarnesblog @fantillisgirl @macklin-celebrini-71 @lukesvangelista

CB98 MASTERLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST

TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION

[saiyanprincessswanie]

The Ultimate Risk - Part 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 4500

Series Summary: Reader is a full-time college student at 30 years old who is starting over in life. When she loses her full-time job as a waitress, CEO James “Bucky” Barnes steps in with a proposition. Can he sell you on a way to help you by offering a Sugar Daddy relationship? In time who will get feelings first? Can a Sugar Daddy relationship really work out?

Series Warnings: Sugar Daddy au, Reader is 30 & Bucky is in his 40s, trust issues, angst, eventually falling in love, smut, oral (m & f).

The Ultimate Risk Masterlist

A/N: @avengers-assemble-bingo for James Buchanan Barnes - 108th Birthday Bingo

Square: Sugar Daddy (card #4B 024)

A/N 2: Thanks to my beta readers @gremlin-girly & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog Thank you to @nekoannie-chan for reading this. Thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for my amazing moodboard.

Please Read, Reblog, & Comment. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site or run through AI. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen.

The alarm went off way too early for your liking and you instantly hit the snooze button on your phone. You roll over with a grumble and fall back asleep instantly. Ten minutes later your alarm goes off again and you curse at the loud alarm. You grabbed your phone, turned off the alarm, and placed your phone on the bed. Your eyes finally open and you’re hissing at the sunlight that is streaming through the curtains.

You let out a groan knowing your long day has just begun. You stay in bed for another ten minutes before you climb out and shuffle to the bathroom to get ready for your day. 

After showering and getting changed into comfy clothes you grab your laptop. Logging onto the college’s website you start working on your homework for the classes you have today. You would have done it sooner but you worked a late shift again last night. 

You wish you could complain but you really needed the money to keep a roof over your head.The apartment was quaint; one bedroom and one bathroom. It had a small kitchen that was open to the living room. It may not be much but it was yours to rent.

A part of you wished you could win the lottery to help get you caught up on bills. That way your money wasn’t going mostly towards rent. You sigh, thinking how long it’s been since you had a vacation. What you needed was a miracle but those don’t happen for you.

An hour passed and you had completed your school work. The next two hours pass and you get two online classes done. By the time you knew it it was noon and you had two hours to get to work. 

You changed from your comfy clothes to work ones. You grabbed something to eat for lunch so you had food in your stomach. Placing the plate in the sink you go put your shoes on. Grabbing your purse, phone, and keys you head out the door, locking it behind you, and head to work.

At the sidewalk sits your 2010 Toyota Corolla. It’s not much to look at but it gets you from point a to b. Unfortunately, the check engine light is on and you have no idea how much longer your car will last. Maybe one day you will get a better car. 

It’s a fifteen-minute drive to work and you huff getting out of the car. Your boss likes you at work an hour before your shift so he can go over the special guests who will be attending tonight. It’s an upscale restaurant that you work for but one you would never visit due to funds.

The group of staff members stand in the back as your manager speaks.

“Tonight is Friday night and we have a list of “A” list customers coming in. I need you all on your “A” game tonight. Remember our goal is to keep the customers happy.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes with his last sentence. Your boss believed the customer came first and foremost. Which you believed in, because, depending on who they are some of these customers tip well.

He spoke a little more about business and an hour later he ended the meeting. You thank the heavens above that he was finished. Taking a breath you get ready for your shift. 

At first, it was the usual slow afternoon crowd. You enjoyed the slow time but were anxious for the real crowd to roll in. The crowd filters in around five in the afternoon and you were busy working tables. Taking orders and bringing food out was stressful at times but you smiled through it all. Thankfully nothing was dropped.

At seven in the evening, you were informed that James “Bucky” Barnes had requested to sit in your section with his friends. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. The man was the CEO of a company in the heart of New York. He was well-mannered, benevolent, charming, and easy on the eyes. To say he was your favorite was an understatement. 

Taking a deep breath in and out you head to a table in the back of the restaurant. Bucky likes his privacy, so this is where he would sit when he came here every week. 

Approaching the table you see Bucky and two other men. When Bucky’s eyes look up from the menu he offers his million-dollar smile. His blue eyes gaze into yours for a minute before he greets you.

Smiling at him first then the other two, you ask for their drinks for the night. They give you their alcoholic drink of choice and you are off to grab their drinks. After a few minutes you return to the table and give each man their drink. 

Bucky introduces you to his friends Steve and Sam. You shake their hands and smile at each one. 

Sam blurts out, “You were right Buck. She is beautiful.”

You look from Sam to Bucky and see Bucky blush. Was he talking about you to his friends? Why would he, you’re just a waitress. You were nothing special.

Bucky looks at Sam with a dirty look. “Shut up.”

Bucky glances back at you and apologizes for his friend's behavior. Changing the subject, he quickly orders his food followed by the two men. You smile at Bucky before you head to the back to put their order in. As you leave you hear the men mumbling to one another. Hopefully, whatever’s going on doesn’t involve you. The last thing you want to be is a butt of a joke to the one customer you enjoy. 

You continued to serve other customers in between grabbing Bucky’s table more drinks and eventually their food. The night seemed to be going well until your ex-fiance showed up with a couple of his friends. The greeter was leading them into your section as you cussed under your breath. The night just took a step in the wrong direction. You huffed a little before plastering a smile on your face and heading to your ex’s table.

“Good Evening gentleman my name is…”

John Walker interrupts you before you can say another word. “Yeah, darling, we know who you are. Why don’t you grab us some beers and be quick about it.”

“Sure thing,” you bite out.

You headed to the bar and grabbed the beer they liked. Taking your time you bring the beer to the table and place them on the table.

“Oh darling, why do you look so glum? Wait, don't answer that 'cause I don’t care.” John sneers. Making his friends laugh before you take his order.

As you turn to leave John grabs your arm. “Oh, don’t forget to keep the beers coming. Gotta work for that tip.”

At that moment Bucky turned his head to the right and saw John’s hand around your arm. Before he could get up to say anything, the man let you go and you quickly headed to the back/kitchen. You put in his order and then stepped into the hallway that led to the bathrooms to take a few breaths. You knew John was going to make your life hell and there was no doubt he would tip garbage. While you were trying to calm down Bucky stepped into the hallway with a sad smile.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you okay? It’s just I saw that man put his hand on you before you walked out of the dining area.”

Embarrassed, you covered your face briefly with your hands. “I can’t believe you saw that.”

Bucky gave you a small smile. “Hey, it’s okay. Do you know him or is he just a handsy customer that needs to be spoken to?”

You looked at Bucky and gave him an awkward smile. “He’s my ex-fiance, John Walker. He left me 6 months ago and ghosted me. He didn’t even give me a reason why he left. Gosh, I shouldn’t be sharing this with you, you're a regular customer here James.”

“Please call me Bucky. No need to be formal, sweetheart.”

“Bucky. Well, I should get back in there to do my job. Don’t need the manager mad at me for being back here.” You start to walk away and you look over your shoulder to see Bucky staring at you while smiling. 

You get back in the dining room area and see John flag you down. Again, you huff but head over to the table.

“Where the hell were you? I told you to keep the beer flowing. Now be an obedient waitress and go get us more!”

Everyone in the restaurant turned around to look at you and John. People were whispering amongst themselves as you headed to the bar to grab more drinks for the table. Tears started to form in your eyes at the embarrassment that John was causing. He was trying to cause a scene and so far he’s been successful at it. You took a deep breath and headed back to the table where you switched the empty cups for the new ones. Walking away before he could say a word you turned your attention to Bucky’s table. You see they are almost done eating and ask, “Do you gentlemen need any boxes to go?”

Bucky puts his fork down. “I’m good. Steve and Sam, do you need one?” Both men shake their heads saying ‘no thanks.’ Bucky flashes his smile at you. “How about another round for us when you get the chance? No rush, sweetheart.”

You smile back at Bucky and head to the bar area.

After you leave the dining area Bucky hears who he now knows is John talking about you. He doesn’t like the sound of the conversation or how vulgar it’s about you. His hand is making a fist on the table and both his friends can see the vein in his neck twitch from the anger that is building. Bucky doesn’t want to cause a scene but this man and his friends are being obnoxious at this point. The other diners listen in as John talks loudly about you. Bucky looks Steve and Sam in the eyes before he stands up to go to John’s table.

Bucky walks over to the men at the table and smirks. “Good evening, gentlemen. I just wanted to come over here and say the whole restaurant can hear your disgusting conversation about the nice waitress who is serving you. How about you drink your beer in peace and leave her alone.”

John stands up and is nose-to-nose with Bucky. “How about you mind your fucking business and go back to your table?”

“Or what…?” Bucky cocks his head to the side and stares him down.

John turns a shade of red and starts to poke Bucky in the chest. “Or else I take your sorry ass outside and shut you up.”

Bucky laughs out loud. “I honestly would love to see that.” 

You come back from the bar with drinks in hand and see the men causing a scene. You spot Bucky and the other men, who are now all standing, and place their drinks on an empty table. You walk quickly over to the men and try to separate them.

“John, Bucky, this is a restaurant. Whatever has been said just let it go or I’m going to ask that you leave.” Bucky takes a few steps back and keeps staring the man down. 

John’s blue eyes are cold as he looks at you. “Why don’t you shut up and leave the men to the conversation?”

“John, I'm asking nicely for you to stop or else I will have you removed from this establishment. No excuses, sit down or leave.”

John swiftly grabbed his beer and started to chuckle. “Women. They just don’t know how to listen.” Walker turns to you and spills his glass of beer over your head causing you to shriek.

That was all Bucky needed to see before he punched John in the face, causing him to fall backward. The two other men jumped out of their seats and before they could swing at Bucky, Steve and Sam punched each man. Patrons were screaming over the fight and other waiters and waitresses were trying to calm them down. Within seconds the manager rushed into the room and started shouting at all six men who were going at it. The manager made his way into the middle of the pack and he was yelling he was going to call the cops. That made the men separate real quick. 

“Pay your bills and leave this establishment!” The manager yelled at them. Your manager looked at you covered in beer and made a disgusted face. “And you are fired. I want you out of here now.”

“Wait, please I didn’t do anything.” You started to panic but your boss pointed toward the exit. 

“They were your customers and clearly you know them. Guilty by association in my book.” 

Your tears finally fell down your face as you were screwed with no job and the rent was due next week. “Please, sir, I’m begging you…”

John starts to mimic you as he tosses down bills on the table. “Please, sir, what? He doesn’t want you around anymore like I don’t. You’re a pathetic piece of trash who whines too much.”

Bucky was about to punch John again when Steve and Sam started to walk him back to their table to pay. As each table was paying their tabs you walked into the back to get your purse and leave. You walked through the hallway and glanced over to the men who were now leaving. 

Great.

You hurried along and headed to your car. John left with his friends and they laughed about what happened.

“Hey, sweetheart, wait up!” Bucky called after you. 

There would be no seeing him ever again after what just happened. You wiped at your tears as Bucky reached you. You looked up at him with teary eyes. “Sorry Bucky I really should be going.”

“I know but first I wanted to give you your tip in person.” He hands you two hundred dollars. “I know it’s not much but I want you to take my business card with you. I have a possible opening if you’re interested in it. We can talk tomorrow over lunch if you want. See if it’s right for you or not.”

You held his money and business card in your hand. With bills due in a week what would the harm be? You knew he was a kind-hearted and generous man. “Yeah, that sounds fine. Which number do I call on here?”

“Oh right.” Bucky chuckles. He takes the card from you and writes his cell number on the back of the card. “Here, now you can text me when you are ready tomorrow.” He hands you back the card.

“Thank you, Bucky for the money and card. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You turn back around and walk to your car. Getting in you turn it on and slowly drive away. In your rearview mirror, Bucky is standing there watching you drive out of sight.

He is hopeful that you will be interested in taking the job. He’s watched you for months and knows the kind, caring woman you are. Bucky walks to his expensive car, gets in, and drives home.

Fifteen minutes later when you arrive at your apartment you strip out of your clothes so you can shower. Under the warm water, you think back to how John was acting. This was his normal behavior so you were glad he left you when he did. The guy was a total jerk. As you continue to wash your mind shifts to Bucky. The man was charming and the best part was he stood up for you. No one has ever done that before. You wonder what kind of job offer he has for you as you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel.

You dry yourself off and hang your towels up. You change into a pair of sleep shorts and a T-shirt before you collapse on your back on the bed. What kind of job would a CEO have open for you? You were now unemployed and a full-time college student. Would the job be able to be flexible so you could continue your studies? First things first, you need to talk with him about it before worrying.

The next morning after your shower and morning routine you texted Bucky.

You: Hey Bucky, I was wondering when was a good time to meet with you today?

Bucky: Hi sweetheart I’m so happy you texted me. My noon is wide open so let's meet for lunch. I’ll have a driver come by your place and pick you up. Just text me your address and everything will be covered. 

Thinking about being picked up made you a little nervous. What if the job interview didn’t go well? He would then know where you lived. On the other hand, you were still tired from not being able to sleep that much last night due to being fired. Of course, this could also be a test to see if you trusted him. You texted him your address and hoped to god he wasn’t some psycho.

Bucky: Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.

Well, now that you got that over with, you take your time getting ready. Since this felt like an interview you dressed yourself in a black pencil skirt that was just above the knee with a small slit in the side. Next, you pulled on a cute light blue blouse and you finished off the look with a pair of black heels. It wasn’t an expensive outfit but it will hopefully do for this meet-up. Your hair and makeup were perfect; striking the balance between natural and formal for your interview with CEO Bucky Barnes. You gave yourself a glance in the mirror one more time before you grabbed your purse, phone, and keys and headed for the front door. 

You headed down the stairs and opened the front door. Sure enough, there was a black SUV parked at the curb waiting for you. A man got out of the driver's seat and walked around the vehicle to where you stood. He nodded to you and opened the back door. Taking a breath, you climbed into the back and waited as the driver climbed back inside. He pulled away from the curb and off you went to wherever Bucky had planned your lunch. It was a fifteen-minute drive from your place when the driver pulled in front of a fancy restaurant. There was no way you could afford to eat here but as you were pondering your choices, the man opened the door and helped you out. 

Great, now you had to head inside to this beautiful restaurant in your clothes that would not fit into this type of place. Clutching your purse you walk inside to the restaurant. Light classical music echoed around you as you made your way up to the hostess with a nervous smile on your face. She looked you up and down, sneering at you. 

“Can I help you?” She asked with faux-politeness, staring you down with cold eyes.

Feeling embarrassed to be there you took a step back. “Sorry, I must be at the wrong place.” You turn around to walk away and bump into Bucky.

He looks down at you and smiles. “There you are, sweetheart. I was wondering if you made it. I’m so glad you are here.” Bucky lightly wraps his arm around your back and makes his way to the hostess.

This time she is all smiles when Bucky stands before her. “Mr. Barnes, what an honor to see you today. Would you like your regular booth?” The woman looks at you, seeing his arm around your back and you can tell she is biting her tongue.

“Yes please, a table for two today,” Bucky states as the hostess leads the both of you to a booth in the far back. 

Bucky waits for you to take a seat and he soon follows. You are both handed a menu and you start to glance through it. Seeing the exorbitant prices on the menu made your stomach instantly twist and turn. Biting your bottom lip Bucky can see the wheels turning in your pretty head.

“Don’t worry about the prices. Today is my treat as I asked you to meet me here.” He gives you a warm smile and makes you feel more at ease. 

“Are you sure? I mean I don’t want you to feel like you have to pay or anything.”

“Sweetheart, I promise you have nothing to worry about today. Let’s just eat and talk.”

You nod your head. “Okay.”

Bucky’s blue eyes wander on your outfit for a moment and he smiles. “You look beautiful.”

“I don’t know about that. The hostess didn’t seem to like my outfit.” Your hands fidget as you look down at yourself. 

Bucky reaches across the table and puts his hand on yours. “Well, she’s wrong. I’m telling you that you’re beautiful and as long as you feel it too that should be enough.”

You give him a shy smile. “Thanks, Bucky.”

The waiter comes over to take your order and to pour some wine that Bucky requested. Taking a sip of it made your taste buds explode in your mouth as you have never had wine like that before. The taste had you moan lightly and quickly you realized how silly you were acting. But Bucky was just staring at you with a smirk on his face.

Your lunch arrived a few moments later and you both made small talk as you ate. He talked about his day at work and how he had a few charity events coming up. You talked about schoolwork and working towards your dream career.

After you both were done eating Bucky smiled before he cleared his throat. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you here and not at my place of work to talk about a job I’m offering.”

“Yes, I’m very curious. What is it, a secretary job? I’m not sure how many words I can type per minute but I’m good at typing up reports for college.”

“No, it’s not like that, please let me explain. In my job I don’t have time to go out and meet women. I’m a very busy man with my job. Right now, I’m looking for some companionship to keep me company at work events, charities, and sometimes my travels.” Bucky was the epitome of confidence and giving you a reassuring smile as he spoke. “Someone who will be my shining light during these exhausting times. Someone kind, smart, funny and beautiful. In return, I would take care of that person financially. They would want for nothing.” 

“So why not get an escort? I mean that’s what they’re there for. Why even have this conversation with me? I’m an unemployed college student. Why even come to me with this?” You didn’t know how to feel about this conversation you were having with Bucky. 

Bucky leaned forward and smiled. “First I don’t want an escort. Second, you meet all the qualities I’m looking for in a companionship or, in layman's terms, a sugar daddy relationship.” Bucky paused for any reaction before continuing. “We already know each other, which is a plus. I enjoy being around you. So why not?”

You stared at him, speechless. Not knowing what to make of this sugar-daddy relationship. What the hell is that? Is this the kind of job you want? What would people think?

“When you say you would take care of someone financially what does that mean?” Curiosity was getting the better of you.

“I would take care of your rent and all your monthly bills. That includes your tuition as well. I would give you a monthly allowance so should you need anything you have money to do it. I would also bring you clothes shopping to update your wardrobe. You will need dresses to attend events with me. You will want for nothing and all I’m asking in return is your companionship.”

You pondered what he just said. “All of that just for a sugar daddy relationship? What about sex?”

“Do you want sex to be involved?” Bucky asked, his eyes never strayed from yours.

“No, I mean is it required?” Now you thought you sounded like a fool but you needed to know if you were going to be a whore to him or not.

“I’m not seeking that but if down the road you want to we can talk about it then. I’m just looking for friendship and a companion. Nothing more.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “When do you need to know? Like, can I think about this?” 

Your nerves were getting the better of you. Because of John, your trust issues had blown through the roof. This sounded too good to be true.

Bucky smirks at you. “Take all the time you need. But in the meantime let me help you with your rent and bills that are due next week. No strings attached I promise.”

You were going to be short on money next week so you nodded your head in agreement. “Okay, thank you Bucky. Give me a couple of days and I will reach out to you through text.”

The waiter came over with the bill and sure enough, Bucky paid for the entire meal. You just watched him as he stood and held a hand out for you. After getting out of the booth Bucky once again walked with his hand on your back until you reached outside. The same SUV from earlier pulled into the curb in front of you. Bucky opened the door for you and kissed your cheek gently.

“Whatever you decide I will be fine with. Now, go focus on your school work and I’ll head back to the office.”

“Okay, Bucky. Thank you for lunch. I had a great time.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

You climbed back into the SUV and gave Bucky a small wave as it peeled away from the curb, leaving him smiling after you. Again, you drove in silence and after the short drive, you finally reached your apartment. Once inside you changed into leggings and a T-shirt and flopped onto your bed.

You knew for sure you liked Bucky and thought he was handsome. You also knew what kind of man he was; kind, caring, protective, and smart just to name a few. This was going to be a big decision to make and you’re gonna need all the time to make it.

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[withclawandvine]

yes, there are more than enough barbarian!bakugou drabbles on this website. no, i do not care !! have another!!!

your father already has his heir and a spare, and therefore, has no real use for you. at least, until an advisor reminded him of the mournful tunes the bards have been singing since you came of age — a tragic face, they claimed. men have waged wars for less sweet a temptation.

soon after the announcement of your eligibility is made, the dining hall bloats with suitors and their emissaries, boasting and bargaining over their chances with wine-sour breath night after night, waiting for your father to make his decision. 

behind closed doors, members of his cabinet pitch the merits of this prince or that noble scion. there is talk of naval dominance and deep treasuries. but from where you listen — with your ear pressed to the door of a forgotten servant’s corridor at the back of the council chamber — nobody mentions that one of them is old enough to be your grandfather, or that one young king has already been widowed twice, under suspicious circumstances.

the contest was your idea, presented during a quiet meal with your father, in such a manner that made him believe it was his plan all along. of course these men should prove themselves. how else can he know which kingdom reared the strongest warrior? which ally would prove the wisest or most cunning? 

as your father expected, there are many challengers. and as time goes on, it becomes less about the honor of your hand than the glory of victory. consequently, the tasks become more and more improbable: piercing steel armor with delicate arrows made of blown glass, navigating rapids with neither sails nor oars, hunting down the fabled great horned beast of the northern mountains. 

as you hoped, months pass without a champion.

but the men chasing honor and acclaim bring riches and secrets, feeding your father’s treasury and arming his spies. you can almost taste the freedom of again being unuseful to him, sweet as the honeyed pear speared on your fork.

the fork falls from your hand when the massive doors to the great hall swing open and an imposing shadow comes into view. backlit by the setting sun, it is impossible to discern its features — beyond its size and the massive horns, curved and sharp as twin sickles. 

the stranger’s approach is slow and measured, and as he gets closer, the shadow becomes more corporeal. turns into a man. although, the ochre glow behind him makes him appear almost as a god. nobody in the hall dares to breathe.

only when he stops at the dias can you make out garnet eyes of a barbarian, peering at you through holes gouged in the pelt cloaking his entire form. he’s wearing the face of a beast you had never truly believed existed like a hood.

wordlessly, he closes a fist around the skin draped over his shoulder, whisking it off and tossing it unceremoniously at your feet. the horns hitting the stone floors crack like thunder, echoing off the cavernous ceiling.

he wears necklaces strung with teeth, but no armor. his bare chest should make him seem vulnerable. instead, it puts every scar and whirl of ink denoting his battlefield victories and royal blood on display.

you have no idea how word of the contests made it all the way into the formidable northern mountains, or why it would entice a chieftain’s son to try at winning your hand.

all you know is that he just did.

[adventuringblind]

The Thrill of It (1.8K Words)

LandOscar x Reader

Genre: Street Racer AU, Smut

Summary: Sometimes the boys come back from races a little riled up, it doesn't help tonight that they get a bit possessive when someone lays a hand on what's theirs.

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, public sex, exhibitionist Lando, Sub reader, Dom Oscar, Oral, face-fucking, Hair pulling (?), minor degradation, Oscar being stressed after because AFTERCARE IS IMPORTANT OKAY

Notes: I'm back! Did you miss me? I think this is the most lewd smut I've ever done... But reminder that comments and filling my inbox with nice things motivates me to write!!

Side Note: MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!! ADULT CONTENT AHEAD!!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The lights amongst the crowd flitted about in shades of neon. The people are rowdy tonight on the sides of the street. All of them handing off their cash to each other to bet on which driver they think will win. 

It’s a dangerous game with no medic on scene. She supposes that’s the thrill of it. Knowing there may be no return once they put their foot on the pedal.

Lando and Oscar are practically swimming in the cash now. While she isn’t in the spotlight, they certainly are. These are their streets. They know Woking like the back of their hands now. 

Lando says he drives by feeling where Oscar has a map of the turns memorized. It speaks volumes about their character.  

You’d think these idiots would stop betting so much on other drivers. She’s been here enough times to know they never learn. Always lured into a false sense of hope. She doesn’t mind it, simply finds it funny. 

She finds herself entranced by the sounds of the engines, the people chanting their names. She sees other people oggle the two, hands becoming a bit more than friendly as the night progresses and alcohol is consumed.

A car pulls below her hiding spot. The second car driven, a truck she can sit in the bed of when things get overwhelming and the people too much. 

Those friendly hands tend to slip when they see a pretty stranger. Boundary lines are crossed. Another thing they should know by now: Oscar and Lando are the kings of these streets and it’s best not to mess with their queen. 

The bed of the truck shakes as they climb in with her. Their faces are half hidden in the dark. The other is illuminated by intermittent flashing lights. 

 Lando looks all too happy about the stunt he just pulled. A dangerous thing that could have killed him if not done right. The adrenaline has his pupils dilated. “Don’t think he’ll be coming back again. Gave him a run for his money… Liturgy!” 

“Literally-” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant - Literally!” 

She tilts her head back and laughs. Drunk off the atmosphere of the night and maybe the fumes of whatever people have been smoking all night. “Scared him off then?” 

“You know it baby!” Lando latches right onto her exposed neck with his teeth for all of two seconds before Oscar is dragging him off. It leaves them both whining. “Osc! I’m doing things!” 

“You’re doing our things.” The dehumanizing language should not have her this hot and bothered, in Woking, in October. She’s wearing a skirt with nothing aside from panties underneath and one of Oscar’s zip-ups with a tank top. Not the best choice of clothing all things considered, but she could care less. Not when it gives them easy access when they are all riled up like this.

Oscar drags her into his lap. The feeling of strong thighs underneath her in almost the right spot has her whimpering. “Didn’t realize you’re already so needy for us darling. Forgot how much seeing us drive turns you on.” 

She nearly cries when Oscar pulls her underwear to the side and slips a finger through her slit. “Look at this Lan! She’s a mess already!” Oscar’s free hand grips Lando by the collar and pulls him closer; nearly choking him out in the process. When his fingers are pulling obscene sounds from her, he brings them away. Up towards Lando’s mouth which unlatches to suck on them eagerly. 

The Brits eyes roll back as Oscar jams four fingers down the back of his throat just for the sake of it. “S’pose you’ve earned it tonight, Lan. You’re already a mess anyhow and I think you’ve been leaking since you got out of the car.” 

Lando mumbles something around Oscar’s fingers. It’s unintelligible - or she’s too lost in her haze to comprehend anything. Having slotted down on Oscar’s thigh to get some kind of friction. 

The sound of Lando’s belt buckle coming undone becomes louder than the engines. Then the wet sound of lips clashing together. The hand Oscar previously had in Lando’s mouth is now around his neck. 

The same story time and time again. Lando goes by feel where Oscar exudes superiority in how he has them memorized. 

She clocks the hand on her waist moving to the back of her head. Oscar switches to kiss her instead. The filthy kind - all tongue and teeth. It keeps her occupied long enough for Lando to shimmy his boxers just far enough down. 

“I knew you were leaking.” Lando makes a weak noise at that. Oscar’s words seem to have that effect on him. Both of them - really. “I bet you like showing off for all these people, huh? The possibility of us being caught like this. You get off on the thrill.”

The boys help her reposition her boy. Oscar gets two of his fingers in her, hovering just above Lando’s cock. Which - to Oscar’s credit - He’s not wrong. Lando is leaking like a faucet that has a consistent drip. It is mesmerizing and should be illegal. 

Oscar gets a third in her, dutifully stretching her open despite having to support her weight. Lando thrusts into the air out of impatience which earns a lovely smack to the side of his ass. “You should know better, Love, that all good things come with time.”

She feels empty for all of two seconds before her body is plunging down onto Lando’s cock. She can feel him twitching behind her - trying to remain still until given the go-ahead to move. His hands paw at the slope of her back and curve of her ass. 

In front of her, Oscar is undoing his own belt. She should’ve realized sooner how he had positioned them. How the truck bed is conveniently long enough to let Lando work out his residual energy by thrusting into her while Oscar makes use of her mouth. 

He’s always three moves ahead of them. 

She leans down, ready for him without him even having to ask. “Spit,” He commands. She does it without hesitation. 

Oscar makes use of the makeshift lube and gives himself a few strokes before motioning her forward. She unhinges her jaw and relaxes her throat and still - she gags. 

“See Lando, patience works wonders.” 

“Please Osc, please - I’m dying over here-” 

“Go ahead baby, you’ve earned it.” Oscar chuckles. 

They find a rhythm. When one is going in, the other is going out. She’s drooling all down the exposed skin Oscar is showing. 

“Best. Fucking. Reward. Ever~” Lando punctuates each word with a particularly hard thrust. The sounds are ridiculous and they are lucky that the sound of engines revving is drowning them out. If anyone is watching - well - they are certainly getting a show. 

Oscar’s voice cracks. “Fucking hell, you two look so good.” She concludes the walls of his resolve are starting to crumble. That the grip she has on his waist to ground herself is enough to make him snap and throw him over the edge. 

“You like the show, Osc.” 

“You could say that.” 

Lando likes to be seen and Oscar likes to watch. She likes everything in-between that. To be the object of their affections and an element of desire. Something they covet enough to lose themselves like this. 

Everything gets messier - if that was even possible. Oscar snaps his head back and grips the back of her head so he can hold her stead and fuck her throat. Lando grips her hips and sets an unrelenting pace. Each movement is sloppier than the last. Each moan is more pitched. 

She swallows. Her throat constricts enough for Oscar to growl from somewhere deep and sum without any warning. The tears are streaming down her face as she gags on the new and sudden change of consistency. 

He drags her off and gives her no time to recover. Simply lunging forward and nearly sending her crashing backwards onto Lando. His hand goes back to the Brits throat while his tongue goes so deep into her mouth that there is no way he can’t taste himself. 

Lando is a mess of high pitched whines. “Please - please I’m close-” 

She inhales desperately as Oscar unlatches from her mouth only to find the sensitive spot on her exposed collarbone. “Osc-” 

“I could keep you two like this forever. Desperate and whiny. Leaking with the thought of how good it would feel to cum.” They are both letting out desperate sounds. “I bet that guy from earlier would have stayed away then. So consumed by us that he could smell it on you.” 

“Yesyesyes - please-” She’s going to lose her mind. Lando might be closer than she is and yet he won’t slow down. There is nothing but this until Oscar tells them yes. Because it feels better waiting for it. 

And Lando will always go by feel.

“You’ve earned it Lando, fill our girl up yeah? Make her cry harder.” 

Oscar has to cover her mouth as everything goes white. Her ears are ringing - swimming in the sounds of their voices and nothing else. It’s white hot blissful nothing. No thoughts or anxieties, no worries about some guy making passes at her. 

Here she knows the two men who want nothing but to see her smile and cry for their cocks. Which is a stark contrast considering - but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Oscar recovers the quickest. Swiftly jumping out of the truck bed to grab their extra blanket and hoodies. “I can’t really clean you two up yet, but will this do for now?” He shifts his weight between feet. Normally more prepared, ready to meet the needs of physical pains and emotional needs that come with the aftermath. 

They both nod and excitedly wait for him to climb back up. “That… was amazing,” she laughs. Her voice broken and hoarse from her throat being used. 

Oscar winces. “I need to get you some water.” 

“Osc-”

“Yeah.” 

“Relax! It felt good! It was great and we’re okay.” Lando gestures to the two who can barely move. Bodies still twitching from the overwhelming sensations. “Now we shall bask in the glory that is the ridiculous amount of cash we made tonight!”

“What are you gonna spend it on?” 

“You, of course!” Oscar leans her into his side as Lando throws an arm around her shoulders for good measure. 

Cars begin to drive past. Leaving for the night either to wherever they are staying or another race. They wave off some of the familiar faces and flip off the annoying ones. Yeah - she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ja3yun]

The Sun that Always Burns | S.JY

chapter 2: it falls apart

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), protected sex, oral (f.rec), fingering, petnames (baby, princess), slight exhibitionism, the end of this chapter hurts (sorry), angst/fluff, not really proofread, anything else please lmk! w.c: 17.4k synopsis: high school is ending, jaeyun has your future all planned out, but when life throws you a curveball and you make a rash decision to protect you and jaeyun...it falls apart a/n: hi! chapter 2 is here <33 a massive thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback with chapter one, it means so much to me. this chapter is a little sore if you love ynjake but it i also preparing you for much worse so!! enjoy!

chapter 1 | masterlist | chapter 3

As the end of high school loomed over you like sleep paralysis, you found yourself in a nightmarish swamp of college brochures, scrolling through endless websites in search of something - literally anything - that might ignite a spark of interest. That was the big problem, though. You weren’t passionate about anything that could translate into a career. Your teen brain only sought after one end goal and that was Jaeyun. He was all you could think about; the only future you’re certain of.

Jaeyun, on the other hand, has always known what he wants. Apollo College in Busan. It has been his dream for as long as he can remember. He spoke about it even way back when you two were mearley best friends. He was born to study mathematical physics, his mind a labyrinth of theories and equations you could barely wrap your head around - which isn’t saying much, you barely know your times tables. 

But, yet, you listen to him go on about it over and over again because you loved nothing more than the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about quantum mechanics, the way his enthusiasm turned the most mundane concepts into something alive. Even though physics itself bored you to tears, listening to him talk about it made it feel like poetry. 

Sometimes, you even make him read out the study material to you just so you actually consume some knowledge. His accent mixed with his drive to help you actually did positively impact your grades even if only slightly.

You, however, had nothing of passion like that. No grand ambitions, no clear direction. And Jaeyun, despite being your greatest love, was not exactly a viable career option. As much as you’d love to be his full-time trophy wife, reality wasn’t so forgiving. 

“What about Apollo, though?” Jaeyun asked, his eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls through yet another website on your bedroom floor. “They offer some ND-level courses. You could do one of those.”

You scoff, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at him from your bed. “Baby, be serious. I am not applying to a college for geniuses.”

Jaeyun catches the paper with ease, smirking as he sets his phone aside, full undivided attention on you. He gets up slowly, moving to sit next to you on your flower-patterned bedding. “You could totally pull it off. Imagine it - my girl, a woman in STEM.” He gives you a slow once-over, his smirk deepening. “It’s kinda hot, actually. Very hot.”

Rolling your eyes, you snatch his glasses off his face and slide them onto your own. Peering at him over the rims, you let your voice dip into something sultry. “Oh? Like this?”

Something dark flickers in his gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you don’t miss the way his jaw tenses, nostrils flaring slightly in arousal. He’s never outright admitted it, but you know he has a thing for you in glasses. You’re not above teasing him about it either. Times when you want him to focus on you rather than his work, you’ll put on a pair of his specs, biting your lip and cradle his lap between your thighs. It’s a sure win tactic.

Now, if only you put as much effort into school and your future as you did seducing your boyfriend into bed.- you could make it to Harvard with top honors.

“My girl looks good all the time,” he murmurs, shifting closer, “but you in STEM? That’s marriage material, baby. I’ll wife you up right now.”

Heat creeps up your neck, his eyes eating you whole as he tries to trap you between him and the bed, ready to fuck a ‘yes’ out of you and get your acceptance to apply for a University you know you don’t stand a chance in. 

So instead of giving in, you finally gain your bones back, prying your eyes away from his love-drunk gaze. You place a finger against his forehead and push him back before he can close the distance. 

“Jaeyun, this is serious.” 

Jaeyun groans dramatically, flopping onto his back and staring blankly at the ceiling, his cock sighing at your rejection. “I am serious. You need a college and - okay, if not Apollo - Busan has loads. One of them has to have something you like. Something you can apply for so we can be close.”

You bite your lip, fingers drumming against the laptop keyboard. “What if I don’t find anything? What if I get stuck here, living with my parents forever, only seeing you once a month or something?”

That gets his attention. 

He sits up straighter, his expression sobering in an instant. “Y/N, if you can’t find something here, I’ll look somewhere else. My grades are good enough to get in anywhere.” It’s a subtle brag but you know he’s right. 

But that doesn’t mean he can just give up his dream school that he has spent countless nights dreaming and studying to get in to. You refuse to watch him throw it all away for you. It’s a ridiculous notion, one you can’t sit and watch him contemplate for more than a second.

“No,” you say immediately, shaking your head. “I am not letting you give up your dream school because I’m too thick to get into a single college.”

“But you’re my dream, Y/N. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you, you know that.” His serious expression makes you a little uncomfortable. “I’ll get an apprenticeship or just a job if there isn’t a course for me.”

There is something about hearing him say he’ll throw his aspirations out the window for you that hurts your heart and you don't know why. It’s romantic, most girls would kill for a boy so understanding. But that’s not how you see it.

“Jaeyun don’t say that,” discarding your laptop and shuffling towards him, hoping the closer you are, the further deep your words will reach him, convince him. “I didn’t watch you need an IV drip from studying so hard just for you to not go.”

Something unreadable flickers across his face before he exhales, dropping his gaze. “I might not even get in, y’know.”

Immediately, your hands come up to cradle his face. “Baby, you’re a shoe-in. You’re the smartest person I know.” 

You always wondered why your boyfriend has such a hard time believing in his own abilities. He knows he’s smart, and he knows that colleges are falling at his feet to get his brains and athleticism on their roster. But something about when Jaeyun truly wants something, like this college, like you, he just lacks the self belief that he is even good enough for it. 

You run your thumbs over his cheekbones, watching as he leans into your touch. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I do. You’re born to do amazing things, and one of them is attend Apollo.” 

His lips curl into a small, sad smile, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists. “You always say stuff like that.”

“Because it’s true,” you whisper. 

He holds your gaze for a long moment studying you, like he’s signing a final document in his mind. A declaration of some sorts. He looks a little nervous, haunted by the prospect of something that he won’t say. 

“Baby?” You nudge him. “What’s wrong?”

Jaeyun hesitates before speaking, kissing your palms slowly before letting go. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll go anywhere you go. I don’t care where. I just - I can’t do long-distance. I know what happens in long-distance relationships.” His fingers curl into the blanket beneath him, hurting at even the prospect of this reality. “At first, we’ll talk all the time. Then life gets in the way, and suddenly we’re only FaceTiming once a week. Then it’s just texting because that’s easier, and before we know it, we barely talk at all. And then you’ll meet someone else - someone less clingy, more attractive, someone who can actually be there. And we’ll break up.”

His voice is thick as he barely manages to push out the final words. 

Your heart aches to see him like this, so doubtful. “Jaeyun,” you murmur, waiting until he meets your eyes. His are glossy, filled with a fear he doesn’t want to voice but can’t hide. “I’m not going anywhere. I will find a school in Busan. I will be right beside you for as long as you’ll have me. And we will never break up. Okay?”

Deep down you feel his concerns too. Of course you do. Long distance isn’t for the faint hearted; there’s more chance to misinterpret words and texts, less chance to keep the bonded knot sturdy between you. And with him saying all this, talking about how long distance wouldn’t work for you both, it make you start to really question the what ifs. 

But right now you have to convince Jaeyun that everything will be fine, all while trying to convince yourself in the process. Doubts that weren’t on your mind now are, but you push them down as far as you can - stamping on them like you’re trying to fit one more piece of trash in the can.

Jaeyun searches your face for any sign of hesitation, but he finds none. Slowly, he nods.

A breath of relief escapes you, and you lean in, pressing a faint kiss to his lips. “I love you, you idiot. Nothing will break us apart, okay?”

Jaeyun chuckles against your mouth, kissing you again, lingering this time. “I love you too.”

When you pull away, you shoot him a teasing grin. “Now come on, use that big sexy brain of yours to help me get into college.”

Jaeyun’s laughter fills the room, and just like that, the weight in his chest lightens. You spend the rest of the night filling out applications, finding comfort in the promise that, no matter what, you will find a way to stay together.

________

Rejection. Rejection. Rejection.

You open the next email, already bracing yourself. Another rejection - your seventh, to be exact. 

With a sigh, you lock your phone and rub at your temples. Time is slipping through your fingers. It has been two months since you sat in your bedroom, applying to a million and one colleges, and now, with just six weeks left, your options are very quickly dwindling. 

He’s moving to Busan. You’re supposed to be moving with him. But if nowhere accepts you…then what?

Your mind drifts back to the moment Jaeyun’s future was set in stone, the day he got his acceptance letter from Apollo.

There’s a frantic knock at the door, so insistent it makes your dad yank it open with a scowl. "Who the fuc—Oh, Jake. What’s the big rush?" he grumbles, irritation fading as he takes in Jaeyun’s breathless excitement.

"Is Y/N here? I need to see her," Jaeyun pants, his eyes already darting past your dad, ready to bolt up the stairs.

Your dad barely has time to nod before Jaeyun is kicking off his shoes and taking the steps two at a time.

"I think Jaeyun got into college," your dad remarks to your mum, who peeks around the corner, watching the whirlwind with a mixture of amusement and wonder.

In your room, you’re hunched over your desk, drowning in revision, completely unaware of the storm about to hit you. Your hair is a mess in a sloppy bun, your baggy sweatpants are the same ones you slept in, and Jaeyun’s old football jersey - the one he gave you after his first high school championship win - hangs loosely from your frame. You look like a typical stressed teenager.

When he reaches your doorway, he stops, his chest heaving, eyes drinking you in like he’s seeing you for the first time. "Beautiful…" he murmurs under his breath.

You look up, blinking at him in confusion. "Jaeyun? What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you later."

He strides over, thrusting an envelope towards you, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation, mouth too dry to speak. You take it cautiously, eyes flicking to his face before unfolding the letter.

"Dear Mr. Sim," you read aloud, heart pounding. "We have received an overwhelming number of applications for the Mathematical Physics BSc Honours programme. However, we are delighted to offer you a place-"

Your breath catches. The words blur as they register in your mind.

"Jaeyun," you whisper. "You got in?"

He nods, disbelief still written across his face despite the confirmation in black and white. A squeal erupts from your throat before you can stop it, and in the next moment, you launch yourself at him. He catches you with ease, arms locking tightly around your waist as he spins you slightly, laughter bubbling from his lips.

Joy and pride flood the room, washing away the quiet rejection that has lived here for too long. At least once, this space gets to witness a letter that doesn’t end in an apology.

"This is amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you!" The words spill from you, breathless but nonetheless filled with exhilaration. You pull back just enough to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over the warmth of his cheeks. "You fucking did it."

His grin is blinding, eyes crinkled with elation. In this moment, Jaeyun is the picture of someone whose dreams are finally within reach. And God, you love him. You’re proud of him. But deep down, in a place you don’t dare voice, you envy him.

That memory snaps like a rubber band in your mind as you force yourself back to reality. You mutter a quiet, ‘fuck’ stuffing your phone into your pocket before heading to class, the weight of failure dragging behind you. 

Nowhere wants you. Not Busan, not Yangsan-Si, not even Gimhae.

You picked courses regarding subjects you enjoy in school, or rather, got decent enough grades in to hopefully scrape a pity acceptance. But it wasn’t enough. You aren’t enough.

Only two options remain.

One is a short twenty-minute commute from Jaeyun’s future campus. The other? Four hours away, tucked on the outskirts of Pyeongchang. You never mentioned that one to him. You didn’t really think you needed to. It was your ‘just in case’ choice - the one you assumed you’d never have to consider.

Now, it remains as possibly one of your only options.

Your feet feel heavier as you step into class, suddenly feeling the weight of having to tell your boyfriend that one of the only colleges you have left as a viable future is in fact going to induce his worst fear - long distance.

Jaeyun’s face lights up the second he spots you cross the threshold, waving you over with that easy, boyish grin of his. His chair is turned away from his desk as he chats with Jay and Heeseung, completely at ease.

"Baby, come here!" he calls out to you, unbothered by the eyes that shift toward him with his echoing accent. Jaeyun has never been quiet about his affection for you. The class, especially the girls, hate it, but he doesn’t care - could not give a single fuck.

You smile fondly at his gesture, letting the warmth of his presence chase away your spiraling thoughts as best as they can. He has a way of taking everything dark and making them disappear. 

As you move to sit beside Jay, Jaeyun tugs you onto his lap instead, his arms looping around your waist effortlessly, snuggling you into him like a puzzle piece. Jaeyun presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder in response, his smile smug, utterly unashamed. 

"You guys are disgusting." Jay, Jaeyun’s friend, groans, pretending to vomit.

"It’s a good thing you two are going to college together," Heeseung teases, leaning back in his chair as he pats Jaeyun’s arm. "I think my man here might actually die if he’s away from you for more than three minutes."

That sinking feeling starts to rise again, quick and overwhelming.

"Yeah, he wouldn’t last a day long distance," Jay adds, nudging Jaeyun’s knee.

The words dig under your skin, settling like lead in your stomach.

There is one more chance.

Feigning nonchalance, you slip from Jaeyun’s grasp, prying his hands from your waist. "As much as I love being the source of your collective disgust," you joke lightly, "I need to pee before class starts."

Jaeyun pouts slightly, his hand hovering at yours in a weak attempt to hold you captive, but lets you go, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you escape. “Don’t take too long, baby.”

Plastering on a fake smile, you nudge your nose with his as a promise before walking out briskly, weaving through the throngs of students in the hallway until you reach the bathroom. The second you’re alone, you exhale sharply, pressing your hands against the sink, gripping tight at the edges as you try to find some balance in this chaotic mess. 

The doubt creeps in again, insidious and unwelcome.

It’s not that you don’t believe long distance can work. It’s that you know it won’t work for him. He said it himself, he can’t do it. He can’t imagine you not by his side, to hold you every morning, to kiss and cuddle you when he’s stressed or just needing to feel you. He is willing to give up everything to be with you.

A familiar ping echoes through the empty bathroom. Your fingers scramble to unlock your phone, heart hammering as you read the notification.

Mail: Offer Update – Kyungsung University.

Your pulse thunders. This is it. Your last chance. Last chance to make this right and start your life with him in Busan.

With a deep breath and shaky heart, you open the email.

Rejection.

Your breath catches. The world tilts.

There are no more chances.

Shit.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at you is unrecognisable - eyes red, lips trembling, the weight of disappointment heavy in her gaze. A choked sob escapes your throat before you can stop it.

You’re going to lose him.

Jaeyun’s voice echoes in your mind. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you.

He meant it. He would give it all up. But the thought of letting him do that? Of being the reason he threw away his dreams? That’s a burden too heavy to bear.

Another ping comes from your phone and you squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the tears that blur your vision. 

Mail: Offer Update: Avanti College

Dear Miss L/N,

We have received your application. After much consideration, we would be delighted to offer you a place at Avanti College for the study of Film and Media. As you may be aware, our school terms begin earlier than others. We will send you by post appropriate packages for you to start in July. For now, we have attached a link to our module selection system. Please choose your classes as soon as possible, as spaces are filling quickly.

We look forward to welcoming you next month.

Yours sincerely,Mr Suh Kyung MinHead of Recruitment. 

You read it once. Then again. Then a third time.

Your vision sharpens, the crushing weight in your chest momentarily lifting. You got in.

Somewhere wants you.

A sharp, disbelieving laugh escapes your lips as you clutch the phone tighter. Against all odds, someone out there believes you're good enough. You have a future. The rejection after rejection, the sinking dread, the hopelessness - it’s all gone in an instant, replaced by the undeniable proof staring back at you.

But then that spark of joy fades as the rain of your situation comes pouring down. It’s four hours away from Busan. Four hours away from the love of your life. It would oddly be easier to accept that you just weren’t meant to go to college at all, but to know that your future is here in this email makes you wonder if it’s a sign.

A sign that Jaeyun is meant to flourish without you, or vice verca. 

So what do you do?

Tell Jaeyun the truth - that you didn’t get into any of the colleges near him. That the only offer you received is one that will take you miles away. But you already know what he’ll do. He’ll throw everything away for you without hesitation. He’ll give up his dream university, his future, everything, just to stay by your side.

Or.

Don’t tell him. Accept the offer, pack your bags, and disappear. Leave behind your friends, your family - everyone who might cave and tell Jaeyun where you’ve gone. If you vanish without a word, he’ll have no choice but to continue on the path he worked so hard for.

The second option feels right - a little drastic. But right. There is no way you are going to be the one to leave Jaeyun’s future desolate, you couldn’t offer him a future better than the one he had already set out for himself. 

So you just won’t tell him. Disappear forever and delude yourself that he’ll move on easily.

Does his happiness and future mean more to you than your own? Absolutely. And for him to propel the way you know he can, you need to let him follow his path, even if that means sacrificing your own joy.

Looking back in the mirror, your reflection is hollow. Distant. The girl staring back at you is already grieving something she hasn’t even lost yet. 

Now, you have another choice; make this the best few weeks with Jaeyun, or slowly break away to make the situation easier on you both. Deep down you knew even if you tried to distance yourself, he would find a way to see you. He would move heaven and earth to get into your heart and eventually rip the truth from the chest you’re keeping locked away in there.

So, you can only do one thing - give your undivided attention to him just as you have all these years. Give him all the love you have, enough to fill the rest of his years with.

You have roughly five weeks. Five weeks before you’re away to live a completely new life. You’ll have to remind yourself why you’re doing this, why you’re hurting yourself by leaving your only love. 

But it’s for him. All of it. 

_______

Two weeks have passed and two weeks remain until you leave for Pyeongchang, and you’ve mastered the art of concealing your hurt. Jaeyun keeps asking if you’ve heard back from colleges, his curiosity growing sharper each time, but you just shrug and steer the conversation elsewhere. He’s getting suspicious, his gaze lingering a little too long when you deflect, but you reassure him with the same excuse - there’s still time. Most of your applications were for clearance spots, and they tend to respond last minute. 

He buys it. For now.

With exams over and school finally behind you, the only logical way for your entire year to celebrate is a party - a big one; one that could rival any American movie you’ve seen. Now that all of you can legally drink, there’s no limit to how much alcohol will be passed around - tequila, Sourz, Sambuca, Jager, all of the above is being checked in. And because the chances of seeing any of these people again are practically nonexistent, you want to let loose. 

No, you need to. 

For weeks, worry and dread have gnawed at you, and tonight, you crave the kind of recklessness that will drown it all out. You want to get fucked up in the most unpolitest way possible. That does run the risk of blurting out your secret to Jaeyun, however, you plan to pass the blabbermouth stage of drunk and go right to blottered.

Ryujin and Yeji are on their way to pick you and Jaeyun up from his house. Yeji, having lost a brutal game of rock, paper, scissors, is stuck as the designated driver and won’t shut up about how unfair it is. Meanwhile, Jaeyun is already dressed, effortlessly stunning in a blue double-denim outfit layered over a white graphic tee. Silver chains glint against his chest, hanging from his black D&G belt, and the rings you’ve felt on your throat more times than you can count adorn his fingers. A pearl necklace - Heeseung’s gift - rests against his collarbones, catching the light as he scrolls through his phone. His hair, styled the way he likes it, is perfectly parted, his forehead on display.

Jaeyun is the most gorgeous boy you have ever seen, and somehow, you find something new to admire about him every single day.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you catch sight of his reflection and pause, noticing the subtle change in his frame. You see him every day but something about the way his clothes are sitting on him places your view on him differently. He’s broader, taller, more…handsome. Some of his teenage features lost from the long nights of studying and passing time.

“Have you been going to the gym?” you ask, adjusting your earrings, your tone casual but your curiosity piqued.

He shrugs with his eyes still glued to his screen as he scrolls mindlessly. “Dunno. Must be all the extra lifting at work. Shit’s heavy, y’know?”

Don’t you know it. You work in a shitty convenience store too, and you know how heavy boxes can be. But you aren’t exactly walking around like Beth Pheonix.

Jaeyun still sits there, attention averted to some weird TikTok video that only he could get on his fyp. You huff, watching him intently, waiting - willing - him to notice the effort you put into your appearance. The white two-piece you bought for tonight leaves little to the imagination, hugging you in all the right places. You feel powerful, sexy. But he doesn’t even glance up.

Dragging your tongue over your teeth, you step behind him, your hands gliding over his shoulders, fingers pressing gently into his muscles. “You have gotten bigger,” you purr, letting your touch linger.

Jaeyun hums in response, still distracted, and that simply won’t do. If he won’t pay attention on his own, you’ll make him.

With slow, calculated movements, you step around to his front, one knee pressing onto the chair as you straddle his lap. His body tenses as you come closer into proximity, but his eyes remain trained on his phone. Not for long. You settle your weight against him, tilting your head as you wait for him to look at you.

And then he does.

His mouth parts slightly, eyes dragging over your moisturised body, darkening with each passing second. The phone is forgotten, locked and tossed aside without a second thought.

“Fuck, baby.”

You smirk vitoriously, lips curving as you bite down on the corner of your lip. “Do I look good?” Your fingers skim up his chest, curling around his neck as you shift your hips, pressing against him just enough to tease.

Jaeyun’s hands find your waist instinctively, gripping you tight. His voice is lower, rougher when he speaks. “Shit, Princess, you look ethereal.” His fingers flex against your exposed skin to make sure you’re really there. “Do we have to go? I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest but is cut off as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a lingering kiss. His thumbs brush over the fabric of your outfit, possessive, debating whether to peel it off or let you wear it just so he can show you off. He’ll be the envy of everyone in that house, he knows that for sure.

“Yes,” you breathe against his lips, pulling back just enough to see the frustration flicker across his face. “I wanna get drunk and dance.” You slide off his lap, tugging at his hand. “And you get to tell everyone that this” - you gesture to yourself, “is all yours.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes, but the smirk playing at his lips betrays him. “Baby, don’t tempt me. I’ll go into that party and put on a show so they know who you belong to.”

A quiet moan slips past your lips when his hands beging to kneed your ass, fingers pulsing enough to bruise. His brow quirks at your reaction to his words. “Oh? Do you like that idea?” His grip tightens. “Should I just bend you over in the middle of the party and fu-”

Your hand flies over his mouth, cutting him off as you dissolve into laughter. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Jaeyun just grins, shrugging as he pulls your hand from his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm before intertwining your fingers with his. “We should head downstairs and say goodbye to my parents.”

He turns to leave, but you yank him back, stealing another kiss. It’s deep, slow, filled with a desperation you can’t name. You love having him here, so accessible, so tangible. 

Jaeyun groans against your lips, tasting the familiar cherry lip oil that has lingered on his tongue for three years. His fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he can’t get enough.

And honestly, he doesn’t think he ever will.

“Jaeyun,” you murmur against his lips, but he only deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth so he can steal the words straight from your breath. His grip tightens around your waist, and you feel the way he presses closer, as if sheer proximity could fuse you together. “Baby, we need to go,” you try again, but your voice is weak, betraying how much you don’t really want to stop either.

“No,” he whines, lifting you effortlessly, his hands firm under your thighs as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. “If we don’t go then I won’t start swinging at guys for looking at you too long.” His voice is a low rasp between kisses, playful yet dark with promise. You throw your head back in laughter, his words of possessivness making you giddy, loved.

But Jaeyun sees an opportunity in your exposed throat. Quickly, his lips latch onto the delicate skin just above your freckle, the one spot he knows makes you quiver with need. The first kiss is featherlight, but then he sucks, a slow, deliberate pull that makes warmth pool low in your stomach. His teeth scrape against you before he soothes the bite with his tongue.

A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Jaeyun,” you warn, but your voice is breathy, and he knows it’s not real resistance.

He hums in satisfaction, his mouth not relenting, lavishing the same spot with nips and licks until heat prickles under your skin. When he finally pulls away, he inspects his work, and a smirk curls his lips.

“There.” He presses one final, chaste kiss to the fresh mark before looking at you with innocent eyes, as if he hadn’t just branded you in the middle of his bedroom. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

You scramble to the mirror, fingers brushing over the forming hickey - deep red and already threatening to turn purple. You sigh, caught between amusement and mild exasperation. “What are you? Thirteen?”

A low chuckle rumbles from behind you. “Just possessive,” he says so simply to his actions claiming to you like a territorial wolf. Then his voice drops into something quieter, something laced with an emotion that knots your stomach. Vulnerability. “Can’t have another Sunghoon situation, now can I?”

The mention of that birthday night makes your chest tighten. You never bring it up. You try to forget it ever happened. A stupid drunken mess that makes your stomach curdle if you give it more than a second thought. But Jaeyun never truly let it go.

His gaze softens as he looks at you though the mirror, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I can’t lose you. Not for anything.”

His words turn over like acid in your belly. You think about what’s coming in two weeks. About the choice you’ve already made. About how he’ll wake up one day, reach for you, and find nothing but an empty space.

You have to tell him.

But you can’t.

So you do the only thing you can - you plaster on a fake-ass smile, slip your arms around his neck, press a lingering kiss to his nose, and lie through your teeth “That won’t happen, babe.” 

A car honk from outside saves you from lingering too long in the moment, from staring too deep into his eyes and spilling your darkest secret. 

You hear Ryujin’s voice faintly through the window, impatient as ever and Jaeyun takes your hand, fingers lacing through yours like it’s second nature. Together, you rush downstairs, slipping into the night, into the reckless distraction of the party that awaits.

—

By the time you arrive, the place is already alive. Music pulses around the walls, bass vibrating under your feet. Crowds spill onto the lawn, half-drunk students laughing too loud, some already absolutely out of their face, others tucked away into dark corners with frisky hands wandering. The dim lights and shifting strobes give the illusion of being in some underground club rather than a house party.

A bit extreme but who are you to complain? You get a night of free alcohol and a few hours to forget everything plaguing your mind.

“Whose house is this?” you ask absently, eyes flicking over unfamiliar faces. 

“Kobayashi Daigo,” Yeji answers, turning toward you with an amused shake of her head. “He was in your class for, like, two years. You don’t remember?”

You blink. The name rings the faintest bell, but you have no memory of ever speaking to him. Which, honestly, isn’t surprising. You were never the type to branch out much beyond your friends. Beyond Jaeyun.

A warm breath ghosts against your ear as Jaeyun leans in. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you a drink.”

His voice is low, teasing. When his tone drops an octave like this, it makes you want to pounce on him instantly. But he doesn’t give you time to respond let alone star in your very own party-porno - his hands find your hips, guiding you through the sea of bodies toward the kitchen. His grip is tight, making sure you don’t slip away.

Ironic.

And maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s selfish to let him believe you’ll be here forever - but for now, you let yourself melt into his touch, let yourself pretend you’re not counting down the days until you disappear.

The kitchen is warm, hazy with the scent of alcohol and something faintly sweet. Amongst the scattered bottles and half-empty cups, your eyes land on a familiar pink liquid - the unmistakable blush of Tequila Rose. Your favourite drink in the entire world. Like fate, it sits on the counter waiting just for you. But just as your fingers curl around the neck of the bottle, another hand - larger, stronger - grips it, stopping you in place.

“Princess, you want a double?” Jaeyun’s voice is smooth, teasing as he tilts the bottle in his hand, already pouring his own. His eyes flick to yours, awaiting confirmation to the answer he already knows. 

You hum, pretending to consider it, before flashing him a knowing smile. “Double.”

Jaeyun grins, pouring the shot to the very brim of the tall glass. The pale pink liquid swirls under the kitchen lights as you lift it to your lips, never once breaking eye contact.

“Cheers,” you say softly.

“Cheers, baby girl.” He knocks his own shot back with ease, slamming the glass onto the worktop with a satisfied exhale ripping from his chest. You watch, mesmerised, as his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, the tendons in his neck flexing ever so slightly. His tongue darts out to catch the last lingering drop at the corner of his mouth, and suddenly, the room feels too warm, your own shot burning its way down with more intensity than you expected. It’s not usually this nippy - the milky shot normally a breeze.

“You’re so hot,” you say before you can think twice, the words tumbling from your lips unfiltered.

Jaeyun’s chest rumbles with laughter, his hand already reaching for the bottle again. “I will say the exact same thing about you.” He pours two more shots. “To us, to Busan, to forever.”

The words settle deep in your chest, too heavy for a moment meant to be light. You force a smile and clink your glass against his, swallowing the second shot. The burn is sharper now, the aftertaste bitter in a way it wasn’t before.

You’ll need at least fifteen more to forget that the man in front of you is the one you’re leaving.

—

Three hours later, and the world tilts just slightly.

You aren’t wasted - not yet - but you’re perched on that fragile edge where every movement feels like floating and every sound is cushioned by the pleasant buzz in your veins. The air is heavy with laughter, with the clinking of glasses and the bass of some pop song shaking the walls. Bodies move around you, some swaying, some stumbling, all drowning in the euphoria of the night.

Jaeyun presses in close, his warmth wrapping around you as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Baby, dance with me.”

A shiver snakes down your body as he licks along the shell of your ear before guiding you toward the makeshift dance floor - formerly a living room, now an unholy mess of spilled drinks and swaying bodies. The bass thrums beneath your feet, some pop song pulsing through the speakers, though you hardly register it. Not when Jaeyun presses himself against you, his body molding to yours like second nature.

You move together effortlessly, your hips rolling against him, back arching so that your arse is flush against his front. A moan nearly escapes when you feel him harden beneath you, the heat of it seeping through his jeans. One of your hands reaches back, fingers tangling in his hair as you let yourself get lost in the feeling.

But then something shifts.

Jaeyun’s body goes rigid, his hold on you tightening - not in desire, but in something else entirely.

Curious, you glance up at him, only to find his gaze locked elsewhere, sharp and unrelenting. Following his line of sight, your stomach twists.

Sunghoon.

He’s across the room, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, his dark eyes fixed on you. He’s not being obvious, but it’s clear enough for Jaeyun to notice, and that’s all it takes.

An uncomfy tension crackles in the air

It’s been over a year since that night - since Sunghoon made it clear he wanted you, since Jaeyun made it clear he wasn’t going to lose you. And while Sunghoon has been nothing but respectful since then, keeping his distance, Jaeyun never truly let it go. He never stopped seeing him as a threat. And now, even after all this time, Sunghoon’s gaze lingers too long, his expression unreadable.

Jaeyun’s tipsy instincts take over as his hand slides lower on your sides, the tips of his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“Jaeyun,” you warn, voice barely audible over the music. You know where this is going.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his fingers slip up the material covering the one place Sunghoon wants. That makes his blood boil. He bypasses your underwear with ease. The first brush of his fingertips against your clit has your breath catching in your throat.

“Jaeyun, there are too many people. Let’s just go some-” Your words die as he presses down, a slow, torturous circle. He doesn’t want to go somewhere private, he wants the dark haired boy across the room to see the way you crumble under your boyfriend’s touch.

Your body betrays you, melting against him as heat blooms low in your belly. The music fades into nothing, the chatter of the party a distant hum. It’s just his touch, his breath against your skin, the steady drag of his fingers as they dip lower to your entrance.

“I’m serious, Yunnie,” you manage to whisper, though it’s weak, barely a plea. “There are bedroom’s upstairs-”

He cuts you off again with a sharp press of his thumb, and your words dissolve into a soft, choked whimper. He knew exactly how to get you to see his way, and drunk you is a little less anxious about getting caught because this would not be happening if you weren’t six shots and three double vodka cranberries down.

Jaeyun smirks against your skin, his lips brushing over the mark he left on your neck earlier, tracing it lazily with his tongue. That fire you felt before leaving suddenly rises back to the hickey as it begs to be nipped and soothed. 

And he is giving it to you. His tongue over exaggeratedly flicks over the mark as he rolls his eyes back, thumb rubbing a bit more roughly on your clit. He isn’t touching you for your pleasure alone. He’s making a point. A very, very public one.

His eyes stay locked on Sunghoon’s bewildered ones. 

You don’t know that this isn’t the first time Jaeyun has asserted his dominance over the tall, slim boy. He usually does it subtly; a hot kiss, playing with your hair, or even pulling you into his side as you roam the hallways. Some instances were simply because he wanted too, others were because Sunghoon’s beady eyes were trailing on your figure.

But now he’s stamping the statement into Sunghoon’s mind forever. You are his and no one elses. 

Your knees nearly buckle when he pushes two fingers inside you, curling just right, hitting that spot that has you gripping onto his arms for support, nails digging into his veins as you gasp.

He chuckles lowly, his mouth grazing your ear. “You want me to stop, baby?” His tone is mocking, knowing full well you can’t answer, and even if you did, your answer would definitely not be yes. Not when his fingers are moving faster, his thumb rubbing you raw.

You toss your head back against his shoulder, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Jaeyun buries his face in your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your heated skin. You barely process anything beyond the rush of pleasure building, the coil tightening, your body completely at his mercy.

“Good girl,” he breathes, voice thick with satisfaction.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not with the entire party swirling around you, bodies just inches away. But no one notices. No one but Sunghoon, whose jaw is tight, eyes dark with a cocktail mix of envy, disgust, and defeat.

And Jaeyun sees it, eliciting a smirk smothered with satisfaction.

“Cum for me, princess,” he murmurs, fingers relentless as he works you over the edge. “Show them it’s me that makes you feel this good.”

His wrist flicks as he sets a steady rhythm that will have you leaking over his digits in a matter of seconds. The tip of his fingers massage your sweet spot, coaxing every atom in your body to let go, to give him everything. 

And just like that. the coil snaps.

Your orgasm crashes over you, and it takes everything in you not to moan like a desperate little thing in the middle of the party and alert everyone to you and your boyfriend’s exhibitionism. Your nails dig into Jaeyun’s arms harsh enough to leave dents as you ride out your high, body trembling against him as you clamp his hand with your thighs.

Across the room, Sunghoon coughs awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably before turning away, jaw tight, expression unreadable. 

Jaeyun, victorious, only chuckles behind your ear, pulling his fingers from you before turning you to face him.

“Good?” he asks, voice still tinged with amusement.

You let out a breathless laugh, still lightheaded from the intensity of it all. “Fantastic.”

His grin widens, something almost predatory glinting in his gaze. The without warning, he brings his hand up and slips his fingers into your mouth. You gasp, but your lips close around them instinctively. He watches you, utterly transfixed, as you lap your tongue over his digits, tasting yourself, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he pulls his fingers free.

Your heart pounds as you stare into his eyes, love and guilt journey through your heart - both long staying passengers.

The night is still young, the drinks still flowing, and the music still loud. 

This party was exactly what you needed.

________

Two days. That’s all the time you have left before you leave everything behind. The weight of it sits heavy in your chest, pressing down with every breath, an ache that refuses to leave you alone. It has all went in too quickly, this past month filled with so many memories that you will never ever forget.

It makes you wonder if you made the right choice by not breaking up with Jaeyun once you found out you wouldn’t be going to Busan. 

You try to push your thoughts aside as you doddle about the convenience store for your last shift. It’s a shitty job but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it in some strange, sentimental way. The regulars, your boss, the co-workers you spent mindless hours with. Even the tedious restocking and the beep of the register have become part of a routine you weren’t quite ready to let go of.

You won’t miss the bright blue uniform, though.

The memory of when you first got the job sneaks up on you, unbidden. You can still hear Jaeyun’s excitement, see the way his eyes lit up as if you’d just been appointed CEO of a million pound company. “My beautiful, hardworking girl. I can’t even begin to describe the pride in my heart,” he had gushed, lifting you up effortlessly, spinning you around in his arms before preppering kisses all over your face. That grin of his, so wide and earnest, the sheer adoration in his gaze - it still floods your senses now, making your stomach turn in happiness and grievance. He had even suggested celebratory sex, because of course he would. Any excuse to have you bouncing on his cock.

The thought is cut short when a pair of familiar arms snake around your waist, strong and certain, pulling you back against a firm chest. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. The warmth of his body, the way he fits against you so perfectly - it’s a feeling you know too well.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jaeyun murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck as he places featherlight kisses along the skin. His scent washes over you - citrus with a woody undertone, grounding and intoxicating. You sink into him for just a second before forcing yourself to stand firm. You can’t get lost in him now. Not with just over 48-hours left.

“Miss me?” he teases, his breath warm against your ear.

You sigh, but there’s no real exasperation in it, a playful annoyance almost. “Jaeyun, I’m working.”

Turning in his arms, you meet his gaze, and instantly, regret coils tight in your chest. He looks at you with so much love, so much trust, so much unguarded sincerity that it makes everything you’ve been doing - everything you’ve been hiding - feel like a slow, cruel betrayal.

He doesn’t deserve any of this.

Jaeyun smiles obliviously as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, then another, and another. Each one is soft and sweet, savouring the simple moment, like he never wants to stop. You can feel his grin against your mouth, the way he breathes you in.

“You get off soon,” he murmurs. “Just bail early.”

His lips trail down your jaw, pressing against the sensitive skin just below your ear. It’s so easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him and forget that you’re meant to be working.

“Baby,” you whine, pouting as you try to focus on stacking the cans on the shelf. “Let me finish.”

Jaeyun’s grip on your waist tightens slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “I can make you finish if you want.”

His voice is low, teasing, sinful. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and you swear you can feel the smirk forming on his lips. Your breath hitches, and Jaeyun chuckles, because he knows. He knows exactly what he does to you. He can hear your heart pounding, can feel the way your body tenses ever so slightly in response to his touch. And in his mind, that’s proof enough that you were made for him.

You shake your head, trying - and failing - to suppress a smile. “I will attend to your every need when my shift is over, but for the next twenty minutes, these cans of butter beans have my full attention.”

He groans dramatically. “Oh…butter beans. I love it when you talk dirty.” He snaps his teeth together, biting the air mischievously. 

You swat at his chest playfully, laughter spilling from your lips before you can stop it. You’ll miss this. God, you’ll miss this. Maybe you should just tell him. Maybe you should change your plans. You could find a job in Busan, surely. Stay here, with him. 

The thought lingers for a moment, dangerous and tempting, but you push it away, tucking it deep into the back of your mind. If you do that, you’ll be reliant on him, causing unnecessary stress and endangering his future. 

Instead, you reach up, wrapping your arms around Jaeyun’s neck, holding him close. “Sim Jaeyun, you are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” you say, shaking your head fondly.

Sunlight filters through the store windows, casting a soft glow on his face. His golden skin practically gleams in the light, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he beams down at you.

“You love me, though,” he says confidently.

You swallow, your chest tightening. “So much.” 

Too much.

Jaeyun grins like a lovesick puppy, dropping a quick kiss to your lips. “Good. Then hurry up and get this shift out of the way so I can have you all to myself.”

With that, he pecks you one last time before pulling away, leaving the store in a hurry. His movements are eager, excited. He has plans.

And you? You have no idea what’s coming.

___

Jaeyun taps his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel as he dials Heeseung’s number. The call connects after two rings.

“Yes, Jake, for the millionth time, everything is set up,” Heeseung sighs, exasperated but amused at his best friends constant calls for reassurance. “I followed your strict, to-the-point plan exactly as instructed.”

Jaeyun exhales, running a hand through his hair, a bit of relief swirling in his chest despite the nerves still sitting in his stomach. “Thanks, mate. I owe you one. And the r-”

“In the glove compartment. I told you, everything is sorted.”

Jaeyun checks quickly, flipping the compartment open. There it is - a small, neatly wrapped white box, tied with a pink satin ribbon, the edges dusted in silver glitter. He stares at it for a long moment, fear creeping in despite himself.

“She’s gonna love it,” Heeseung reassures him. “You know she loves anything if it has to do with you.”

Jaeyun’s throat tightens slightly, but he smiles. If there was one person who believes in this relationship almost as much as he does, it’s Heeseung. He has been here through everything - every late-night phone call where Jaeyun rambled about how perfect you were, every moment of insecurity, every little update about your favourite songs or perfumes. Jaeyun is obsessed, and Heeseung has certainly suffered the consequences of it.

“Jake, stop overthinking it,” Heeseung laughs. “You guys are meant to be. If this doesn’t work out, then I don’t believe in love.” His best friend isn’t lying either, he has never seen a couple so destined to be with one another, not even his parents who are sickeningly in love.

High school sweethearts come together and fall apart as they grow into new people, the pieces that used to meld with one another growing and shrinking too much to fit together anymore. But you and Jaeyun? Anyone can see - especially Heeseung - that your relationship is not a puzzle but the tree the cardboard is made from, each just developing branches to fill out your love rather than break it. In the winter nights when the leaves fall and darkness looms, you grow ringlets in the trunk of your love, never snapping under the wind.

That’s exactly how Heeseung sees you both. Destined. Molded. Forever.

Jaeyun chuckles, shaking his head. He doesn’t even entertain the possibility of not being with you. Of course, you’re meant to be. That’s not a question. It’s a fact.

A glimpse of you walking out of the store catches his attention. “Shit, she’s coming. Thanks again, mate.”

He shoves the box into the side pocket of the car door just as you open the passenger side, sliding in. You’ve changed into a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but to Jaeyun, you might as well be wearing a Vivienne Westwood dress with the way you look like the most beautiful person on earth.

“Hey,” he greets softly, his voice airy.

“I wish you would’ve told me we were doing something. I would’ve brought nicer clothes to change into,” you pout, suddenly feeling stifled in the simple mum jeans despite their comfort.

Jaeyun scoffs playfully, his eyes flicking toward you as he starts the car. “You say that like Aphrodite herself doesn’t worship the ground you walk on, even in jeans.”

Your stomach flips. He always had a way with words, a gift for making you feel like the most breathtaking thing to ever grace the earth - and to him you are. Beautiful and gorgeous were never enough for him - those words are too ordinary, too overused. Jaeyun needs something grander, something worthy of you. Even when words fail him, he still tries, determined to make you feel as exquisite as he saw you.

Still, you can only roll your eyes, cheeks warm in a rose blush as you buckle your seatbelt. He busies himself with the music, fingers expertly flicking through cassette tapes in the centre console. His car - an ancient black 1998 Honda Civic he bought for pennies from a distant uncle - came equipped with a cassette player instead of an aux, something Jaeyun delighted in. 

It gave him the perfect excuse to make mixtapes, just like in those early 2000s films. He even made one for your Christmas road trip, packed with songs that reminded him of you. Most of them were love songs, but one track - Hotel Room Service by Pitbull to be exact — had snuck in by accident, and he’d never figured out how to remove it. It became your song after that, something that made you both dissolve into laughter whenever it played yet still held sentimental value.

“I think I’ve created the best mixtape of all time,” Jaeyun boasts, wagging a cassette between his fingers before sliding it in. “You’re gonna love it.”

The first song hums through the speakers, the familiar melody of Love is All Around by Wetter filling the car.

Your heart clenches with joy. “My favourite song.”

Jaeyun’s lips curl into a triumphant smile as his hand finds yours, bringing it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “It’s slowly becoming my favourite, too.” His eyes linger on you, and the warmth in them nearly undoes you. “You know, they’re playing a show in Busan this autumn. If you want, I’ll grab us tickets since we’ll be up there anyway.”

Your breath catches. The sickness rising from your stomach, a tight, suffocating thing that robs the colour from your face. He’s already planning for the future, your supposed future where you live happily ever after. 

Tell him. Just tell him.

“Jaeyun, I-”

“I’ll get them next payday,” he cuts in easily, like it’s already decided. “They’ve had tickets available for ages, so I don’t think they’ll sell out in the next couple of weeks.” He squeezes your hand, focused on the road, thumb tracing soft circles into your skin.

You swallow the lump in your throat, force a smile, and thank him. Then, you turn to the window, staring out as the world blurs past. You mentally curse yourself, hating yourself for giving him another nugget of hope. All these tiny threads of future that he’s weaving into your lives are about to be cut loose, and that will only make it harder for him.

Jaeyun isn’t dumb though, he notices the shift in you - the way you clam up, the way your fingers twitch slightly in his grasp - but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. He knows you well enough to wait. 

The drive takes exactly thirty-two minutes, and for thirty-one of them, Jaeyun holds your hand, squeezing it intermittently. The other minute, he spends drinking water to ease the dryness in his throat, a nervous habit when he’s overthinking. He’s been rehearsing everything in his head, making sure every detail is perfect. You deserve perfection.

When the car finally rolls to a stop, he turns to you, smiling. “We’re here, princess.”

Lost in your mind, you unbuckle your seatbelt, not registering exactly where you are. As he steps out of the car, he swiftly rushes around and opens your door for you. One hand gestures grandly toward the grassy hill before you, the other extended to help you out.

“Right this way.”

You side-eye him as you step out, wary of the incline. “Making me walk after a six-hour shift should be illegal, you know that?”

Jaeyun beams, like he was waiting for you to say that, always predicting your next move. Although, there seems to be one he is oblivious too. “Ah, see, I knew you’d complain about that.” He turns his back to you, kneeling slightly. “That’s why I’m going to carry you.”

Your eyes widen. “You cannot be serious.”

He twists his head to look at you, scandalised. “Does my girlfriend not have faith in her very strong, very capable boyfriend?” He raises a brow, scoffing when he sees the doubt written all over your face. “Trust me. Get on and have some faith in your man, please.”

A genuine laugh escapes you as you see him puff out his chest. He’s impossible sometimes, but still, you oblige, climbing onto his back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his hands secure your thighs. He hoists you up with surprising ease, and you gape at him. “Have you been working out, be honest this time?”

Jaeyun grins, flexing one arm dramatically as he starts walking. “Babygirl, I’ve been packing these guns since birth. John Cena is jealous.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, giggling. “Oh yeah? That so?”

“Mmhm. He looks up reference pictures of me when he’s trying to achieve his goals. A bit of motivation for him.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as you giggle at his ridiculous notion. “Now, hold on tight. We’re heading to the top.”

“To the top!” you echo, laughing, as he takes the first step up the hill.

Surprisingly, Jaeyun reaches the top without stopping once, and although his breathing is heavier, his grip on you is unwavering. When he finally sets you down, his arms tense, veins pronounced from the strain of holding you up. They stand out boldly beneath his skin, and you can’t help but stare. God, they’re perfect.

It’s the one thing you’ve never been able to get over about your boyfriend. Those forearms have haunted one too many wet dreams of yours - and he knows it. 

At school, he’d make a habit of rolling up his sleeves when you shared a class, his smirk barely concealed as he caught you ogling him. He took pride in it, in the way you practically drooled. Before coming over to yours one night, he’d even spent time flexing, clenching and unclenching his fists to make sure his veins were as defined as possible. His efforts had paid off - the night had ended with you riding his fingers, nails digging into his forearms, desperate to feel them beneath your touch.

“Baby?” Jaeyun’s voice pulls you back to the present. He’s bent forward slightly, head tilted as he waves a hand in front of your face, his grin lopsided. “You in there?”

Blinking, you shake off the haze of memory. “Hmm?”

“I said - ta-da!” 

He hops on the balls of his feet, throwing his arms out as if presenting the grand finale of a magic trick, sort of like the Will Smith meme but less ridgid, more comical despite his obvious nerves.

Your gaze follows the sweep of his hands, and suddenly, your breath catches in your throat, pulse thumping as you get overwhelmed with the sight.

A pair of trees stands before you, their trunks wrapped - no, tangled - in strings of fairy lights, their golden glow casting a soft halo over the picnic laid out beneath them. A bouquet of flowers sits in the centre, spare petals scattered across the blanket like fallen stars. Two woven baskets accompany the arrangement, lids slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of the feast inside. A trail of rose petals leads up to the setup, their deep red hues stark against the grass.

For a moment, you can’t speak. How can you when you’re facing one of the most romantic settings you have ever witnessed.

Jaeyun shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual confidence wavering at your silence. “I know it’s cheesy and cliché,” he says with an axnious chuckle, “but I remember you reading about this in one of your books and saying you loved the idea of a midnight picnic.” He exhales through his nose, sheepish. “I know it’s not midnight, but-”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, your lips press against his, cutting off his rambling explanation, hoping that even a slither of your gratitude can be passed through the movement of your lips. Jaeyun exhales into the kiss, tension melting from his shoulders as his hands settle on your side. His relief is palpable. You like it. That’s all that matters.

When you finally pull away, he’s grinning, fingers lacing through yours. “Come on,” he murmurs, guiding you forward.

The rose petals crunch softly beneath your feet, but you barely notice. Your eyes remain fixed on him - on the way his dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, shorter than when you first met; on the way his side-parted bangs frame his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw. He’s grown into himself over the years, but he’s still your Jaeyun. Still the boy who whispers puppy love nothings in your ear any chance he gets. Still the boy who looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

He’s yours.

At least for now.

“I got you all your favourites,” Jaeyun continues, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in your chest. “Kimchi pancakes, tteokbokki, some chicken and spinach samosas-”

His voice fades into the background. Your heart is so full - but a filled heart means there is more to break. And yours is just about being demolished.

“I love you, Jaeyun.” The words escape before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered. It’s the only thing you can say at the moment, scared that if you attempt another word you’ll blubber.

Jaeyun has heard you say it a thousand times before, but something about this time feels different. The weight behind it is heavier, more deliberate. So beautifully raw but…sad.

His body stills for half a second before his hands slide to your hips, grounding you in place. His gaze flickers over your face, searching, but he doesn’t question it. Instead, he lets out a soft breath, voice steady.

“I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.”

His heart swells, so big he thinks it might rupture.

It’s incredible how two people can have a heart so full yet while his structure is solid, determined, yours is being chipped away at with each passing second of the ticking clock. This will end soon, and you can’t tell who will have a harder time building back the pieces. 

The kiss he gives you next has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. It’s slow but filled with a confession of its own. He kisses you like he’s memorising the way you taste, like he’s trying to etch this moment into his bones. It’s amatory yet pure, a love so deep it defies any logical explanation. It’s not something that can be theorised or dissected.

It’s yours. It’s his.

And in two days, you’re giving it up.

Jaeyun pulls you down onto the blanket, settling beside you as he begins unpacking the baskets. The scent of the food fills the air, and your stomach rumbles in response. Everything looks perfect.

Jaeyun watches the way your eyes light up at the sight of the spread, and he makes a mental note to thank Jay when he sees him next. “Here, take a bite, baby girl.” He lifts a piece of tteokbokki with his chopsticks, holding it out for you.

You oblige, opening wide and letting the flavours burst on your tongue. 

And that’s when you know he didn’t make this.

Jaeyun can barely cook a frozen lasagne without setting off the fire alarm, let alone pull off a meal like this.

Suddenly, laughter bubbles up from your chest, causing Jaeyun to cock his head in wonder. “What’s so funny?”

You wave a hand dismissively, memories flashing through your mind - It had been your 100-day anniversary, and he’d wanted to cook for you. It ended with Jaeyun, flailing a green and yellow dish towel under the fire alarm, a burnt pizza in the oven, and his dad standing nearby, arms crossed, delivering a very long-winded lecture on the importance of life skills. 

“It’s nothing,” you say, grinning. “I’m just happy.”

Jaeyun beams at that, your happiness of the upmost importance to him.

The rest of the evening unfolds in golden hues and easy laughter. The fairy lights flicker softly, casting a glow over everything, making the moment feel almost unreal. You pretend, just for a little while, that nothing is wrong. That there’s no expiration date on this love.

But while you’re pushing down your anxiety, Jaeyun’s is flared with each moment ticking by. He has been waiting for this moment for a long time.

As the last remnants of food disappear, his heartbeat grows louder, pounding against his ribs. He grips the edge of the blanket, trying to steady himself.

“Um, Y/N?” His voice is hesitant, uncertain. You immediately set down your plate, your full attention on him as you begin to notice the tiny shake in his hands.

“Yeah?”

Sweat beads along his forehead. He swallows thickly, his fingers flexing against the fabric beneath him.

Your stomach knots instantly at his apprehensive stature. Does he know? Is he about to tell you that he’s known your plan all along? That he’s doing all of this to convince you to stay? Is he giving up everything for you?

Or…is it simply too warm this evening?

“Hoo, okay, so-” Jaeyun exhales sharply, shifting his entire body to face you. His hands tremble as they clasp yours; they’re smaller, delicate in comparison, yet still manage to steady him in a way nothing else can. “I love you so much,” he begins, then falters, sucking in a breath. “And, uh, okay, um-”

He had rehearsed this moment a hundred times. Sat on Heeseung’s bedroom floor, the elder pretending to be you - going as far as threatening to put on a wig and eyeliner for authenticity and immersion.Heeseung takes his roles very seriously.

“I need to get into character!” Heeseung had proclaimed dramatically, sending Jaeyun into a fit of laughter, the boys barely making it through one runthrough.

Now, though, standing before you, his mind is blank. The words he’d carefully strung together dissolve the second he looks at you - obviously this was much easier with Heeseung and a bad lipstick job. 

No you are much more intimidating. The golden hour sun kisses your skin, turning you ethereal, unreal. He has no choice but to take another deep breath, shaking off the nerves, or attempting to at least..

“I love you,” he tries again, steadier this time. “I have ever since that first day at school.” His gaze drops to the sun necklace resting between you collarbones - the one he bought you for your birthday - before flicking back to your eyes. “You took the breath from my lungs, and honestly? Every time I look at you, I still forget how to breathe.”

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he continues.

“I don’t know if soulmates are real, or twin flames, or matches made in heaven…but, baby, you’re all of them to me, I know it. I curse the stars every night because people admire them for being beautiful, when you are the brightest thing in the universe. You’re my sun, my moon, all my stars.”

He inhales shakily, as if steadying himself, his hands running so cold that he feels pins and needles starting to tingle the tips of his fingers.

“You deserve all the admiration they get. And if I can spend the rest of my life looking at you, studying you, loving you like some devoted astronomer -  then I’ll know I’ve lived my life well.”

A beat. Two hearts, thundering against ribcages. The love between you, palpable, enough to heal nations - enough to ruin you.

Jaeyun reaches into his pocket, retrieving a small box. His fingers shake violently as he hands it to you. “I want you to know,” he murmurs, voice nearly cracking with emotion, “I’m so serious about us, Y/N.”

The weight of the box settles into your palm, and suddenly it feels like the entire world is sitting there, waiting to be opened. His words mixed with the unexpected gift saw at your heart, guilt overwhelming your bloodstream.

“Open it,” he huffs, exhaling like he’s spent months holding his breath.

You peel away the soft pink ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal two delicate silver rings rest side by side. Small, simple bands with a single heart at the centre - nothing extravagant, yet everything that matters. Beside them, two identical silver keys.

Jaeyun shifts, scooting closer, his fingers brushing against yours as he lifts one of the rings.

“Before you freak out—I’m not proposing,” he chuckles weakly, though his laugh barely makes it past his lips. His thumb smooths over the band as he stares at it, his mind lost somewhere between the past and the future.

“This is my promise to you,” he continues, voice quieter now. “That from now until forever, I am yours.”

He lifts your left hand, taking your pinky between his fingers before slowly, deliberately, sliding the ring on. “A pinky ring,” he murmurs gently, “until I can get you a real wedding ring.”

The tears welling in your eyes spill over, laughter bubbling from your lips despite yourself. You recognise the lyrics embedded in his words, his love language tucked between the sentiment. The ring fits perfectly. Of course, it does.

You don’t even have to ask to know - he saved up for these. Every penny from his part-time job, every late-night shift worked with you in mind. They are not designer rings. They are not diamond-encrusted. But they are everything. Because they are his. Because they are yours. And his devotion to you is priceless.

Jaeyun hesitates for a moment before picking up one of the keys, rolling it between his fingers. “This,” he says, his voice a tiny bit more confident now that you’re wearing the ring, “is the key to our flat in Busan.”

Your breath stutters.

“I know we should be living in dorms,” he continues, his eyes flickering between the key and your face, gauging your reaction. “But I struck a really good deal with the landlady—she’s sweet, she likes me. And I just-”  His voice dips as the truth sits on the edge of his tongue, being pushed forward by raw emotion. “I don’t think I could go a day in this life without seeing you. And if we live together, I won’t have to.”

He places the key in your open palm, his own curling over yours, holding it there with promise.

The tears streaking down your cheeks, once born of joy, are suddenly unbearable with sorrow.

He doesn’t know you’re leaving.

You have told yourself it’s for the best. That leaving now, cutting ties cleanly, would hurt less than watching him drift away piece by piece. That letting him go would save you both.

But staring at the key, at the boy in front of you…your resolve crumbles and your heart splinters.

Jaeyun shifts, sensing your hesitation. Panic flickers in his eyes. “Baby, if this is too fast, we can-”

You don’t let him finish.

Your lips crash against his, swallowing whatever reassurance he was about to offer. You don’t know what to do. You feel remorseful and devastated but his hopeful smile and readily beating heart are calling out to you to just melt into the moment. Even if it’s selfish, even if it’s cruel to lead him on like this, your heart yearns for him.

His breath stutters, but he melts into you instantly, fingers threading through your hair, each strand wrapping around his fingers like an anchoring rope. Your hands slide over his shoulders, gripping, grounding. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, familiar and safe.

Jaeyun doesn’t need words. This - your touch, your kiss, your hands clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world - this is enough to know you feel the same way he does.

But while his heart and mind are at ease, his body needs more.

Jaeyun scoops you up in one swift motion, carrying you down the hill and to his car, leaving the evidence of your love behind in the branches. He wonder if Heeseung’s help extends to a clean-up job.

“I need to make love to you so bad,” he grumbles, his voice thick with longing as his lips smooch at yours messily. “But not in this car.”

____ 

The drive to his house is a blur of desperate touches, your fingers trailing over his wrist, his palm resting on your thigh. He speeds recklessly, tunnel-visioned, the pinky ring on your hand glinting in the dim light.

You are his. He is yours.

By the time he parks, Jaeyun is already reaching for you, his hands making way to your hips as he all but pushes you up the stairs. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, he’s pressing you against it, his lips urgent, messy, needing.

“Princess,” he groans when your hand presses against his growing arousal. “You’re dangerous.”

You laugh - genuinely, fully. The last real laugh you’ll have for a long time.

Jaeyun doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on yanking his T-shirt over his head, the fabric slipping off in a single, fluid motion. His bare chest is in front of you now, the fading hickeys from last week still scattered over his skin.

He doesn’t waste another second.

Bending slightly, he grips your thighs, lifting you with ease. His lips find your jaw, your cheeks, your temple - whispering against your skin in a voice filled with reverence. “So beautiful. All mine.” 

Your heart aches. You wish you could tell him. But instead, you let him love you for one of the last times.

Jaeyun groans against your skin, his breath warm as he presses you onto the bed, his chest never leaving yours. His hands explore your body with deliberate intent, fingertips mapping out every inch of your exposed skin as though memorising it. A soft hum vibrates through him, an unspoken appreciation of the heat radiating from your body.

“I know, Princess,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, his voice thick with amusement. “But you’re gonna be a good girl and wait for me, yeah?” The smirk laced in his words only makes you ache more. 

You whimper, desperation evident in the way your body arches toward him, and he chuckles, his voice husky with satisfaction. With deft hands, he unbuttons your jeans, dragging both them and your underwear down in one fluid motion, leaving you bare beneath him.

His dark eyes devour the sight of you, hunger etched all over his features as his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your skin. “All mine,” he whispers, the words more reverent than possessive, a quiet declaration of something deeper than lust. His lips follow the path of his fingertips, pressing slow, lingering kisses up your inner thigh, his pace torturously unhurried. He thinks he has all the time in the world.

You’re drenched, your body trembling with need. He exhales sharply with an undercurrent of amusement peaking through. His fingers ghost over your slick folds, spreading them open for a better look. “So wet, baby. I don’t even think you need me to prep you.” The teasing lilt in his voice makes you whimper, and the featherlight press of his lips against your clit sends a jolt through your body.

“No, Yunie, please.” The nickname slips from your lips in your desperation, your voice breathless, utterly undone. You love his cock and the need to get fucked is actually unbearable, but honestly, you love how he plays with you. His laughter is warm against your skin, the vibration making your toes curl. He’s so close but so out of reach that it’s almost painful.

His hand tightens on your thigh, spreading you wider for him as he trails deliberate kisses across your core. The heat of his tongue dragging over you makes your breath stutter, and your hands fly to his hair, fingers weaving through the soft strands, tugging, pulling him closer. He groans at the sensation, the sound sending a fresh pulse of arousal through you.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N,” he coaxes, his voice low, husky, vibrating against you as his tongue continues its agonisingly slow exploration, like a tourist with weeks left of their holiday.

“F-fingers,” you gasp, shame abandoned in favour of pure desire. “I want your fingers.”

He hums in mock contemplation, dragging the pads of his fingers along your entrance. “These fingers?” The playful edge to his voice is maddening but before you can protest, he pushes two fingers inside you, slow but insistent. Your mouth falls open, head tilting back as pleasure washes over you. He watches you intently, his gaze dark and fixed on the way your body reacts to him.

Watching you wriggle and writhe gets him hard, his cock swelling with lust and pride. You’re so responsive to his touches that it’s addicting, it makes him want to just play with your pretty pussy forever. And honestly? If his cock wasn’t so greedy, he would.

As his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot, a shudder wracks through you. You grip his sheets as you arch, simultaneously trying to escape while seeking more. Your body erupts with excitement as it feels Jaeyun’s lips back on your cunt, making out with it gently, working in tandem with his fingers to coax an orgasm from you.

“You taste amazing, baby,” he compliments sincerely, lapping you up like a thirsty pup. “So fucking sweet.”

You’ve never believed him when he says that, but the way he groans into your pussy and slurps at you like you’re the last remnants of a Capri Sun, you’re inclined to believe him. You boyfriend worships you, adores everything about you and that includes your pretty slick.

Jaeyun’s biggest fear is drowning but if he was to be sucked under into an ocean of your essence, he will happily let his lungs fill with liquid. 

Groaning, Jaeyun huffs into your pussy, his fingers curling as if he’s calling you forward - or rather, you orgasm. The tip of his fingers scrape along the soft part of your walls and you squeal out, trying to run away, the sensation too much to handle.

“Shhh, baby,” he soothes, kissing softly to your clit, a tender gesture compared to the grip one of his hands has on you to keep you in place. “Was it too much?”

He peers up at you through his lashes and sees you nodding desperately, chest heaving and eyes rolling in a daze. He has you exactly where he wants you; on the brink. He just needs to push your buttons once more to get you soaking his features with your juices.

Picking up his pace, he laughs into your folds as he jackhammers it home and you thighs instantly clamp him into place. He’s in heaven. This is what being a saint gets people - not an eternity in paradise but the opportunity to suffocate between their lover’s legs.

“Gonna cum for me already, Princess? So soon?” His muffled voice drips with satisfaction, but he doesn’t relent. He adds another finger, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tongue flicking against your clit in perfect synchronisation with his thrusts.

Your walls tighten, your body teetering on the precipice. “Let go, angel,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. That’s all it takes - his fingers thrusting, his tongue teasing, the sheer dominance in his voice. Your orgasm crashes over you, a broken cry of his name spilling from your lips as pleasure floods through you.

He doesn’t stop until your body begins to tremble with overstimulation, his movements slowing, easing you through the aftershocks. You’re lost in the labyrinth of euphoria and you need him to help you out, to guide you back to reality as he gently pulls out his fingers. His mouth still showers your core with gentle kisses, though. 

He’s not so cruel to rip everything away from you just yet.

After a few moments of panting and gasping for oxygen, you push yourself up on your elbows, eyes locking onto him. His lips glisten with you, his expression dark and unreadable, pride evident in the way he studies you. The image sears itself into your memory, something to cling to when he’s not by your side.

“You’re so fucking hot when you cum like that,” he murmurs, kissing his way up your body, each press of his lips softer than the last. “Like I’m the only one who can do that to you.”

You let out a breathy laugh, fingers threading through his hair, pushing the damp strands from his face. “Jaeyun, you are the only one I’ve ever had sex with so yes, you are the only one who can do that to me.”

He chuckles, his forehead pressing to your stomach, but his next words make your heart clench. “And I’ll always be the only one. You’re mine forever, Y/N.”

The heaviness of his words sits uncomfortably on your chest. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

Before he can notice the shift in your expression, you push it down, forcing a sultry smirk. “Then fuck me. Show me exactly what you can do.”

His pupils darken and expand, melting into unrestrained desire. He reaches for the drawer, retrieving an ultra-thin condom, slipping it on with impatient ease. He won’t lie, he’s desperate to be engulfed by you, so in a flash, the head of his cock drags along your folds before pressing against your entrance, teasing. A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, need pooling low in your stomach.

“Say please, and I’ll think about it,” he taunts you, his voice smug, but you know he’s just as needy -  if not more.

“Please,” you whisper, “Please fuck me, Jaeyun.” The plea is barely past your lips before he captures them in a searing kiss, pushing into you with a deep, slow stroke, his hips rolling beautifully flush against you.

A ragged breath leaves him as he bottoms out, your walls squeezing around him in a way that makes his jaw slacken and eyes scrunch shut. His pace is slow at first, allowing you to adjust to him for at least a few minutes before restraint gives way to need. His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and his left hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, a silent tether that brings you even closer together.

His lips brush against your pinky, a soft kiss against the silver ring he gave you, a promise to always be yours embedded in the gesture. And before you know it, it’s all too much and you begin to cry feel the tears before you realise you’re crying. 

All your emotions come out at once due to his sweet actions because suddenly it’s too hard to bottle everything up. The love, the fear, the disappointment, the guilt, the anguish. It’s all flooding from your eyes as your heart bursts with ache.

Jaeyun notices how your chest begins to vibrate, and not in the gasping for air because he’s fucking you so good kind of way. No. It’s shaking through sobs and he immediately pauses his ministrations.

“Hey,” he kisses your tears, his voice laced with concern. “Princess, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try and rid yourself of the abundance of emotion. “No, baby,” your voice wobbles, raw and filled with everything you can’t say. “I just love you so much, that’s all.”

Jaeyun has his doubts for a second, your eyes glinting in sadness - it’s so fast he almost doesn’t catch it. But concern is washed away as you lean up to kiss him, soft and gentle. The love in your lips conveying enough to put his mind at ease. 

Drawing back and brushing the tears from your cheeks, Jaeyun smiles down at you. “You had me worried, sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you too. Till my last dying breath, okay?”

Your heart twists painfully, but his slow thrusts pull you back to the moment, grounding you in the way he moves, in the way he makes you feel.

And right now, that’s all that matters.

He groans against your ear, his pace growing rougher, more desperate now that he knows your okay. The heat between you is overwhelming, bodies moving in sync, chasing that inevitable bliss. His hand slips between you, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing tight, pressuered circles.

“You’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” His voice is thick, strained with pleasure. “I can feel it. Let me have it, baby.”

The pressure builds, overwhelming, the pleasure winding so tightly it feels like you might snap apart. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, his thrusts driving deeper, hitting all the right places. And then it happens again - the coil within you shatters, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your entire body trembling beneath him.

He groans loudly as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, your release pulling him over the edge with you. His thrusts turning erratic as his control frays and he follows you into bliss. His body stills, buried deep inside you, his breath coming in ragged pants against you, spilling into the condom.

For a moment, neither of you move, caught in the haze of each other. Then, with a shaky laugh, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. “Perfect,” he murmurs, still breathless. “You’re perfect.”

You curl into him, letting the warmth of his body envelop you, not one of you bothering to part just yet - enjoying the intimacy of just being connected to one another like this.

If only you could stay like this forever.

________

The morning sun spills through Jaeyun’s window, casting a dawning glow over the room. Your boyfriend’s body is draped over yours, the warmth of his bare skin pressed against you like a safety you know you can no longer allow yourself to have. His breath is slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest soothing as he sleeps peacefully, a contrast to how you are feeling right now. 

The silver ring on his pinky glints in the sunlight, catching your eye like a cruel reminder of what you are about to do. Why the fuck didn’t you tell him last night?

You now have one more day with him - one more chance to hold onto this love - but after last night, you know you can’t risk another second in his presence.

Every inch of you screams that this is a mistake. If you love him this much, surely you can make long distance work. But it’s just not that simple. You’ve already made your choice, and now you have to live with it. 

Jaeyun will be fine. Busan is full of beautiful girls - girls who are interesting, spectacular, and everything he will need in a partner. He won’t need you anymore. He will find someone else, someone who won’t run. 

Deep down, you know this will hurt him, but he’s strong. He’ll get over it.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slip out from under his arm as gently as possible, heart clenching in panic when he stirs - luckily for you doesn’t wake up. You keep your movements careful, as if the universe might give you more time if you just move slowly enough. Every glance at him - his tousled hair, his puffy lips that you love to kiss so much parted slightly in sleep - makes it harder to breathe. 

You are so stupid for this. Leaving him because you are terrified of losing him later on. It’s ridiculous and you’re being selfish.

I can’t do long distance. His voice echoes in your brain, pushing down your apprehensions regarding your next decision.

Your fingers tremble as you slide the ring off your pinky. Despite only having it for a few hours, it feels wrong that it’s gone. You hesitate, just for a second, before placing it on his dresser. The thought of leaving a note crosses your mind, but as Jaeyun shifts in his sleep, you realise there’s no time. You need to go before you lose your last bit of resolve.

Placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, you hold back tears. He looks so innocent and unaware…you can’t imagine what he’ll be like once he wakes up. You can’t be here for that. 

So you get dressed quickly, shuffling down his stairs and out the front door. You’re met with the sharp bite of the morning air. The sun is dulling and the wind carries an unforgiving chill that cuts through you. You already know it’s going to pour later. As if the universe is mourning your decision before you can.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, hands still shaking, scared that he’s noticed already. But surprisingly, it’s from Avanti.

Mail: From: Avanti College RE: Housing Enquiry.

Dear Y/N L/N,

I am responding to your inquiry regarding accommodation. The room is available as of today, however, there is no concierge available to give you your keys as there has been a slight altercation in housing arrangements. Your assigned roommate has been made aware of your occupancy and will let you in once you arrive. Your key should be ready for you next week. Sorry about the miscommunication as I know you are eager to get settled.

Kind Regards,Cho Min WooHead of Accommodation and Living.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. It’s done. You have somewhere to go. No turning back now. 

You start running. You need to grab your bag, book the bus, and go before your heart betrays you. No hesitation. No overthinking. Just leave.

Thankfully, you had packed days ago, anticipating that you might need to flee at a moment’s notice, feelings overwhelming causing you to overthink and overpack. But you can’t just disappear. If you vanish without a trace, your parents will panic, call the cops or do something drastic. But if you tell them where you’re going, they will for sure tell Jaeyun your whereabouts. The last thing you need is him chasing after you, sacrificing everything to run to you.

Once you’re home, you grab a notepad and scribble a rushed message to your parents. You don’t explain, don’t justify. Just the bare minimum: you need a fresh start in a new city. You need space, everything too overwhelming. It’s not much, but it’s enough for them to know you’ll be safe.

You sign your name with a shaking hand, placing hugs and kisses as if that will ease the blow.

This is it. No more seeing your room. No more home-cooked meals. No more Jaeyun.

You’ve fucked up so badly, but you have to see this through. You made your bed, now it’s time to lie in it.

___

The bus jam packed. You were lucky to get one of the last two seats on the coach bound for Pyeongchang. The hum of conversation surrounds you but you don’t earwig on any of it. Your hands won’t stop shaking as you stare at your phone, scrolling through the endless missed calls and messages.

Incoming Call: my love <3

You watch it ring until it stops. Then you scroll through the notifications.

Missed Call (67) my love <3Missed Call (34) dadMissed Call (23) mum

Your chest tightens as you finally open Jaeyun’s messages.

07:30am princess, where are you? 07:30am are you coming back to bed? xx 07:49am Y/N, i’m getting worried. 07:52am pick up your phone, baby. please talk to me. 07:52am if i pushed you too far yesterday, i’m sorry… 08:16am why are your parents saying you’ve left? 08:16am baby, don’t do this. 08:17 m what does your letter mean? ‘I need a fresh start from everyone and everything’?? 08:17am you aren’t leaving, right? you’re not leaving me, are you? 08:23am please, please, please.

The messages go on and on, each one more desperate than the last. Your vision blurs with tears as you scroll down. The latest ones, sent only minutes ago, send a shiver down your spine.

10:32 am i ill search every part of this country until i find you.10:32 am you can’t expect me to just forget about you. 

10:35 am: will you please answer your fucking phone!10:47 am Y/N…i can’t make you answer me, or love me, but please just know i love you and i’m sorry for whatever i did. i’m leaving for Busan in two weeks so you should come home then. you won’t hear from me again but don’t leave your parents like this, baby. they can’t lose you.10:48 am I can’t lose you either to be honest but if it’s what you want…I’ll go.

Another message appears just as the tears spill over onto your cheeks.

10:51 am i love you so fucking much, Y/N. i won’t ever stop. my heart is yours, always. until the sun stops burning.

A sob rips from your throat, loud and raw. The sound fills the bus, drawing the attention of every passenger. You slap a hand over your mouth, bowing in silent apology as the embarrassment burns hot in your chest. Then, without another thought, you block his number.

You will get a new phone when you reach Pyeongchang. A fresh start. No more attachments. No more looking back.

But as the bus pulls away from the station, leaving your past behind, you press your forehead against the window and let the tears fall.

Jaeyun will be fine.

Eventually, he will be fine.

You just have to keep telling yourself that.

_______

Jaeyun’s heart has not stopped breaking since you’ve left, the pieces crumbling in a silence so loud it nearly suffocates him. He believed, with every fibre of his being, that the future you painted together was real - that your love is something solid, something unbreakable. To learn that you have already planned a life without him, that you are gone without a word, tears through him like a blade. 

It fucking hurts - not just in his chest, but deep, right down to his bones. He can’t find the strength to confront it, can’t make sense of what’s happening. 

Had he misunderstood? Had he pushed you into a life you didn’t want? Had his love, his promises, meant nothing to you? He can’t reconcile the girl he has spent so many nights dreaming of a future with, the girl who smiled at him through late-night talks about forever, with the one who has left him behind without a trace.

When he pulls into the driveway of his home after spending hours searching for you, he sees Heeseung’s car is there, an unwelcome reminder that the world has unfortunately keeps moving while his has shattered. He doesn’t have the energy to face his friend, not now, not when every thought in his head is tangled up in confusion and heartbreak. 

He loves Heeseung, of course he does, but right now, he needs to be alone. He needs to think and process, try and make sense of the wreckage of the morning. But he trudges up the stairs regardless, ignoring his parents’ concerned questions, ‘Where have you been?’, ‘Are you okay?’. He doesn’t know anything other than the fact that he has a hole in his chest.

Pushing his bedroom door open, Heeseung’s voice meets him with a bitter cheerfulness - clear he hasn’t noticed the way Jaeyun’s eyes are still swollen from the tears. “Jake, my man! How did it go? You went radio silent last night, so I’m assuming that means things went well,” Heeseung wiggles his brows as he waits for the fairytale update from his best friend.

But that’s the last thing he’ll receive today. The fairytale quickly turned into a Brothers Grimm nightmare.

Jaeyun’s gaze is fixed on the floor, his head hung low to hide the evidence of his heartache - not that it does much good. His throat is tight, his words caught behind a wall of emotion he can’t seem to break through. This makes Heeseung perk to attention, finally seeing the distress.

“Jake?” Heeseung’s voice softens, concern lining it now. “You okay?”

Jaeyun can’t answer, his eyes fixated on the silver ring. The one that belongs to you. The one meant to seal your futures together. It sits on his bedside table taunting and bitter. A new wave of sadness floods him and he tilts his head back in an attempt to stifle the tears, but they come anyway, hot and relentless. 

The sight of it is too much and Jaeyun’s remaining composure cracks. The sobs are impossible to control now, and Heeseung, without hesitation, pulls him into a tight embrace, squeezing him tightly. He holds him as if he could absorb some of the hurt, but nothing will ease this ache.

“She…left,” Jaeyun manages to choke out, the words hardly forming in his mouth before the tears take over.

Heeseung freezes, a stunned silence hanging between them. His hands grip Jaeyun’s shoulders, pulling him back to look at him with disbelief. “What do you mean, she left?”

Jaeyun’s voice breaks, his chest heaving with each ragged, uncontrollable sobs. “She left everything. Me, us...her family…she left it all behind.”

The words seem to cut deeper than the pain itself. Heeseung’s face twists in confusion, his jaw tightening. This is not like you. You wouldn’t go anywhere without Jaeyun let alone leave him without even so much as a goodbye. She’s been kidnapped is Heeseung’s first thought but thats ludicrous. This isn’t a Liam Neeson film.

“Let me call her,” he offers, reaching for his phone, though he knows it’s futile.

“No use,” Jaeyun replies, his voice hollow, devoid of any emotion other than pure agony. “She won’t answer. It’s gone straight to voicemail. Not even her mum can reach her.”

With shaky hands, Jaeyun pulls the note you wrote for your parents from his jeans pocket, handing it to Heeseung in silence. As his friend reads it, Jaeyun turns towards the ring on the table, staring at it as though it were a foreign object. His fingers tremble as he picks it up, turning it over and over in his hands. Every promise he made to you - each word, each moment spent dreaming of a shared future - feels like a cruel joke now. 

The ring should have been reassurance. Hadn’t it been? 

Why would you fucking leave?

Heeseung’s voice breaks through his thoughts, sharp and angry. “What the fuck?” The elder is pacing now, holding the letter like it’s something foul. “What the fuck is she thinking?”

His quetsion is met with a shrug from the heartbroken boy.

“So she didn’t accept the ring and decided to just fuck off?”

Jaeyun shakes his head, the tears flowing freely now, blurring his vision. “She accepted it. Last night was perfect. It was this morning that she left.” He meets Heeseung’s gaze, a tear slipping down his cheek. “What did I do wrong, Hee?”

Nothing. Heeseung knows he did absolutely nothing wrong. He can see the pain in Jaeyun’s eyes, he can feel the weight of his friend’s heartache pressing in on him. It’s suffocating and clinging to every fibre of the room.

With a frustrated sigh, Heeseung pulls Jaeyun into another hug, holding him tighter this time, trying to ground him. Jaeyun has always been the one with the softer heart, and right now, that heart is breaking in a way that even Heeseung can’t fix.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jake. I don’t get what’s going on in her head, but you didn’t mess up. She’s just-”

But Jaeyun pushes back, his voice low and protective as he cuts his best friend off from saying something he’ll regret. “Don’t. Don’t talk about her like that. You don’t know her. She wouldn’t do this without a reason.”

“And what? She couldn’t tell you what the reason was and instead pussied out and left?” Heeseung is seeing red. “She should have told you she was leaving last night before she got your hopes up and accepted that ring, no? That’s fucked up.” 

Jaeyun knows somewhere in his heart that Heeseung is right, but his love for you is still as strong as ever and his instincts kick in to defend you. He pushes Heeseung away, his voice dangerously quiet. “Fuck you. You don’t get to speak about her like that. I might not understand it now, but I don’t doubt in my mind she did it for a reason she thought was valid. She wouldn’t have told me last night to protect my feelings.” 

Heeseung’s eyes flare with frustration, and for a moment, it seems like he might say something else. But instead, he scoffs, his words bitter. “Yeah? Well, how does it feel now? Do your feelings feel protected?” Silence. The whole house is still as he scoffs and sticks his tongue in his cheek, landing the final blow. “Think about that and tell me she did this out of love for you.” 

Jaeyun stands in stunned silence as Heeseung storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Jaeyun’s fists clench at his sides. How can Heeseung speak like that, when he doesn’t know the real reason behind your departure? Jaeyun is furious, but there’s something else - something even more painful. He’s envious of Heeseung’s anger. He wishes he could just let it all out like that, wishes he could scream and rage, but instead, he just lets the pain sit, lets it fester. He needs a few more days of this hurt, of this confusion, before he can face what’s coming.

And what’s coming…is a life without you in it.

taglist: @yzzyhee @dollyyun @sunpov @dreamy-carat

@ioveseong @katarinamae @viagumi @jakeswifez

@shuichi-sama @m1kkso @no1likeneo @pshfan0812

@fancypeacepersona @hoonieyun @jaepen @lovingvoidgoatee

@parksunghoonsgf @capri-cuntz @yvnempire @mei3425

@enhastolemyheart @ikeulove @riribelle @nshmrarki

@firstclassjaylee @ikeuwoniee @ang0308 @jaykesgirl @addictedtohobi

@jayeoniee @jakessrealwife @zyvlxqht

[endereies]

YOU'RE MY PRIZE - MS

No Nut November - Day 17

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ Matt brings you to the carnival and wins just for you

When Matt said he had a surprise for you, you weren’t expecting to get out the vehicle at the main entrance of a famous carnival. 

It was only set up a few times a year, and with the queues, it wasn’t always an ideal situation. Ever since moving in with Matt, you’ve blabbed every time it sets up a new spot. After all, it was famous. The rides they hosted weren’t your average roller coasters and took several days to set up. Of course it had the classic helter-skelter and teacups. It was only when you looked deeper you saw the abundance of attractions. Set up haunted houses that genuinely left people horrified, stalls that seemed from creative aspect, and of course the Ferris wheel that was littered in light.  

“You’re kidding?!” The child like part of you rushed out as you jumped up and down, grabbing Matt’s tatted arm like a vice. 

“Figured it seemed like a perfect time” He wasn’t wrong about that, your anniversary had just past and he grabbed tickets off the website. You knew something was planned when you read through his card but he didn’t let up. His lips were sealed over the past week or so as you begged him for answers. Now that you had them and it was beaming in front of you, how could you ever complain. 

Once the roads were all clear, his hand was dragged by yours to the grand entrance. After all this time of you dreaming, it was stood before you. 

Matt handed over his phone to the manager and she handed it back, along with two tickets. You’d scanned everyone else’s ticket before yours and they seemed to be a lime scale sort of green. Yet yours were a deep purple. Your boyfriend thanked the manager before laughing at your confused face. “Read it, baby...”  

So, you did. The bold letters ‘VIP’ covered the back of the ticket in a gold colour. “What!” 

“If I am treating m’girl tonight, I’m doing it right. After all you deserve it”  

You both stopped walking as you practically tackled his side. Both of your hands gripped his body tightly, shoving your head into his shoulder “Thank you!” 

“You can thank me after, how about we enjoy ourselves.” 

Most of the evening was a collective of rides a day stalls. With the upgraded tickets that Matt got, most of the queues were cut short. But after a long while of the intense rides, the pair of you decided to sit down on a bench and eat some food. You both got burgers which you could see the steam come from as your order was handed to you. The homemade milkshake relaxed the bouts of energy inside. It was a comfortable silence you were in, one that left the sounds of the crowd, chewing and slurping in its wake. Your eyes started to scan the many stalls you had yet to venture down.  

Those games always seemed a scam and yet the child like spirit inside invited you so willingly. Matt giggled when he saw you eye up a certain stall. It was a line up of wooden clown slabs which had a bunch of cricket balls a few metres away. They seemed heavy in the way they shook but your eyes traced all the designs of them. 

“Want to go over?” Your shock from his voice made him giggle before repeating himself so you heard. “baby, do you want to do that one?”  

You knew he saw you gawk at it so there was no point in hiding your excitement. “Absolutely!” 

The burgers were quickly finished and discarded before you walked straight towards the  red stall, the stripes on the outside calling you. 

“Hey you two, think you can handle this?” The host gestured animatedly towards the rows of clowns. A smirk crossed your face as you instantly grabbed a note from your wallet and handed it to him. Matt finally met your side after you rushed ahead, watching a group of balls land just by your stomach. It was a lot more than the number of clowns and as soon as a timer started you knew why. 

After picking up the first ball, you swung your arm to throw at the centre of a clown’s face. The wood wobbled before clattering backwards. With spawned courage another ball quickly followed a larger clown and yet it barely moved.  

Sure you weren’t strong but even kids played this game, you couldn’t be that bad, right? By the time the buzzer for the timer rang, only four got pushed over. You hadn’t meant to sulk but your expression was clear. It was towards an obvious plushie you must’ve noticed, it was a cute otter stuffed animal that was curled up around its tail. 

“Let me have a go.” Matt’s voice was stern as he slammed a note on the wood next to the abandoned ball bucket. Your body turns back and the bag of balls gets replaced while the machine holds up the four clowns you knocked over previously. 

While they do so, you remain quiet so Matt can focus. His hand rises as he tosses the ball up and down in his palm, gathering its weight. Once the signal was given he leant back and pelted the ball, hammering down the clown you first attempted. It fell with such ease. 

Years of lacrosse and hockey built his strength and precision, he wasn’t going to disappoint. Ball after ball, each clown was clattering as they fell, rebounding slightly on the floor. He only stumbled on a few as when that buzzer rang, the last one bounced and sounded on the concrete. He tossed a spare ball into the bucket and handed it back to the host who was a little shocked at the intense strong skill he had. 

“Well..sir, which shall be your prize.” He smirked at you before he spoke. “That bottom otter please.” 

The host jumped slightly to grab the large otter off its hook and handed it to Matt. “Here. Congratulations!” They smiled at each other before setting up a game for another child. 

“Here baby, think this belongs to you.” Your face lit up as he pushed it towards you. “I saw you eyeing it up after you played. 

“Matt...you didn’t have to, this is so sweet” As much as you tried to hide it, you were so giddy to finally hold its softness against your chest. It was the perfect material and softness, it only made you thank Matt harder. 

“I love you Matt, thank you...” His hand came up to your chin, tilting your head towards him. 

“I love you more baby, besides, you’re my prize.” 

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© ENDEREIES 2024

[caesarflickermans]

SUZANNE COLLINS: SOTR EXCLUSIVE EDITIONS INTERVIEW

This is a transcript from the Barnes & Noble / Waterstones exclusive edition interview. To my knowledge, they are the same.

Not to be confused with interview on her website, which you can find here.

transcript below

DL: Did you always know you’d write a novel about the second Quarter Quell? If not, what compelled you to return to this particular point in the Hunger Games timeline?

SC: I always start with the underlying ideas—in this case, implicit submission, the uncertainty of inductive reasoning, propaganda, love—and they find their way to the story that supports them. But yes, I think I did want to do Haymitch’s story because I’ve always known that the version Katniss and Peeta saw on the train was very misleading. When I landed on implicit submission and its dependency on propaganda, Haymitch’s was the natural tale to tell. Just like the state of nature debate led naturally to Coriolanus’s story.

DL: The quote at the start of the book from the philosopher David Hume is a very telling one. It starts, “Nothing appears more surprising to those, who consider human affairs with a philosophical eye, than the easiness with which they are governed by the few; and the implicit submission, with which men resign their own sentiments and passions to those of their rulers.” This feels like a key to the entire book.

SC: If all people do is read the full Hume quote and discuss it, this book has been a win for me. This quote invites so many questions. Like, “Do you think Hume is right? As human beings, do we ultimately end up being governed by a few people? Not in, say, a totalitarian state, but in a democracy?” (After thinking about it, every single person I asked about this said yes. No one seemed happy about it.) “But why have we resigned our own sentiments and passions to those rulers? Why are we implicitly submitting to this? Especially since force is on our side, as the governed.” Hume answers that for us. We’re allowing ourselves to be controlled by “opinion.” And that’s where propaganda comes in.

All right, then, “What propaganda do we all consume on a daily basis that maintains this status quo? Is it harder to maintain in an autocracy or a democracy where we pride ourselves on our intellectual or political freedom? How much propaganda does it take to make you think that implicit submission is what you want? Is it inevitable? Is there a way to protect ourselves against it? What would that entail?”

DL: Haymitch is starting at a very different place than Katniss or Coriolanus—while his life has had its sadness, it’s largely been a good life so far. How does that change the stakes within the novel?

SC: Yes, his life has been largely good. A loving family, good friends, the love of his life. A sweet part-time job that may lead to a profitable, if illegal, career. He’s happy except for the shadow of the Games that hangs over them all. So, emotionally, his loss is the greatest because he has the most to lose. And unlike Katniss and Coriolanus, who have loved ones to the end, Snow tries to strip Haymitch of everything: family, friends, lover, job, community, happiness, and the freedom to love anyone. His personal stakes couldn’t be higher.

DL: What was it like to be creating a new work that you’d already loosely outlined in Catching Fire?

SC: Actually, it helped. Younger me provided a protagonist, his arena, his overall arc, and some of the cast, including Maysilee Donner. Having to build off the recap, not having everything to decide, meant some extra challenges on the plotting side, but ultimately it was freeing. I just had to work within what was established. Of course, knowing that the narrative had been manipulated into a piece of Capitol propaganda gave me a lot of freedom as well. 

DL: It’s such an interesting scenario, to have our very reliable narrator understand that he is surrounded by so many unreliable narrators — and that, in fact, unreliable narration is a powerful political tool. The “card-stacking” that helps him a little in the beginning (with Plutarch using the manipulation as an excuse to give Haymitch time with his family) ends up being existentially overwhelming when Haymitch watches the “recap” of the Games and realizes how history is truly written by the victory (and not the Victor). To me, this felt like the biggest revelation to Haymitch — the sheer degree of manipulation. Can you talk a little about how this revelation about propaganda sits within the larger scope of the series?

SC: After he watches the reaping on the train, Haymitch realizes that he’s the Gamemakers’ puppet and that they will manipulate his image and actions to serve their needs. Within the arena, he can only wonder what they’re showing the audience. But the full force of their deception doesn’t hit him until he sees how completely they’ve changed his story the night he’s crowned. Remember, too, that in order to appease Snow and protect his loved ones and, when that fails, to fulfill his promise to Lenore Dove, he has to carry the Gamemakers’ narrative forward as the absolute truth. It’s an enormous burden that he bears alone because all of his allies who lived the truth are dead. Keeping the real version straight in his own head while promoting the fabricated version would require constant vigilance. But deep down, even through his white liquor fog, he realizes it’s imperative that he do it. If he can’t distinguish between the two, the Capitol wins. This foreshadows Peeta’s hijacking in Mockingjay and reinforces the question the whole series asks about the information we’re consuming: “Real or not real?”

DL: If I could give you a time machine back to when you were writing Catching Fire, would you have asked yourself to do anything differently?

SC: No, but maybe in the Mockingjay book. I might have shortened the period between Haymitch being crowned victor and when he loses his family. It doesn’t need to be two weeks. Although it does give Snow an additional window to torment him in the Capitol. But really, he could have gone straight home after the Victor’s Ceremony.

DL: Besides Haymitch, was there any other character from the trilogy that you particularly enjoyed revisiting in Sunrise?

SC: I love doing all of them: Plutarch, Effie, Beetee, Mags, Wiress, Burdock, Asterid. Getting to share who they were and what motivated them. They didn’t arise fully formed in the trilogy. All the characters are on journeys. Beetee losing Ampert, Effie clinging to her Capitol beliefs, Asterid healing the sick in 12, Plutarch still staying in the games. Everybody has their own story.

DL: One of the most fascinating things about seeing the Games play out over time — going from the Tenth to the Fiftieth to the Seventy-fourth and Seventy-fifth — is understanding both the evolution of the Games and the evolution of the roles within the Games. In particular, I’d love to ask you about the contrast between Drusilla and the Effie of the Trilogy. There seems to be a profound generational difference that shapes their view of their role in the Games — and, indeed, seeing the start of Effie’s relationship here made me suddenly understand the dynamic that must have governed District 12 tributes for the next twenty-five years. Can you talk about what makes Drusilla tick versus what ultimately makes Effie tick?

SC: As escorts, both Drusilla and Effie are ambassadors for the Hunger Games. Drusilla who lived through the cruelties of the Dark Days, has channeled her experience into vengeance against the districts. She’s dehumanized her enemy, referring to them as beasts and pigs, and she has no qualms about ushering the piglets into the arena. Effie, born decades after the war, has embraced the Hunger Games as her patriotic duty. She’s been raised on them as necessary evil and a reminder of a war that Panem can never afford to repeat. Unlike Drusilla, she believes all the participants have a noble role to play. That begins to wear thin over the years. Every Games it becomes harder to justify the atrocity. You can see her clinging to good manners for reassurance of humanity’s decency. But in terms of the Hunger Games, Effie being assigned as their escort was a lucky break for District 12. She might be ridiculous, but she’s not malicious.

DL: Even though Maysilee is mentioned in Catching Fire, we really get to know her for the first time in this book. In many ways, she’s not so much defined by her privilege as she is by her lack of control over her life — when we first talked about her, you said she was “indentured into a life she doesn’t want.” What do you think fuels Maysilee, both in the arena and out of it?

SC: Rage. She’s one of the angriest characters I’ve ever written. She’s mad about the injustice of the world she’s born into and not it threatens and limits her life on every level. Before she’s reaped, that just manifests as meanness. But once she’s reaped, she begins to evolve and focus that emotion on the Capitol. She remembers who the enemy is.

DL: Snow makes quite an appearance when he arrives at Plutarch’s apartment. What was it like to see him in this era, after spending so much time with his younger self when writing Ballad?

SC: When I started working on this book, for the first time Snow and I were about the same age. We’re both entering our third act. I could feel his middle-agedness in mind and body, imagine his lost and realized dreams, and sense the cost of maintaining them. He's devoted his whole life to controlling Panem. But the work will never be done. It's exhausting.

Emotionally, he's beginning to reflect back on his life. His loves and losses. His resentment at the Heavensbee library when his own childhood books were burned for warmth, his cynicism over Haymitch's romance, his fear and loathing of District 12. I enjoyed having Lucy Gray's memory rise up and disrupt his life.

DL: And poor Haymitch doesn't even know why he's setting Snow off! But that does lead me to a question about Lenore Dove, who has grown up in a very different Covey world than Lucy Gray. How do you feel her outlook is shaped by her Covey roots?

SC: Lenore Dove romanticizes the Covey's prewar days as itinerant musicians on the open road. She also knows the losses that followed, the murdered parents and orphaned Covey children. And in particular, she's haunted by the fate of Lucy Gray. She wears bright bits of Lucy Gray's dress about her person and keeps her forbidden lyrics alive in private performances for Haymitch and Burdock. The Capitol has never meant anything but oppression and pain for her people; and that fuels her desire to bring it down.

DL: And how did Poe become such a part of the book?

SC: Haymitch's love needed a name. Since she's Covey, that starts with a ballad. I knew she'd died young, as Haymitch mentions this in Mockingjay. So, love of his life - her early death + his relentless grief = Edgar Allan Poe. I’m right back at the Romantic poets again. Even then, I’ve got several poems to choose from — “Annabel Lee,” “Ulalume,” “Lenore,” “To One in Paradise” — but I couldn’t resist “The Raven.”

DL: One of the things I love about Ballad and Sunrise is that they make the series much more about “the long game,” showing that the events of the trilogy don’t happen because the right girl shows up at the right time, but because of decades of planning. In many ways, Plutarch’s extremely ambiguous role is the biggest acknowledgment we have of long-game tactics. I don’t want you to try to pin him down here — I know he is ambiguous for a reason — but perhaps you could discuss his role.

SC: Plutarch’s the master of the long game. In Sunrise, we see him as a young man who’s convinced the government needs overthrowing, but he’s just taking his first baby steps. by the time we get to the trilogy, he’s masterminding the rebellion. He’s built a network in both the districts and the Capitol. He’s found an army in District 13 and allied with Coin. When Katniss shows up, he’s got a Mockingjay for his propaganda. He orchestrates the Airtime Assault that brings down the Capitol. And he manages to do all of this while convincingly playing a Gamemaker.

He doesn’t glorify humanity. At the end of the war, he tells Katniss, “We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction. Although who knows? Maybe this will be it, Katniss.” And when she asks what, he answers “The time it sticks. Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race.” So, at heart, he’s an optimist. He doesn’t accept that war and self-destruction are inevitable. Plutarch believes that we’re all on a continuum. We’re all ultimately playing the long game. You may fight your whole life for a greater good and never see the fruits of your labor. Plenty of people have done that historically. And so he tells Haymitch, “You were capable of imagining a different future. And maybe it won’t be realized today, maybe not in our lifetime. Maybe it will take generations. We’re all part of a continuum. Does that make it pointless?” I think that’s a question we all have to ask ourselves.

DL: When we first discussed the manuscript, you told me, “Books are part of Plutarch’s privilege.” In seeming contrast, there is the transmission of stories through song that we see echoing within Haymitch. I’d love for you to share more about this and the role books and songs play in the storytelling within this series.

SC: The Heavensbees have enormous wealth and privilege and, largely thanks to Trajan Heavensbee, that has allowed them to collect and protect an impressive library. The only other personal collection we’re sure exists belongs to the Covey. Much smaller, of course, but it’s apparently got some great books in it. Poetry, philosophy, literature, and at least one guide to raising poultry. The only book the Everdeens owned was the edible and medicinal plant guide they made themselves. That expands into the memorial book at the end.

District 12 doesn’t have many books, but they have plenty of songs. Why? Because a book can be burned, but you can’t burn a song. It can be passed along from person to person without a trace, no physical form required. Theoretically, you could commit a book to memory, like in Fahrenheit 451, but that’s a talent not everybody’s going to share.

By the trilogy, the songs have been discouraged as well. Under Snow, the live music in 12 devolves from the Covey performing in the Hob in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes to a trio of instrumentalists in Sunrise on the Reaping to a lone fiddler (Clerk Carmine) in the trilogy. Lucy Gray’s songs, which Katniss sings unaccompanied in the trilogy, are held in memory and are passed along orally. Snow would love to stamp them out entirely, not just because he doesn’t like music, but because they’re powerful politically. A protest song like “The Goose and the Common” can articulate an injustice, stir people up, and become a rallying point.

DL: Just because you mentioned it, I’m going to ask: Are Snow and Clerk Carmine the only two people we see in Ballad, Sunrise, and the trilogy? (I won’t ask what Tigris is up to during Sunrise, but whatever it is, I know it’s good.)

SC: Yes, I think it does come down to Snow and Clerk Carmine. A handful of Snow’s classmates might still be around by the trilogy, but they’re not named characters.

DL: I’m fascinated by the surface similarity of Katniss’s, Coriolanus’s, and Haymitch’s family structures. All have dead fathers. All are being raised by a mother or grandmother. All have a single sibling or cousin in their care. But even if the structures are alike, their experiences vary. In what ways do you think they were shaped similarly by this structure and in what ways were their upbringings different?

SC: You see this a lot in books for young audiences, where the protagonist is orphaned or placed outside of parental protection, leaving them to fend for themselves. It requires them to be responsible for their own survival and choices.

Haymitch has always had at least one functional parent, which is not true of the others. I think this has allowed him to be more open-hearted and optimistic than the other two heading into the story. Coriolanus is orphaned during the war and his grandmother does an impressive job keeping him and Tigris alive, but by the time that book opens she lives in her own world and her grandchildren care for her. Katniss loses her mother to grief and depression when her father dies and becomes her family's provider and protector at age eleven. Haymitch doesn't have to take full responsibility for himself until he's reaped.

DL: The role of the sibling (and I count Tigris as a sibling) is also so important within the series, to the degree that, in this book, becoming a "found" sibling is the highest mark of trust. Can you talk about exploring that dynamic within the series?

SC: In Ballad, when Coriolanus is filling out Lucy Gray's questionnaire and there's no place to record her cousins, he thinks, "There should be a place for anyone who cared for you at all. In fact, maybe that should be the question to start with: Who cares about you? Or even better, Who can you count on?" There's the family you're born into and the family you choose. All the protagonists have trustworthy families to begin with, but they adopt "found" siblings as well and those bonds are born of experience. Maysilee for Haymitch, Finnick for Katniss, even Sejanus for Coriolanus. People who care about you that you can count on. They replicate the natural sibling bond and aren't limited by biology. All of them ultimately find siblings among people they once viewed as antagonists.

DL: With the Newcomers, we see a different angle to the presentation of alliances within the Games — and in some ways, this alliance is in conversation with the alliance that forms in Catching Fire. In many ways, alliances are the unsung hero of the series, especially when we look at the long game. What does Ampert establish with the Newcomers that echoes throughout the series?

SC: Ampert’s laying the groundwork for the rebellion later with the district alliance in the third Quarter Quell. It’s a work in progress. Even in the trilogy, we’re well into the war before the rebels finally get all the districts on board. But Ampert’s message wins out. “We don’t have to put up with living under the Capitol’s rule. We have greater numbers, more power, more strength. We can change our lives.”

DL: I love how within Sunrise we see how Mags’s and Wiress’s mentoring styles contrast — and neither one is at all like Haymitch’s mentoring style in the trilogy. I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this question before, but of all the characters we’ve seen across the five books, which one would you most want to be your mentor?

SC: Haymitch, but not until the trilogy when he pulls himself together. Before that, I think I’d go with Mags, who’s brought home several victors while retaining her humanity.

DL: How thoroughly do you outline before you start writing?

SC: Pretty thoroughly, this time more than usual. I started with Post-its and laid out everything that was established about the second Quarter Quell in the version that Katniss and Peeta watch on the train in Catching Fire. Then I added in a few things that Haymitch mentions to Katniss in Mockingjay. And finally, I overlaid that with the story of what really happened. Additionally, I had to weave in characters and events from the past and the future.

There are a lot of balls to keep in the air. Multiple versions exist of, say, the reaping: the one we live through with Haymitch, where Woodbine gets killed; a second that’s aired to the public after the delay; a third of Plutarch’s card-stacked edit that they broadcast the night of the reaping that includes footage of Ma and Sid; and a fourth version played during Haymitch’s Victor’s Ceremony, which seems quite close to the one Katniss and Peeta view, but it could have been tweaked a bit over time. It’s a lot to keep straight.

DL: In terms of the smaller connections between this book and the other books (like the use of the word sweetheart or the presence of geese in Haymitch’s early story), were these things you knew going into the book from the start, or were they things that happened when you were putting words to the page?

SC: These were things I knew about, but I didn’t know if I’d ever write Haymitch’s story and have the opportunity to lay in their history. So many things are like that when you’re building a world. But Haymitch’s decision to tend geese at the end of Mockingjay wasn’t random.

DL: And, of course, for my final question I need to ask... what do you have against gumdrops?SC: Not a thing.

[15-lizards]

AGOT Dash simulator

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Going climbing again today!! Trying the highest tower in Winterfell 😝

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hopital

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JON ARRYN DEAD 🦀🦀🦀🦀

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Girl what did he do to you

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Old and busted

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That new Khaleesi in the grass sea is fourteen. She should be learning her letters from a septa!

🐉 conquerors-girl Follow

Just found out she’s pregnant…I need Drogo to get Rhaegar’ed IMMEDIATELY

⬛️ bro-in-black Follow

Mormont just gave the 5’6 fourteen year old asshole bastard who’s been here five minutes his ancestral sword. I will take us all out with wildfire

🕊️littlestbird Follow

Was snooping for the spider today and I overheard Lord Ned asking about a book of noble family lineages and physical traits after whipping his head back and forth between Robert and Queen Cersei’s kids for like five minutes straight

🕊️ littlestbird Follow

Which could mean nothing

🍋 ladyjonquil Follow

First tourney today guys!!! I’m sososo excited the knight of the flowers literally gave me a rose! If he wins I might be his queen of love and beauty omgfggnnd

🐺 nymeriiia Follow

LMAO TWINK DOWN!

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Lost thirty dragons betting on Ser Jamie for the twelfth time. Can someone who’s good at budgeting help me. my family is dying

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🦀 KING ROBERT DEAD 🦀

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Lmao y’all are acting like Jofferys any better when there have literally been reports of him skinning cats alive

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How do those Baratheon boots taste

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THE PRINCE IS LITERALLY A BARATHEON

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I hate this stupid city watch job so fucking much. Someone manifest an execution or something so I have some entertainment while I walk the parapets by the Sept of Baelor

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By the mother this can’t be happening

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Exiled princess Daenerys Targaryen has been seen stepping out of her husbands pyre with three dragon hatchlings on her shoulders

Keep Reading

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Guys please don’t buy into this type of stuff, do your own research. These gossip accounts are a bunch of targ loyalists. Dragons died out during the dance please do not spread false information!

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Cersei Lannister isn’t gonna fuck you man

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ALL WILL BOW TO STANNIS BARATHEON, TRUE KING OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS. IT HAS BEEN WRIT FOR CENTURIES IN FIRE AND IN ICE, HE IS THE PRINCE THAT WAS PROMISED. HE WILL BANISH THE DARKNESS.

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Girl what

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Is there lead in the dragonstone water

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So glad to witness episodes of true psychosis on this website

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Heritage post

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: reader struggles growing her nails out, reader gets her nails done. vietnamese women are the best at doing nails i swear (also if you get the reference you win another kiss) wc: 1.08k

Spencer thinks you deserve all the best things in life. There are various reasons for this but the one that sticks out to him the most is that fact that you have always been exceedingly kind to him. You have always listened to him when he talks and never once tried to belittle him for any of his interests. A part of him thinks that it’s because your ages are so similar. Another part of him thinks that you’re just pitying him. He truly hopes that isn’t the case. 

He makes you your coffee in the mornings. He knows how you take it– which milk you prefer, the amount of sugar. He has even gone as far as to buy your favourite instant coffee brand– the kind that are unreasonably expensive and have to be bought through a weirdly sketchy website despite its raving reviews. He remembers the way your eyes lit up as you held the familiar box excitedly and he can’t help but preen at the memory. 

“Thank you for coffee, Spence,” you chirp as you spy your unofficially assigned mug on your desk. You’re wet from the rain, the shoulders of your coat darkened from where your umbrella has dripped water onto it. “Hotch would’ve killed me if I had to spend another five minutes at the kitchen. It’s not my fault my train came fifteen minutes late.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, watching as you shake your hair away from your face before warming your hands with the mug. “I did tell him that there was a correlation between rainy weather and increased train delays which could have been a reason that you were late.”

You smile, clearly amused, asking, “how did he take it?”

“He pointed out that I’m still earlier than the rest of the team,” Spencer responds sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink. “I planned my train route for when the rain would be the least heavy.”

“I should follow in your footsteps,” you muse, sipping at your coffee and sighing in relief. “You always make this better than me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmurs, his hand brushing against his scarf. “I was– um, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch together later?”

You laugh softly and he relishes in the sound. “I only just got here and you’re already asking about lunch?”

He feels his cheeks glow hotter as he scrambles to explain himself. “Well– usually– uh, JJ usually asks you so I guess I wanted to ask before she did. And you have lunch with Garcia a lot so I thought I should ask when you get here and– sorry, is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you assure, beaming. “I’m touched that you think that I’m so popular that you need to book an appointment with me.”

“You are popular?” He says it like a question because a part of him is genuinely baffled that you don’t realise how well liked you are. He has found that you always manage to command the attention in the room and he has seen first hand the way people would be instantly drawn to you. He finds that he is no different. 

“I promise you that I am not as popular as you believe I am,” you say with another laugh. “I’m flattered though, truly. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Spencer cannot stop smiling.

*** 

“You’re whipped.”

Spencer shoots JJ a look, his cheeks glowing hot with embarrassment. “I am not whipped.”

“You have been staring at her talking to Officer Deetmore for the past six minutes and twenty seven seconds,” she points out, her eyes narrowing. 

“They’re probably just making small talk.”

Emily shrugs from her desk, mixing her cup noodles around. “I don’t know, I’m surprised that she can hold a conversation with someone so intellectually disinclined.”

JJ snickers. “You’re just mad that he mislabeled a file and spread the profile.”

“Intellectually disinclined.”

“Guys,” Spencer pleads, inconspicuously gesturing to you saying your farewells and already heading in their direction.

You’re smiling although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your arms are folded over your chest, a classic sign of discomfort, and your hands are tucked into your armpits. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks instead of answering, soft enough as not to call attention to your little group. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. I broke a nail.” You show him briefly– your natural nail has split at the corner just where they’re gaining length. “I’m a little bummed. It caught on the zipper of my go-bag.”

“Do you want to get your nails done after the case?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I have a nail clipper and file in my bag.”

JJ can’t help but be amused at this new fact. “You have a nail care pack in your bag? What, do you just take it around with you everywhere?”

He shrugs, ignoring the slight jab, pulling out the little pack from his satchel and handing it to you. He is well aware that you take pride in what you look like, especially your nails. You’ve told him the reason before, that your school was so strict that they wouldn’t let anyone grow their nails long and if they did they would be cut short by the nurse. He thinks that it’s borderline abuse. 

“Manicures are expensive,” you murmur, your eyes downcast as you focus on clipping each of your nails to an equal length. “Are we even allowed to have our nails done?”

“Federal Enforcement Resources states under grooming guidelines that ‘Makeup (including fingernail polish and artificial nails) may be worn by employees but must be professional and must not interfere with the proper use and handling of equipment necessary for their assigned duties’,” Spencer provides helpfully. “I can pay for your nails, too, if price is the issue. The bakery I buy my banh mi from has a nail place next door. I’m sure I can get a discount.”

You laugh as you file down your nails into a smooth edge. “You want to pay for my nails?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” He nods, cheeks suddenly hot and he wipes his palms on his slacks. “If you’d let me.”

“Gosh, well, at least take me out to dinner first, Spence.” You say it with jest, your eyes lighting up with mirth.

He doesn’t seem to catch your joking tone, nodding in earnest. “Alright. After the case, how does Saturday sound? I can pick you up at 6?” 

Emily and JJ are all too pleased. 

reblogs are always appreciated !!

[lackadaisycats]

Was it hard to start posting about Lackadaisy and did you ever find it really challenging to find an audience? I want to post about my own project but I’m intimidated to say the least.

It's always been a conflict, somewhere between desperately wanting to share it in my buzzing excitement, and also desperately wanting to hide under the sofa with all of my cringey ideas. Having spoken to other artists about their feelings about their own projects, it seems that's not an uncommon sentiment. It's just a matter of which side will eventually win out. (I don't regret releasing my cringey ideas into the wild, for the record.) --------------------- Finding an audience is a whole other challenge, especially now as everything is so compartmentalized, platform to platform. But, honestly, maybe it helps alleviate some debut anxiety if not that many people will immediately have their eyes on your work.

Generally, I think it's probably best to just work with whichever social media spaces you're most comfortable in. Don't worry too much about being everywhere all at once - it's maddening. You can branch out gradually if need be. You might also consider setting up your own basic website to act as a hub, because you never know which social media company will suddenly pull the rug out from under you. Be patient. Don't dump a bunch of energy into trying to go viral or something. Slow and steady growth is generally more meaningful and sustainable anyway. Keep putting your work out there, even if it feels sometimes like no one is looking. If you're having a ton of fun making it regardless of who's watching, chances are pretty good some people are going to start having fun reading it/looking at it too.